Glory

by Heather Graham

  “Tough as an old ’gator—so far.”

  “He survived the surgery.”

  “As I said, tough as a ’gator.”

  He left the oak and walked over to her, taking a seat by her side on the fallen log she had found. She felt his eyes upon her and wished that she did not feel his presence so keenly. She looked at the water, not wanting to meet his eyes. Yet she had a strange feeling that there was already no escaping this man, and for the life of her, she did not understand why.

  “You are extraordinary,” he told her.

  She lifted her hands. “You’re the surgeon.”

  “Yes, and I’m good,” he said dryly. “But I couldn’t have done what I did without you. You have incredibly steady hands. It’s as if you were trained. You can feel where you need your fingers to be even when you can’t see what you’re doing.”

  “Perhaps I’m lucky.”

  “Gifted,” he said, still watching her. “As many doctors are not.”

  “But they have knowledge—”

  “Umm. My brother Ian wanted to play the piano once. He had good teachers, he acquired a great deal of knowledge—and he was always a horrible player. Music is something in the soul, and you’re blessed with it or not. Medicine is much the same. You have a gift, a talent, and all the schools in the world couldn’t teach it.”

  “If I do have a talent to heal, then I’m glad. If only—”

  “If only what?”

  She shook her head. “If only it didn’t come with the dreams.”

  “The dreams?”

  She stared at the water. “You won’t believe me, but I see things in dreams, people, places, things that have happened, things that will happen.”

  He was silent, staring at the water as well.

  “You don’t believe me. Well, many people don’t.”

  “I don’t know what I believe. You saw Jerome.” He glanced at her. “Tell me, do you see an end to this war?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t choose what I see. Sometimes I just have visions.”

  “Have you always had them?”

  She smiled, folding her hands over her knees and resting her chin on them. “Always ... I’m not certain. Before the war I used to think that they were good. A little girl was lost in St. Augustine once ... she had gotten tangled in some old fishing line by the beach. Her parents were frantic. I was there with my father. Her mother had heard about some work I’d done with a doctor there and was somehow certain that I could find her child. And I did. And it was wonderful. But since the war has come ... All that I see is death and destruction.”

  “Not always. You saw my cousin coming.”

  She shrugged uneasily.

  “You knew him, knew his face, the moment you saw him.”

  “He looks just like you.”

  “Not just like me.”

  She couldn’t help smiling. “No, your brother looks just like you.”

  “Except stronger.”

  She flushed. Had she ever said such a thing? Julian was all lean muscle, sinewy, taut, sleek. His features were gaunt and hard, sharply, handsomely molded. His eyes were direct, cobalt, demanding at all times. Not a movement was ever wasted. His hand were fascinating, lean and hard and as cleanly sculpted as his face, with long, dexterous fingers. Strong. So capable in surgery.

  So evocative when they touched ...

  “Rachel has gotten quite fond of your man Paddy. She’s decided that he needs to be entertained while he’s convalescing, and so she’s reading him Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales.”

  Julian smiled. “I saw. She’s a wonderful little nurse. A wonderful human being,” he added. “Loyal to her cause, but far too full of compassion to neglect those she can help, no matter what their beliefs—or what deceit we played upon you.”

  She looked at the water. “You lied; I called the Yanks. And leave it to my luck, Colonel. Your brother showed up.”

  He grinned wickedly. “And you passed out.”

  “I was exhausted.”

  “Was that it?”

  “Don’t torture me right now, I’m far too weary.”

  “One day you’ll have to admit—”

  “I’ll admit nothing, ever, Colonel McKenzie.”

  “Yes, you will.”

  “Never.”

  “Maybe I’ll just keep you imprisoned until you do.”

  She was alarmed by the way his husky words made her feel. Her husband hadn’t been dead that long ...

  But, oh, God, it had been a long, long time since she had seen him, touched ... other than in her dreams. And McKenzie, for all his faults, perhaps because of them, was compelling. Rugged, no-nonsense. Far too masculine. Just the raspy tone of his voice was like feeling a brush of fingers against her flesh.

  “Stop it.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Watching me that way.”

