Grayson Brothers Series Boxed Set (4 books in 1) (23 page)

After Kyle left, Evelyn huddled in her quilt and watched the firelight flicker behind the small glass plate in the stove. The wind shook the house and pelted the windowpanes with hard-edged sleet that sounded like pebbles. Even the walls seemed to moan with her as she buried her face in her arms.

How she longed for a house filled with Radford’s and Rebecca’s laughter and the sound of her father’s cane thumping across the floor. If she could just feel the warmth of Radford’s embrace, instead of a worn afghan and an Acme wood stove, it would help her survive the emotional storm raging within her.

The wind moaned like a wounded soldier and a shutter banged in the kitchen. She prayed it wouldn’t blow off before dawn, which was only an hour away. She’d been up all night waiting to hear if they’d found Radford, and her stomach was so tense, she was nauseous.

A loud bang made her leap from the couch. That was not a shutter pounding on the kitchen door! With her heart racing, she rushed to the door, expecting Boyd or Duke, but when she opened it, the gust of frigid air was not much of a shock compared to the sight of Radford standing in the pelting ice. Snow clung to his eyebrows and beads of ice stuck to his face. The wind whisked his breath away in a long, frosty funnel. It ripped at his hair, snaking it out around his hat in short, snapping strands, but he stood before her in his barn jacket, seemingly oblivious to the biting night.

“I can’t tell a tale like your father,” he said, “but if you have time to listen, I’m willing to try.”

Stunned, Evelyn looked at Radford’s outstretched, trembling hand. Was he finally reaching out? She caught Radford’s cold fingers and pulled him inside, closing out the world as she shut the door behind them. “I’ve been worried sick, Radford!”

“Boyd told me what happened—after he slugged me.” He met her eyes; his own were dark pools of pain. “As surely as you see me standing here, Evelyn, I vow I’ll never put you or Rebecca through anything like this again. Is she really all right?”

“She’s in bed sleeping with her new doll, but you’ll need to talk to her tomorrow. She thought Boyd and Duke hurt you, and that you were leaving her again.”

He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “I had no idea. I thought she was sleeping. I just needed to get outside and clear my head for a while.”

“You were gone for hours! Where’d you go?”

“To the Pemberton. I pounded on the door until Patrick let me inside.” He shrugged, his self-disgust evident in his expression. “I thought a drink would calm me down.” He chafed his hands and glanced longingly at the stove in the parlor. “If there’s any coffee in that pot, I could use a cup.”

His eyes were rimmed with shadows and old bruises that Evelyn wanted to smooth away, but she reached for his hat instead, knowing she couldn’t rush him to tell her what was burdening his conscience.

Radford caught her wrist and brushed his cold palm over her knuckles. He brought it to his mouth and placed his lips against her skin, pausing as if to savor the essence of her. “I miss you.” Pain rimmed his eyes. “I reach for you in my sleep. I see Rebecca’s face when she’s with you and I know we should be together. But you deserve so much more. I thought I could come home and start a new life, but I brought my old one with me. I needed to give Rebecca a settled home, but she’s miserable. I’ve stolen from my brother and beat him with my own fists.” He gripped the bridge of his nose with his fingers and his voice trembled. “I feel like I’m still fighting the war, Evelyn. Every action I take is destructive. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Take off your coat, and talk to me. Tell me what you can’t let go of. Even if it doesn’t make a difference for you, or stop your nightmares, at least I’ll understand what’s haunting you.”

He gazed at her, his eyes raw with unspoken pain. “You deserve to know the caliber of man you fell in love with.”

“Then come sit down and I’ll see if there’s any tea left in the pot.”

Radford stepped out of his boots and hung his coat and hat on the peg beside the door. He took two kitchen chairs to the parlor and placed them close to the stove. With a weary sigh, he sank onto the chair and pulled Evelyn down beside him. “Your shutter blew off the kitchen window.”

Evelyn reached for the kettle on the stove and poured Radford a cup of tea. “It’ll probably blow across town by morning.”

Radford took the offered cup. “I stuck it behind the wood bin. I’ll put it back on tomorrow.” He stretched his legs out in front of him, propping his feet on the foot rail that circled the bottom of the stove. Evelyn stood up, but he caught the belt on her wrapper. “Where you going?”

