Phin backed up a step with a sigh to heave his shoulders. “There’s not much certain anymore. But if it matters at all, you can be certain of that. I love your daughter more than life itself. And it will be an honor to cherish her in my heart for the rest of my days, even if I have to do it at a distance.”
Her own heart ached so fiercely she had to press a hand to it, and still it felt as though it might crack.
At her parents’ continued silence, Phin nodded, spun around, and walked out the door, his limp not hindering the length of his stride.
Cordelia forced the crack in the wall wider, ignoring the squeak of protest from Fiona, who scrambled to remain in the darkness of the corridor. Mama and Daddy both jumped, their eyes going wide when she stepped into the room.
Daddy stood. “Obviously you heard.”
She nodded.
“And I assume you mean to beg us to leave you behind with him?”
She shook her head. She wanted to beg. But she’d promised herself she wouldn’t. “I just wanted you to know I heard.”
Mama stood, too, her sigh long. But somehow, strangely, it didn’t sound as weary as she’d come to expect. “Beautiful words he has—I know you appreciate that.”
“It’s more the beautiful heart that captured me.”
A corner of Daddy’s mouth actually turned up. “Your mother and I have been talking a lot about the two of you. All the more, I think, because you’ve been uncannily silent on the matter.”
She spread her hands. “I knew I couldn’t say anything more than I’d already said. I love him. He’s a good man.” The best of men.
Daddy exchanged a glance with Mama. “Savannah isn’t safe. But then . . . we have no reason to believe the countryside of Georgia will remain safe when that of Virginia and the Carolinas hasn’t remained so. These are uncertain times.”
What was he getting at? She knotted her fingers together. “They are.”
“But . . . if this is what you want. If you’re certain. If you’ve taken this last month to weigh the reality against the dream . . .”
Was he . . . ? She nodded. Vigorously. “I have, Daddy. I have no illusions.”
“So, if we put the choice to you—if we say you may marry him if it’s your heart’s desire—what would you say?”
She looked from Daddy to Mama, scarcely able to believe what he had asked her. Trying to take a moment so she didn’t appear impulsive, trying to measure how much they needed her for the journey inland against how her soul leaped and soared at the thought of staying here with Phin. In the place that had always been home more than any other.
It would be difficult if they stayed. The war had reached them, and it was an ugly thing. She knew that. There could be food shortages, enemy soldiers swarming her streets. There could be desolation and death and injury all around her.
But still she had to draw in a long breath. “Would you be all right without me? I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.”
His eyes went soft. “I’m stronger now, darlin—and your sisters and mother will fuss aplenty. Don’t make this decision because of me.”
She looked from her father to her mother and back again. Could they really mean it? Were they really letting her make this choice? The thought brought joy bubbling up. “Then . . . yes. Yes, I would like nothing more than to marry him.”
“Well then.” Daddy turned to the door. “We’d best hurry if we mean to catch him. Are you coming, Mrs. Owens?”
“Now?” Mama gave him the same stern look she always did when he suggested she do something frivolous an hour before guests arrived. “I think I’d better go in search of the minister, don’t you?”
“A wise idea, indeed. How about you, sunshine? Should I chase him down on my own? Maybe you’d rather unpack an appropriate dress to wear for your wedding.”
As if she’d choose a dress over getting to see Phin’s face? Unable to contain her laugh of joy, she surged forward.
Mama snagged her wrist on her way by. But her eyes were quiet now, no lectures lurking. She leaned over and pressed a long kiss to Cordelia’s cheek. “I will never understand you, Cordelia Penelope Owens. But somehow . . . somehow, despite that, I think perhaps you are the best of us.”
If ever a sweeter benediction had ever been spoken, Cordelia couldn’t imagine it.
Phin pulled his horse to a halt when the road gave way to muddy ruts. But he could see Fort Pulaski on Cockspur Island from here, which was all the closer he needed to get. He could see the stones crumbling, the holes forming. He could hear the frenzied shouts of the soldiers within.
