Trudy walked over and asked, “What are you grinning about?”
Jo fell into pace by Trudy’s side. “Nothing.”
“You’re pleased about something, Josephine Best, so out with it. What did I miss? Did Adam Morgan call you beautiful again?”
“I’m just glad to see you, is all.”
Trudy stopped. Her face was puzzled. “But I’ve been here all day.”
“I know, but when I didn’t see you just now, I thought maybe—”
“Maybe what?”
Jo threw up a dismissive hand and resumed walking. “It was nothing.”
“Jo, what did you think?”
“Oh, all right. I thought maybe you and Dred had snuck off.”
Trudy laughed. “Me and Dred.” Then she went all dreamy again. “Oh, wouldn’t that be exciting, Jo, a secret moment with Dred?”
Oh, Lord! Jo moaned to herself. “Never mind. Forget I even mentioned it.”
“Do you think he knows how to kiss?”
“Trudy!” Jo said. This was not the place to be discussing such a topic. “Do you want somebody to overhear?”
“No, but do you think he can?”
“Aren’t Bert’s kisses the ones you’re supposed to be dreaming about?”
Trudy sniffed. “Bert knows less about kissing than I do.”
Jo shook her head with amusement.
“What?” Trudy asked.
“Nothing. I am so glad you’re my best friend, Tru. I really and truly am.” Jo doubted any other friend would make life so lively.
In an effort to keep Trudy on the straight and narrow and away from Dred, Jo steered their walk over to where their mothers sat sewing. As they neared, Jo noticed Adam eating at a table a few feet away. Several young ladies were buzzing around him like bees to honey. He was smiling up at them and they were tittering and giggling in response. Granted, Adam had known most of the girls growing up, and they were no doubt renewing old acquaintances, but for some reason the sight didn’t sit well with Jo. Then, as if he sensed her attention, Adam met her gaze. His eyes sparkled a greeting that seemed reserved for her alone. At that moment, Jo had no name for how he made her feel, but it was almost as if a part of herself took wing and flew over to him before she could stop it or snatch it back.
Trudy said softly, “Lord, if Bert ever looked at me that way—”
Trudy’s voice broke the spell. Jo turned to her and asked, “What?”
“Nothing. Just a comment.”
Jo had no idea what Trudy was referring to. “You’re not making sense, Tru.”
“I know. It’s all right though.”
Jo shrugged and they resumed their walk. “I wonder if George has had a chance to talk to Mama yet?”
“What about?”
“Calling on me.”
Trudy’s voice rose excitedly, “Really?”
Jo nodded, pleased. “I hope she says yes.”
Their eyes met. Trudy asked, “So you like him?”
“I do. But I’m not looking for a beau, of course.”
“Of course not.”
six
When Jo and Trudy reached their mothers, the women were folding the garments they’d been mending for the soldiers and placing them in a pile on the table. Later, Mrs. Oswald would make certain the items were returned to the proper owners.
Barbara Carr, a taller, older version of Trudy, had a smile on her face as the girls walked up. “Well, we’re all heading home. You two ready?”
Trudy and Jo nodded that they were. Jo didn’t want to look in Adam’s direction but couldn’t help herself. His eyes were waiting. His gaze was so direct it put a weakness in her knees. Startled by her response, she hastily looked away from him only to see George walk up.
Mrs. Best greeted his presence with a cheery, “Well, hello, George.”
George nodded, then said quickly, “Mrs. Best, before you leave, I’ve something I need to ask.”
Cecilia eyed him. “Yes?”
George looked around at the small group of people. He seemed to see Adam for the first time. “Have we met?”
“No. I’m Adam Morgan.”
George stuck out his hand. “George Brooks.”
Adam leaned over his crutches and shook George’s hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
Cecilia asked, “George, you had a question? Adam’s tired and I need to get him home.”
“Home?”
Adam explained. “Yes. I’m moving in with the Bests for a while.”
