Surrender to the Fury

by Connie Mason

  By the first of the year 1865, the remnants of Hood’s army, decimated by nearly half, and most of the troops without shoes, fetched up at Tupelo, Mississippi. Heartsick and broken, Hood resigned his command on January 13, a Friday. Aimee took the news hard. Bitter disappointment made her even more determined than ever not to marry Nick. Nick seemed to take her refusal in stride, as if so confident of his ability to change her mind that a few days delay mattered little.

  Nick’s position as aid to General Blakewell kept him busy. So busy, in fact, that had Aimee given consent to their marriage, he doubted he’d find the time to appear at the ceremony. It was obvious to all that the war was nearly over and the South beaten to their knees. Rumor had it that the last meat ration was issued to Lee’s army, and not a pound remained in Richmond. The South had expended all its resources and energies. The price of gold rose and the Confederate dollar slipped to less than two percent of its 1861 level. In contrast, the Union had inexhaustible resources to do the job and the largest navy in the world. They also had more men available to them now than they had when the war began. In effect, the North had gained strength while the South was barely able to struggle on. Incredibly, the war had boosted northern economy to new heights of productivity.

  During this time Aimee came face-to-face with Regina Blakewell. Aimee and Brand were just leaving a restaurant where they had stopped to warm themselves with a cup of hot chocolate when they bumped into Regina. The attractive red-head was wrapped in fur, wore a pert hat atop her bouncing curls, and looked stylishly elegant. She had just entered the restaurant with two other women who were dressed just as elegantly. Aimee thought of the poor starving women and children in the South and added another grievance to her growing list of reasons to hate Yanks.

  “Why, Mrs. Trevor, imagine bumping into you like this,” Regina said in a loud voice meant to attract attention. Nearly all within hearing distance swiveled their heads in Aimee’s direction.

  “Hello, Miss Blakewell,” Aimee replied coolly.

  “I’d heard Major Drummond brought a mistress to Washington,” she said with sly innuendo. Aimee winced, aware that they were being observed by everyone in the crowded restaurant. Aimee’s southern drawl made her sound conspicuously out of place.

  Grasping Brand tightly by the hand, Aimee said, “Please excuse me, I must take my son home.”

  “What’s the matter, Mrs. Trevor, does the truth hurt? If Nick was serious about you, he would have married you by now.” The two women with Regina snickered behind their hands. “Thank goodness I learned what kind of man he was before we married. Fortunately I broke our engagement before it was too late,” she continued, speaking loudly enough to carry across the room. By now people in the restaurant had stopped eating and were staring at them. “It’s uncanny how much your son resembles Major Drummond.”

  Aimee had heard enough. It enraged her to think that Brand had been subjected to Regina’s jealous remarks. “Thank God none of your children will look like Major Drummond,” she replied as she pulled Brand through the door and walked briskly away from the restaurant. Bewildered, Brand had to run to keep up. His complaints finally penetrated Aimee’s rage and she slowed her steps to meet his shorter gait.

  That night Nick arrived back at the hotel early, announcing somewhat grandly that he was taking them all to a restaurant instead of eating in the hotel as was their usual habit. Recalling her earlier experience with Regina, Aimee promptly demurred.

  “Why are you being difficult, sweetheart?” Nick asked, puzzled by Aimee’s curt refusal.

  “I don’t feel like going out tonight,” Aimee said. She had already decided not to tell Nick about her meeting today with Regina. It was difficult to speak of the humiliation she felt when Regina had deliberately insulted her before an audience.

  “Are you sick?” he asked, concerned.

  “No, I’m fine.”

  Brand was sitting nearby listening to the conversation when he suddenly blurted out, “What’s a mistress?”

  Aimee gasped in dismay.

  Nick’s head swiveled around to stare at Brand. His face wore a scowl. “Where did you hear that word?”

  “From a lady I met at Tall Oaks. We saw her at the restaurant today. She said Mama was your mistress. I didn’t know what it meant, but the way she said it wasn’t very nice.”