  “Do you want me to go away?”

  “Yes. No. Of course not, you must be worn from the strain of the operation. I ... tell me about your family.” She found herself returning his stare with honest curiosity. They were all so striking, the McKenzies. So much alike, and yet so unique. “He’s Indian, right? Jerome is, I mean,” she said.

  Julian grinned. “Seminole.”

  “So your uncle—or aunt—is Seminole?”

  He was still smiling. “Teela, I believe, is Irish, like my mother. She has the red hair to prove it. My grandfather was married twice, to my grandmother and Jerome’s grandmother, who was part Indian. The bloodlines have made a deep impression on us all.” He plucked a blade of grass from the ground and chewed it thoughtfully. “Your General Sherman had some of his first lessons in real warfare down here. The Union army chased the Seminoles right into the ground, slaughtered them, chased them some more. But they could never fight long enough or hard enough to really win, though they did all but annihilate a people.”

  She watched him for a long moment, hearing the bitterness in his voice. She didn’t speak, and after a moment he continued. “That’s one of the reasons,” he said lightly, “that my uncle and cousin will never bow down to a Union uniform.”

  “But, Julian,” she protested, “there are men and women on both sides who fear and hate the Indians. Some of those same men who pursued the Seminole are wearing Confederate gray—”

  “Some. Maybe a lot,” he admitted after a moment. “But show Union blue down in the Everglades, and I promise, you’ve got some hatred on your hands.”

  “Is that why you swim so well, make your way through the trails so well—”

  “It’s why we’re all so familiar with the different aspects of the Florida terrain,” he said. He smiled at her wryly. “Ian was oldest, Jerome and I are the same age. I have another cousin, Brent, just a little younger than I am, there’s Tia, and Sydney, Jerome’s little sister. Well, of course, when we were little, we played white men and Indians. We were always trying to prove we could be as silent, as brave, as stalwart and noble as our Indian kin. Aunt Teela and Mother yelled a lot, and we fought now and then, but the whole lot of us were like one tribe, ready to take offense and go to battle for the other, whether brother, sister, or cousin. We were very close. And then the war came.”

  She smiled slightly. “The war. It hasn’t stopped you.”

  “It’s changed things,” he assured her.

  “Ah, but you and your brother managed to conspire against me!” she told him.

  “My brother is a Yank. Why would he conspire against you?”

  “Because blood is thicker than war.”

  “If that were the case, there would be no war,” he murmured.

  Again, he sounded bitter. Tired and bitter. And she was tempted to reach out and touch him. A mistake. She shouldn’t. She couldn’t.

  She clenched her jaw tightly, staring at the water where the sun cascaded beneath the surface. Before she could do something she would regret, she rose. “I should find Rachel—” she began, but as she did so, Julian rose, turning back toward the trail as s
he had done. There was a blond woman hurrying toward them.

  “Julian!”

  She was petite, golden, an entrancing ray of sunshine, and she came running along, then hurtled herself into his arms. He held her tightly, hugging her. Embarrassed, feeling like an outsider, Rhiannon stepped back. There were an awful lot of women in his life. And she’d already met his sister. And this was no cousin, for this beautiful blond didn’t have a drop of Indian blood.

  “Julian, it’s amazing. He looks well. He’s going to make it, isn’t he?”

  “Time will tell.”

  “He won’t die, he won’t let himself die, especially now. Risa is here. Julian, thank God he had you—”

  “He wouldn’t have made it without Dr. Stewart. Alaina, it’s wonderful to see you, but how did you come so quickly—”

  “We knew he’d been injured,” she said softly.

  “Ian told you what he’d heard?”

  “Yes, of course. Risa was beside herself to reach this camp, knowing that Jerome would come here. And now Ian is worried sick, but he was sent back north today. Not even he could talk his way into another reprieve. There’s sure to be an awful battle somewhere soon, I think—”

  She broke off, seeing Rhiannon standing back against the oak, silent in the darkening twilight.

  “Oh! I’m so sorry.” she exclaimed.

  “Indeed, I’m sorry as well,” Julian murmured, stepping back. “Alaina, Mrs. Rhiannon Tremaine. Rhiannon, my sister-in-law, Alaina.”

