Cheryl Reavis (18 page)

“I see,” she said.

“I think they must be the major’s family.”

“His family? His mother and grandfather?”

“I’m not certain about that,” he said. “I saw two gentlemen—one older. And a very lovely young lady.”

This time Thomas didn’t walk into the situation as blindly as he had that night at Sumner’s headquarters in Falmouth. Howell had advised him as to what had impressed the general enough to have Thomas hunted down. A Judge Winthrop of Maryland had arrived by ship from St. Michaels.

Consequently, Lieutenant Howell was made privy to even more of the peculiarities of Thomas’s personal life. Thomas managed to delay seeing the judge for a few days by having the lieutenant hand deliver a perfunctory note to the old man saying that Thomas was currently attending to some pressing military duties. Then Thomas more or less disappeared into the ordnance yard on Craven Street. It was not imperative that he inspect the huge stockpile of artillery there—God knows there was no threat at the moment of having to use any of it. But it was an acceptable excuse for a
newly arrived officer who supposedly wanted to improve his commander’s bad first impression.

Thomas now had
no
hope of seeing Abiah except by accident on some street corner. And he couldn’t chance forcing the issue for fear of being sent elsewhere. So he trusted Howell with yet another task. He had no expectations that Abiah would read anything he wrote to her, so he sent verbal messages via the lieutenant instead, to be delivered when he went to his quarters at Miss Gwen’s in the evening—with no embellishments.

“Say to my wife that I trust she is feeling well today.”

“Say to my wife that I hope today was pleasant for her.”

But there were only so many cannons and caissons to be accounted for, and it was clear that the judge had come to New Bern with something to say. Thomas finally sent word to meet him at New Bern’s only restaurant. The old man was already waiting when Thomas arrived, and it was obvious that he was startled by Thomas’s appearance.

The place was noisy and crowded with soldiers, and it smelled of the only fare on the menu—coffee, biscuits and some kind of onion-more-than-meat stew. Thomas made his way among the tightly packed tables, stepping carefully on the sawdust-covered floor and trying not to favor his bad leg. It was important somehow that he not seem weak or vulnerable. The judge acknowledged him by gesturing curtly to an empty chair, and Thomas sat down.

Despite the crowd, an indifferent waitress almost immediately brought two tin cups and began to pour hot coffee from a large pot. He had heard from Howell that the general’s wife refused to let their children eat here, because she was afraid the Rebel staff would poison them. Given the obvious contempt in the coffee bearer’s facial expression, Thomas could understand her concern.

But threat of poison or not, his only wish was to get this ordeal over with.

“Sir, our parting in April was hardly cordial,” Thomas said bluntly. “Surely you realize that I didn’t expect to see you here and can’t imagine why you’ve come.”

“No one knew for certain how you were—” the judge began.

“My mother did. Perhaps you could have asked her and saved yourself so dangerous a journey.”

The old man stared at him. “Perhaps,” he said finally. “But I can assure you I have a reason and I will now get to it. I’m here on Elizabeth Channing’s behalf.”

Thomas was completely taken aback, but he didn’t say anything because the stew and biscuits arrived, plunked down with a good deal more force than was necessary. For once, the judge let the lack of proper servility in an underling pass.

“At the behest of her father,” the judge continued. “As you know, he and I are longtime friends. It has been very painful and embarrassing for me that my grandson has ruined his only daughter’s life.”

Thomas looked at him. If the judge expected some kind of confession of guilt or an apology, he was going to have a long wait.

“Elizabeth’s ruination came about by her own hand, not mine.”

“You brought her to that hotel in Falmouth—”

“And how do you suppose I could have done that? No civilian was allowed into Falmouth without a pass, and I certainly didn’t have the authority to arrange one for her.”

“Then I can only assume that you enticed
her
to make the arrangements herself by trading on her father’s influence. But be that as it may. There has always been some question as to whether or not you and the Calder girl are legally married. The assertions of the Falmouth lawyer who stood to gain financially and the camp follower you saw fit to hire as a sickroom nurse are hardly significant. I only acquiesced to the situation for your mother’s sake, but I could not locate any witnesses to the event in Falmouth and I can assure you I am far from convinced.”

“I don’t give a damn whether you’re convinced or not! The public at large was not invited to the ceremony and my best man is dead. That aside, you could have asked
me
.”

“You are too besotted by the Calder girl to tell the truth—”

Thomas made a move to stand up and the old man caught his arm. Several of the officers at the nearest table turned to look.