George seemed taken aback by that. His eyes swept to Jo’s face for a moment before refocusing on Adam. “I’m assuming you’re a friend of the family, then?”
“I am.”
Cecilia’s voice had just a touch of impatience in it now. “George? Your question.”
George looked away from Adam, who appeared slightly amused by the whole affair. “Yes, well, I’d hoped to do this in a more private setting, but—” George glanced over at Jo once more, then as he began to speak to Mrs. Best, his nervousness was plain. “I’d like your permission to call on your daughter. If I may, of course.”
Cecilia studied him, then asked Jo, “What should I say, Josephine?”
Jo smiled. “Yes would be fine, Mama.”
Cecilia nodded. “Then I suppose my answer is yes.”
George broke into a grin. Jo grinned, too, but when she happened to glance at Adam, his coolly raised eyebrow made her own eyebrow raise. She asked him, “Is something wrong?”
Adam gave George a quick, dismissive look, then said, “No. Just waiting for you and your beau to finish so I can get to the house.” Adam then asked, “Belle, do you still make those great biscuits?”
“Sure do,” she responded proudly. “Would you like some with breakfast in the morning?”
“Is Jeff Davis a Reb?”
They all laughed.
Her mother then asked, “So, George, when may we expect you?”
“I’m not sure, ma’am. But I’ll come as soon as I can.”
“Well, you will be welcome at any time.”
“Thank you.”
George then asked Jo, “May I walk with you to your wagon?”
“Sure.”
Feeling Adam’s eyes on her back, Jo walked off with George.
Once they were out of earshot, he asked, “Did I sound nervous?”
She chuckled. “A bit, but it was sweet. Mama must like you.”
“I like her, too, I think.”
They laughed.
George then asked, “How long have you known that Morgan fellow?”
“Most of my life. He and his brother, Jeremiah, are my brother’s best friends.”
“I see. Your mother doesn’t have any worries about him being in the house with you?”
“No, of course not. Why do you ask?”
“He’s unmarried?”
“Yes, but there’s nothing improper about him moving in. Adam is like a brother to me.”
“There was nothing brotherly about the way he was looking at you.”
Jo sighed. “George, what are you talking about?”
“He was looking at you the way a man looks at a woman.”
“He’s just trying to get over the fact that I’m no longer twelve. He didn’t even recognize me at first.”
“Well, I still say you need to be careful.”
Jo shook her head, but said nothing. How did one explain that Adam Morgan was harmless? Well, sort of.
“You probably think I’m being foolish, don’t you?” George asked.
“No, but you don’t have to concern yourself with this.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.”
He looked into her eyes. “You’re pretty headstrong, aren’t you?”
Jo searched his face. She wondered if this was more of his outdated thinking. “Yes, I am. It’s in my blood. Does that bother you, too?”
He gave her a brief smile that appeared forced. “No, it doesn’t. Just never been around a woman w
ho knew her own mind like you.”
“You have to thank my mama for that, as well.” Jo decided that since she hadn’t had ample time to influence George’s outdated thinking, she shouldn’t let him upset her. George seemed to be an intelligent man and Jo was certain it wouldn’t be long before he learned to appreciate all aspects of the free-spirited, free-thinking young woman she’d been raised to be. With that in mind, she thought a change in conversation might serve them well. “So, what’s the most important thing I should know about you, George?”
He pondered that for a bit, then offered in a genuine voice, “You should know that I’m a straight arrow. When I give my word, it can be counted on.”
Jo liked that. “No skeletons hiding in your closet?”
He grinned. “No, ma’am. I’m just George Brooks from Jackson, Michigan, and I’m very taken with you, Josephine Best.”
The way his voice softened made Jo feel very special. “I think I’m taken with you, too, George.”
He reached out and gently took her hand. She’d never held hands with anyone before and was unprepared for the happiness it gave her.
“Ahem!”
Jo and George jumped apart. They turned to see a grinning Trudy.
An embarrassed Jo scolded her good friend. “Trudy Carr, you scared us to death. I thought you were my mama.”
