“But this is absurd,” she murmured, still not quite believing. “How can you prove that I am not who I am?”
“It is the way the American justice system works. The authorities must prove that you are Taye Campbell.”
“And if I’m Mr. Gallier’s niece, then what of Taye Campbell? Won’t the law keep looking for her?”
“Jackson has great influence. He assures me that, in time, he can convince the authorities that she is dead. Leave that to us, Taye. Let us—” Thomas began to cough and pulled his handkerchief from inside his coat.
Taye stood and watched as his thin body was racked with spasms.
“I’m sorry,” Thomas said hoarsely when at last the fit subsided. He wiped his mouth with the handkerchief, folded it and wiped his mouth again.
That was when Taye saw the specks of blood. “Thomas!” She tried to catch his hand, to see the blood, but he stuffed the handkerchief back inside his coat. “You’re ill,” she murmured, tears filling her eyes. “Seriously ill.”
He hung his head for a moment. When he spoke at last, he did not look at her. “I’m sorry. I should have told you.”
Taye knew the symptoms. There were many illnesses that could cause violent coughing fits, but only one she knew of where the patient coughed up blood. Consumption. “Oh, Thomas,” was all she could say.
“I just—” he shook his head “—didn’t have the nerve.”
“Have you seen a surgeon? The apothecary?”
He lifted his head at last. “There is nothing that can be done, and you know it. So you see, this all works out for the best. I could not have married you anyway.”
Taye threw herself at him, and he tried to step back.
“No, you mustn’t.”
“I mustn’t what?” she said through tears. “Hug an old friend?” She pressed her face into his coat and breathed deeply, trying to set the scent of him permanently to her memory.
His hand brushed her back and then he carefully extricated himself from Taye’s arms. “I must go. I should talk to Gallier, and Jackson has taken Cameron to my office. I need to send them home to Atkins’ Way so that they do not appear too interested in Minette Dubois’s fate.”
Taye nodded, blotting her tears with her own embroidered handkerchief. “I wish I knew how I could thank you, Thomas. Not just for this, but for all you’ve been for me, for Cameron, for my father.”
His brown-eyed gaze met hers. “Smile for me,” he murmured.
She smiled, though she did not feel like smiling.
“That’s thanks enough,” he said, and then he was gone.
“Not hungry?” Jackson asked.
Cameron shook her head and pushed her plate away. She had ordered a light supper out on the veranda, hoping there might be a cool breeze, but there wasn’t. The night air was stale and the heat still oppressive.
Jackson had removed his coat and rolled up his sleeves. Cameron had kicked off her slippers and stockings and left them upstairs, shocking even Lacy who had had an early supper and gone to bed. “No, I’m not hungry,” Cameron said, reaching for her glass of water in which a precious chunk of ice bobbed.
Jackson had somehow managed to acquire an entire wagon full of ice packed in sawdust, which had been placed in the belowground icehouse and covered with more sawdust. He could not have brought Cameron a better gift if he had presented her with diamonds and emeralds.
She sipped her water, enjoying the coolness of the ice on the tip of her tongue. “You think this is really going to work?” she asked quietly.
“Stop worrying. It’s going to work.” Jackson pushed his own plate aside, the food only half eaten. “The judge will return, look at the evidence and release Taye.”
“And then what?” She lifted her gaze to see Jackson watching her in the candlelight.
“Then she’ll have to leave.” He paused, his tone surprisingly tender. “But you knew that, didn’t you? And Taye knew that when she made the choice to return rather than just keep running with Falcon.”
Tears came suddenly and unexpectedly to Cameron’s eyes. By her calculations, she had become pregnant the night Jackson returned home, only a little more than two weeks ago. Her monthly was only a few days late, and yet she could tell already by the changes in her emotions that she did, indeed, carry a child again.
“Ah, Cam,” Jackson murmured. He reached out to her with both arms and she allowed him to draw her in. She curled up in his lap, not caring how hot it was, just needing to feel his touch.