“To get another cup.”

“We can share this one.”

The irony of sharing a cup of tea in the late-night hours made her eyes tear. She had tried to explain this sort of closeness to Kyle, but he’d never really understood. With Radford, it was as natural as sharing a bed.

She sat down and let him drink in silence while he lost the chill of the storm. Slowly, his shoulders relaxed and the tension in his face eased. “Thank you,” he said, passing her the half-full cup of tea. He extracted a cheroot from his pocket and paused, his expression questioning. “Do you mind?”

Mind? He couldn’t know how desperately she’d longed for this moment. When she shook her head, he dropped his feet to the floor, opened the cast-iron door, and touched his cigar to the flames. When it was lit, he leaned back and put it to his lips. The motion was fluid, male, and oddly beautiful.

She absorbed every detail about him as she sipped her tea and inhaled the sweet aroma of his cheroot. It brought back memories of soft summer evenings and one glorious night of Radford’s lovemaking. Closing her eyes, she hoped he would find his way back to her, that he would claim the strength necessary to break free of his past, that he would trust her.

His fingers grazed her jaw and her eyes opened. “I’m sorry I broke my promise.” He lowered his hand and rested his wrist on his knee, his cigar forgotten between his fingers. “I wanted to marry you and protect you and be here when you needed me. All I’ve done is ruin your future then walk out on you when you needed me most. I’m beginning to realize that it doesn’t matter what kind of man I’ve been. It’s the man I’m becoming without you that scares me the most.”

He sat quietly, staring at the stove. “There was a time when I thought I knew all about honor and keeping promises. When I went to war in my father’s place, I was determined to make him proud that a Grayson was doing his part for the Union.” Radford laughed, but it was hollow and self-depreciating. “I was so green, so naive.”

“You were only a boy.”

“Not for long. Our regiment was involved in our first major skirmish at Chancellorsville. We were up to our asses in Grays and they were blowing us apart. Literally, and I was scared to death.”

Evelyn saw the shame in his eyes, but she waited for him to tell his story.

“I deserted my troop that day like a coward.”

“You claimed that status once before, but I don’t believe it. Papa disputed it also.”

He looked at her in disbelief. “I deserted during a battle. Our regiment was trapped on a hillside and we ate dirt for hours, but the Rebs never let up. Their shells were pecking away our flesh like buzzards on a dead carcass. When the man beside me was cut in half by shrapnel, I panicked and ran. I didn’t even try to help him, Evelyn. I just ran through the shelling and bolted into the trees. I kept on running until I saw the enemy flanking our regiment’s backside. Your dad was back there on that hill.”

“What did you do?” she asked softly.

He opened the stove, tossed the cigar inside, and latched it shut. He leaned back with a hard sigh. “I went back to warn them, but I was too late. Most of our men were caught in thickets and cut down. Your dad and I barely made it out with only a few others.”

“You earned your medal for warning your troop about the attack, didn’t you?”

He nodded. “I should have been shot for deserting, not honored for an act of cowardice.”

“It took a brave man to risk his life and return. A coward would have thought of himself.”

“I didn’t earn that medal, Evelyn. I felt ashamed when I looked across the fire at your father. He had stayed in the middle of that battle because that was his duty. He knew I deserted.”

Though she understood his fear and shame, Evelyn didn’t agree. Most deserters would have kept on running. Radford went back. That was all she needed to know. “Who is Thorn?” she asked softly.

He glanced at her in surprise. “Who told you about him?”

“You called his name in your nightmares. Was he a friend?”

Radford’s nostrils flared, his expression pained. “Thorn and I met during the war, but he was more than a friend. He was like a brother.”

The idea made her smile. “How did a Billy Yank befriend a Johnny Reb during the war?”

“You wouldn’t believe the crazy things that went on out there. Thorn and I met at Gettysburg. He and two other Confederate skirmishers were captured near our ranks. We had to guard them until they could be taken off with the other prisoners.” Radford shook his head, a melancholy smile lifting his lips. “I’d never met anyone like him. He sat there in the middle of the whole Union army while bullets ricocheted off trees and drilled holes in the earth around us, and he wasn’t a bit intimidated. We were ducking shrapnel and he asked if we Yanks had any good coffee brewing. We all stared at him like he was crazy, but he just shrugged and offered us a smoke. The craziest part was that we all took a puff and moaned with pleasure. The idiot asked if the Northern girls could make us moan like that and every danged one of us cut up laughing.”

