“Taylor ...” She set her arms around him, hugging him. “Taylor, I’m so sorry for doubting you ... I’d forgotten about Abby in my own pain. The war has cost us Lawrence and Abby and left you a widower.”
He drew away from her gently, rising. “Well, I’ll leave tomorrow and see what can be done. And I guess I should tell you ... I’m not a widower anymore.”
“You’ve remarried! How wonderful,” Teela said. “Who, Taylor? Ah, a Yankee girl, I imagine, someone from the North! Will you stay there after the war, Taylor, do you think? Will there ever be an ‘after’ with this wretched war?”
“Teela, my love, you’ve asked him a half-dozen questions. Let him answer one,” James advised.
“You know my wife. You know her well. She’s your niece. I married Tia McKenzie.”
Jennifer’s gasp seemed loud enough to be heard at sea.
“Tia—married you?” she inquired incredulously.
He looked at her, arching a brow. “Yes,” he said flatly.
“Oh, Taylor, I did not mean that.”
“She means that you’re a Yankee,” James said.
“Um, well, no one is perfect.”
“And you married her?” Jennifer said.
“She married me, I married her. We are married.”
“I think I shall have another drink,” Teela said.
“I didn’t know that you knew one another,” Jennifer said. “Well, of course, you and Ian have been friends—you’d been out here with all the boys since you all were young, but I don’t remember Tia being around.”
“We met recently.”
“At Cimarron?”
“And before,” he acknowledged.
“Well, perhaps we all should quit staring at Taylor,” Teela said. “You’ll be hungry. I’ll see about dinner. Michael, dear, you really should be back in bed. Jennifer, give me Mary and help Michael along. James ... Taylor ... I’ll call you as soon as dinner is ready.”
Michael Long came up to Taylor. “Thank you,” he said gravely.
“I haven’t done anything yet. I make no guarantees.”
“Thank you for the effort you have promised.”
He nodded. Jennifer and Michael left. He was alone with James. He felt James’s brooding, dark blue eyes studying him. “You know, Taylor, I feel, at times, that I helped raise you in a way.”
“Yes, sir. I feel that myself at times. It was why I dared come here alone.”
“I know you very well. Other than the fact that you’ve chosen the wrong side in this wretched fight, I’m proud of the man you’ve become.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“So what is going on? Why did you marry my hellion of a niece?”
“I ... well, ... sir, one need only look at her,” he said, taken completely by surprise by the question.
“Hm.” James studied him still. “What kind of trouble did she get herself into?”
“I—none. Unless you consider me trouble.”
“I’m sure my niece does.” James stood, walked over to the whiskey decanter, and poured himself another drink. “Tell me. I’ve heard rumors about a Rebel spy working the state. I would have feared that Jennifer was trying to take on the war herself again, except that she has been with me—and with this wounded soldier, Michael Long. And I would have feared for Sydney, except that she remains in Washington, married to an unknown Yank, but safe, at the very least. So when I heard the rumor and the description, I began to fear for my brother’s daughter—it is a ridiculously dangerous game this young woman plays. Does this marriage have something to do with the capture of a spy? If Godiva happens upon the Yanks ...”
“Sir—”
“Don’t lie or hedge, Taylor. I expect more from you, I’m afraid.”
“Sir, it isn’t my place—”
“You married her. It is certainly your place.”
“I am the Yank she happened upon.”
James nodded after a moment. “Keep her safe, whatever it takes,” he said. “My brother would, I think, lose his mind if anything happened to her. A man loves his boys, but his daughters are his treasures. God knows, it is terrifying enough to wake up knowing your sons may face a barrage of bullets that day. God help you, North or South, keep her safe.”
“Sir, I intend to do my best.” He hesitated a moment. “And for Jennifer as well. I’ll take the despatches to Key West tomorrow.”
James lifted his glass to Taylor. “To your success, Colonel Douglas. In all things.”
“Aye, sir.”