  A vile oath slipped past Nick’s lips. “That’s it!” he said, rounding on Aimee. “You’ve had your way long enough. Now we’ll do things my way. Like a fool I thought you’d come to want our marriage. But now that rumor has touched Brand, I must insist that we stop the gossipmongers.” Suddenly he noted that Brand was staring at them and said, “Go find Savannah, Brand. Tell her to clean you up and keep you in your room until I tell her otherwise.”

  Reluctantly Brand did as Nick bid. He was acquainted with most of Nick’s moods, and this mood was one that demanded instant obedience. But before the door closed behind him, he turned and asked, “Do I really look like you, Nick?”

  Nick’s face turned ashen. “We’ll talk about it later, son.” When he turned to face Aimee, he was hard put to control his anger.

  Aimee was well aware of Nick’s temper. She hadn’t seen Nick this angry since he had caught her spying. The moment the door closed behind Brand, she took an instinctive step backward.

  “Who was the lady and exactly what did she say?” His face was dark, his eyes narrowed, his mouth taut.

  Aimee stumbled over the words. “It was Regina. She—she said she’d heard you had a mistress living with you.”

  “Is that all?”

  “I—”

  “The truth, dammit!”

  She screeched the words at him. “She said Brand looked enough like you to be your son!”

  “He is my son. I want the whole world to know it.”

  “By now they do,” Aimee spat with disgust. “Regina spoke loudly enough for everyone in Washington to hear.”

  “I’ve humored you long enough. Your wishes are no longer important. I’ve told you repeatedly that I loved you; why do you continue to resist our marriage? What do you want from me? You’re a selfish little bitch, Aimee Trevor. Are you going to let the color of my uniform ruin all of our lives?”

  Never had Aimee heard Nick speak so harshly. Was she being selfish by keeping Nick from being a true father to Brand? She had spent over five years of her life hating the man who had fathered her son. Old habits don’t disappear overnight. She had hated Yankees for as long as she could remember. They had destroyed everything she held dear in life, leaving her only Brand and Savannah. Then Nick had appeared: a man from her past wearing in a blue uniform, providing her with another reason to hate him. Yet against all odds, she had fallen in love with him. Refusing to marry him made no sense, except as a means of salving her damnable pride. Was it worth it?

  “I’m no longer giving you a choice, Aimee,” Nick continued when Aimee appeared deep in thought. “I’m going ahead with our wedding plans. Brand deserves a father, and you need me whether you realize it or not. I won’t have Brand needlessly upset by cruel gossip.”

  “I know.”

  “I don’t care how much you argue … What did you say?”

  “I said I know. Everything you said is true.”

  “Then you’ll stop fighting this marriage?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank God.” He took her in his arms, pulling her close.

  He would have kissed her if she hadn’t added, “For Brand’s sake.”

  He shoved her away, erupting in sudden anger. He had had enough of her nonsense. “Damn you! Then let our marriage be for Brand’s sake. Let me know when you change your mind. Until then, I’ll not trouble you again with my vile attentions. I’ll leave it up to you to tell Brand of our marriage. And when the time is right, I want him to know I’m his father.”

  “Nick, no! I can’t tell him that, not yet. He thinks Beau is his father. Think what that will do to him.”

  “I didn’t say you had to te
ll him immediately. But in time, yes, when he’s able to understand. I damn well want him to know who his father is. If you don’t tell him, I will. As for you, you can make what you want of this marriage. If remaining a Reb means so much to you, then so be it. I had hopes of providing Brand with a brother or sister, but I can make do with just one son if I have to.”

  In a rage, he stormed out the door, leaving Aimee standing open mouthed.

  Aimee didn’t see Nick for two whole days after that. Briefly she thought he might have washed his hands of her, until she realized that he would never leave Brand. Recalling his words, she told Brand that she and Nick were going to be married. Far from being upset, the boy was ecstatic. He had already had this conversation with Nick before they left Atlanta, and he began to wonder when it would happen. Savannah also seemed pleased.