Rifled artillery. The Union had installed rifled artillery on Big Tybee, and the shells seemed to rip right through the “impregnable” walls. Another whistled through the air now, overshot the wall, and landed somewhere within the fort itself.
His hands tightened around the reins. Lord, help them. Preserve their lives. He wished he could do something, anything to help. But prayers were his best weapon right now. He certainly couldn’t swim across the river and climb the walls. And even if he did, it wouldn’t matter. Their guns were no match for the Yankees’.
The fort was going to fall.
Thinking of it made the scar on his leg throb and twist. Just as it had done when he read the report from Shiloh yesterday. So many dead. A few of his friends. One of his cousins. And countless, countless more. It was fast turning into a bloody, merciless war.
A bloody, merciless war that was knocking on Savannah’s door.
Well, he’d be here to protect her. He’d stand firm beside the other locals who refused to leave. He’d do his best to preserve the home that he hoped to offer to Cordelia someday.
Eventually—perhaps not until this war was over, but eventually—he knew she’d be his wife. And in the meantime, he’d do whatever he must to preserve what she loved.
“Phin!”
He wheeled his mount around, not knowing whether to curse or whoop for joy when he saw the Owens coach trotting toward him. They couldn’t possibly have followed him just to let her say good-bye, could they? He spurred his horse forward, hoping he could intercept them before they got stuck in the pitted road. Thankfully, Mr. Owens drew up as soon as he turned.
It didn’t appease him much when another shell whizzed, whistled, and crashed with near-deafening force into the wall. His horse pawed the air, but Phin got him back under control and came up alongside Delia. “What the devil are you doing out here?”
“We saw you come this way.” Her hand reached out and groped for his, her gaze on the fort. “Phin, it has a hole in it.”
“I know.” He caught her fingers and lifted them to his lips. He meant to look at her father, try to read his expression, but he couldn’t take his eyes from the face he hadn’t seen in too many weeks. “They’re going to take it, darlin. There’s no question, not at this point.”
Owens blew out a long breath. “It was such a feat. An engineering marvel. I never thought . . .”
“No one did.” He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. Just to prove to himself she was really there—stupid as it may be to be there, now. “And you followed me because . . . ?”
Delia smiled, so bright and hopeful it almost blinded him to the destruction on Cockspur. Her father cleared his throat and looked their way. “Her mother and I have given this a lot of thought. And we both agree that the sort of love you two have . . . it doesn’t happen often. And who are we to stand in its way?”
Cordelia’s nostrils flared, and she pressed her lips together. He had the distinct impression those sentiments hadn’t been shared with her before.
Though a smile started in the corners of Owens’s mouth, it died again when the Confederates sent a blast of cannon toward Tybee. “Promise me you’ll keep her safe, Phineas. To the best of your ability. I know only the Lord has the ultimate say, but . . .”
“You have my word, sir.” Phin wove their fingers together, heart thudding. They all knew they were talking about marriage, a
nd that it would have to happen soon—today, if at all possible. But he couldn’t let it remain an assumption. “But what about you? I know Delia didn’t want to be separated from you now, what with—”
“We had that conversation too. I’ll be well enough. It’s time she lives her own life.”
But did Delia really agree with that? Phin’s gaze moved to her eyes, digging deep until he was sure there was no second-guessing. He saw a bit of fear still, but that was to be expected. And it was eclipsed by joy. That was all Phin needed to know. “I’ll do all in my power to see we’re reunited someday, sir.”
Owens’s gaze went toward the farther island. His larynx bobbed. “And Salina? Have you—do you know if . . . ?”
More than the question and its implications, Phin noted the way Delia’s face went soft as she studied her father. Phin cleared his throat. “We’ve received a few communications from the plantation. They’re there, safe. She and River had what I’m told was a sweet little wedding with River’s family all attending, Luther officiating.”
“Luther?” Owens frowned.