With all of the injured men, the trip to St. Augustine seemed very long, though they had not been more than thirty miles from the city. It took more than two days to travel the rough roads with their crude ambulances and the amputees who needed care that their stumps were not injured all anew by too much jolting. The men were excited, though, to be coming into the city. Tia found that she was pleased herself.
From the time Tia was a little girl, she had loved St. Augustine. When friends from more northern climes had teased her about Florida being new and raw and savage, she could remind them politely that St. Augustine was the oldest continually habited European settlement in the New World.
A Union flag waved above the city now, and it had done so since 1862. Union soldiers marched in the fields, and took their leisure by the water. Some Rebels had remained, determined to hang on to their property. Others had fled, giving everything up for their great Southern Cause. Since the Yankee invasion, Tia had been in and out of the city a few times to see Alaina, Risa, and the children. When they arrived this time, Risa went home immediately to see her son, little Jamie, but Tia stayed with Cecilia Ayers and the doctor. She didn’t visit anyone at first, since she was so busy helping to settle the injured soldiers into their new hospital facilities, scattered throughout the city. When at last that night Tia rode with her brother to the place where her family kept apartments, she was as stunned as he was to find Alaina, who was supposedly back at Cimarron, standing by the house, waiting. Ian let out a surprised cry, leapt down from his horse, and went running to his wife.
Tia dismounted from Blaze, collected the reins for both horses, and followed more slowly. Alaina was in her husband’s arms. Tia was so close that she had no choice but to hear their intimate whispers. Her brother spoke first, thrilled to see his wife, but chastising her as well.
“My love, my love, I thought you weren’t well, that you were staying at Cimarron, not traveling,” Ian protested while holding her.
“I knew you were going to be here. I couldn’t stay away. God knows when you will leave the state again, when I’ll no longer have such a chance,” Alaina replied.
“But you shouldn’t have come alone.”
“I didn’t! Rhiannon is with me. And your father arranged for an escort, of course. I had to come, Ian. I didn’t intend to leave when I thought you were out of the state, but when you wrote from the camp saying you’d be here ...”
“I wouldn’t have told you if I thought you’d risk yourself and the children.”
“But I’m here. Fine. And well. And the children will get to see you again. So soon after Christmas; they’ll even remember you!”
Their voices were so filled with emotion. They were beautiful and romantic there—her very tall, dark brother, so handsome in his uniform, and. his petite blond wife, framed there with him in the moonlight. It was a picture of the war: a greeting now, but soon it would be a goodbye as well. Tia felt as if she intruded, and she wished she could slip away.
“Tia!” Her sister-in-law noticed her, raced for her, hugged her. “It’s good to see you again! I’m glad you’re with Ian; everyone worries about you so much.”
“I’m fine, Alaina,” she said quickly, not wanting another barrage of questions regarding her appearance at the Yankee camp and her marriage to Taylor. “The children—”
“Are sleeping, Risa’s Jamie as well. And little Conar. Rhiannon is here with me. We came eastward together. She’s anxious to see you, of course. Oh, and
wait until you meet Chantelle. She is wonderful, the apartments are always neat and clean, and she’s a marvel with the children. She came in with the new doctor. His name is Jon Beauvais. I think you’ll like him very much. Anyway, Risa’s door is there, mine is there, the doctor is across ... and there, that door is yours, Tia. But, of course, Risa has tea on and is waiting for us all.”
Tia smiled suddenly. “Alaina, neither you nor my brother want to have tea at the moment.” She kissed her sister-in-law on the cheek. “Go with your husband. We’ll be fine.”
“Oh, no, but you’ve just arrived.”
“Alaina, my brother is a much nicer human being after he’s been with you. Go away; we’ll manage! Risa, Rhiannon, and I will do very well on our own, thank you!”
Alaina grinned, raced back to Ian, and caught his hand.
“But the horses—” Ian began.
“I can see the stables—and the stable boy!” Tia called. Her brother stared at her, waved back. He slipped an arm around his wife and disappeared through one of the doors of the big old house that had been turned into apartments.