  “De major loves you, honey,” she said when she noted Aimee’s distress. “And I think you love him. Once you accept de fact dat de Yanks ain’t so bad, you’ll see dat everythin’ is workin’ out for de best. Brand has his papa, and you have a man who loves you.”

  Nick realized Aimee had told Brand they were going to be married the moment he returned to the hotel and noted the boy’s pleased expression. With a pang of regret he wished that Aimee had shown her son’s enthusiasm for their union.

  “Mama says you’re going to be my papa,” Brand gushed happily. “We’re going to be a real family.”

  “That’s right, son,” Nick agreed, tousling the boy’s dark hair. “I’ve just come from making the arrangements. Why don’t you and Savannah go for a walk while your mama and I discuss our plans for the ceremony.”

  Brand hung back shyly. “Can I call you Papa?”

  Nick’s smile lit up the room. “I’d like that. Now, run along, son; we’ll talk later.”

  “At least someone is happy about our marriage,” Nick said sourly once the lad had skipped from the room.

  “Savannah is pleased.”

  “And you? What about you, Aimee? Have you come to grips with your feelings yet? Will this be a marriage made in heaven or hell?”

  “A marriage of convenience,” Aimee countered softly.

  “I see you haven’t changed your mind,” Nick said harshly. “Neither have I. I won’t force myself on you. I dropped by to tell you that our marriage will take place the day after tomorrow. We’ll be married at city hall at two o’clock in the afternoon. I’ll come by for you in a buggy.” He handed her a sheaf of greenbacks. “Buy whatever you need for the ceremony. Now if you will excuse me, I’ve neglected my work long enough.”

  His voice was so remote, so damn cold, Aimee couldn’t repress the shiver that raced down her spine. Why couldn’t she just admit she loved a Yankee, that she wanted Nick in her bed forever? The answer was simple yet complicated. Because her damn southern pride wouldn’t allow it. She had hated Nick longer than she had hated Yanks.

  “Nick, wait!”

  He turned expectantly. “Have I left out anything?”

  “Are we to live in the hotel?”

  “For the time being. I’ve made arrangements to rent a house as soon as the current tenants move out. It’s fully furnished, and I think you’ll be pleased.”

  “I don’t like Washington.”

  “I’m aware of that. But right now we’ll have to make do. The end of the war is in sight, and we’ll soon be free to live where we please.”

  “The South isn’t defeated yet,” Aimee declared stubbornly.

  “Wilmington fell two days ago, and most of the North Carolina coast is in Federal hands,” Nick declared. “Desertions from Lee’s army, especially of North Carolina troops, rose to disastrous levels. Most of those men are going home to protect and sustain their families, but some went over to our side, where they knew they could find food and shelter. It’s no secret that soldiers can’t fight while their families are destitute and starving.”

  “Lincoln should be proud of himself,” Aimee said with biting sarcasm.

  “Aimee, this war wasn’t our idea. Can’t we forget war for once and just be ourselves? I never wanted to be your enemy.”

  “I’m going to be your wife; what more do you want?”

  He searched her face. The intense green of his gaze had the ability to search deeply into her soul. “I want the opportunity to make you happy, sweetheart. I want to love you, to be a part of you, to be a husband in every sense of the word. But unless you tell me you want the same thing, we’ll end up living like strangers in the same house. Do you want that?”

  Silence.

  His face hardened. “Aimee?”

  More silence.

  Without a backward glance, Nick turned abruptly and slammed out the door.

  When the day arrived for their wedding, Aimee realized just how angry Nick had been. Instead of showing up in person, he sent a buggy for them with a message that he’d meet them at city hall.

  “You brung it on yourself, honey,” Savannah observed as they rode to city hall.

  Aimee looked ravishing in a lovely winter white wool suit trimmed in rabbit fur. When Nick saw her he nearly lost his resolve to remain aloof until she admitted that she loved him. No matter how badly he wanted her, he was determined that she come to him before he made love to her again. He didn’t know how in the hell he was going to survive until then, but somehow he must. If their marriage was going to prosper, Aimee must be made to acknowledge her feelings and let go of the hatred she’d harbored for him all these years. They had been making good progress until Regina Blakewell had arrived at Tall Oaks.

