Plantation Nation (9781621352877) (27 page)

"Who would want to court me?" Emma said
timidly. An instant blush came over her, as she had never
considered herself pretty or desirable.

"Now, what kind of thing is that to say?"
James met her eyes. "I imagine with your hair all fixed and
pretty…" He ran his fingertips through her hair and slid them down
her cheek. "… in a fine dress… and all…" He paused, then shook his
head. "No. Them things don't matter none. You've got a real inner
beauty about you, Emma."

The intensity of their gaze took over. Emma
feared he could read her every thought and feel the obnoxious
pounding from her heart.

James cupped her cheek in his hand and
brought her lips to his. Tenderly and slowly, he kissed her.

Every ounce of Emma tingled. Passion
blossomed, until James suddenly stopped kissing Emma.

He turned his head slightly, swallowed
hard.

"You're real special Emma," he said softly,
"but this ain't how it should be." His eyes met hers. "You deserve
better than this, here in a rundown house. And you deserve better
than me."

Emma shook her head and protested. James
touched his fingertips to her lips.

"Don't," he said. "There ain't enough in me
to resist what's about to happen between us, Emma, but we can't let
it go that far." He took her hand. "I don't want to dishonor you."
He hesitated. "Just let me hold you tonight."

With her heart pounding in her ears, Emma
could only look at him. She eased into his arms to escape the
intensity from his gaze, but sleep would evade her all night
long.

****

A tangle of feelings assailed Emma the next
morning as she and James set out to return to the Union encampment.
She didn't know which emotions she should allow to the surface, and
she checked James constantly for signs, but she didn't know what
she was hoping for or expecting from him. Part of her felt angry
toward her mother, as she considered all the time Olivia had spent
teaching Emma how to sit and fold her hands and nothing about how
to handle her feelings for a man.

"I thought it was beautiful," she said,
mostly because she had to say something, even if it was the wrong
thing to say. "I mean, I liked being in your arms."

James looked at her with newness, a delight
she had yet to see in him.

"I liked it, too, and we did the right
thing."

"But what do we do now?"

"We need to get back to
headquarters
—
"

"That's not what I mean."

"I know." James sighed. "I ain't sure what
you want me to say, but after last night, I think you know how I
feel about you."

Did she? Last night had only confused her
—
and been like a flame touched to
the wick of a canon. Emma blushed. She had no idea such intense
sensations were possible. Guilt rippled through her as she felt her
focus and passion for the war effort wane. She cared nothing about
returning to the Union camp and reporting back to McClellan. For
the first time, she wondered if the cost of being a soldier was too
high, and she was tempted to beg James to forget the Union and to
ride off and abandon their duties.

"I'm not sure," she said. "Maybe I want to
hear that after all this is over, we'll get married." She felt
foolish for saying such words. It was unfair, she knew, putting him
in an impossible situation. James was grieving for his dead wife,
and she wanted to talk of commitment and future plans
—
perhaps abandon the cause and get married.
Emma could not explain herself, nor prevent herself from being
irrational. Right or wrong, all she really understood was that she
loved him, and it scared her.

"I can't make promises, Emma. I've got two
boys to be thinkin' about and lookin' after. But I can tell you
that I don't want to know a day in my life without you now." He
took her hand. "I want to be with you. Maybe that's no good, and
the truth is we can't begin to know what's goin' to happen to our
lives with this war goin' on."

Emma knew he was right, and all the
uncertainty twisting inside her made her uncomfortable and
unwilling to face the future.

****

Union Encampment

Northern Virginia

Once they reached the Union encampment, Emma
and James fell into their roles as Private and Lieutenant and
reported to General McClellan. Though he was disappointed neither
of them had managed to smuggle out a map detailing Confederate
strategies and movement, McClellan was pleased they had survived
the mission. Emma left out any mention of her brother and had
moments where it was difficult for her to concentrate on the
conversation at hand. Despondency pricked her. Though she tried to
focus, formulating a plan of action against the near-defenseless
Confederates held no interest for her.

