Christa sat upon the window seat, draped in the long sleeves of Jeremy’s white cotton shirt, her knees up, her elbows resting upon them, and her chin resting upon her hands. They were in the summer cottage, staring back out over the cemetery and onward to the lawn and porch and gardens beyond.
She looked something like a waif in the oversized shirt, but even as a waif, Jeremy decided, she was elegant. Christa, with her fine, beautifully sculpted features, sky-blue eyes, and jet-black hair. Even the way she curled the trim length of her body was elegant. She reminded him of a cat, sleek, glorious, and at the moment, purring.
He sat behind her, lifted the full rich sweep of her dark hair, and brushed his lips against her shoulder. She moved back against him, her arms falling upon his as they encircled her.
“You’re happy to be home, aren’t you?” he asked her.
He felt her smile and he felt her hesitate, careful with her answer. “Of course I’m happy to be home. It’s nearly summer, and everything is growing so beautifully. The grass is so green, the air still just cool enough, the sun radiant. Virginia is beautiful in summer.”
“And in spring,” Jeremy agreed.
“And in fall, too, of course,” she murmured. She twisted and her eyes danced with a blue fire as she continued, “Then, of course, I’m glad to be home because it’s wonderful to see Callie and Kiernan doting over Josiah. I confess, I adore my son, but I’m grateful for the time we’ve managed alone here.”
Jeremy felt his eyes drawn back to the furs upon the floor before the fire. He was feeling quite grateful himself. There were two half-full wineglasses awaiting them. And he had to agree, it was very nice to be alone. He’d found the invitation to the summer cottage beneath his breakfast plate this morning and he’d been delighted to find his wife there before him, without the child he too adored. The long miles home had been worth it for just those moments.
But, of course, the journey was worth it for so many more reasons. The sense of belonging here was wonderful. Daniel and Callie and their little ones had been at Cameron Hall almost constantly since they had arrived. Christa had been watching her brothers and their wives and the Cameron toddlers—and their own little bundle in his cradle—out on the lawn from the window for the last several minutes. The Camerons were all here. But the homecoming was even richer than that. Joshua McCauley and his young wife, Janis, had been invited down as a surprise for Jeremy just as soon as Callie had known when they were arriving. Since the southern household had been filling with Yankees, Jesse had suggested that Kiernan’s father, John McCay, come spend time with them too. The
Joshua McCauleys were home now, and John, too, had returned to his own house. But for a while the household had been tumultuous with children everywhere and the discussions both serious and laughable.
Daniel and Callie and their brood were still at Cameron Hall, and it was those two Christa watched now, along with Jesse and Kiernan and the children. They were wonderful to watch. Kiernan and Callie were stunning in their gowns, sipping cold drinks on a swing and rocking the baby while Jesse was down on the ground and Daniel was directing the children, one after the other, to climb atop his back. Then Jesse was standing, insisting that it was Daniel’s turn to play cavalry horse. Then Callie stood up, always the peacemaker, but before she could chastise them she shrieked as Daniel brought her down—elegant day dress and all—onto the lawn. The children couldn’t let Kiernan be the only dignified one among the adults, so they dragged her onto the lawn too.
Jeremy and Christa couldn’t really hear the words from where they were, they could only hear the laughter that occasionally floated to them, making them both smile.
“Think they know where we are?” Jeremy asked Christa.
She nodded, smiling. “Well, they know I’m here, so I’m sure they know you’re here! But it’s always been a private place. When we were children and we were in trouble, we used to come here to bind our little wounded souls! We all knew to stay clear until that someone reappeared. Then …”
“Then?”
Her lashes fell and she smiled. “Then … well, I’m quite certain that Kiernan met Jesse here before the war, before they were married. I carried messages for them now and then, and one of them was about fur … and well, you’ve seen how it’s furnished!”
He laughed. “Minx! Spying on your brother!” he chastised her.
“I certainly never did such a thing!” she protested, but she leaned against him still smiling. “Oh, Jeremy! Look out there. It’s almost like it was before the war!” Christa said softly.
