Surrender to the Fury

by Connie Mason

  “Aimee, sweetheart, Tall Oaks is ours. Yours, mine, and Brand’s. It’s your wedding present. I couldn’t tell you about it before because I wasn’t sure if I could hire the manpower necessary to renovate the place.”

  “Renovate! There was little left after the fire but four walls. It must have cost a fortune to rebuild.”

  Nick shrugged. “I told you I was thinking about selling my share of the munitions plant, didn’t I? We’ll, my brother-in-law was eager to buy me out. I used the money to rebuild the house. Now, seeing your face, I feel it was well worth the expense. Don’t worry, sweetheart, there’s still enough money left to keep us in style until our land produces, and even beyond that, if need be.”

  “Why? Why would you do such a thing? You’re a businessman, not a farmer. I know you brought me to Atlanta merely to humor me, but surely you aren’t planning on setting down roots here, are you?” Her voice held a ring of hope that tugged at Nick’s heart.

  “Tall Oaks is our home now. It’s our children’s heritage. I paid the taxes and rebuilt it to its former elegance because I love you and intend to use the land as God meant it.”

  He leaped from the buggy then turned to lift Aimee to the ground. He set her on her feet, kissing her lightly before placing an arm around her waist and drawing her toward the house. “Come and inspect your domain, Mrs. Drummond.”

  Nick’s memory of the house was phenomenal, Aimee thought as she lay in bed later that night waiting for Nick to undress and join her. Every room was nearly identical in size and proportion to those that had been destroyed in the fire. Every detail had been meticulously duplicated.

  “How did you manage everything?” Aimee asked once Nick was settled beside her in the new bed. “When did you have the time?”

  “It wasn’t easy,” Nick allowed. “I knew how much Tall Oaks meant to you and Brand and I paid the taxes before we left Atlanta in the winter of 1864. Sensing the end of the war, I made arrangements for rebuilding to begin immediately. I drew a diagram and communicated through letters and telegrams. I had no problem finding an overseer and workers willing to put in a full day’s work for a full day’s pay.”

  “I can’t believe you did this for me.”

  “I love you, Aimee Drummond. I’ve been telling you that since I found you again nearly a year ago. You were so brave challenging me in the foyer of Tall Oaks with that small, ridiculous handgun. It reminded me of one other time when you threatened me with a gun. It was aboard the Dixie Belle, remember? I don’t ever want you to doubt my love again. Restoring Tall Oaks to you is my way of proving how deeply I love you.”

  “I don’t need proof, Nick,” Aimee sighed contentedly. “As much as I appreciate what you’ve done in my behalf, it wasn’t necessary. I’ve finally come to grips with loving a Yankee. Wherever you chose to live would have been fine with me.”

  “I chose Tall Oaks.” A comfortable silence settled between them. Suddenly Nick stirred and said, “Did I ever thank you for Brand? He’s a wonderful boy. You did a fine job raising him. Having another child with you makes my life complete.”

  “I might want more than two children,” Aimee teased as she snuggled against him.

  “I’ll do all in my power to oblige, sweetheart,” Nick said with a roguish grin. “I love you. I’ll do whatever makes you happy.”

  “I’m happiest when you’re making love to me.”

  “Then I promise to keep you deliriously happy forever and ever.”

  Epilogue

  April 1866

  Aimee tucked another seed into the small furrow she had just dug in the ground and packed the fertile earth around it with the back of her small spade. She loved springtime. This year the war-ravaged land was showing signs of renewal, and the citizens of the South had begun their long trek toward Reconstruction.

  Kneeling in the dirt, she sniffed appreciatively of the rich soil made fertile by frequent rainstorms, and recalled all the things she had to be grateful for. Leaning back on her heels, she dashed away beads of sweat clinging to her brow with the back of her hand, leaving a smudge of dirt across her smooth forehead. The kitchen garden should produce well this year, she thought idly as she pushed another seed into the ground.

  Glancing out across the wide expanse of green lawn, she saw Nick riding toward the house. As usual, Brand rode beside him on the pony Nick had purchased for him on his sixth birthday. She smiled in response to Nick’s wave when he saw her kneeling in the dirt. He turned his mount in her direction. Brand followed close behind. Father and son were so alike, it was uncanny.

