A Journey of the Heart Collection (39 page)

“Hello, Jessica.” Amelia's voice sounded falsely gay to Emmie, but Jessica didn't seem to notice. “I heard you were here. Sarah and I had planned to stop in yesterday, but she was not feeling well.”

“Oh?” The one word and upraised eyebrow spoke volumes.
Sure you were,
it said.
Just as I lost no time in coming to see you.

Amelia flushed at her tone. “Um, this is our dear friend, Emmie Croftner.”

“Croftner. Where have I heard that name?” Jessica frowned, a gentle ripple in the smooth perfection of her
peaches-and-cream complexion. “You're not related to Ben Croftner?”

“I am. I'm his sister.”

“Oh my.” For a moment Jessica seemed flustered. “Do forgive me. I'm very pleased to meet you.” She held out a tiny gloved hand, and Emmie clasped it briefly. “Well, I do hope to get to know you better in the future. Now I must go. I see Daddy motioning to me.” She gave Emmie an enigmatic look before strolling over to her father.

“I wonder what she's up to,” Sarah said as she hurried over to them. “It looked as though she was actually being nice.”

“I really don't know,” Amelia admitted. “Maybe she's changed, but she seemed quite sweet.”

The furniture had been cleared out of the big meeting room, and long tables piled with food lined the west end of the room. The wooden floor had been polished to a brilliant sheen that was a trifle slick to walk on. The band was already warming up at the makeshift bandstand at the other end of the room under the wide eyes of the post children clustered about them. Emmie noticed that Sarah's brother, Joel, had his harmonica with him. She looked around
the room and saw Jake wave to them from the food table.

“Trust that man to find the food.” Amelia laughed as they threaded their way through the crowd. “Eating already?” she asked with a smile.

“Wait till you taste this apple pie.” Jacob took an enthusiastic bite. “Mrs. Horton certainly has a way with dried apples.” With his brown hair and eyes, he looked enough like Rand to be his twin.

Amelia pretended to be miffed. “Well, you can just eat at her table every night then. I won't inflict my poor attempt at culinary arts on you.”

He put an arm around her. “Now you know I like your cooking just fine.”

“ ‘Just fine,' he says.” She punched him gently in the stomach. “When I've been an army wife as long as Mrs. Horton, maybe I'll have a way with dried apples too.”

Emmie gave a wistful chuckle. Sarah and Amelia were so lucky. She pushed the memory of Isaac's smiling eyes away.

The band struck up a lively tune behind them, and Jacob took Amelia into his arms. “Time's a-wastin', gal.” Amelia laughed as he swung her onto the dance floor.

Rand claimed Sarah a few moments later, and the officers lined up for a dance with Emmie. She was exhausted within fifteen minutes. The men were so exuberant and determined to have a good time. When there was no lady available, they danced with one another. She passed from one set of arms to another until the faces all became a blur.

“I think this is my dance.” Isaac cut in on a young lieutenant with a good-natured grin. He spun Emmie away from the disappointed young man. “You look very lovely tonight.”

Emmie looked away, heat rising in her cheeks. “It was a very nice ceremony,” she said awkwardly.

“Wasn't it?” He drew her closer as the music changed to a slower song and laid his chin on the top of her head. “You are just the right height.” His words were soft with a hint of tenderness.

Emmie felt herself relaxing against his chest. She heard the thud of his heart under her ear and smelled the pine scent of his soap. If they could just stay like this forever
.
She pulled away slightly. That was how Monroe had trapped her before. With his sweet talk and tender arms. She was soiled goods now too. Isaac wouldn't be interested in her if he knew the truth.

“Isaac, I've been looking for you everywhere,” a honeyed voice said. “Daddy wants to talk to you.” Jessica laid a gloved hand on his arm and gazed up at him with an adorable pout on her lips.

“I'll be along in a moment.” He pulled away from her gently. “Let me get Emmie some punch first.”

“No, really, I'm fine.” Emmie stepped away from him hastily. “You go on along with Jessica. I've promised the next dance to Jacob.”

Isaac hesitated, then allowed Jessica to pull him away. Emmie looked after them with her heart aching.

Jacob arrived and held out his arm. “Amelia is determined not to let me sit by her all evening. She says she likes watching us as much as if she could dance to every song herself.” He pulled Emmie into a rollicking dance.

She was breathless by the time they finished. Jacob took her elbow and guided her toward the punch table. He took two cups and handed one to her. “I wanted a chance to tell you how much I appreciated the help you've been to Amelia. She was so lonely and blue before you and Sarah came. I haven't caught her crying once since the two of you arrived.”

Heat sprang to Emmie's cheeks. “Sarah is the real miracle worker. You've nothing to thank me for.” She
looked away and took a sip of punch. Sarah had told her it was just strong tea with citric acid in it, but it was really quite good.

“That's not true, you know,” he said with a frown. “I've seen the way you hover in the background trying to make sure neither of the girls is doing too much. You have a sweet, unassuming way of encouragement about you that has really helped Amelia. This pregnancy has been hard on her.”

“I'm glad if I've been able to help her. There's no one in the world like Amelia. She's so trusting and sees the best in everyone she meets. I wish I could be more like her.”

Jacob smiled. “She's too trusting sometimes. But you're right—there's no one like her.”

“You love her very much.”

He nodded. “She means everything in the world to me. I don't know what I'd do if anything ever happened to her.” He looked over to where Amelia sat chatting with Mrs. Horton. “She seems so frail, sometimes it worries me.”

