Romancing the Rogue (213 page)

“No. She’s been mostly all right. Quiet. She cries some and can’t follow what’s being said. But nothing like this before.” Amelia answered before I had a chance to word my own reply.

“She loved him very much,” I murmured, “I’m so sorry about your son, Mr. Lofton.”

“Thank you. He was a good boy. Don’t you worry none about your sister. She’ll pull through. We’ll see to that.” He stood, replaced his chair at the table. “Matthew, boy, carry her on upstairs. Her sisters can tend her now. I want to speak with you and that man you all brought back with you.”

Matthew started to rise, doing as his father bid, awkwardly balancing my sister against his chest while wiping one-handed at his eyes. He followed through, cradling my sister close, heading up the stairs. I followed, balancing the child’s awkward weight against my own chest. Mr. Lofton assisted me, nodded his head in my direction respectfully.

Amelia and I followed Matthew as he carried Rachel¯now a little quieter
¯up the staircase just off the kitchen. The second story of the house held the family’s bedrooms. Six doors, all polished walnut, were arranged along the hallway.

“We’ve put Rachel here, the boy too, I guess. Gideon’s room. You’re in the room next to her, you and Amelia. It’s the twins’ room so there are two beds. Just let us know if you need anything.” Matthew spoke as he lowered Rachel onto the quilt-covered bed. He touched her as gently as if she were a flower.

It was then that I wondered what his feelings for Rachel actually were. There was little of brotherly action in his touch and I thought, perhaps, that Matthew coveted his dead brother’s wife.

It was a startling notion that I quickly pushed out of my mind. What was I thinking? Now was not the time for such ideas. I looked for a place to lay my own sleeping burden and I found it on a long wooden bench under the window. A red and teal embroidered cushion covered it and it was the perfect size for little Elias. I settled him on it and placed a chair against it to prevent him rolling to the floor in the night. I drew in a shuttering breath before turning to my sisters.

I held Rachel, listening to the broken explanations of their love for one another, listened to her rail against the heavens for taking him, rocked her as she cried for him. It was a long time before she settled into a restless sleep and Amelia and I could head to our own room next door. I was more than a little leery of leaving Rachel in the room alone. What if she needed me? Finally though, I couldn’t stay awake any longer and I went next door, settling into bed. I listened for a while, waiting to hear any sound from the next room. None came, and I finally slept.

It wasn’t until the knock on the door the next morning before I remembered I hadn’t seen Grayson since we’d arrived. I assumed he had been put in a room near to ours and I dressed quickly, anxious to find him.

I made my way downstairs, stopping short when I saw the group settled around the table. The housekeeper greeted me with a nod and I smiled in return. I held a passing acquaintance with the woman, having met her in Hagan’s market on several occasions. She motioned me to a chair at the large plank table. I slipped into an empty one near the end.

Someone handed me a plate heaped with biscuits and I helped myself to one. I smiled at the man, thanking him. It was one of the twins, Daniel or Nathaniel
¯
I wasn’t sure which.

The back door opened and a small group of men entered, pulling a great gust of cold wind in with them. I searched their faces and found the one I wanted. He had been the last to enter, coming in behind Matthew.

He must have borrowed a suit from one of the brothers. It had to have been one of the twins, for no one else in the room was as broad of shoulder. The somber jacket hugged his shoulders and the pants were a tad too short. He smiled as he saw me, and my own lips curved in welcome. He sank into the empty chair beside me. The biscuits were passed in his direction and he took two. I let a little giggle escape. He sure ate a lot.

Talk was sparse as we ate. Our group consisted of four of the Lofton boys, Daniel, Nathaniel, Matthew, and Jedediah. A good dozen farm hands also joined us. They all acknowledged me in some way, though they eyed the man beside me warily. He said little, only responding to direct remarks sent his way. Amelia soon joined us, sitting beside Grayson.

It was to be a private funeral, with only close family attending. I was thankful for that. I didn’t want to face too many questions from members of the town. I wasn’t sure what story my uncle had circulated after we’d run off. I was scared to find out.

Matthew’s brothers were solicitous of my welfare, helping me from my chair, assisting me in passing the steaming dishes of food. Grayson glowered at them and I wondered why. They were just being polite.

Maybe he was just nervous, worried at being so near to my uncle. I understood his fear; I felt it, too. Two of the brothers were missing and Mr. Lofton explained that they were still off with their regiments and he hadn’t been able to contact them about their brother.

Rachel and Elias were the last to enter the kitchen and everyone hushed as Mr. Lofton stood. He walked toward the pair, tried to take the child. Rachel stiffened and Mr. Lofton dropped his hand. He moved to guide her to the table. She sat, still holding the boy. Talk resumed, though at a much softer level. Rachel tore a biscuit into small pieces and guided Elias’s little hand to the food. In his left hand she placed a strip of bacon. He began gnawing on it greedily. She picked at the plate Mr. Lofton sat in front of her, eating less than a handful of bites.

