Swan's Way

by Weyrich, Becky Lee

  Channing smiled and bowed to his hostess. Agnes and Virginia on the other hand looked totally befuddled. But they all raised their glasses to their lips and drank to Melora’s toast.

  “And now, my dears,” the mistress of Swan’s Quarter said, “I have a surprise for you.”

  Even as she spoke, they heard sounds of a fiddle coming from beyond the closed door.

  “Why, it’s Fiddlin’ Joe!” Channing exclaimed. “I thought he must be with the angels by now.”

  Melora laughed. “One hundred and two, but still going strong. He says his fiddle keeps him young. And the way he still chases the women down in the quarters, I have to believe it’s true. Come, all of you!”

  When Melora opened the doors, they spied old Joe with his crippled legs and flying fingers, seated beside the stairway, coaxing magic from his strings. Gathered around him were all the house servants and many of the plantation children. The women were dressed in their best frocks and all wore bits of bright ribbon or strings of berry-beads. Virginia knew, from years of observation, that they dressed this way only on Christmas Day or for weddings.

  She turned and stared at her mother. “What’s this?”

  Polly answered for her mistress. “Me and Zebulon, we done brung the broomstick, Miss Virginia, lak we promised you and Mister Channing. And we all come to witness the jumpin’.”

  Virginia looked at Channing. He was grinning from ear to ear. “You!” she cried, happy tears welling in her eyes. “You knew about this all along, didn’t you?”

  He nodded. “Your mother had to tell me. She wasn’t sure I still wanted to marry you, now that you’ve reached such an advanced age. It’s not every man who’ll take an old maid for a wife.”

  They all laughed—all but Virginia. She went into Channing’s arms, letting her tears of joy and relief flow freely.

  When they parted, Polly thrust a bouquet of fragrant purple wisteria into Virginia’s trembling hands. “Fan done found this blooming in the woods. I reckon it’ll do for your bridal bouquet.”

  Virginia hugged Polly. “Thank you! You know how I love wisteria.”

  “We best get on with it now, Miz Melora.”

  “Indeed, Polly! Virginia, Channing, please come and stand before Brother Zebulon.”

  Still holding hands, the happy couple did as Melora instructed. Virginia had to smile at Brother Zeb. He was wrapped in a clerical robe of patched homespun. Someone—Polly, no doubt—had twined bright ribbons through his hair and beard. He held a huge Bible in his hands, which Virginia knew he could not read. Yet his voice boomed, as he led the group in reciting the Lord’s Prayer and asked for the safety of all the family members who could not be present for this happy occasion.

  Afterward, the entire group hushed in silent anticipation. Brother Zebulon cleared his throat, then spoke directly to Heaven. “Lord, me and You been on the same side all dese years, since I was a little biddy scrap of black flesh suckling at my ma’s breast. You done heared my prayers ever’ morning, noon, and night, these eighty-odd years. Some You’s answered, some wasn’t worth listening to. But this evening I got serious business that need Your attention, Lord. These here two white folks is hankering to be man and wife, real proper-like, with Your blessing. Mister Channing, he be a fine man—good to his ma and pa, understanding with his people, and in league with You, Lord. And he do honest-to-goodness want to make Miss Virginia his wife until death do they part.”

  Brother Zebulon paused, drew his gaze down from above, and stared full at Channing. “Ain’t that right, sir?”

  Channing nodded solemnly. “I do wish with all my heart to make Miss Virginia my wife.”

  Zeb’s eyes shot back to Heaven. “See, Lord? Mister Channing, he done tole You so hisself. And now we comes to Miss Virginia. There ain’t another lady in Frederick County—maybe all of this here state—as fine and well-bred as this dear lady, ’cepting her own mama, of course. Miss Virginia, she teach me Your words from Your own Book from the time she was knee-high. She believe Your words, too, and she tell me to mind them always. Now Miss Virginia got a favor to ask. She want to be Mister Channing’s wife, and she want Your blessing on the union.”

  Again, Brother Zebulon’s gaze shifted from on high to the subject of his conversation with the Lord. “Tha’s right, ain’t it, Miss Virginia?”

