Edge of Time (Langston Brothers Series) (26 page)

Kirsten blanched, then whimpered.

“I can’t remember the last time I was so thoroughly sodden that I couldn’t stand, and if I couldn’t stand there is no way I could have done
that
.”

“If I may interject
—
” Every eye turned toward
the staid voice of the reverend. “P
erhaps we should verify that Dr. Langston and Miss McClafferty
—
”

“
Mrs. Langston
,” Craig corrected tersely.

“Mrs. Langston,” t
he reverend acquiesced,
“
a
re in
deed
married.”

The white knuckled grip Mike had on the shotgun eased slightly as he cast a stiff nod toward the pastor.

Kirsten and Molly exchanged a quick
, nervous
look.

Marissa’s eyes narrowed at the pair. Craig could only hope she’d caught the exchange.

*     *     *

The day
proved to be a horror-show for Marissa. S
he listen
ed
to arguments, more nasty rumors, half-truths and denials. And when it was all over she found herself standing alone in the front hall of the townhouse watching Craig stalk furiously about the room’s perimeter. At last he turned to her but she held up a hand when he opened his mouth to speak.

“I’ve heard the story. I’ve heard all of the excuses and I really don’t want them repeated.” Pursing her lips she flicked her eyes upward and
whispered
, “Just convince me.”

Eyes soft h
e stepped forward and clasped both of h
er hands, dropping to one knee
. “I vowed before man and God to love you and honor you and cherish you all the days of my life
,”
he spoke solemnly, the words reverent. “
I now swear
that I have not broken my vow,
and as long as I live I never will.” He pulled both of her hands to his lips. “Stay with me? Forever?”

Convincing? That was incredible. Marissa nodded as tears welled in her eyes. It was time to take a leap of faith, something she’d never been good at, and put her trust in him, her husband.

Edge of Time
230

Twelve

The next weeks were sheer bliss. Heaven. And Craig found himself happily falling into the routine of married life. As before, the sheriff’s deputies had turned up nothing new in the Harris woods and he was beginning to relax into the idea that the man had in fact moved on. Craig strode through the streets of Charleston, sweltering in the August heat. Soon, though, the fall crispness would come, and then be exchanged for the cold air of winter. Craig felt like a little boy when he thought of it. He loved the snow, loved winter
—
though it tended to be the bane of his medical career, what with slips and slides and broken bones
—
but every year he couldn’t wait to throw his first snowball. Marissa preferred autumn, she’d told him that just last night. Marissa…

Longingly he glanced toward the road that would take him home to his wife and wished he had more time to spend with her. His army commitment didn’t allow time to maintain much of a personal practice, but Craig still did his best to honor those who’d been his patients before the onset of hostilities.

And right now instead of heading home he was on his way to a house call.

Marissa usually accompanied him but she’d stayed home that afternoon. He missed her. He felt like a lovesick fool, but that’s what he was. It was wonderful to share his work with her, though he could never shake the sensation that she was biting her tongue
,
and
he was certain that
she knew more about medicine than she let on. He could never manage to coax the whole story out of her.

Climbing the steps of his patient’s modest farmhouse Craig pounded on the door several times before a man of middling years yanked it open. From a curtained doorway
inside the house
he heard a woman weeping. Craig smiled in greeting at Steven Miller who had been discharged from the Confederate Army a week or two ago after a severe injury to his left arm in Chattanooga.

“You are not welcome here,” Steven said flatly, his steely gray gaze angrily assessing the younger man.

Craig
drew back in confusion.
“What are you talking about, Steve? I came to see Annie. She sent for me.”

“Without my permission. No son of a bitch traitor is
going to lay hands on my wife!”

Disbelief washed over Craig like an icy ocean wave. “Traitor?”

“Your wife is a Yankee spy!” Steven spat the words in Craig’s face. “Everyone knows it.”

What the hell? Incensed Craig, the much larger of the two men, took a menacing step forward. “How dare you speak such sland
er against my wife?
Marissa is not a Yankee or a spy! I can personally attest to that.”

Steven closed the distance between them and glowered up at Craig. “Oh, I’m sure you can.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Of course, who would believe you? You’re probably in cahoots with them blue-bellied bastards too!”

Shocked, Craig was speechless for a mom
ent. “Why you son of a bitch!” H
e snarled, doubling his fists. “My own brother died in service of the Confederacy. For you to suggest I would so sully his memory is an outrage!’

“You’re the outrage!” Steven launched himself forcefully at Craig and the men tumbled to the ground in front of the door, locked in vicious battle for a few tense moments. The lame arm p
roved too much for Miller
and
Craig quickly o
verpowered
him
. Deftly Craig subdued his attacker
and glared at the man who
dare
d
accuse him or his beloved of treason. “Do you honestly believe me a traitor to the cause?” Craig barked, fist balled in Miller’s shirt-front.

Steven
stopped struggling and let out a ragged breath
.
“No, Doc, I don’t think
you
are. But as far as that uppity little bitch you took to your b
—
”
Craig’s
steely grip twisted on Steven’s collar, choking back the words, but he
shoved
Craig’s hand away and forged ahead. “How much do you really know about her? She sure don’t talk like she’s from around here or from Atlanta for that matter, and I’ve heard more than a few stories about her since I got back.”