“She wants to go with him, you know,” she said, laying her cheek on Jackson’s shoulder.
He rubbed her arm. “That’s not the same thing as wanting to leave you.”
“I’m going to miss her.”
“Of course you are. But you have Elmwood,” he reminded her. “And Lacy,” he added.
Surprised, she looked up into his eyes. “Does that mean she can stay?”
He didn’t answer but she knew his silence was as close as she would get to his approval.
“I really think she is Grant’s daughter,” she said, tracing his collarbone with her finger. “I can’t really explain it. Sometimes it’s just the way she speaks, or the way she looks at me.”
He sighed. “Our household has gotten so big, what’s one more bad-tempered woman?”
She smiled up at him. “So you don’t dislike her anymore?”
“I never disliked her—she’s just a child. She’s the one who hates me.” He paused as if he wanted to say something more.
“And?”
“And—” he continued, “I have to confess, I was a little concerned about how much of your time she would take.”
Cameron couldn’t resist a smile as she looked down at him. Just when she thought she knew everything there was to know about this man, she learned something new. It had never occurred to her that he might be insecure in her love for him. “You were jealous of that little measly girl?”
“Of course I wasn’t jealous.”
She laughed and kissed his mouth. “I never meant to make you think she was more important—that anything was more important than you,” she dared, thinking of Elmwood. “It was just that you came home to Baltimore and started ordering me around, telling me what I could and couldn’t do, after having been gone so long.”
He tucked a lock of her damp hair behind her ear. “Maybe Naomi and Taye were right. Maybe it does take some time to adjust to married life.”
Cameron thought about her secret. She wanted to tell him, but she was afraid. What if she started bleeding? What if it wasn’t true? She had to wait a few more days.
Cameron sat up and reached for her cold water. When she took a sip, a little dribbled down her chin. Jackson caught the drop of water with his finger and then eased it down her throat. She arched her neck; the cold felt delicious on her hot skin.
“Oh,” she whispered. “I think I could bathe in a glass of ice water, right now.”
He took the glass from her hand, took a sip and then pressed his mouth to hers. When she parted her lips, cool water passed from his mouth to hers. She moaned with pleasure as their tongues met.
Jackson dipped his fingers into the glass and dripped water between her breasts. Cameron laughed and threw her head back, giving him perfect access to her damp bosom. Jackson accepted the invitation and leaned forward to kiss her cool, wet skin with his hot mouth.
“Mmm,” Cameron groaned. “That’s nice.”
They kissed again as he fished the chunk of ice from her glass and drew it down her cheek, down her neck to the valley between her breasts. The hard, frozen ice against her hot, prickly skin sent shivers of pleasure through her.
“Jackson.” She looped her arms around his neck. “Do you think we should retire to our bedchamber?”
“I was wondering how I might gain access again.”
“You just had to ask.”
He kissed her lips once more and then eased her out of his lap so that he could stand. He dropped the ice cube back i
nto the water glass with a splash. “Should I bring my ice with me?”
She padded barefoot across the veranda, beckoning him inside. “Oh, most definitely, Captain.” She lifted her lashes to meet his gaze, her amber eyes glimmering in the candlelight. “Most definitely.”
34
Three days later, Cameron woke to the sound of the bedchamber door. Opening her eyes, she saw Jackson, his face lit with hazy morning sunlight, entering the room, carrying a tray laden with a tea service, biscuits and jam.
She smiled up at him as she stretched stark naked atop the bedcovers. It had been too hot the last few nights to wear a stitch of clothing, and the thought of a coverlet was suffocating. “Good morning,” she called brightly, elated to have him in her bedchamber again.
Jackson grinned back, closing the door behind him with his foot. This morning he wore canvas trousers and a simple rough-weave cotton shirt, the sleeves cut off halfway down to reveal his muscular bare arms. He must have just bathed because his hair was darker than usual and slicked back in a club at his neck. “Good morning.”