Tia walked the horses to the stable. She’d been here before, and she knew the layout of the street, the surgery, the hospital. She was far more familiar with it all than perhaps Ian realized—it was much easier for a young woman to cross enemy lines than it was for a man.
A young black stable boy took the horses from Tia. As she thanked him, Risa’s door opened and her cousin-in-law came out. “Tia, come in now, come on in. You must be so tired.” Risa’s arm came around her shoulder and she led Tia into the small parlor area of her apartment. As they entered, she saw that Rhiannon was standing in front of the fireplace, her head lowered. But she heard the two of them enter and she turned, walking quickly across the room to greet Tia with a warm hug. “It’s so very good to see you again this soon,” she said.
Despite her sister-in-law’s affectionate greeting, Tia felt uneasy. Rhiannon appeared tired, and Tia didn’t think that it was due to the baby keeping her awake.
“What’s wrong?” she asked quickly.
Rhiannon shook her head.
“Oh, my God, you didn’t hear anything bad? Julian is all right—”
“Julian is fine,” Rhiannon said. “I saw him briefly before coming here. I plan on joining him again shortly. He’s working alone now.”
“Oh, I know! I’m so sorry—”
“I planned on joining him anyway,” Rhiannon reminded her, smiling.
“The tea is hot and we’ve biscuits and soup,” Risa said. “Perhaps we should sit down now and eat. And by the way, Tia, your husband is just fine as well.”
Startled, Tia stared at Risa. Her red-headed no-nonsense cousin-in-law was staring at her as well.
“Oh? And how do you know? Where is he?”
“I don’t know where he is now.”
“But he was ...”
“To the south of us.”
“And how do you know?”
“I received a letter from my mother-in-law.”
“Aunt Teela? Taylor is with Aunt Teela?”
Risa sighed. “James McKenzie’s aunt was Taylor’s grandmother, you know.”
“Or so I’ve learned!” Tia murmured.
“It’s not so strange that he should have gone there.”
“Except that Uncle James hates even the sight of a Union uniform.”
“Did he ever hate Ian? No. Does he hate your father? No. Does—”
“None of that counts. Taylor was ordered there. Taylor is after something there.”
“You’ll have to let them all work that out themselves, won’t you?” Risa said softly.
“But—”
“He’s alive and well, we know that much,” Risa reminded her dryly. “If they’d decided to hang him or shoot him instead of inviting him to dinner, I’m sure she would have mentioned it in the letter.”
Tia cast her ą frown. “This is hardly a joking matter.”
“No, it’s a war, isn’t it? But my in-laws haven’t disowned me for being General Magee’s daughter, nor did they blame me when radical Union soldiers decided to burn their house to the ground. To fear that they would do some harm to Taylor does them an injustice.”
“But what is Taylor doing there?”
“Negotiating, at the moment.”
“Negotiating what?”
“They didn’t say. But he will be in the south of the state for some time yet.”
“Perhaps time enough for you to visit Brent,” Rhiannon said.
Tia stared at her sister-in-law, thinking that the whole world was going insane. Risa and Rhiannon both had their reasons for being Unionists. But why Rhiannon should suggest that she travel through the war-torn South to visit Brent seemed ludicrous.
“Visit—Brent. My cousin Brent,” she repeated. “You—Miss ‘Battle Hymn of the Republic’ herself, are suggesting that I go to Brent. The Confederate surgeon.”
“I’m suggesting you visit your cousin who is a doctor—not that you carry military information to Longstreet or Lee!” Rhiannon said indignantly.
“Rhiannon! I’m not so sure that this idea of yours is possible at all. Tia can’t go just anywhere anymore,” Risa said. “She is married to Taylor.”
“I know that—you told me that she married him,” Rhiannon said with an exasperated sigh. “I’m not suggesting she do anything at all wrong, dangerous—or even pertaining to the war!” Rhiannon said.
“It does pertain to the war—” Risa argued.
“No, it pertains to a child!”
Tia threw up her hands. “What are you two talking about? I’m going to need whiskey instead of tea if someone doesn’t start making some kind of sense soon.”
“I had a dream,” Rhiannon said.