“I’m not finished! If she is a dalliance and nothing
more, then it is time for you to give her up and do the right thing for Elizabeth. People will forgive certain…indiscretions in wartime—
if
they see that both parties are making a concerted effort to set them right.”

“I am married to Abiah!”

“If that is so, there are legal means to rectify that. If a misguided loyalty to the Calder girl’s dead brother is the reason you behaved so foolishly, then you have no real reason to maintain the union. No one would expect it, given the traitorous actions of her family—”

“My God, is this the same kind of meddling you used to ruin my parents’ marriage?” Thomas asked.

The old man ignored the question. “Once you are wed to Elizabeth, I can assure you you will have no money worries of any kind. It is important to both Pearson Channing and myself that she continue to live in the manner she deserves—”

“You can’t buy me, Grandfather.”

“No? Not even if I have already bought your so-called wife? Fortunately
she
understands the practicalities here. I have spoken to her—”

“When?”

“When you were so busy accounting for your cannons. Given the very generous financial arrangement I am prepared to make her, she has no objections to your doing your duty by Elizabeth—”

“You’re a liar!”

“No, indeed. She accepted my offer of money with just as much enthusiasm as that camp follower did—”

Thomas abruptly lunged at the old man, grabbing
him by his lapels and upending everything on the table.

“Damn you!” he yelled, unmindful of where he was or the consequences. The old man paled, and a dozen hands must have pulled Thomas away and thrust him bodily out the door.

“Easy, son!” a colonel said as Thomas struggled to get free.

“You stay away from her, you son of a bitch!” he yelled over his shoulder at the judge, while the men who had removed him from the premises kept him from going back inside.

“All right!” somebody yelled from a carriage in the street.

“That’s enough! Harrigan! By God, now what are you into?”

Thomas looked around to see the general hanging out of the carriage window. The man was livid—not surprising, given their last meeting.

“I’m all right,” Thomas said to the men still restraining him. “Let me go, damn it—”

“He’s got his wife with him, son,” the colonel said. “You watch your language. You’re in enough trouble as it is.”

Thomas stood there for a moment before he stepped forward.

“It’s nothing, sir,” the colonel called. “All is well.”

“Not as well as it’s going to be. Colonel, you are patrolling upriver today, are you not?”

“Yes, sir, that I am. Today and all week.”

“Well, take Major Harrigan with you. And if he misbehaves, by God, shoot him!”

“Sir—” Thomas started to say.

“Yes, sir!” the colonel said loudly, to drown him out. “Salute, damn you!” he said under his breath to Thomas.

Thomas saluted. The general’s carriage moved on.

“All right,” the colonel said. “Let’s go.”

“I…need to get my gear, sir.”

“The hell you do. Anybody who can get in that much trouble sitting in front of a plate of biscuits and stew isn’t going anywhere except where the general authorized. I have direct orders to get your sorry carcass on a river scow and that’s what I’m going to do.
You
might want to spend a couple months in the prison at Fort Macon, but I don’t…” Thomas stopped listening. He ignored the crowd that had gathered on the sidewalk and at the restaurant windows. He ignored the judge who had just stepped into the doorway.

I have to see Abiah. I have to…

Surely to God she wouldn’t think he had sent the judge to get him out of the marriage.

But Thomas had no choice but to follow orders. If he got any further on the general’s wrong side, Fort Macon would be the least of his worries.

He rode in an army wagon down to the wharf, the colonel riding along beside it on horseback.

“Sir,” Thomas said at one point “I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”

“Bingham,” he said, stopping long enough to light
a cigar. He spurred his mount to catch up. “Colonel Fitzhugh Bingham, at your service.”

“Major Thomas Harrigan—”

“Oh, I know who you are, son. Let’s just say, that since the churchwomen descended upon us, your reputation has preceded you.”

One of these days, Thomas thought, when he had the time, he was going to sit down and try to understand just how he’d become a man with a “reputation” in the first place. Guire Calder had labeled him “wild” in his discussions with Abiah—and it had been all downhill ever since.

“The old man in the restaurant—” the colonel said after a time. “He insulted your wife.”

It wasn’t a question, and Thomas made no attempt to answer it. He had no idea how much the colonel had overheard. All of it, he supposed.

“That’s what I thought,” the colonel said.

