Lacewood, page 27
Luke either noticed the color drain from Annie’s face, or perhaps simply thought better of finishing the sentence.
“He’s a good soldier.” He patted Annie on the wrist. “His men are the most intrepid set of daredevils as could ever be picked, and they would never let anything happen to him.”
Annie bit her lip to keep from showing any emotion.
“This must all be very strange for you...” Luke stopped, and for the first time seemed at a complete loss for words. “I mean, you being from the North and all. You take care of Isabella like your own, even though her father is a—”
“Her father is a brave and generous man,” Annie said, forcefully, her voice quaking with emotion. “No matter the circumstances that brought me here, I have nothing but the most grateful thoughts for his kindness and generosity. And yours.”
Luke pondered her words with a curious, reflective look on his face. “I can tell you this,” he said at last, “Jon is a man of action—not politics. He’s Virginian born and bred, and would rather give up his life than his honor or liberty.”
“I believe you and your brother are very much alike in that regard.” The words were spoken softly, but with unwavering directness.
The assertion drew a smile from Luke. “I appreciate the comparison.” He reached out and touched her arm, his tone turning serious. “You understand, don’t you, Miss Annie? We harbor no thoughts of revenge toward the enemy, and bear malice to none. We fight for Virginia.”
“I understand,” she said, finishing the bandage and taking a step back. “I wish I could say the same of Corporal Jenkins.”
All the amusement faded from Luke’s expression. “Has he been here? Have you seen him?”
“Not here. In town. I suppose he was on furlough.”
“No furlough.” Luke did not try to hide the disgust in his voice. “His orders to the battlefield brought to light some physical troubles he’d never complained of before. Stay clear of him, Miss Annie. He would sell his own soul, his father’s bones, or his sister’s honor, if he had half a chance.”
His words sent a chill through her. She’d sensed something cruel and dishonest about the man, but to hear Luke speak so critically of him loosed a tremor along her spine.
“I don’t mean to scare you away. Jon would be mad if he knew I did. He sure wouldn’t want to lose you.”
Annie fixed her eyes on the window so Luke would not be able to read anything in them. “I gave you my word when you brought me here that I would stay.” She composed herself and faced him. “As long as Major Wescott needs me, I intend to keep my word.”
Luke went back to humming and warming his hands by the fire. He seemed even more cheerful now, as if a great load had been lifted—or perhaps he was simply happy to be relieved of responsibilities for a short time. All too soon he leaned over to where his hat and coat were drying. “Thank you for the food...and the fixin’.” He gestured toward his arm, his blue eyes dancing with good humor. “I appreciate the attention as much as the meal.”
“Take care of it, you hear? Is your coat dry enough?”
“Yes, it’s dry.” He placed his hands on Annie’s shoulders, bent down, and kissed her on the cheek. “There is your thank-you, for all it’s worth.”
Instead of accepting the peck, Annie threw her arms around his neck and gave him a heartfelt squeeze. Then she stepped back and lowered her eyes, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. “I’m sorry. It’s so seldom I get a visit from someone I know.”
“No need to apologize. You’re part of the family now.” He placed his hat on his head. “Wish I could stay, but duty calls.”
“Be sure and relay my regards to—”
“Yes, ma’am,” he called out cheerily as he strode out the door.
Annie waited until she heard hoofbeats pounding down the lane. Only then did she remove the missive from her pocket, and, with trembling hands, read the note.
Dear Miss Logan,
Your long and graphic letter of the 4th has only now reached me, and right joyful did it make me, too. I enjoyed your description of the changing seasons at Lacewood very much, and wish I could be there to witness the scene myself. I can well envision the trees “robed splendidly in the raucous colors of autumn” and imagine the delight it must bring you to see that picturesque landscape for the first time. The fact that you took the time to describe it through your eyes brings me much pleasure.
The war drags on, and I find my separation from Lacewood more difficult now than ever. Luke most certainly carried the news of my promotion, which brings with it the onus of new responsibilities of which you can little dream. Many wives and mothers have committed their sons and husbands to my care, and two of them have already received their returning loved ones in coffins. This is the eternal weight from which I shall never be unburdened.
I do not speak of these difficulties to appeal to your sympathy, but only to help you understand the necessity for my extended estrangement. It is duty alone that requires my absence, the importance of which cannot be overstated.
Forgive my rambling, for I have little time to process my thoughts before this letter makes its way to you by Luke’s hand. Kiss my sweet Bella for me, and remember this: I am compelled by duty to serve Virginia, but my life and love are bound up at Lacewood.
Annie laid the letter in her lap and stared out the window. Life and love? Did he mean his home and his child? Or something entirely different? Would she ever know? He did not appear to be the type of man to explain his feelings—and she was much too reserved to ask.
She lifted the letter again and finished reading it by firelight.
I look forward to Luke’s return and hearing every detail of his visit.
Your obedient servant, Major Jonathon Wescott
Chapter 34
ANNIE LEANED CLOSER to make sure Isabella’s eyes had finally closed in sleep before tiptoeing out of the room. She was preparing to retire for the night herself when she noticed lantern light reflecting off the windows. Within moments the sound of voices and heavy footfalls punctured the peaceful stillness.