“Oh, God, no! What about—my cousin Brent?” Tia asked, horrified. “Is he in danger? Can’t we write to him? No, we’ll have to send him a telegraph.”
“It’s not Brent,” Rhiannon said.
“She keeps dreaming about a little boy in a big white house—falling from a balcony.”
“A little boy we know?” Tia asked.
“Alaina says she knows the house I described. And Risa agrees. It is the White House of the Confederacy. And the child belongs to President Davis.”
“Oh, but ... are you sure?” Tia asked.
Rhiannon shook her head, distressed. She walked about the small room. “No, of course I’m not sure, I’m not sure at all. I’ve already written a letter ... your father has assured me that he has given it to an officer who will get it through to Varina Davis. But what will she think when she gets a letter from a woman she doesn’t even know? She may never read it. If she does, she’ll think I’m mad, and ignore it. Then ...”
“What?” Tia asked.
“It’s the strangest set of dreams I’ve ever had. Once, I thought I’d go mad with the dreams, that they would simply torture me with visions I could not prevent. Then your brother showed me that sometimes I could avert tragedy with my sight. Sometimes ... but this dream came several times. Then, the last time, while I struggled to wake up, I saw a man’s face, such a sad face ... and it was as if he was speaking directly to me ...”
“And?” Tia persisted. “Please, Rhiannon!”
She shrugged. “He said that some things were fate, maybe not meant to be prevented.”
“Rhiannon, who was the man?”
“I think it was the child’s father. President Davis, perhaps.”
“So you think you’re dreaming about the death of a child—that can’t be averted?”
“I don’t know! But a child died, and I can’t bear the thought!” Rhiannon cried.
“So many people die,” Risa said softly. “That’s part of life, Rhiannon. Death is a part of life.”
“But too many are dying now. Saving what we can seems to be the only way to get through this war. I feel that I still must do what I can!” Rhiannon said.
Tia stared at her. “Someone should go to Varina Davi
s.”
“You know her,” Risa said. “President Davis was Secretary of War before this madness started. Your father and brothers were friends with him; you visited their home before the war.”
“Yes, I visited them with my family before the war. But you’ve visited them at the White House of the Confederacy, where they’re living now. You were there with Jerome at the beginning of the war. You’re the wife of a great Southern hero—”
“And the daughter of a Union general. And ... and I’m not sure I could make the trip right now,” Risa said apologetically.
Tia felt a chill snake along her spine. No, she couldn’t ask Risa to go. Not if she was expecting another child. And Rhiannon’s little Conar was barely a few months old. “Alaina ...” she murmured softly.
“Alaina is sick,” Rhiannon said.
“Sick?”
Rhiannon shrugged. “Alaina is expecting another child as well.”
“Another babe? Are we McKenzies trying to repopulate the South all on our own?” she murmured bitterly.
“Tia!” Risa said.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m delighted for you all. I just ...”
“Are you afraid that Taylor will be angry?” Rhiannon asked.
“She should be,” Risa said, staring at her sternly.
Tia suddenly felt defensive—and like a child who had been ordered to behave. “No, of course not. I mean, he is off to war, with no explanations for me, there is no reason I shouldn’t travel to see Brent ... but ...”
“Ian will probably not let her go,” Rhiannon said with a shrug.
“Ian will most probably not be here long,” Risa said. “They are pulling officers and all the able-bodied men they can back out of Florida, preparing for a new offensive. General Grant has said that war must be hell, and that he intends to make it so.”
“As if we were not in hell already,” Tia murmured.
“Ian will be preoccupied. With Alaina. If we have to slip you out before he leaves, we can surely do so.”
“Well, tonight,” Rhiannon said, appearing very nervous and upset, “you should get some sleep. You can decide in the morning. That will be time enough.”
Time enough ...
As it happened, Tia didn’t need the morning to come in order to make up her mind. She had barely crawled into bed when there was a pounding at her door. There had been a buggy accident that night. A man’s leg had been crushed, his son had an injured arm, and his seven-year-old daughter had been seriously hurt.