“I thought you might need a chaperone, and I was right.”
Jo laughed. “Go away.”
The tight-lipped George said nothing.
Trudy strolled off in the direction of the wagon, saying, “You two better hurry it along. The mamas will be here shortly.”
Jo ignored Trudy for the moment. “I had a nice time today, George.”
“I did, too. I’ll call on you soon, all right?”
Jo nodded.
“Well, guess this is goodbye for now,” George said with regret.
“Guess it is. Take care of yourself,” Jo responded.
“I will and you do the same.” With that, he reluctantly headed back toward the house.
After he took his leave, Trudy and Jo sat on Trudy’s wagon and waited for their mothers and Belle and Adam. They chatted as they waved goodbye to the other women from the church who were also heading home.
“You know, Jo, if you and George were to be married, you wouldn’t have to change your embroidery because his name starts with a B,” Trudy pointed out.
Jo chuckled. “Only you would come up with something so practical.”
“That’s why you keep me around. Now I have a question for you. What do you think of Dred Reed?”
“He’s very handsome.”
“Very. I’m thinking of breaking off my engagement.”
Jo stiffened. “What! Why?”
“Dred is handsome and exciting. Bert is, well, Bert.”
“Trudy, you can’t be serious! You love Bert.”
“Do I?”
Jo couldn’t believe her ears. “What’s come over you?”
“Dred’s asked if he could write me when he returns home to Niles. I told him yes.”
Jo was so flabbergasted she couldn’t speak.
“Jo, he’s everything a woman could want. He’s strong, intelligent, and his form…”
“His form? You’ve known the man less than two days.”
“You haven’t known George very long.”
“No, but I’m not acting as if I want to bear his children. What’s come over you?”
Jo knew that no one in the world would ever describe Bert as exciting, but his love for Trudy was true. Breaking off the engagement would devastate him. “I think you need to sleep on this before you do anything rash.”
Trudy did not care for Jo’s advice, apparently. She puffed up as if she were offended. “As if you wouldn’t drop George like a hot yam if Adam looked at you twice.”
“I would not!”
“Oh, you would, too. You went all parfait inside when he called you beautiful.”
“I admit that, but it doesn’t mean I’d toss George in the dustbin.”
“You’re lying, Josephine Best. I saw the way you were looking at Adam, and he was looking back. I’ll bet my corset that you and George will be history before the end of July.”
“Nobody wants your corset, Trudy Carr, and I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“Fine.”
Jo hopped down off the wagon and strode off toward her own, only to hear Trudy add, “You just wait until Adam kisses you. George won’t stand a chance.”
Jo ignored her, or at least tried to.
When the rest of the family arrived, Jo tried to hide her bad temper. The ride home was uneventful. No one knew she was simmering inside over what had taken place between her and Trudy. Although Adam was seated in the wagon bed and Jo could feel his eyes on her back, she participated in the small talk flowing around her, but she didn’t look back at him once.
After Adam was settled in, Mrs. Best retired to her room to write yet another letter to her beloved William. Jo, simmering over Trudy again, wandered into Belle’s room. Belle took one look at her sister-in-law’s face and asked, “Whatever is the matter?”
“Trudy and I had a fight.” Jo plopped down onto Belle’s bed.
Belle went back to hemming a skirt for the trousseau she was making for the woman in Ann Arbor. “Oh, I thought something was really wrong. You and Trudy fight all the time—that’s what best friends do.”
“Not like this.”
“What did you and Trudy fight about?”
“Adam.”
“Adam?”
“Well, in a roundabout way. It was mainly over Trudy wanting to toss Bert over for Dred Reed.”
Belle’s eyes went wide. “What?”
Jo shrugged. “That’s what she said. Bert is too dull for her liking now. She wants strength, intelligence and a finely made form.”
“None of which Bert has, in her opinion.”
“Correct.”
“So, how did Adam figure in all of this?”
“He didn’t. Trudy was being Trudy and spouting nonsense about me preferring Adam to George. Silliness.”