  She bit her lip to stay her tears. “Oh, yes, Brother Zebulon! I do want to be Channing’s wife, the best wife he could ever wish for. Tell the Lord I’ll do my very best, always.”

  Brother Zeb smiled and nodded. “I reckon He done heard that. You been knowing Him longer than me, Miss Virginia.”

  They all assumed that the service was at an end, but Brother Zeb wasn’t finished talking to the Lord yet. “I reckon they’s got Your blessing, since You ain’t sent no sign to the otherwise. Now, there be just one more thing, Lord. We needs to talk about fruitfulness. You done made them husband and wife, now You needs to see that this here union doth provide. They wants younguns to raise up, fine and good. Again, we ask Your blessing and ask that You send them down some sweet baby-lambs to tend.”

  Virginia felt her eyes sting with tears and her face burn with a blush. She glanced around to find all the servants beaming at her. It seemed Brother Zebulon meant to take longer on his fruitfullness speech than he had taken on the wedding service. Granted, Virginia wanted children, but if Zeb kept on in this vein, she’d have three dozen before it was done.

  Finally, Polly put an end to his monologue. “Time for the broomstick jumpin’, Brother Zebulon.”

  He said a quick, “Amen!” and beamed at the couple he had successfully married.

  “Don’t I get to kiss my bride?” Channing begged.

  “Iffen you do it quick,” Zeb answered. “Polly’s got that broomstick ready and she ain’t a patient women.”

  Virginia flowed into Channing’s arms and forgot the rest of the world existed, as he covered her lips with his. Even in the euphoria of that moment of first-wedded bliss, her thoughts went to the old Bible in the parlor. One more line could be filled in tonight. A line that would link her soul and Channing’s for all time.

  Fiddlin’ Joe struck up his music again. All the servants clapped and sang and cheered. When Virginia looked around, she saw two of the fancifully dressed children parading about the hall with an old broomstick, beribboned and decked with flowers.

  “Shall we?” Channing said, laughing, beaming.

  “Take dem shoes off first,” Polly warned. “It don’t take, lessen you’s barefoot.”

  Channing tried hopping on one foot and pulling his boots off, without luck. Finally, Polly brought a chair. When he sat down, she showed Virginia the proper way to put her backside to her man and tug off his boots. Laughing and blushing, Virginia almost fell flat on her face when the second one finally came loose.

  “Now you sit, Miss Virginia. Mister Channing got to take off your slippers.”

  Virginia tried to protest. After all, it might not be unseemly for her to bare her feet before her new husband. But in front of her mother, her sister-in-law, and all these servants?

  “You got to do it, Miss Virginia,” Polly urged.

  She looked toward Melora, who smiled and nodded. Only then did Virginia sit down.

  Channing might have made quick work of the process, but he chose not to. Instead, he drew up her skirts slowly, until her satin slippers and bare ankles were exposed for all to see. Caressing her ankle gently, sending fire up her legs, he drew off the first shoe inch-by-inch, then repeated the process. When both her feet were naked, Channing rubbed his palms over her soles. She felt hot and cold and trembling with longing, by the time he released her and rose. For long moments, she sat staring up at him, afraid to trust her legs to hold her.

  He offered his hand. “Come, darlin’, everyone’s waiting.”

  The children with the broomstick danced about, teasing the bride and groom. “Catch us, iffen you can! Dis ole broomstick, she like to
dance.”

  Fiddlin’ Joe played faster and faster. Having no luck at catching the dancing broomstick, Channing caught Virginia in his arms and whirled her around the room—faster and faster, until it seemed they would take wing. All the while, he kept his eyes on the naughty scamps who held the stick. When they became mesmerized by Channing and Virginia’s dance, he swept her toward them, pretending not to notice they were there.

  “Now!” he whispered into Virginia’s ear. “Jump, my love. Jump the broomstick!”

  They left the floor together, clearing the final obstacle to their marriage by several inches. When they landed on the other side, everyone cheered. The children marched up and down the stairs, holding the broomstick on high. Fiddlin’ Joe played on and on. Everyone danced. Polly disappeared into the pantry and returned with punch for the wedding guests.