  “Rhiannon! The Yankee wit—” Alaina began, then blanched, remembering her manners. “Oh, I am really sorry. We’ve just all heard about how wonderful you were with Jerome, and of course, I heard about you from my husband. In fact, I heard quite a bit about you from my husband. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Mrs. McKenzie,” Rhiannon acknowledged, wondering just what Ian McKenzie might have said about her.

  “Risa is here?” Julian asked.

  “Of course. She’s with Jerome now. She’s anxious to meet you, Mrs. Tremaine. To thank you.”

  “She needn’t,” Rhiannon murmured.

  “Oh, but she feels she must. Her father is a Union general, and she realizes this must be very difficult for you. I am, naturally, grateful for Jerome’s life, though I’m afraid that Unionist my husband might be, I was born and bred a Rebel and find it anguish on a daily basis to pray that my husband lives while hoping that his cause perishes.”

  She might have kept silent, should have kept silent—but she couldn’t. “The Union will not perish, Mrs. McKenzie.”

  Ian’s petite blond wife smiled, a brow slightly hiked with amusement. “You’re very assured, Mrs. Tremaine. Though you’re the enemy, such unquestioning loyalty is certainly commendable.”

  “My loyalty is unquestioning,” Rhiannon said softly, “But not without strong logic.” She shrugged, then looked at Julian, her chin raised, and only a bit of mischief in her voice. “Take a look at present evidence, Mrs. McKenzie. Your husband, your brother-in-law. One is ragged, the other is not.”

  “Thank God,” Julian warned, crossing his arms over his chest, “that you didn’t suggest again that my brother is stronger. He is simply a bit heavier due to that portion of an inch I have over his height. Ragged. Now, that I can live with.”

  He was amused. Alaina managed a small smile, but then turned to Rhiannon.

  “There was a time, Mrs. Tremaine, when I might have taken great offense from your words, but they’re honest, and frankly, I just wish that it would end, but it doesn’t seem that it will do so soon enough.”

  “Julian! Julian!”

  A second woman came tearing down the trail to the brook, disturbing the quiet with her cries. She burst upon them, a study in speed and motion, throwing herself against Julian.

  He caught her, whirled her around. She hugged him tightly, crying and laughing. She was taller than the petite Alaina, with auburn hair, aqua blue eyes, and stunning face structure.

  “Oh, Julian!” she cried again, holding tight against him. “He is going to make it. Please, God, tell me, he is going to make it—”

  “He came through the surgery just fine, Risa,” Julian assured her.

  “I couldn’t bear it, Julian. I couldn’t bear it if I were to lose him. I’ve never been so afraid, Julian, if he were to die ...”

  Her voice trailed away as she realized that she was staring at Rhiannon. And as Risa McKenzie stared at her, Rhiannon could see in the woman’s eyes that she knew all about Rhiannon, certainly including the fact that Rhiannon’s husband had been killed.

  She went white as a sheet.

  “Oh, Lord,” she murmured. She stepped away from Julian, glanced at Alaina, looked at Rhiannon, and apologized. “I am so, so sorry. What a terrible thing for me to have said when I can’t begin to tell you just how grateful I am.”

  “It’s all right,” Rhiannon murmured. She felt Julian watching her. “Really,” she said, her teeth grating. “I have gotten past thinking that other men should be dead because my husband died. I’m delighted that your husband is doing so well.”

  The woman’s smile was warm and unreserved. The first such Rhiannon felt she had received from any of these McKenzie women. Then Risa quickly stepped forward, and took her hand, gripping it warmly and shaking it with fervent energy.

  “Thank you ... thank you. He’s sleeping now ... and I understand that the laudanum that’s helping him rest is thanks to you as well. This must be agony for you, I can understand, honestly, because—”

  “She’s a Yank,” Julian said.

  “Her father is General Magee,” Alaina explained.

  “The General Magee?” Rhiannon inquired.