Visitors arriving at all times of the day and night were not unusual at Lacewood. Civilians traveling long distances, soldiers seeking food or rest, merchants selling their wares—could all find a place to rest within the gates of the estate. But some sixth sense seized Annie with immediate fear.
Before panic could even register, her heart bounded into her throat. Annie hurriedly puffed out the candle in her hand, but other than that she had no time to run or even move. A single brisk knock on the door was followed by thundering blows, making it clear the intent was to break it down rather than request admission.
Annie closed her eyes as the latch gave way. Even in the darkness, she detected the shadow of a menacing presence fall over her.
Opening her eyes, she took in the threatening glares and ragtag clothes of three men standing in the foyer. The sight of them struck a jolt of fear into her heart so intense it froze her in place.
These men were a different class entirely from the other Confederate soldiers whom she usually welcomed, and by whom she was always treated with gentlemanly courtesy. Annie knew in an instant that these men would not adhere to the rules of law or act within the boundaries of civilized behavior. Every nightmare she ever had was standing in front of her, and the fear following the realization blazed through her veins like a fast-moving fire.
“What do you want?” she asked, backing away, praying the noise had not awakened little Isabella. But no sooner did the thought cross her mind than the child came walking down the hallway, rubbing her eyes, tired and confused. Annie stepped over to shield her from their view, and searched around for a weapon.
“Something to eat and some horses,” one of the men, who seemed to be the leader, said.
“On whose authority?” Annie lifted her chin and forced her shoulders back, feigning a confidence she in no way felt.
All three men laughed, but the one who had spoken before casually lifted the brim of his hat with the barrel of his revolver. He didn’t answer in words, but made it clear the gun carried the authority.
“I can provide the first, but you will not find any horses here.”
“How about a Union soldier. You got any of them here?”
Annie felt an icy hand clutch her vitals and began to tremble as they made their purpose clear. Somehow they knew Ben had been brought here, but had not yet learned of his death. “Don’t you dare take another step into this house. Get out!”
“Calm down, lady. You act like you might be hiding something.”
“Or someone?” Another of the men spoke up, grinning hideously, as if her fear served as a tonic to him.
The nightmare Annie had always dreaded was translating into demonic reality. Her head, her teeth, and all her bones, leaped and clattered as the men strode further into the room. The leader of the group approached her and leaned in close. “How about we ask the little one behind you?”
The malice in the man’s eyes struck more terror in Annie than his physical presence. They were bloodshot. Unforgiving. Seemingly fortified with hatred and spite.
Annie held Isabella behind her with one hand, and grabbed a heavy silver candleholder with the other. It wasn’t much, but she would defend this child—and this house—with her life if necessary. She held it high in the air, keeping it steady only by a tremendous effort of will, daring any of them to come closer. “Get out!”
Whether it was because of the weapon, or the protective fury of a woman shielding a child, the men made a decision to push her no further.
“Maybe we’ll just search for the Yank ourselves.”
“No. You won’t.”
The words were said quietly, but with the compelling voice of command. In the span of a heartbeat, the very atmosphere of the room transformed. A charge of crackling energy snapped like a lightning bolt, creating a strange aura that implied bullets not yet fired.
Annie’s attention turned toward Major Wescott, who leaned nonchalantly against the doorjamb behind her with a pose of absolute indifference. His acting was superb, because she observed a nerve twitching on his cheek—presumably from rage, because neither his carriage nor his expression suggested fear of any kind.
First came shock. Then utter relief. Followed by a mixture of concern and apprehension for the three men who made the mistake of entering Lacewood.
“Step away from the lady.” The order was low, grave, and menacing, carrying the undertone of a threat.
The men seemed startled by the sudden appearance of the resolute officer, then alarmed when they noticed his lethal calm.
“Major...sir,” one said. “We heard you were over by Centerville.”
“What business is it of yours where I am?” The intensity of his voice matched the penetrating scrutiny of his stare. He stood with military erectness now, his commanding presence filling the room, while his eyes seemed to appraise each man with hawk-like intensity. “On whose authority did you break in here, and on what grounds have you come?”
Annie took a deep breath, both in relief and newfound fear. The raw confidence so often evident in Major Wescott’s demeanor was replaced by something entirely different now—savage ferocity. Blue eyes conjuring stormy seas seemed to grow more wrathful by the moment as they settled upon the broken door latch, swiftly recognizing the violence that caused the damage.
“Well, sir. We heard there was a Yankee here, and we came to—”
What happened next passed by in the blink of an eye. Annie saw movement, but it was nothing more than a blur. With a swiftness impossible to comprehend, the major pulled his revolver, rushed toward the speaker, and lifted him against the wall with one strong hand. His gun lingered low and close to his side, but his body was coiled, eager to deal vengeance to all three intruders at once if they pushed him.
A surprising calm and composure descended upon Annie at the sight of his manly strength and power. Everything was under control now—except perhaps the owner of Lacewood’s temper.