“Did you see him again?”

He nodded. “Thorn returned to the Confederate force when the government swapped prisoners. I met up with him again at Kennesaw, Georgia, and later at Stevenson, Alabama. We were there for five months without any real skirmishes. Thorn was posted across the river as a picket for the Rebs. Mostly, he spent his day yelling across the water to us; everything from ribald jokes to the best way to win a poker hand. A few of us started rowing across the river to play cards with him, but our commanders were concerned about leaking war secrets so they put a stop to it. After that, Thorn and I met late at night. I traded coffee for his sweet Southern tobacco, and we became friends. We told each other about our families and what we were going to do when the war was over. I promised Thorn that I’d come south someday and see how a Southern boy learned to tell such good jokes and grow fine tobacco. We made a lot of plans,” Radford said, his voice trailing off to a whisper.

Evelyn touched his leg. “What happened to him?”

“After his troop pulled out, we didn’t meet again until Collier’s Mills in Georgia. My regiment was part of Sherman’s plan to take Atlanta and our mission was to cross the Chattahoochee then push into the city. We had to cross Peach Tree Creek to get there. The Rebs cut us up bad and we lost over half of our regiment right there on that creek bank.”

“Is that where you were wounded?”

He shook his head. “No. We retreated and waited until Hooker and Geary could re-form their troops and join us. With the added men, we were able to drive the Rebs back behind their lines, but the fighting went on for days. By dumb luck and a few messages, Thorn and I were able to meet after dark one night in the middle of the river. I think we both knew what was coming, but we didn’t have time to linger over goodbyes. The next time I saw Thorn was in a cornfield at Collier’s Mill.” Radford compressed his lips and stopped talking.

“That was the last time you saw him, wasn’t it?” she asked, knowing in her heart this was the source of Radford’s nightmares. 

He nodded. “We knew the odds were against us meeting on the battlefield, but somehow we did. Rebel infantry charged my regiment in a cornfield. Thorn was coming straight at me. I knew the second he spotted me because he tried to swerve, but we were both locked in position by the men flanking us. We couldn’t turn. There wasn’t anywhere for either of us to go.”

“Oh, Radford, you didn’t?”

“He did.” A sheen of moisture glinted on Radford’s cheeks and he placed his hands prayer fashion against his lips.

Evelyn waited while he struggled for control.

“He had no choice. I couldn’t shoot him. I just couldn’t. My gun fell when he stuck his bayonet in my side.”

“He stabbed you?” she asked, horrified.

“I was his enemy.”

“You were friends!”

“Not on the battlefield.” Radford raised sorrowful eyes to hers, seemingly oblivious to the moisture that brimmed his lids. “Your father shot him.”

“Oh, my God. Oh, Radford.”

“Thorn fell beside me.” Radford closed his eyes, his throat convulsing. He drew a ragged breath. “We lay in the crushed cornstalks, bleeding and gripping hands. Thorn handed me a bag of tobacco and said to think of him when I smoked it. He asked me to give his watch to his fiancée and tell her that he loved her, that she didn’t have to wait anymore, and that he wished he... that he was sorry he wouldn’t make it back to marry her.”

Radford buried his face in his hands. He couldn’t go on. The memory of Thorn lying beside him with blood staining his chest, running from his mouth into his blond hair, was too much. He’d never forget Thorn’s crooked smile as they lay in the crushed stalks, feet scuffling near their heads mingling with shouts and gunshot, that fierce grip of hands in that last moment before Thorn passed away. Memories assailed Radford and he recalled how Thorn had made fun of his name and called him Radical. He’d been able to make Radford laugh when he felt like blowing his own head off. He’d bragged that the Southern girls were sweeter’n peach pie. He taught Radford all the best ways to cheat at cards so he’d be able to catch his opponent at dirty dealing. He told stupid jokes that were only funny because of the way Thorn animated them.

“Thorn just punctured my side,” Radford whispered. “It was the only way for him to remain loyal and not risk the men flanking him, but he forfeited his life for mine.” Radford pressed his fingers to his eyes, cursing the tears that wet his fingers, cursing the reason they were there.