"May I be excused, sir?" Emma asked.

McClellan and Trumball paused and took in
Emma for a moment.

"Everything all right, Edmonds?" McClellan
asked.

"Yes, sir, still shaken up a bit and tired.
That's all, sir."

McClellan nodded his consent. Emma ducked out
of the tent and felt James' urgency to go after her. She didn't
want James. She wanted fresh air and a chance to clear her head
before discussing and dissecting plans to launch a battle.

She avoided her comrades inside the camp and
decided to leave the area. Not wanting to face Eleanor, either, she
slipped inside Eleanor's home, knowing she was at the hospital
tent. She stuffed her pockets with money she had taken from the
plantation's money chest and set out for the city. Emma had no
distinct agenda, but she welcomed the freedom she felt while
walking the streets of Washington, D.C.

The city's population had exploded with the
onset of the war and created problems for the area. Streets badly
needed repairs. Housing for factory workers, government workers,
and even tourists was in demand, and the city's developers had the
task of improving sanitary conditions, as garbage multiplied and
current drainage systems proved inadequate.

Emma ignored such conditions. She dined in a
restaurant and later walked by the White House and wondered if
Union troops still occupied the East Room. Oddly, she even wished
to see President Lincoln again. He'd be impressed, hearing all that
had happened to her since his visit at Eleanor's house. More
importantly, she was certain that he would be able to give her
meaningful advice for her predicament.

Dejected, Emma tired of the sights and sounds
around her. Her present mood and the melancholy that wanted to
suffocate her confused Emma. She worried nothing might return her
to her former self
—
though she no
longer knew who that person was. Had she become Tom Edmonds to a
point of no return, or was Emma Cartwright battling her for control
again? Weren't Tom and Emma one and the same? Didn't both
identities want the same thing? She didn't know anymore.

As she strolled past a general store, an item
in the window caught her eye and urged her inside. This, she
thought, might be the very thing, the very test she needed.

****

A short time later, Rosemary opened the door
to the Pratt house and greeted her with an expression of muted
bafflement.

"May I help you?" Rosemary asked dully.

"Yes." Emma stepped inside without an
invitation. "I'm here to visit Mrs. Pratt." She smiled and did
nothing to conceal her feminine voice, and in her current ensemble,
she knew there was no reason to do so.

"I'll fetch her."

When Rosemary returned with Eleanor, the
chaplain's wife had a difficult time taking in the frilly pink
frock, the gloves and saucer-like hat that her 'caller', with
rouge-rubbed cheeks, was wearing.

"Hello, may I help you?"

Emma laughed at the repetition and the fact
that her dear friend didn't recognize her.

"Why, it's me, Emma!" She twirled as if that
would enhance the effect.

"Emma!" Eleanor's eyes boggled. "What in the
world…?" She caught her breath and couldn't speak.

Footsteps sounded from the other room, and
James appeared by Eleanor's side.

"Emma?" His disbelief matched Eleanor's. He
looked from Emma to Eleanor and back again. "I've been lookin'
everywhere for you."

"I went into town, bought a dress." Emma
swayed and forced a smile.

"Wh-what is all this?" James barely found the
words.

"Thought I'd disguise myself as a lady for a
change."

As Eleanor and James traded glances again,
Emma's giddiness faded. This wasn't the reaction she'd imagined.
She'd thought, she'd hoped, that wearing a dress and proving she
could behave demurely would win James over. But her feminine
appearance only intensified his confusion, which made Emma feel
foolish and terribly uncomfortable.

"Does this mean you're leavin' the army for
good?" James asked.

"No." Emma shrugged. "I mean, I don't
know."

"Emma, dear." Eleanor placed her hands on
Emma's sagging shoulders. "I know all of this must be difficult for
you, and I'm sure living as a soldier has been harder than you
expected, but dear, I'm not sure now is the time for you to abandon
the army."