  “The General Magee,” Risa agreed. “It does make war hell, doesn’t it?” She stared down, realized she was still pumping Rhiannon’s hand. “Or sadder than you can imagine. We had to slip Julian into St. Augustine not too long ago to repair my father’s foot—and my father is quite fond of both Julian and my husband and of course, we all just pray that not only do our family members not get killed, but that they not kill each other. Of course, it’s still war. And these Rebs are so suspicious! It’s terrible, just terrible, not a one of them had a decent word for me until I’d borne a McKenzie child—and that’s a rather drastic measure, of course, we’re not expecting you to take it—”

  “Oh, Risa, what an awful thing to say to her. And it’s a lie, we were friends before that child of yours was so much as a frisky feeling!” Alaina protested in a long, wicked drawl. “We’re not nearly so bad, Mrs. Tremaine. We’ve been horrible tonight, but then we’re so afraid for Jerome ... which I know you understand.”

  “Of course. I do understand,” Rhiannon said. She understood, but it all seemed rather too much. The relationship between the women and Julian ... they were all so close. They had created an intimate circle, and she wasn’t a part of it. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll let you talk with Julian. I know you have a dozen questions for him. It’s been a pleasure to meet you both—”

  “No, please, don’t go,” Risa said. “We interrupted you.”

  “It’s all right. Your husband has just gone through a terrible operation, and you’ll want time alone—”

  “Not at all,” Alaina said. “We brought a substantial quantity of fresh fish, which young Private Llewellyn has nearly served up.”

  “Stay with us, please. We’ll have a certain privacy in Julian’s quarters, and we want you to be a part of that privacy,” Risa said.

  Rhiannon felt trapped. Julian was watching her, the women were watching her. She had felt like an outsider; now they were dragging her in, and she wasn’t sure that the feeling was any more comfortable.

  “Thank you, but I have to see to my ward—”

  “Rachel? That darling girl!” Risa said. “She’s sitting with Jerome for me now while he sleeps. Do come and join us. Julian, convince her. Alaina, come on, let’s find Tia and set up some dinner—I haven’t eaten since I heard Jerome was injured! Juli
an, make her join us.”

  Slipping an arm through her cousin-in-law’s, Risa led Alaina back along the trail.

  Julian’s lips were quirking with amusement. “Do join us,” he said. “It’s not entirely a Rebel family reunion, as you can see, so no one is going to be sharing military secrets.”

  “I really don’t wish to interrupt. You seem very close, exceptionally close—”

  “I knew Alaina from the time she was a little girl, and both she and Risa have worked with me often. They are both good friends.”

  She found herself wondering what would happen if Ian or Jerome were to fall in the war. Would one of their wives turn to Julian for solace?”

  “How nice to have such good friends.”

  He shrugged. “And enemies, of course. They hated one another at first, or something very close to it. Risa had nearly been engaged to Ian, you see. A long story, and it’s not my place to tell it.”

  “Then there’s your sister—”

  “Ah, yes, now ...” he murmured as he set a booted foot upon a fallen log and leaned an elbow upon his knee. “There beats the true heart of the Confederacy. It’s true. She didn’t trust Risa in the least until Jamie was born. So there you have it. She did have to bear a McKenzie child to be granted admission to the family circle! It’s easier for Rebs, of course. We all loved Alaina right away. Well, the Yanks were naturally wary of her.

  “Since I’m a Yank, I should leave you all in peace,” she said, and turned about, starting along the trail leading back to the camp from the brook.

  “A Yank, but then ...”

  She had been expecting the words. If only she knew the truth of just exactly what she had done, what had been real, what had been dreams ...

  She halted, and stood dead still, then spun around.

  “A Yank, but ... Colonel?” she queried coldly.

  He smiled. Relaxed, casual, amused, his gaze just ever so slightly disdainful. “Perhaps you will bear a McKenzie child,” he said with a shrug.

  She returned his stare, wishing suddenly that she dared run to him, laugh and cry, beat against him, demand to know the exact truth. She could not, of course. She already felt too great a dependency on him, too great a fascination for him. His voice alone could create a quickening within, when she watched him, touched him, felt him near ... she felt far too great a draw. It was frightening. She could not care for a man again the way she had, could not betray Richard.