  “I make you all a cake, soon as I get me some sugar,” she promised the bride and groom.

  A short time later, Melora gave the signal that it was time for the party to end. Each servant came to the newlyweds to wish them well. Then they all filed out of the house, leaving only Virginia, Channing, Agnes, and Melora in the wide entranceway that had been the site of the spirited ceremony.

  “Agnes,” Melora said, “you look weary, dear. Why don’t you go on up to bed?”

  Realizing that this was more order than suggestion, Rodney’s wife said her goodnights and left them.

  Melora turned to the happy couple. “I want you to know that both the Lord and I bless this marriage. Channing, Virginia, you are one now. Hold each other dear for all your lives. I’m going to leave you now. You must be gone by sunrise, Channing. It would be dangerous for you to stay longer, with my husband and sons so near. But you have this night. Cherish it, and each other.”

  Virginia was beyond words when her mother came to kiss her cheek and give her an affectionate hug. Next, Melora turned to Channing. “Welcome to the family, son,” she said. Then in a whisper for Channing’s ears alone, “Take your bride to her room. The two of you should be lovingly comfortable there for the night.”

  “Thank you, Mother Swan,” he said. “For everything!”

  A short time later, with the house all quiet at last, Virginia felt her heart sing. Lifting her into his arms, Channing carried his bride up the wide staircase, down the hall, and into her room. Polly and Melora had been there since Virginia left to go to supper. Wisteria set in vases perfumed the cool night air, and on the bed was the Sunday House quilt from Virginia’s hope chest.

  The couple wasted little time on preliminaries. Before Virginia knew it, she was as naked as her handsome husband, lying in the bed where, until tonight, an old maid had slept. But it was no maiden who fell into Channing McNeal’s arms that night, who slept not a wink, but gave her man all she had to give and accepted his loving tribute in return. They made love that night, as though every moment might be their last on earth. They pledged with their bodies what their hearts and souls had long since vowed. They would be together always— in spirit, when not in the flesh.

  As the first pearly-pink rays of dawn crept into the room, Channing kissed his well-loved wife, then rose from the bed to dress.

  “How long before I’ll see you again, Channing?”

  “I don’t know, darlin’. There’s no way I can give you an answer. But you’ll be in my heart and in my mind every minute I’m away.”

  “I love you so, Channing!” She reached out and caught his hand, brought it to her lips, and kissed it.

  Channing leaned down over her, caressing her breast and staring into her wide, brilliant eyes that were all the colors of heaven.

  “I love you more than you’ll ever know, Virginia McNeal. And, if the good Lord was listening to Brother Zeb tonight, I’ll be home when you give birth to our first child. Early spring, when everything comes to life—the trees, the flowers, and our baby.”

  He kissed her one last time—a long, sweet, tender kiss. Virginia felt her heart breaking when he strode out of the room.

  “Come back to me, Channing. “Oh, please, my darling!”

  Only a short time after Channing left, Virginia rose from her bed, recalling something they had forgotten to do. With her wisteria wedding bouquet in hand, she tiptoed from the room. Outside, in a plot behind the house, she planted the vines by dawn’s rose-gold light.

  “There,” she whispered. “Let our love last as long as this sweet wisteria grows and blooms.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Just after sunrise, on a dusty day in early August that was already hot enough to curl a pig’s tail, the unannounced visitor rode up the drive past the swan pond.

  “Virginia! Agnes!” Melora Swan’s call of alarm echoed down the upstairs hallway. “Someone’s coming. Be ready!”

  Be ready! had become their watchword over the past weeks, as more and more strangers came to their door, begging or demanding food. In spite of the young mother’s protests, Virginia had taught Agnes to shoot one of the Colonel’s old squirrel guns. At the signal from Melora, Virginia and Agnes, both armed, would station themselves at upstairs windows that commanded a clear view of the veranda steps below. They all knew their positions and their duties. With the two young women covering him from above, Juniper would greet the visitors outside, while Melora, a loaded derringer clasped at the ready inside her apron pocket, stood watch from the shadows of the entranceway. After their near-disastrous run-in with those Yankees back in May, they weren’t about to take any chances.