Delia grinned. “That would be Reverend Luther Bromley of Stoke Newington, Daddy. Or, as you might know him, Monty.”
He just nodded and swallowed again.
Delia put her other hand on her father’s arm. “She’s happy. As she deserves to be.”
“She’s on a plantation, Delia. If she works the fields, it’ll kill her. And I swore to her mother she’d never know that kind of labor, that she’d have an easy, healthy life.”
Delia drew her hand away at the mention of Salina’s mother. Phin gave the fingers he held a soft squeeze. “She won’t be working the fields, sir, I can promise you that. She’ll be teaching the others to read and write.”
Now Owens’s eyes went wide, and he turned on his daughter. “Delia.”
She gave him a sheepish smile. “How else was she to help me with my stories?”
Another blast from Tybee made the horses jolt and the carriage roll. Phin tried to keep his even with them and was ready to loose her fingers, but rather than release him, she stood to narrow the distance.
He grinned. “Perfect. If I tried to kneel in this mud, I may sink straight to China, but now at least we can pretend I am.”
“Why would you—Phin.” Though her eyes danced, her face remained calm. “I don’t need any grand gestures. Not today.”
With a shrug, he said, “Suit yourself.” Then grabbed her around the waist and pulled her from the carriage onto his horse. Her squeal made the beast prance away, but luckily she had grabbed hold of him and found a seat on his lap, otherwise her weighty skirts may have pulled her straight down to that greedy mud. Phin chuckled and positioned her. “I’ll just carry you away then, my princess, and force you to be my bride. Spoils of war.”
More cannons boomed from the fort, and Owens took up his reins again. “Perhaps you two could continue your nonsense elsewhere.”
Delia wrapped an arm around Phin’s neck, that bright smile back in place. Lighting his heart and soul. “Daddy, you’re ruining the moment.”
“We have no more moments to waste. If one of those shells goes astray, we could be celebrating our funerals instead of your wedding.”
While he backed the horses up to a drier patch of road, Phin clicked his into a walk and nuzzled Delia’s ear. “There’s always time for a moment. And you deserve it, princess. You deserve a story to tell our children.”
She smoothed back a lock of his hair that had fallen onto his forehead. “And how shall I tell this one? Are you my mighty knight, come to my rescue, or a prince from some exotic land come to carry me away as a prize?”
“Hmm.” He dipped his head to steal a quick, gentle kiss. “I fancy the knight—though I admit my armor is rather rusty. Prolonged exposure to salt water, you know.”
She tucked her head onto his shoulder and motioned toward the fort. “And your castle is in need of some fortifications, it seems. I hate to see it so, Sir Phineas.”
He urged the horse a little faster so she’d lose sight of it sooner. “I know. But I’ll protect you, darlin. So long as God continues to honor me with that responsibility, I’ll protect you.”
Ahead of them, Owens maneuvered his carriage back in the direction of Savannah. “Can you ride that way? We ought to hurry. My mother will have everything ready for a wedding by now, I’m sure. Her plan was, I believe, to impose upon your mother for hosting the ceremony, Phin. Since we have a key to the place now and all.”
“That’s the best idea I’ve heard all year. Whatever will help in making Delia my wife is quite acceptable to my family.”
“Your wife.” Delia’s eyes slid shut. “I began to think I’d never have those words.”
“You’ll have them, darlin.” He nudged the horse a bit more to keep up with her father. “And my family will be overjoyed to welcome you.”
“That sounds perfect.”
“Cook will manage some miracle in the kitchen, we’ll enjoy an hour or two with our family. By then, darkness will have fallen, and the shelling will have stopped.”
She swallowed and opened her eyes. “We must pray for them, Phin. For the men in Fort Pulaski.”
“We will indeed, darlin. We’ll pray with my parents and Sassy, we’ll pray together just the two of us. And then.”
She pressed her lips together, love sparking in her eyes. “And then?”