They arrived at the river, and Thomas had already boarded the scow when he heard somebody on the dock calling him. It was Lieutenant Howell.

“Sir! What shall I tell Mrs. Harrigan?” he yelled, and every man on the deck and on shore stopped and turned to listen.

The hell with it,
Thomas thought. The scow was beginning to move out into the river. This was the only chance he would have.

“Tell her I had nothing to do with my grandfather coming to see her! Nothing! Understand?”

“Yes, sir!”

“And tell her—tell her I love her!”

The men within earshot began to whistle loudly.

“And make her believe it!” Thomas yelled over the din.

“Yes, sir!” Howell yelled back.

Thomas looked around to find Colonel Bingham grinning from ear to ear.

“Harrigan,” he said, still puffing his cigar. “They ought to post your name on the signboard outside Beers’s Book shop—right up there with ‘Gipsy Bess’ and the rest of the weekly entertainment.”

“A
bby, Lieutenant Howell is asking to speak to you. He’s very…insistent. I believe you should see what he wants.”

“Miss Gwen, I don’t care—”

But the lieutenant was indeed insistent. He came walking into the kitchen anyway, unannounced, without waiting to see if he would be summoned or dismissed.

“Mrs. Harrigan? Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I was given an order and you see, I have to carry it out.”

Abiah gave a quiet sigh. Her back ached. Her head ached. She couldn’t eat. She hadn’t slept. How could she when all she did was cry? She was exhausted, and she was trying so
hard
not to let Miss Gwen see how unhappy she was. It wasn’t good for the baby. Abiah knew that—and she couldn’t help it.

But right now she only wanted a little peace. It was obvious from the look on Lieutenant Howell’s face that she wasn’t about to get it.

“What is it?” she asked, because she had no choice.

“Forgive me, ma’am, but I think he would want me to tell you this in private.” He glanced at Miss Gwen, who sniffed and, surprisingly, withdrew into the other room, pointedly leaving the door slightly ajar.

“Abiah,” she called. “If you need me, you have only to say so.”

The lieutenant stared after her for a moment, trying to decide if she’d actually gone, Abiah supposed. “Ma’am,” he said, slightly louder than a whisper. “Major Harrigan has been sent on a river patrol for now, and he has instructed me to tell you that he had nothing to do with his grandfather’s coming to visit. Nothing.”

He waited, apparently to see if she wanted to make some kind of response. She didn’t.

“He also said that I should tell you that he—” the lieutenant cleared his throat “—he loves you, ma’am. And he has specifically ordered me to make you believe it.”

Abiah looked at him, and in spite of all she could do, her face crumpled and she began to cry.

“Oh, no, ma’am,” the lieutenant said in alarm. “Don’t do that! Please, the major will have my hide if I’ve upset you—oh, Lord, you are crying. What can I do—can I get you some water? Will you sit down? Shall I get Miss Gwen…?”

Abiah heard the barrage of questions, but somehow each seemed farther away than the previous one. There was a kind of roaring in her head, and…was he calling her name?

Oh, yes,
she thought at the last moment. This was
like what had happened after she’d shot Zachariah Wilson…

Thomas had learned a great deal from La Broie, more than he had ever realized. He would have been hard-pressed to say when exactly he had become a soldier, but he undeniably had. Command came easily to him now. It was second nature to him to look at a situation and know what to do and who should do it.

The jaunt up the Neuse River was uneventful enough. They located what had probably once been a Rebel encampment, but there were no signs of any kind of recent military activity. In Thomas’s opinion the Confederate army was spread too thin now, and the losses at Gettysburg had only worsened the situation. Still, there was no accounting for the tenacity of Southerners, and he couldn’t begin to guess when or if the war here might start up again.

It was cold on the river; his leg ached all the time. But the scenery was noteworthy, and he might even have enjoyed himself, if not for the ache in his heart. He had no idea exactly what the judge had said or done, and he had no way to find out. He kept thinking about the way Abiah had kissed him before Lieutenant Howell’s untimely knock on the door, and he had come to realize that even then, before the judge’s meddling, she had been telling him goodbye.

He returned to New Bern after six days. He was “dog tired and pig dirty,” as La Broie might have said.

“You go report to the general, Major,” Colonel
Bingham said. “Tell him exactly what we’ve been up to.”

“Sir—”

The colonel held up his hand. “The man never forgets anything. He’s going to want to know where you are first thing, so I might as well kill two birds with one stone and let you make the report. You know all the particulars. You can answer his questions better than I can—which means I get to go find myself a big whiskey and a hot bath. Rank has its privileges, son. Dismissed!”