Soon breakfast was over and it was nearing the time set for the funeral. Amelia and I helped the housekeeper clear the table while the men excused themselves to see to preparations in the barn. I knew they’d be carrying the casket to the cemetery on the hill. After we finished in the kitchen we followed the housekeeper onto the porch. We met Mr. Lofton as he led Rachel down the wooden steps. She had yet to let go of Elias and I knew she must be feeling weak from constantly carrying the child. He was a good-sized, healthy boy, no lightweight.

I wrapped my arms around her shoulders, worrying at the blankness of her features. Amelia crowded close to my side, whether to add support to me, or to gain support from me, I couldn’t tell. We climbed the last few yards up the hill, slipping slightly in the mud. The cemetery sat waiting, two dozen graves jutting from the ground. I saw the dark wooden box that housed the remains of Rachel’s husband.
Good Lord in heaven,
this was awful. That such a young man had died must be a true abomination.

I felt a surge of guilt pierce me and I lowered my head as everyone circled the new hole where Gideon would be laid to rest. I hadn’t known the boy well enough to grieve for him. I empathized with his family and I worried for Rachel, but I felt like such a charlatan as Rachel rested her head on my shoulder. She remained mute, having said nothing all morning. I felt a hand come to rest on my back and I instinctively recognized Grayson’s touch. I looked at him, glad for his presence and support.

Everyone was quiet as Gideon’s elderly uncle began reading from the book of Psalms. “The Lord is thy keeper; the Lord is thy shade upon the right hand.”

I wondered what plan the Lord held for my sister, widowing her so precipitously.

“...The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night...”

I wondered what plan the Lord held for me, directing me to Tennessee now. What could possibly wait for me there, besides Grayson?

“The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil; he shall preserve thy soul. The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for ever more.”

Preserve thy going out and coming in? What possible reason could the Lord have for my life? I didn’t know, and I felt fear close my throat. What was to happen to me? The solemn words continued to float around me and I wondered if they brought anyone any comfort. I looked up as all around me murmured
amen
to the reverend’s final words. I looked around, hoping no one had noticed my inattention. But everyone was focused on the casket, watching as first Mr. Lofton and then his sons surrounded it. My sister walked forward, her hand reaching out running her fingers over the words someone had carved into the wooden top.
Gideon Lofton, beloved husband, son, and brother.
I wondered at the purpose, for when dirt surrounded the box no one would ever read the inscription. Still, if it had brought comfort to the carver wasn’t it worth it?

Matthew guided my sister away and his brothers began lowering the coffin into the hole. He turned Rachel toward the path, not letting her see what the men were about. I understood his reasoning, not wanting Rachel’s memories to be filled with the sight of Gideon being lowered into the cold ground, buried forever. I was thankful he was taking charge of my sister. I didn’t know if I could have done it.

Then it was over. I followed Matthew and Rachel up the path, marveling at how quickly the ceremony had passed. My mother’s service had lasted forever in my mind.

Everyone remained quiet as we settled around the big plank table once again. The housekeeper bustled about, eyes reddened from the service, from burying the boy she’d no doubt helped bring up. She sat steaming bowls of stewed potatoes and beef in front of us. Only we and Gideon’s intimate family remained. The other mourners had returned home right after the service, giving his family privacy.

I tried to eat, thinking Rachel might follow my example. The potato stuck in my throat and I coughed. Grayson thumped my back and I felt my ears heat as everyone turned to stare at me. I’d never been the recipient of so much male attention and it froze me to my spot, as all six men looked at me curiously.

“Excuse me.” I lowered my head before taking another, much smaller bite. I don’t know why, I wasn’t the least bit hungry now. I ate what I could, keeping an eye on Rachel while doing so. She stared at the food in front of her, one arm wrapped around Elias. The child slept, head on her shoulders. It worried me, the fierce attachment she was developing with the child. Was it healthy
¯
for either of them?

Matthew and his brothers excused themselves, heading out to tend stock. It had almost been too cold for planting and I wondered if their fields were done. I soon got my answer when Mr. Lofton excused himself before heading out to join his sons, talking of seeds and such.

Then it was just the five of us
¯
my sisters, the boy, and Grayson.

“You doing all right?” Grayson put one hand on my shoulder and I leaned in to his touch.

“Think so, you?”

“Barn was a little cold, but it was dry.”

“You slept in the
barn?
Why?” Amelia looked at him, wide-eyed. “With the horses? How come? There were plenty of rooms in the house.”

“Wasn’t my place to intrude. Grief is a family thing. They didn’t need to be worrying about some guest they don’t even know.” He spoke quietly, explaining more to my sister that the Loftons didn’t need the added burden of guests at a time like this. I understood his reasoning, but the poor man must have been miserable sleeping in the drafty barn.