“You working this morning?” she asked, indicating the casual clothing. The simple garb made him look younger and far more carefree than a man of his age and responsibilities.
“I was out in the stable. One of the horses had colic.”
She immediately sat up with concern. “Should I dress? I can come out and—”
“No, no, the mare’s fine. She’s up and walking, eating again. I think she became dehydrated in the heat.”
Cameron eased back on the pillows in relief.
Jackson set the tray down over her lap. “Sugar in your tea this morning?”
She nodded. The moment she’d lifted her head from the pillow, her head had begun to swim and her stomach had begun to protest. The sugar seemed to soothe both. “It was kind of you to bring this, but Patsy could have done it.”
“I know, but I wanted to.” He poured tea from the bone china pot into the delicate cup as if he were an old hand at it.
Realizing she was still unclothed, Cameron laid her hand over his to move him aside. “I should get up and dress in something first.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed, effectively pinning her in. “I like you much better like this.” Again, that boyish grin, the one she had fallen for so many years ago.
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, making such lewd remarks in the light of day,” she half chastised, reveling in his attention. Since he had returned from Washington, things had been so much better between them. They still had not spoken of her miscarriage, but so much tension had eased between them that Cameron was hopeful. Perhaps when this awful predicament with Taye was over, she and Jackson could see their way through to some kind of truce. Perhaps they could even start again and erase the memory of the last few months.
Jackson took one of the biscuits from the tray and spread strawberry preserves on it. “Cam, I need to talk to you.”
The tone of his voice made her immediately suspicious. She reached for the teacup, looking up at him. Waiting.
“I have to go to Memphis tonight.”
She set down the cup without tasting it. Her stomach had been queasy since the moment she had opened her eyes, but now it was churning. “Why?” she asked softly, not looking him in the eye.
“I can’t tell you.”
And just like that, the tenderness she felt for Jackson only moments ago slipped away and she was angry with him again. “Of course you can’t.”
“Cam, you have to believe me when I tell you that this is it. Once this mission is complete, I will hand Secretary of State Seward my resignation. But Falcon sent word to me this morning that he has intercepted a message. It’s the lucky break we’ve been waiting for and I have to go. Now.”
“You have to go now? What about Taye?” she flared. “The judge is finally expected back in town today, and Thomas thinks there may be a decision tomorrow or the next day. You can’t leave us now. You can’t.” She meant he couldn’t leave her, but she couldn’t say it. She was afraid to tell Jackson just how much she needed him right now. How vulnerable she felt.
“I’m not leaving you,” Jackson said firmly. “I’ll only be gone a few days. If there was any way I could stay here, I would. But this matter must be dealt with.”
“And you won’t tell me what?”
“It’s not a matter of won’t, it’s can’t.” He was talking in his captain’s voice now. All business, no emotion.
The thought of Jackson leaving now was almost more than she could bear. Did the last few days of happiness mean nothing to him? He had actually sat down with Lacy yesterday afternoon and taught her how to play marbles. Cameron thought the girl was really too old for childish games. But Lacy had been so tickled with the marbles he had brought her, and he had been so patient with her, that Cameron wouldn’t have stopped them for the world.
And they had actually talked, really talked, the way they had before the war, before they were married.
Now he was leaving her again.
“I don’t want you to go, Jackson.”
“And I don’t want to go, Cam. Damn it, I don’t want to.”
He tried to take her hand, but she drew away. It was silly to be hurt, but she was.
“I have to,” Jackson intoned, getting up. “I made a promise to serve the Union and the president.”
“And what of your promise to me?” She pushed aside the breakfast tray and climbed out of bed, grabbing a night robe from the chair to cover herself. “What about that wedding vow you made?” Cameron didn’t know why she felt so strongly, but something inside told her he shouldn’t go.
Cameron tied the silk ribbon of the night robe with shaking hands, her anger building. Should she tell Jackson she thought she was pregnant again? Did she want him to stay for the baby’s sake or her sake? For theirs?