Thomas went straight to headquarters, intending to get the session with the general over as fast as he possibly could. And then…

He didn’t know what he would do then.

There was nobody around when he went inside. While he stood waiting for someone to wander through, he examined the details of the actual house. It had obviously been someone’s residence, and a fine one at that. But it had been stripped bare, and it was hard to imagine people—a family—ever living in it.

He heard footsteps coming up the hallway, and he turned to see one of the aides-de-camp approaching, but he didn’t get the chance to make any inquiries. The general’s door opened, and the general himself came out.

“Major Harrigan,” he said when he saw him, and he was clearly startled to find him there.

“Sir, the river patrol—”

“Never mind that. You need to go see your wife.”

“My…wife?”

“You do know where she’s staying.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then go. Now. Tell Private Yardley out front you’re to take my mount.”

“Sir—”

“Now, Major.”

Thomas didn’t hesitate any longer, and luckily for the private, he didn’t give Thomas any trouble about taking the general’s horse. None. Which was odd.

But he had no time to worry about that. He rode hard down the street until he came to Miss Gwen’s house, and he left the animal wandering inside her picket fence. Miss Gwen opened the front door before Thomas got to it.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, trying to get by her.

She wouldn’t let him pass. “You’re not welcome here,” she said. “I have never been so mistaken about another human being in my life. Abby is well rid of you.”

“Miss Gwen, what has happened?”

“You mean besides the bribe you sent your grandfather to make?”

“I didn’t have anything to do—”

“Could you not have just
asked
her to set you free without adding that insult? She would have done it, you know. No matter how much it broke her heart…” The old lady began to weep.

“Miss Gwen, please! Is it the fever again? Tell me, damn it!”

When she didn’t answer him, he took her by her forearms and moved her bodily out of the way. He
bounded up the stairs to Abiah’s bedchamber and pushed open the door. Another woman stood near the fireplace, and to his left, the brigade surgeon who had examined Thomas’s wounds when he first arrived in New Bern.

He sidestepped them both and went immediately to the bedside.

“Abby,” he said.

She was so pale.

“Abby!”

“She doesn’t hear you, Major,” the surgeon said. “Come away. Let her—”

“What’s wrong with her? Tell me!”

“Her constitution has been very taxed by the ordeal of childbirth. The labor was unduly prolonged—”

“Childbirth?”

“Major, did you not know your wife was with child?”

“No, I—no. Is she going to be all right?”

“I don’t know. We’ll just have to wait and see. She is very weak. And the baby has come early.”

“The baby?”

“You have a son. He was born shortly after midnight. We have him down in the kitchen where we can keep him warm, and every effort has been made to find him a wet nurse.”

“I see,” Thomas said, his eyes never leaving Abiah’s face. He sat down on the edge of the bed and took her hand. Seeing her like this was so much a repeat of that day he’d found her in the Calder house that it was almost a physical pain.

“Abby…” he whispered. This time she opened her eyes.

He leaned forward to press a kiss on her forehead. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, still whispering because he didn’t want anyone to hear.

She closed her eyes again without answering. He wasn’t even sure she recognized him.

“She’s been given laudanum, Major. She will sleep now. It’s the best thing for her. Her body must be given the opportunity to restore itself. Do you plan to…stay?”

“Yes, of course, I plan to stay!” Thomas said, knowing even as he said it that from the doctor’s point of view, the question was perfectly appropriate.

“Very well. Try not to disturb her. There is nothing else for me to do here. You can send for me if you need me. And, Major,” he said as he opened the door. “Perhaps you should see your son.”

Thomas looked at him, hearing plainly what the man didn’t say.

Before it’s too late.

He nodded and stood, touching Abiah’s face gently before he followed the doctor out. There seemed to be a lot of people in the house—Thomas caught a glimpse of Lieutenant Howell standing anxiously in the foyer. But he spoke to no one.

He followed the doctor into the kitchen. It was full of women—the churchwomen, he supposed, who had tried to protect Abiah from his inappropriate and unwelcome attention. Perhaps they had been right to do so. They stared at him as he passed among them, all
conversation stopped. He didn’t see the baby, but he said nothing.

Finally, one of the women spoke up. “Your son is here, Major.”