“Because the war is over. Really over,” Jeremy said, and he threaded his fingers through hers, lacing them together.
She sighed, leaning her weight against him. “But there’s still so much that isn’t healed!” she said. “Carpetbaggers and riffraff are still half of the ruling force. Daniel’s had to ask another pardon—and it doesn’t sit well with him, I assure you! The schism had remained.”
“Yes, in a way,” Jeremy agreed. He smoothed back her hair. “Christa, you can’t take something as agonizing and devastating as the War of Rebellion—”
“The Civil War,” she corrected.
“We Yanks do call it a War of Rebellion,” he continued patiently, “and think that it can be over because the firing has ended. Christa, it may take years, it may take decades. Our country is just a pup when you compare it with others. The war has come and gone, and we’ve made it as a union! Maybe you can’t see it yet. But it’s time for growth again. Men and women are looking to the West, they’re looking to the cities, they’re searching for opportunities—searching for ways to live, and in living we’ll heal the breach. In little ways, first. Like we’ve healed the breach here!” he said very softly. “We’ve found our peace. Others will find theirs. And a hundred years from now, maybe the Camerons living here will know that the war had to be fought, and had to be lost, for the whole country to be strong.”
She looked up at him, smiling, her blue eyes radiant. She stroked his cheek. “I love you, Jeremy.”
He caught her fingers and kissed them. He cleared his throat. “I love you, too, Christa. More than I could ever say. And I’ve, lain awake nights lately, thinking about it.”
She arched a brow. “I thought that love made you sleep well. When Josey isn’t busy waking us up, that is.”
He smiled. “Yes, but I’ve been thinking.”
“Oh, dear! Yanks are so dangerous when they think!” she teased.
He ran a finger down her nose. “I’m going to tell you what I’ve been thinking despite that comment, Mrs. McCauley!” He paused just a second, then continued. “Jesse wrote me while we were still at Fort Jacobson—”
“Jesse wrote you?”
“Yes, your brother wrote me privately!” he teased, then sobered. “He wanted me to know that your father had left him instructions about a certain parcel of land. It was to be yours if you ever wanted it, once you were married and settled. I imagine Jesse was afraid it might cause a dispute if you had wanted to come home, and I had wanted to stay in the West.”
“The two of us? Have a dispute?” she said, wide-eyed.
He grinned. Since the day he had taken her from Buffalo Run’s encampment, neither of them had ever denied the depths of their love or would ever do so again. But they had learned that not even love curbed hot tempers completely, and that the making up from their inevitable disagreements was a wonderful thing.
“Well, my love, Jesse did grow up with you. He knows, of course, all about your temper.”
“My temper!”
“Errant Rebs seem to come with them,” he teased. She smiled, but then her smile faded. “Oh, Jeremy! I
was so grateful for the way that you handled things last night!”
She had made him promise that they would never tell Jesse that John Weland had been seeking revenge against him. The danger was all over, but Jesse, being Jesse, would hound himself about it endlessly.
At dinner they had been talking about traveling, and Jesse had cleared his throat and commented that he was still afraid of being away from home too long—since someone had nearly succeeded in burning down the place just a year ago.
Jeremy had apologized profusely for not having told Jesse earlier that he had come in contact with a man who told him that he knew who had been after the Cameron estate, and that it had been a deranged major who had, since that time, passed away.
Jesse would never know the truth.
And they would all breathe more easily feeling that Cameron Hall was safe.
“You were wonderful!” Christa told him. She kissed his lips, then lay back in his arms, studying him. “You were always wonderful. Even when I was being incredibly rotten, you were considerate of my family.”
He brushed a kiss onto her brow.
“You were quite good to my sister when she came here, too, you know,” he reminded her.
“I loved her right away. Even for a Yankee, she was a sweetheart.”
“Well, I admit, I was partial to your brothers from the start.”
“Even the Reb?”
“Especially the Reb.”
She smiled, leaning against him again, luxuriating in the quiet time and the rare solitude they were enjoying.
“Well?” he said softly.
She opened her eyes wide. “Well?”