  Virginia watched from her window, as the lone rider came to a halt at the foot of the stairs and dismounted. She felt ill this morning, as she had for several days past. But she gritted her teeth and swore that the chamber pot could and would wait. She had her duty to perform. The man might be alone and seemingly harmless. Until he made his business clear to Juniper, however, the stranger would remain squarely in the sights of Virginia’s rifle.

  She heard the man mumble something to Juniper.

  “Captain Royal, you say, sir?” Juniper’s deep, clear voice drifted up from down below. “You’s a friend of Mister Channing?”

  Virginia eased her trembling finger off the trigger and lowered the gun. Could it really be? Was she about to get some news of her husband, finally, after all this time? She had had one brief note from him that he wrote a week after their broomstick wedding. He had said they were on the march, headed West She had received his short message, vowing his love anew, over a month after Channing wrote it. Since then, not a word.

  “Captain Royal, how good that you’ve returned.” Melora stepped outside to greet their visitor warmly. “My daughter told me of your last visit. I apologize for not coming out to speak to you then, but you arrived at a rather awkward moment. Do come in, won’t you?”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  Jacob Royal looked like a gray ghost, covered from head to toe as he was with the powdery dust of August. When he disappeared from view, following Melora Swan into the house, Virginia leaped to action. She had to talk to him immediately. There was no time to dress. She grabbed an old red velvet evening cloak out of her armoir and draped it around her shoulders. In moments, she was headed downstairs, her earlier queasiness forgotten in her excitement at seeing Channing’s friend once more. Maybe he would bring news of her husband.

  By the time Virginia reached the main floor, her mother and the captain were in the library. She hurried to join them without waiting for an invitation.

  Melora turned, shock registering on her face at her daughter’s unorthodox attire. “Virginia! You might have dressed!”

  “I’m sorry, Mother, but I had to speak to Captain Royal at once.” She turned to him, glowing with expectation. “What news from Channing?”

  He shook his head and averted his gaze. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t seen him in months, although our paths probably came near to crossing last month, during the Seven Days’ Battle, as it’s being called.”

  “Seven days of
fighting?” Virginia said, imagining all sorts of horrible scenes.

  “Actually, it lasted much longer—nearly a month. McClellan’s forces under General Fitz-John Porter made a push toward Richmond. We clashed at every little crossroads along the way—Gaines’ Mill, Fair Oaks, Seven Pines, Glendale, Frays-er’s Farm, White Oak Swamp, and Malvern Hill, which was a clear victory for the North. We were totally out-gunned and out-manned. Even General Lee couldn’t believe it, when McClellan called a retreat. But “Ole Marse Bob,” as the soldiers call our commander, took immediate advantage of the situation. We forged ahead, pushing over one hundred thousand Federals back twenty miles, from the Pamunkey River clear to the James.”

  Virginia’s heart sank. With so many battles fought, involving so many men, the casualties had to be enormous. She prayed silently that Channing wasn’t merely a statistic, by now. And what of her father and brothers?

  As if reading her mind, Jake Royal said, “I do have news from Colonel Swan and the boys, though.”

  “Are they well, Captain?” Melora’s voice was as rigid as her spine. She steeled herself for the worst.

  “Alive, ma’am. I suppose, after such a campaign, that’s the same as well.”

  Virginia watched her mother relax visibly.

  “Tell me, Captain Royal. Please! Don’t spare any details.”

  He glanced around, first to make sure that he was alone with the two women. He knew that Rodney Swan’s wife, the mother of his child, was also somewhere in the house. Luckily, Agnes had yet to join them. The news of her husband would be easier, coming from her mother-in-law than from a total stranger, and a man at that. Women seemed to have a knack for softening cruel blows.

  “Your sons, Rodney and Jed, have been wounded, ma’am.” He voice was quiet with sympathy.

  Both Virginia and Melora gasped. Virginia went to her mother and slipped an arm around her shoulders.

  “How badly?” Melora asked.