“I’ve heard those stories, too, Steve, and did it ever occur to you that the stories are just that? Stories? Vicious rumors? Li
es?
” Lifting the other man off the ground by the front of his shirt Craig shook him. “My wife is not a traitor, and if I catch you or anyone else spreading slander against her I swear on my mother’s grave you will rue the day.”

Steven’s eyes widened with fear, but as Craig let him go again and stalked away,
Miller
refused to let the threat lie. “I didn’t get shot up and damn near lose my arm to have someone little Yankee bitch sell us up river.”

Craig
shot a withering glare at
the other man which promptly sent Steven scampering inside the door.

“You t
hink about it, Doc!”

Craig was pensive as he made his way through the outskirts of town. Those filthy rumors refused to die. The gossips had been circulating tales about Marissa almost since she came to town, but never like this. Should he have seen it coming? “This is totally absurd,” he muttered angrily under his breath. He’d never seen or heard anything even remotely suspicious but...

There are things you don’t know about me!
Marissa’s voice rang in his memory. “
Bloody Hell,
” he said aloud, pounding one fist into the other hand. What had she meant by that? Craig had always assumed it had to do with her personal life, with her engagement to Brian, but could it have been more? Why had she gone alone to the woods that day he’d followed her and they’d been shot at? The thought sneaked up on him, catching him unawares. No! No she was
not
a Union spy. It was quite simply impossible. But those foul accusations were escalating and the severity went beyond a tarnished reputation. It could put Marissa in grave danger.

Deeply troubled, Craig quickly made his way home. Should he even tell her? He knew how hurt and angry she’d been when the initial tales had reached her ears. Perhaps it would be best to keep this quiet for the moment, see if it went any further.

When he stepped through the front door of the house Marissa’s laugh floated cheerfully from the direction of the kitchen. “Come on, Genie you can do better than that. All right, I bet you’ll get this one.” Marissa proceeded to hum a tune Craig didn’t recognize.

“Oh, that’s
too
easy, Marissa,” Genie replied teasingly. “Stairway to Heaven. Led Zeppelin!”

Craig was thoroughly perplexed. He paused in the doorway to observe them separating bread dough in the kitchen. “What, may I ask, are the two of you talking about?”

Marissa and Genie jumped, appearing momentarily flustered, which Craig found odd, before Marissa turned to bestow a wifely kiss upon his lips and pop a bite of dough into his mouth. “Oh, nothing, we’re just bored and, um, making up silly songs to amuse ourselves.”

Genie formed a loaf and shoved it into a bread pan.

Craig chewed the bite and gave his head a rueful shake. What was a
lead zeppelin
?

*
             
*
             
*

“Well, I must be off,” Genie said. “But do consider coming over to Carolyn’s house when your bread is out of the oven.”

“All right. We’ll talk about it and maybe see you later on this evening, after dinner,”
Marissa said, walking her
friend
to the door. There, Genie fixed her with a pointed look.

Marissa nodded
, the movement
almost imperceptible. Really, Genie could have given her a bit more warning. She’d claimed to have forgotten until just that morning and only scatterbrained Genie would forget a situation as imminently dire as a bombing! Apparently in the wee hours of the morning August 22, 1863 the Yankee cannon, horribly named the
Swamp Angel,
would bombard Charleston with artillery and Greek fire. This was a situation in which fore-knowledge was a valuable asset and Genie had insisted she and Craig get away from their house well before the bombing. The problem was it was now the evening of August 21
^st
, which meant she had a matter of hours to convince her husband of the need to spend the night at either the hospital or her “cousin’s” house, without sounding a bumbling, idiotic fool.

“What were you talking about?”

“Oh, Carolyn’s been blue lately. She hasn’t heard from her husband
in weeks and Genie thought if
you and I came to stay the night at her house
it
might cheer her up.
I told G
enie
I needed to speak with you first.
”

Craig gave her a warm kiss. “If you want to spend the night there, then that’s what we’ll do,” he assured her.

Marissa turned with a smile and slid four loaves of bread into the oven, then chattered with him while she fixed dinner.

*     *     *

“Holy Christ!”
Craig shot out of bed and ran
to the window. “Did you hear that? I think we’re being bombed!” A bright flash followed by another explosion confirmed his words. “Oh my God,” he said. “We
are
being bombed!”

Marissa flinched, dragging herself from the warm cocoon of bedclothes as a resounding crash emanated from somewhere in the city around them. Genie had assured her that only the lower regions of the city would be devastated and that Carolyn’s house, and probably even Marissa and Craig’s home, should be well enough away from the cannon fire, but the reassurance did not stem the deep-seated unease quivering in her breast.

“I’ve got to get to the hospital.” Craig was already half-dressed. “I’m sure there will be plenty of injured in need of assistance. Goddamn Yankees,” he spat, “shelling a defenseless city with few left in it but women and children! They should burn in hell for this.”

“Craig,” Marissa said quietly, clambering into her own clothes. “Maybe it won’t be so bad.”
             

“How can you say that?”

Marissa gulped and shrank away from his blatantly angry gaze, mumbling, “I’m going to let Genie know where we’re going.”

“You don’t need to come,” he said. “Go back to bed. It might not be safe out there.”

Marissa p
ulled on her stockings
and shoved her feet into her boots. “If you’re going, I’m going.”

Craig didn’t argue.