“Who sent you?”
“N-n-o-o one...”
Annie felt, rather than heard, the resounding thunder of Major Wescott’s fury as the back of the man’s head hit the wall hard.
“The truth!”
“Well, sir.” One of the other men stepped forward. “Corporal Jenkins...he said we might get a bounty if we brought a Yankee in. He said it wasn’t right for—”
Again the man’s head hit the wall, causing his friend to stop speaking.
Annie watched the major’s face turn red with the intensity of his rage, but other than the still-throbbing nerve, he now managed to keep his temper in check. He turned his head toward her and spoke in a voice both serious and grave. “Did they harm you?”
“We didn’t touch her, I swear!” one of the men said.
Annie turned and picked up Isabella, putting her cheek next to hers and squeezing her tightly. “No.” It was all she could do to keep from bursting into tears. She fought the panic and fear threatening to overtake her—emotions the man in front of her seemed entirely unacquainted with.
The soldier being held against the wall struggled to catch his breath but remained silent. His eyes went back and forth between the major and Annie, but they were no longer lit with hate or vengeance. Pure, stark terror was the only emotion burning there now.
Major Wescott loosened his grip slightly. “I have half a mind to shoot you all, and I have full grounds, authority, and ability to do it.”
“Please, sir. We didn’t mean any harm. We didn’t mean to scare nobody.”
“Apologize to the lady.” The words were spoken quietly, but the intruders had no trouble hearing them—even with their attention on the revolver still held in the major’s rock-steady hand.
“I’m sorry, ma’am.” They spoke in unison.
“Papa!” Little Isabella finally awakened enough to recognize her father and began struggling in Annie’s arms.
The officer’s face softened, but his focus remained on the three men. “If you are not off my property in three minutes, I will make sure none of you are ever seen or heard from again.”
The men turned and raced each other for the doorway, almost getting stuck in their haste to be the first one through.
“And if I ever see you again—or hear you are back in this community—I will make good on the threat.” Major Wescott stood guard in the doorway until the gallop of the retreating horses could no longer be heard.
Then he closed the door and turned back to Annie with a smile both grim and casual. “You are safe now.”
Annie merely bit her lip to keep herself from weeping uncontrollably and held Isabella out for him to take. During the exchange, Annie’s arm unintentionally became entangled between child and father. Seeming not to notice, he pulled her in close to him along with his little girl.
Not wishing to interrupt this poignant moment, Annie remained quiet, resting her face against Isabella’s back and wrapping her free arm around her. There was something warm and calming in this comforting embrace, making her wonder if it had been accidental after all. The protective strength of this giant man seeped into her, making her feel safe.
“Papa, I’m squished.” Isabella squirmed against the major’s bearlike hold, giving Annie room to release her arm and complete the transfer of the girl into her father’s arms that had begun some minutes earlier.
“How’s my little Bella?” The major pulled her in tight again, closing his eyes in the process.
“Papa, who were those mean men? They scared NeNe.”
Major Wescott’s eyes opened and met Annie’s. “NeNe?”
“She can’t quite say Annie yet.” Annie kissed the child on the cheek, and swiped her fingers through her soft hair. “Don’t be silly, I’m not scared. Now off to bed with you.”
“Yes, off to bed you go. It’s late.”
“Will you be here in the morning, Papa?” She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her cheek against his. “Please? I miss you.”
The look in Major Wescott’s eyes when he met Annie’s gaze almost made her run into his arms again. It was full of devotion, pain, and steadfast determination to fulfill his duty.
“Papa will tuck you in, sweetie,” Annie said. “And wish you sweet dreams. Now be a big girl and show him how you say your prayers.”
Isabella pouted, and her big eyes welled with tears, but she seemed to understand the importance of being strong. When the major put her down, Isabella took his hand and led him into the parlor where she now slept.
Such silence, following after the things Annie just endured, left her shaky and distraught. Her chin trembled, but she would not allow Major Wescott to witness the fear and terror consuming her. She’d watched men die, and beheld pain and misery beyond what any human being should be forced to contend. But she did not want him to know how weak and insecure she felt about being able to cope with it.
Annie remained where she stood, arms crossed in front of her, eyes closed, while she tried to regain her composure. What if he hadn’t come home when he did?
A shiver unlike any she had ever experienced traveled the length of her spine, forcing her to turn her thoughts to the positive. But he had come—almost as if drawn here by some uncanny instinct or intuition.
And it wasn’t the first time. How many times had the woodshed been filled just when she thought they would certainly freeze? Or hams magically appeared in the smokehouse? She had never questioned the good fortune. She hadn’t had the time. Perhaps she shouldn’t question it now either.
No better friend. No worse enemy. That’s what Luke told her about Jonathon Wescott on her first day at Lacewood. She’d never thought about the truth or impact of those words until now.
When she heard a door close softly behind her, Annie steeled herself to be strong. A soft touch on her shoulder sent a jolt of sensation through her body.
“She’s not asleep, but soon will be.” The voice near her shoulder was staid and calm.