“And then, my sweet princess,” he said, hovering an inch away, feasting on the vision she made, “then you can tell me a story. One with adventure and romance and dastardly villains and a happy ending gleaming with hope.”
Her smile put the sun to shame, and her trill of laughter drowned out the echoes of war. She nestled a little closer and rested her hand on his chest, right over his heart. “I have just the one.”
Author’s Note
Some books I write in a flash, getting the whole story down in a month or two before the editorial process begins. Others take years from first idea to holding those beautiful pages in my hand—and Dreams of Savannah is without question one of the second. I first wrote the book in 2011, and it was a busy nine years before I had the chance to place it into an editor’s hands. Nine years that saw a lot of change in my writing, my career, and my country.
After writing so many books set in England, it felt somewhat odd to take my mind to another era, and back to my own nation. But I do love that I had Luther Bromley in this story to help me manage the shift. And I am so grateful to finally get to share Cordelia, my most imaginative heroine, with you. I hope you enjoyed the peeks into the rich fantasy life we novelists sometimes fall into.
Though those in the northern states consider me southern, those in the Deep South would no doubt term me a Yankee—this is the joy of being from West Virginia. But in truth, hailing from a state with such mixed loyalties during the Civil War gives me empathy for both sides of the conflict. When it comes to ideals, and especially the issue of slavery, I’m a Union girl through and through. But when it comes to states’ rights and the slower way of life the Confederacy sought to preserve, I understand why they—even those who had never owned a slave—were willing to fight for it. And indeed, most of us would choose to fight to defend our homes when they’re threatened. There were heroes—and villains—on both sides of the conflict. Most of all, there were people. People, as Cordelia discovered, with stories to tell.
Most of my research for what Savannah was like during this period came from the book Saving Savannah by Jacqueline Jones, a treasure trove of historical details about this quintessential Georgian city and how it changed so drastically with the war. Here, too, I was introduced to the unique Gullah culture that African Americans of that time and place were a part of. I spent many hours studying the language, beliefs, and customs, and I hope I did them justice.
But no matter how long I spend on the academics, there’s also always the fear that I’ve done something wrong or will offend the very people whose story I wanted to tell a small
piece of. And so I thank my editorial team for their loving eye, and my friend and fellow writer Toni Shiloh for working through the issues with me.
I pray that you enjoyed this little journey under Savannah’s famous live oaks dripping Spanish moss, with the fragrance of magnolia blossoms on the air (though those don’t grow in my neck of the woods, they were abundant in Annapolis, Maryland, where I went to college, and as I breathed them in each spring and summer, I always tried to put words to them). And I pray, too, that as you go about your day, interacting with the people around you who are just faces in the crowd, you pause, like Cordelia learned to do, to wonder what stories they could tell.
I’d love to hear yours. Feel free to contact me from my website, www.RoseannaMWhite.com, and tell me about your family.
Discussion Questions
Delia has a vivid imagination that leads her both to fancies and to fears. Do you have, or did you once have, an active imagination? If so, did it bring you joy? Get you into trouble?
Phin made the decision to fight for Georgia, even though he disagreed with some of their laws, because he felt it should be the state’s own right to fix them. Do you agree with this decision? What would you have done in his place?
The English abolitionist movement took place in the early 1800s and resulted in a gradual removal of slavery—first by outlawing the slave trade and sale of slaves, then by instituting emancipation in 1833. How do you think this perspective influenced Luther and his views? Were you surprised by his character or history? About Eva’s story?
Salina found herself caught between two worlds and accepted by neither. Have you ever felt as though you didn’t belong? How did you cope and adapt? Do you think she made the right decisions throughout the book? How would you have felt toward Delia in Salina’s shoes?
When Phin returned home, he struggled with the idea that he wasn’t the sort of hero Delia wanted or needed. Have you ever felt you weren’t meeting someone else’s expectations for you? Did you ever talk to them about it, and if so, was it true or your own misperception?
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