They had placed him in a well-padded wooden crate near the cookstove. The oven door was open to allow the heat to radiate outward. Several pieces of flannel lay stacked and warming on a nearby chair.

Thomas stood there, staring down at the baby. He was so little! He had dark hair like Abiah’s, like his own. The fingers of one tiny hand lay spread against his cheek. Thomas reached into the box to touch him.

“We have found a wet nurse,” the woman said. “She is on her way.”

Thomas looked at her. “Good. Whatever fee she requires—”

“She won’t require a fee, Major. She—all of us—knew Abiah’s dear mother. It’s for
her
that we’re here.”

He nodded. He understood loyalty to Miss Emma perfectly well. He looked around the room and then at his son.

“I will be upstairs with my wife,” he said to no one in particular. “I ask that you call me if…if I’m needed.”

He didn’t wait for a response. He turned and went back upstairs. And he did the only thing he could do. He kept vigil, sometimes sitting in a chair, sometimes lying beside Abiah on the bed. He lost all track of time. Women came and went. Someone brought him food and coffee—and a basket of apples courtesy of
the general’s lady. Twice he left Abiah’s side to go see his child.

And he prayed. He had never been one for praying; God had always seemed too much like the celestial version of Judge Winthrop to him. Thomas had made no entreaties before Fredericksburg or Chancellorsville. He had made none in that Pennsylvania peach orchard.

But he did now.

Please. Please…

The doctor returned. He seemed satisfied that Abiah still slept, and Thomas tried to take what comfort he could from that. He sat dozing in the chair by the bed after the doctor had gone, close enough to reach out and touch her if he wanted—needed—to.

“Thomas…”

He opened his eyes. The judge stood just inside the door. Thomas got out of the chair and walked to him.

“What do you want?” he asked, and he had to fight hard to keep his voice down.

“I have come to speak to you—”

“You and I have nothing to speak about,” Thomas said. “Nothing.”

“I can assure you it is important.”

“Not to me.”

“I beg your indulgence,” the judge said.

“You
beg?
Why? What have you and the Channings decided now? I can
not
believe that the three of you are being so incredibly dense about this. I can’t take away Elizabeth’s notoriety. I wouldn’t if I could.
I understand that you think her the victim here. Believe me, she is not.”

“Did you or did you not ask her to marry you?”

“I did. She accepted and she insisted that it be kept a secret. Then
she
broke the supposed engagement last fall. She dismissed me quite handily in a letter. The problem for her was that I took the dismissal seriously—I had no reason not to believe whatever she said then. But it was all some kind of ‘test’ she was giving me in order to show off for her Washington friends. She thought I could just leave a war and come plead with her to change her mind. As far as I was concerned, that was the end of it. I never heard from her again—until she showed up in Falmouth and sent me word that my ‘wife’ was waiting for me.

“I realize that you—all of you—think my marriage to Abby is something that can just be thrown away because
you
wish it. But I can assure you that is not the case. I stole Abiah Calder out of her mother’s house with the Rebel cavalry at my heels. I brought her at great risk across an enemy-held river—and I didn’t care how many orders I had to disregard to do it. I had to threaten a ferryman’s life to get him to take us across—and, trust me, my sergeant or I would have killed the son of a bitch where he stood if he had refused.

“I lived through weeks of anxiety about Abby because she was so ill and I didn’t know what had happened to her, because Elizabeth was intercepting my letters to her
and
my mother. Then I had to come begging to you to get me a furlough so that I could
come to Maryland to see her. You thought it was a great show of weakness on my part, but I can assure you it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life to have to humble myself like that and have you think that your harsh judgment of me was finally justified.

“But don’t worry, Grandfather. I’m not altogether above reproach. I came very close to giving in to temptation at that hotel and for that moment of weakness I am most heartily ashamed. Even so, it was Elizabeth’s machinations, not mine, that the ubiquitous Mrs. Post revealed in your foyer that morning.

“Last July I managed to live through the closest thing to hell on this earth it is possible for men to create. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was like—and my only thought was to see Abby again. I have since rearranged my entire military career in order to follow her here, because I love her with all my heart. My son has just been born. Do you actually think you can undo all that?

“There was a time when I thought I wanted to marry Elizabeth Channing—that was when I still hoped to somehow gain your approval. But that time is long gone. If you want to think me some kind of blackguard and seducer of women, then do so! But I know the truth and so does Elizabeth. Go home. Take the Channings with you. And have the decency to leave me and my family alone.”