“Christa—” he said, then he paused, swallowing. “Christa, when I married you, I dragged you away from here. I took you from everything that you loved, from your family, from your home. I forced you out west, to hardship, to danger. I had no right—”
“You had every right!” she corrected him. “I forced you to marry me, remember?”
“If I hadn’t been willing, no one could have forced me,” he said softly.
“And no one could have forced me west!” she replied.
He disentangled himself from her for a moment, pacing before the fire. Christa, watching him, hugged her knees more tightly and felt a rush of warmth sweep through her. He was naked, and very comfortable and natural that way.
And excessively handsome and alluring, too, so tall, so tautly muscled and sleek, so bronze, touched by the fire that took the chill from the air.
She swallowed and watched his eyes, reminding herself primly that he was trying to talk to her.
He came back to her, a foot upon the window seat, and he stared down at her. “Christa—”
“Out there,” she interrupted him, “in the graveyard, are many of my Cameron ancestors.”
“I know, Christa. That’s the point—”
“The first Camerons to come here were Jassy and Jamie. He was a lord. She married him—”
“I’ve heard this story from Jesse,” Jeremy warned her. “Jassy was a bit of a tart who married Jamie for his house and holdings in England. But he brought her here—”
“Precisely!” Christa whispered softly. “She was a bit of a tart! But she was strong-willed and determined, and she built this home with Jamie and stayed with him here. Because she fell in love with him, you see. And do you know what else?”
“What else?”
“He had to rescue her from Indians too. They were the Pamunkeys, I believe. And they roamed all this land. They’re mostly all gone now.” She flashed him a rueful smile. “Except, upon occasion, you meet a tall blue-eyed, very blond man or woman who happens to be a descendant of Pocahontas and John Smith! Is that what will happen out west, do you think?” she asked him.
He shook his head. “I don’t know. But we do seem to be a gluttonous people. The railroads will go farther soon. We’ll continue to call them savages while we kill their food supplies and steal their land. Maybe one day there will be a peace. I’m afraid that there will be tremendous loss with it. But there’s so much only time will tell.”
She smiled, watching him, feeling a warmth sweep around her. She loved him so much, yet it seemed that she loved him more daily.
She touched his russet hair, marveling at the color and the thick rich feel of it. “The point of this story,” she told him, “is that Jassy gave up what she thought she wanted so much—”
“It was my understanding that he told her she was coming or he would see to it that she did so by force.”
Christa waved a hand in the air. “The point is that she discovered that she loved him with her whole heart. And they came to love this land together, and they built their home here.”
He took both of her hands. “So we will build a home here,” he said.
She shook her head. “You’re not paying attention to me. It doesn’t matter where, Jeremy,” she said.
“There’s still tremendous danger in the West,” he told her. “The Indian problems will not be solved for years!”
“There’s danger, yes, but tremendous excitement and beauty too!”
“There’s beauty here.”
“There’s so much to explore and build in the West,” she argued.
“And there’s so incredibly much to rebuild here, in Virginia,” he said. “I—I brought you from your home. But then discovered how much I loved you. Christa, you and Josiah are my life. And love is far stronger than any need for honor or glory in the West! You hold my heart in your hands. Carry it tenderly, my love. But carry it with you wherever you would go. The future is yours to decide.”
Her eyes widened upon his as she realized just how serious he was.
“But you’re up for promotion again—”
“Christa, there’s a great deal I could do here too.”
She started to tremble. She threaded her fingers through his hair. “Oh, my God, Jeremy!” she whispered. “I love you!”
He caught her hand and kissed her palm tenderly. “Christa—”
“Oh, Jeremy! How strange, and how very sad and curious! That’s one thing that John Weland told me once.”
“Weland!”
She nodded. “He told me that home was where the heart was. And it’s very true. Don’t you see, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter where we are at all. In your arms, I’m home.”
He rose, and lifted her into his arms. She stared at the glittering silver in his eyes.
“So?” she whispered.
“So …” he said. He whirled around with her and lowered them both before the fire and onto the fur. He came upon his knees and drew her up likewise against him, entwining their fingers together.