  Marriage wasn’t the only plan Nick had for their future. He had put other plans into motion that Aimee knew nothing about—ones that would prove to her how desperately he loved her. Of necessity his plans must wait, but with the way the war was going, he doubted the delay would be a long one.

  The ceremony was blessedly brief. Aimee repeated her vows clearly, with only minimal prodding from Nick, while Brand and Savannah watched from the sidelines. Brand wore a grin from ear to ear while Savannah wiped an errant tear from the corner of her eye. At the end of the ceremony Nick briefly touched cool lips to Aimee’s in a kiss so chaste and perfunctory, she thought she had imagined the fleeting pressure of his lips on hers. Then he promptly sent her back to the hotel, claiming he had pressing business.

  “Don’t wait up for me, Aimee,” he said as he handed her into the buggy. “I might not make it back to the hotel tonight.”

  Aimee was stunned. She couldn’t believe Nick had actually been serious about not sharing her bed. As lusty as Nick was, she thought it highly unlikely that he’d forgo his marital rights—no matter what he had said to the contrary.

  “Where will you sleep?”

  “Do you care? Are you prepared to surrender to me in every respect? Can you forget Beauregard Trevor and the fact that I’m a Yankee?”

  Immediately she drew back. “You ask too much of me.”

  “No, sweetheart, I ask only that you be honest with yourself for once and admit that you love me despite the fact that you’re a Reb and I’m a Yank.”

  “I—can’t.”

  He nodded curtly. “I’ll drop by to see Brand tomorrow. I wouldn’t want him to think his papa is neglecting him.” He motioned to the driver, and the buggy jerked into motion.

  Aimee stared straight ahead, wanting desperately to turn and look at him, but she feared that he’d assume she was issuing him an invitation. With her eyes trained straight ahead, she wondered if Nick would be celebrating their marriage tonight, and with whom.

  The following day Aimee decided to leave when Nick came by the hotel to see Brand. When Savannah was occupied elsewhere with Brand, she slipped out of the hotel, telling no one she was leaving. She knew Savannah would scold her for avoiding Nick, but she was too much of a coward to face the hurt and accusation in his green eyes.

  Wandering aimlessly through town, Aimee stopped briefly before a store window, admiring a dress on display. The day was cold and windy, and she pulled h
er cloak tightly about her as she gazed into the store window. Suddenly an image appeared in the glass beside her and she whirled, looking for the face she had seen reflected in the window. It was a face she had seen before. To her consternation, Aimee saw no one she recognized. When she glanced back toward the window, the image was gone.

  Shaken by the experience, Aimee continued on her way. She had just turned back toward the hotel when a man appeared at her elbow. “Keep walking and don’t let on that anything is wrong.”

  Aimee blanched as she glanced up at the man who had grasped her elbow. Gar Pinder! What was he doing in Washington? “I thought you were in prison.”

  “There’s isn’t a prison in the world that can hold me,” Pinder sneered. “After being jailed for a time in Atlanta, I was transported to Washington for trial. I managed to escape from my guards, but I need help. You can’t imagine how surprised and delighted I was to see you in Washington.”

  “I can’t help you, Gar,” Aimee said shakily. “I’m married now, to Nick Drummond, and I refuse to spy.”

  “You married a damn Yankee?” Pinder said, aghast. “You deceitful little bitch!” His grip on her arm tightened.

  “Stop it, you’re hurting me!”

  His grip slackened. “I need money and a pass to get me through Union lines.”

  “I have no money. Besides, the war is all but over.”

  “Not for me,” Gar said. “I’m still wanted by the Yankees. You owe me, Aimee. It’s your fault the Yankees caught me. You should have known your lover was following you, and taken precautions.”

  “I told you, Gar, I won’t help you.”

  Suddenly Pinder grinned evilly. “Perhaps your husband will give me safe passage out of town in return for your life.”

  “Don’t count on it,” Aimee mumbled, fully aware of Nick’s anger toward her.

  “What did you say?”