  Nick dismounted, pulled her to her feet, and planted an exuberant kiss on her lips. “We’ll start plowing tomorrow,” he said. “The fields have dried out enough to start putting in crops.”

  Aimee smiled, surprised at how good a farmer Nick had become in the short months since he had resigned his commission in the army. Some of the former slaves had drifted back to Tall Oaks seeking work, and Nick had offered them jobs. He paid them a fair wage, and they seemed content with the arrangement. Nick had field hands to farm the land, and the workers had a place to work and live.

  Conditions in Atlanta were appalling. Most of the former slaves had no place to go, so they roamed the streets looking for handouts and getting into brawls. The federal government was trying to help, but embittered Reb soldiers returning from war and finding nothing left of their former lives added considerably to the chaos and woes facing Reconstruction.

  “It will be good to see crops growing on the land again,” Aimee said wistfully. “I feel badly for all our neighbors who weren’t as lucky as we were. Their land is lost to them forever.”

  “No one said war was fair.”

  Suddenly a loud wail pierced the air, and Aimee glanced toward the house. “That must be Jamie. He’s as impatient as his father. Run into the house, Brand, and tell Savannah I’ll be right in to feed the little scamp.”

  She and Nick watched fondly as Brand’s little legs churned into motion. “I can’t recall ever being this happy,” Nick said with a sigh of contentment. “Though you did give me quite a scare when you gave birth. I don’t think I ever want to go through that again.”

  Aimee started to reply when another loud wail joined the first, creating an earsplitting din that made Nick roll his eyes heavenward in mock surrender. “I’d better hurry before the house falls down around us,” Aimee said.

  Before she reached the house, Savannah appeared in the doorway holding a bundle in either arm. “Dey ain’t gonna wait much longer for dere dinner,” she said, juggling a child on each ample hip.

  “Feed Jamie first, Mama,” Brand yelled, trying to be heard over the babies’ screeching. “He’s crying the loudest.”

  By now it was difficult to tell which child was creating the most noise. Nick strode purposefully toward Savannah, took one baby from her, and rocked it awkwardly in his strong arms. Immediately the child fell silent.

  “At least my daughter appreciates me,” he said. His face was aglow at the wonder of his twins. “See how Janie stopped crying when I picked her up.”

  “I appre—appreciate you, Papa,” Brand said, stumbling over the long word.

  “And I appreciate you, son. And also your mama for giving me these wonderful children. Twins; I still can’t get over having two babies at once.”

  “I was so big, I should have suspected something,” Aimee said as she plucked Jamie from Savannah’s arms and carried him inside. Brand followed Savannah into the kitchen while Aimee and Nick continued upstairs to the bedroom, each carrying a squalling child.

  Settling herself in a rocker, Aimee opened her dress and offered a breast to her irate son. Immediately he latched on to an engorged nipple, sucking lustfully as milk gushed into his mouth.

  “Greedy little devil, isn’t he?” Nick remarked as he watched his son suckle.

  “He comes by it naturally,” Aimee said, flashing Nick a cheeky grin. Aimee recalled the many times in the past when she had called Nick a devil and t
ruly meant it.

  “They’re going to have to learn to share with me,” Nick said. His green eyes sparkled mischievously. “Besides, there’s only one devil in this family, and I have no intention of sharing the title.”

  “As long as you are my devil, Nick, you can keep the title.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart, for all the happiness you’ve brought into my life. Now, hurry up and feed those two; they have a father who is anxious to take their place. And if I haven’t told you lately, I love you, Aimee Drummond.”

  About the Author

  Connie is the bestselling author of 60 books and novellas and counting. Her tales of passion and adventure are set in exotic as well as in American locales. Connie has won awards from Romantic Times and has been listed in Who’s Who of American Women for several years. Connie makes her home in Tarpon Springs, Florida.

  Connie is a world traveler. She has visited every country in Western and Eastern Europe, Greece, Asia and Northern Africa. Also, countless islands in the Mediterranean and Caribbean Seas. Connie enjoys spending time with her three children, nine grandchildren and three great-grandchildren. Visit her Website and www.conniemason.com.