"She's right, Emma. McClellan has given
orders for the remainin' troops to head to Yorktown tomorrow. We're
loadin' up supplies and headin' out first thing. He wants to attack
while the Confederates are weakened. We won't get a chance like
this again."

Emma looked at James and resisted the urge to
be honest. All she wanted was to fall into his arms, to feel him
close. Her passion for the war had faded, and the spark of fire in
her now was for James. However, her wardrobe change had the wrong
effect on him, which only confused and confounded Emma further. How
could he focus on the war after what they'd been through? Weren't
their hearts knitted together? Wasn't he consumed by the same
longings and emotions?

"Yes, I suppose McClellan is right," Emma
finally said. She turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" Eleanor asked.

"I can't be seen like this. I have to put
these clothes away."

"Emma." His voice had a subtle urgency, but
James couldn't find the words that would soothe Emma's hurt.

"It's all right."

Emma left Eleanor's house, and when she was
sure Eleanor and James could no longer see her, she lifted her
skirt and ran. James called after her, which made Emma run harder.
She ran until her chest burned. Unable to face anyone, she crouched
and hid between houses, flinging aside the hat, muffling the sobs
that burst forth, and smudging her gloves with rouge.

****

Dressed in her uniform the next morning, Emma
joined the remaining members of her company as General McClellan
gave an uplifting speech about the importance of victory and
reunifying the nation. When the men dispersed to gather their
knapsacks and begin the journey, James spotted Emma.

She noted the mix of worry and relief on his
face as he approached. If she had to guess, James hadn't slept
well. Had it been yesterday, Emma would have interpreted such signs
as affection, perhaps devotion. Today, however, after her own
sleepless night, she found no pleasure in knowing he had been
distraught over her.

"Where have you been?" He kept his voice low
and metered his frustration.

"It doesn't matter." She'd taken their
encounter last night as a great rejection. Her only intention now
was to guard and protect what was left of her heart.

"Of course it does!" Others looked their way,
and James knew he was in danger of attracting unwanted attention.
"Emma, I don't understand what's goin' on with you, and I'm
terrible confused about all that's happened between us."

She looked at him stoically. "Nothing
happened, remember? Just the way you wanted, because you can't see
me as a woman."

He looked injured. "How could you say such a
thing? You know why we couldn't be together. It wouldn't be right,
not like that, and you're worth more to me, Emma, than one night in
the countryside."

Shame turned Emma's cheeks red. It had never
been her nature to hurt others, and now she had been set on hurting
the one man she cared about most.

"I'm sorry," she said.

James slipped her hand into his in a way that
no one would notice.

"I wish there was some way to work all this
out, Emma, but I don't know how right now. Just promise me one
thing, though. Promise that you'll stick close to me and no matter
what happens at Yorktown
—
"

"I'm not going."

"What?"

Her hand fell from his.

"I met with McClellan late last night.
I
-
I told him I needed to take an
emergency furlough. He didn't press me too hard on the matter, and
he granted me leave."

Stunned, James took a moment before he spoke.
"Now? This could be it, Emma. We might put down the rebellion with
this here fight. How on earth can you walk away from one of the
most important battles we might ever face?"

"Because it's not important to me, not
anymore." Emma told herself she wouldn't cry, but she had no idea
how hard that would be. "All I want is to be with you, James. Not
as a man, and not in this uniform. I know I'm being unreasonable
and selfish, but I can't help myself, and I can't go into a battle
with my head so confused. The best thing I could come up with was
to be away from you."

James sighed. "Seems to me this is the worst
decision you could make right now. I don't want to be apart,
Emma."

"But we can't be together."

James didn't reply. Emma knew she was
pressing too hard, hoping for too much, but she had no other
defense against the ache in her heart.

"I want to try and sort out my feelings,"
Emma said. "For now, it's best if I go back home."