Amelia and I once again assisted the housekeeper as she put the kitchen to rights. Grayson helped as well, easily reaching to replace bowls on upper shelves. Rachel had excused herself silently, carrying Elias up for a nap. Amelia was soon drafted to help the housekeeper fold linens and I found myself alone with Grayson.

He’d found a chess set, exquisitely carved from hard maple and polished until it gleamed. Whoever had made it was a wonderful artist. He soon cajoled me into attempting to learn the game.

We were silent, save for his occasional instructions on the game. I studied the board, edging a little black pawn forward.

“Do you really want to make that move?” He frowned at me and I looked back down at the board, at the piece I had just moved and all the pieces surrounding it.

“I think so, why?”

“It’s just a pawn, but is it worth sacrificing? What do you gain from risking it?”

“It’s in danger, where?”

“You’re only seeing the obvious move. Look again.” He nodded again at the pawn. “Ask yourself
what if.
”

It took me a long moment but I found what he meant. I laughed nervously, replacing my original piece, before completing the more difficult maneuver.

“Sometimes, Liv, a game is won not by making the obvious choice, but by looking to the side, checking what other pieces might be near.” As he spoke he moved his knight to threaten my queen.

I managed a few more turns, delayed the inevitable. He took my queen after giving me several opportunities to redirect my pieces.

“And sometimes, no matter what you choose, you still don’t win.” He told me as he took my king off the board.

“I’m not sure I like this game.” I frowned at him, studying the board. I wanted to find what I had missed but couldn’t. “There’s a lot to remember, and a lot that can go wrong.”

“It’s chess. It’s about thinking, about strategy. It’s really about choices.” That was the last he spoke as we replaced the board and its pieces. His words echoed in my mind.

Chess was about choices, I understood that, but I had the strange intuition that he had spoken of something more than a simple game.

After we left the kitchen we settled in the parlor. I sank into the rocker nearest the window and he sat across from me on the green sofa.

“I have something I want to discuss with you.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

My chest tightened, his words causing my heart to beat erratically. “Yes?”

“I’ve been thinking. When we get to Tennessee, depending on the condition of the farm and all, would you mind if I, well, if I were to come see you occasionally? Maybe go for drives?” A faint tinge of red touched his tanned cheeks and it suddenly occurred to me that he was embarrassed. Why was he so unsure of himself all of a sudden?

“Of course, my sister and I, we’re beholden to you. We’d be glad for you to visit.” The words came out more softly than I intended and he leaned forward. Our lips were almost touching and it took all of my will to refrain from closing that distance.

“No, that’s not what I meant. I don’t want you feeling indebted; I don’t want that at all.” He straightened, released my hand. “I was thinking...”

A throat being cleared ended his words and we sprang apart like two guilty children sneaking a cookie before dinner. Mr. Lofton stood in the door, the faintest of smiles on his face as his eyes passed over me and Grayson. “Sorry to interrupt. But I need to speak to you, Miss Olivia.”

“Is it Rachel? Does she need me?” I rose to my feet, clasping my hands in front of me. I couldn’t look either man directly in the face. What must Mr. Lofton think of me? Of Grayson? Was what we had done that wrong? A few stolen kisses and warm touches couldn’t be that sinful.

“Your sister is fine, this is about something else.” He scratched his head, looked away. Suddenly I knew he was nervous, and I felt the trepidation filling my own stomach. He motioned for me to sit down and I did, slowly. Grayson moved to stand beside my chair, a warm hand resting on my left shoulder, an instant comfort.

“Seems there’s been a stranger around. Asking questions about you and your sisters. Know anything about that?” His words were blunt, yet it took me a moment to decipher what he meant.

“No,” I whispered, looking up at Grayson.

“Go on, sir.” Was all he said, not looking at me, though his hand tightened briefly.

“Well, thing is, man claims to be your father.” Mr. Lofton rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke and I found myself fascinated with his hand’s sheer size and the various scars and nicks covering its surface.

“No. My father is dead. Died in the war. I don’t know who that man is.” I shook my head.
No, it wasn’t my father. My father was gone, dead. Long ago.

“You sure? Ole Thomasson sent him out your uncle’s way. Scuttle is they had some pretty harsh words. Don’t know what happened next. But those who’ve seen him think there’s a good chance he is who he says he is.”

“No, you’re wrong. My father wouldn’t have left us here, not while he was alive. He wouldn’t. I don’t know who that man was, but I know
¯
he was not my father!” I jumped to my feet and hurried from the room, not stopping until I reached the room I shared with my sister.

Amelia looked up from the book she was reading when I opened the door. “Liv? Are you okay?”

“No.” I wrapped my arms tight around myself, pacing the small spans of room between the bed and window. “They said...
they said Papa has been in town.”

“He’s dead. You said he was
dead.”

“I know. He has to be dead. He wouldn’t have left us here, not if he were alive.” I told her, false confidence lifting my voice.

“Liv? Do you think it could be him? I mean, what if he was hurt or something? And couldn’t come to us?”