“Cameron, listen to me.” He followed her to the window, where she drew back the drapes to gaze out at the countryside. “This mission concerns the security of our nation. I’ll explain everything when I get back. I swear to you, I will. But I truly must go and I must go now.”
Her mind screamed the words and it took every ounce of control Cameron possessed not to turn around and shout at him, If you leave now, you need not come back. But something in the tone of his voice made her believe him. Or maybe she just wanted to believe him because she wanted to give him a second chance. Give them both a second chance. “All right,” she murmured. “Go. Tend to our country. Taye and I will be fine.”
He stood behind her in silence for what seemed an eternity and then she heard him turn to go. “I’ve made arrangements, once the judge dismisses the case, which I know he will, for Taye to simply remain at The Magnolia with Gallier until Falcon and I return,” he said from the doorway. “It will look better than if she just leaves town, anyway. Then I suppose she and Falcon will make plans.”
Cameron rested her hand on the windowsill, feeling light-headed.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can, Cam.”
Jackson kept his head down, his face obscured by a broad-rimmed black hat as he filed along the rutted lane, behind the crepe-draped casket. He was suffering in the sweltering Alabama heat, his black wool suit causing him to sweat as badly as all the others making up the pitiful procession. Even the trees along the wooded road seemed smothered by the thick, humid air. Not a breeze stirred a single leaf. The horses drawing the hearse plodded along, their hooves sinking into the sandy soil, their tails flicking too feebly to threaten the greenhead flies that swarmed around team and mourners alike, feasting hungrily on their blood.
The graveyard and the blackened remains of a brick church appeared abruptly in a dark hollow to Jackson’s left. The old burial ground was surrounded by what had once been a substantial brick wall. Now the wrought-iron gates leaned crookedly, with vines and green briars clawing at fallen gaps in the enclosure. Weeds grew knee-high between the untended tombstones and precariously sagging monuments.
&n
bsp; A stone angel and a waist-high pile of fresh dirt indicated the new grave in an area surrounded by stone pillars with the letter T carved boldly into them. Here, someone had cropped the weeds and set up a pair of rough sawhorses. Four men, including the driver of the hearse, shouldered the cherry wood coffin and carried it to the gravesite, then set the box carefully on the sawhorses and stepped back to allow the mourners to pay their last respects.
Jackson recognized Thompson, flanked by two young women in black veils. The reports claimed he had two sisters. One of the women began to cry, and Thompson slid his arm around her waist, supporting her weight.
Jackson glanced up in the direction of the large tombstones and above-ground vaults in front of them. Though he couldn’t see Falcon and the dozen men he had brought with him, he knew they were there.
Still keeping his head down, Jackson eased into the line of friends and relatives saying their last farewells to Cora Thompson, beloved wife and mother. Behind him, Jackson heard soft, muffled sighs. He slid his hand inside his coat and closed his fingers over the grip of his pistol. He was directly behind Thompson now. One of the sisters kneeled, resting her hands and head on their mother’s coffin, comforted by the other sister.
Jackson eased his pistol from his coat and leaned forward to speak quietly in Thompson’s ear. “You can walk out of here quietly, with your dignity, or you can walk out handcuffed and shackled,” he said softly. “Your choice, Captain Thompson.”
The sandy-haired man in his mid-thirties stiffened as Jackson pushed the barrel of his pistol into his back. “I don’t think you want to do that, sir,” Thompson murmured, still looking down at his mother’s coffin.
“No?” Jackson breathed.
“No,” came a deep voice behind him.
Jackson felt a pressure of a gun barrel in the small of his back. A smile flickered across his face as he lifted his head to look at the tombstones twenty feet away. Falcon and three more men dressed in black stepped from behind them, rifles aimed. The man behind Jackson lowered his weapon.
“Damn,” Thompson whispered. “You’d arrest a man at his mother’s funeral?”
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