Emmie laid a hand on his arm. “She'll be just fine. Dr. Horton is very pleased with her condition. Women have babies all the time, you know.”

Jacob squeezed her hand. “You're right, I'm sure. Anyway, thank you for all your help.”

“You're very welcome.” She watched him stride over to his wife, whose face lit up as she saw him coming. Emmie couldn't suppress the pang of envy that pierced her heart. Love like that would never be for her. She sighed and took the last sip of her punch before being claimed for another dance.

Isaac shuffled and took a gulp of punch as Emmie danced by on the arm of another soldier. How had she gotten under his skin so quickly?

Jessica tugged on his arm. “Isaac, I'm not used to being ignored.” Her lips went into a pretty pout.

He managed a smile in spite of his anger with her at being pulled away with a lie. Her father hadn't wanted to see him at all, though the major was watching the two of them even now. He didn't dare show his displeasure. “Sorry, Miss DuBois. Can I get you more punch or a plate of food?”

“I'd settle for some attention. And please, call me Jessica. We're much too close already to stand on such
formality.” She spoke a little loudly as Emmie danced past again, as though she wanted Emmie to hear the word
close
.

“As you wish.”

She touched her fan to his arm in a flirtatious gesture. “I see you watching Emmie Croftner. She won't do much for your career, you know. Not with her background.”

“You mean because of her brother? That's not her fault.”

The lamplight gleamed on her vivid red hair and her jewelry caught the light. “That's not exactly what I meant. But I suspect you'll find out all her secrets soon. The whole fort will.”

He didn't care for the venom in her voice. “What secrets?”

A smile hovered on her full lips. “You'll see.”

FIVE

E
mmie slipped out of bed and poured cold water from the cracked pitcher into the bowl on the cloth-covered crate that passed as a bed stand. She shivered as she took a piece of flannel and quickly washed herself in the frigid water. She pulled on her blue wool dress and combed her hair up into a serviceable knot, then draped her shawl around her shoulders. She could hear Rand thumping around in the kitchen as he readied for his day. The clear notes of reveille sounded just as she pushed open the curtain from her bedroom and stepped into the small parlor.

Rand looked up as she entered. “Go on back to sleep. I wouldn't let Sarah get up either. I'll grab some grub at mess so you girls don't have to worry about fixing me breakfast.”

“I don't mind.”

He patted her shoulder as he strode by and seized his coat. “I know you don't, but I have a busy day today, and I might as well get to it. You get some rest.” He opened the door and stepped out into the still-dark morning. “I'll see you tonight,” he said before closing the door.

Now what was she supposed to do? She was already dressed and too wide awake to go back to sleep. She tiptoed past Joel, a lump under the covers on the parlor cot with just a tuft of blond hair showing, to the bedroom door and peered in at Sarah.

“Rand wouldn't let me get up,” Sarah murmured sleepily when she saw her at the door. “I really should, though. I need to take the laundry to Suds Row.”

“I'll do it. I'm already dressed and not a bit sleepy. Would you like some breakfast before I go?”

“No, thanks.” Sarah yawned and pulled the quilts up higher on her shoulders. “All I want to do is sleep.”

“That's fine. You get some rest. I'll stop over and
check on Amelia after I drop off the laundry.” Emmie eased the door closed. She was so glad her own morning sickness had lasted such a short time and she felt well enough to continue to be a help to Sarah. She threw some more wood in the fire, put a pot of coffee on to boil, and cut a slice of bread for breakfast. By the time she slathered jam on it and gulped it and two cups of coffee down, the bugle sounded fatigue call. She gathered up the laundry into a basket and stepped outside, as men from various parts of the fort hurried to fall in and find out what their duties would be for the morning.

The sun was just beginning to send pink streaks across the eastern sky as she skirted the parade ground and hurried toward Suds Row. Every fort had a Soapsuds Row, or Suds Row as it was more commonly called. The laundresses were usually either the wives of enlisted men or immigrant women with red, chapped hands and well-developed muscles in their arms and shoulders.

Emmie stopped at the first tent she came to. A kettle of water belched out lye-scented steam, but the laundress was nowhere in sight. She set her burden down and rubbed her back, a bit sore from the evening's festivities.

As she looked around, she saw a pair of blue eyes regarding her seriously from behind the flap of the tent.

“Hello, what's your name?”

The child didn't answer but cautiously stepped out from the protecting flap. A small girl about two years old with a tangled mass of nearly black curls, big blue eyes, and chubby dimpled cheeks gazed up at her.

“Aren't you adorable! Won't you tell me your name?”

The little girl popped a thumb in her mouth, then took it out long enough to say “Mary,” before sticking it back in her mouth.

“Well, Mary, do you know where I might find your mama?” Emmie knelt in front of the tiny girl and touched the dark curls.

At that moment a young woman scurried from behind the tent with an armload of uniforms. “Sorry I am if ye had to wait, missy,” she gasped in a broad Irish lilt. “I didn't know ye were here.” Her face softened as she saw Emmie kneeling before the little girl. “I be seeing you've made the acquaintance of me sister.”

Sister? Emmie had assumed the child was the woman's daughter. They both possessed the same dark curls and deep blue eyes. But as she looked closer, she realized the young woman was hardly more than
a child herself. Certainly no more than fifteen or sixteen. “Are you the laundress, or should I talk to your mother?” she asked hesitantly.