Belle studied Jo for a moment.
Feeling somewhat guilty, Jo looked away.
Belle said finally, “Well, I’m sure the two of you will make up. You always do.”
Over the years, Jo and Trudy had fought over everything, and yes, they’d always made up. This skirmish seemed different, however; Jo wanted to shake Trudy until her teeth rattled for acting like the flighty young woman Mrs. Waterman thought her to be—shake her until she turned back into the Trudy Carr Jo had always known and loved.
Cecilia came in then and the conversation quickly ended. Jo didn’t want her mother to know what had happened, or what Trudy was contemplating. Like most mamas, Cecilia would run right to Trudy’s mama, Barbara, and then all perdition would break loose.
Jo asked, “Is Adam settled in?”
“Yes, he’s sleeping and I doubt he’s going to awaken anytime soon. He was asleep as soon as his head found the pillow.”
Jo was grateful for small favors. A sleeping Adam Morgan couldn’t cause trouble.
That evening, as the sun went down, Jo sat outside on the big, rail-backed swing her papa had built for his wife right after Jo’s birth. It was hung from the sturdy limbs of one of the largest elms on the property. The spot was so peaceful and tranquil, everyone in the family enjoyed sitting here when the opportunity presented itself. Even during the hottest days of July and August, the elm’s leafy green canopy kept the spot shady and cool.
Jo had come out to the swing to think and to watch the sunset. The sky had taken on the mauves and oranges that heralded the end of another day while the sun slid below the horizon in a blaze of fiery reds. Trudy’s situation continued to worry Jo. Bert certainly didn’t deserve such shabby treatment, but when Jo put in her two cents, Trudy had smacked it away. Jo decided she was done trying to make Trudy see reason. If Trudy wanted to mess up her life, so be it
. Jo just hoped Trudy didn’t come running to her expecting sympathy when everything blew up in her face.
When Adam Morgan awakened the next morning, it took him a few moments to remember where he was. Although he’d never been in this room when it belonged to Belle, he had when its first occupant, Daniel’s grandmother, had been alive. In fact, Adam and his brother and Daniel had assisted Mr. Best in constructing the small walk-out porch that was connected to the room.
Adam looked at the sunshine streaming in through the windows. He still found it hard to believe that he’d left the war behind. During his stay here, there’d be no bad food, thundering cannons or sleeping on the hard, cold ground. He wouldn’t have to fight anyone, or kill anyone or listen to the moans of the dying. War was a terrible and frightening place; the tranquility of the Best home was like heaven.
Adam slowly swung his leg free of the sheets and sat up on the edge of the bed. A little over a month ago, the bone in his ankle had been shattered by the burst of a cannon shell. The doctors weren’t sure how it would heal, or even if it would. The dull ache of the injury plagued him night and day, but he’d gotten accustomed to it. The pain seemed to be growing stronger as of late; not a good sign, he was sure, but he hadn’t mentioned it to the doctors for fear they wouldn’t have permitted his discharge from the hospital.
Adam picked up the crutches he’d left within easy reach and hobbled over to the screen to take care of his morning needs. When he was done, he came back to the bed and sat down. He’d slept like a rock last night; he didn’t remember dreaming at all. He did remember Mrs. Best leaving a clean shirt and a pair of trousers for him on one of the room’s chairs last night. Getting up, he retrieved them and made his way back to the bed. Both garments belonged to Dani but because Adam and he were similar in height and build, the red flannel shirt Adam slipped into fit reasonably well. The pants were another story. Pulling the leg up over his swaddled ankle caused him so much pain, tears wet his eyes. Taking a moment to draw in a shaky breath, he waited until the wave of agony passed before continuing.
Finally dressed, Adam ran a hand over his hair. It had been a while since it had been cut; he and it needed a thorough wash, but right now he wanted to eat. Fixing the crutches into his armpits, he slowly made his way to the door. The ankle was still beating out a fiery rhythm but he forced himself to ignore it.