Once Upon Forever

by Becky Lee Weyrich

  Cluney hugged the woman. “Oh, thank you, Mary!”

  “Here, now!” Mary said, putting Cluney at arm’s length. “We got work to do. But before you take the major’s breakfast in to him, I reckon I better find you something suitable for his wife to be wearing.”

  “But he can’t see me.”

  “All the same, them trousers ain’t fittin’. Besides, a body that’s got no sight’s got a keener sense of hearing. If he don’t hear petticoats rustling, he’ll think it a mite odd. The Breckinridges are high-toned folks with a big, fancy horse farm up Lexington way. I can’t rightly picture his Larissa in a pair of work britches, can you?”

  Cluney did her best to envision a nineteenth-century plantation mistress in jeans, a black turtleneck, and hiking boots. No! Her dream of Larissa in her hoopskirts and filmy ruffles returned to mind. She smiled. “You’re right, Mary. I should dress properly for him.”

  “Well, come along with me, then. I got a trunk full of my daughter Lorettie’s old frocks—rest her dear soul. You needn’t worry about catching nothing from wearing her things. She wasn’t took by disease, but choked on a fish bone right yonder at the supper table.”

  Stunned by the woman’s matter-of-factness concerning her own daughter’s death, Cluney said, “I’m so sorry, Mary.”

  The woman shook her head. “No need. The Lord giveth. The Lord taketh away. Her time come while she happened to be eating crappie for supper. That was all.”

  Poor Lorettie had hardly been a fashion plate as Cluney discovered a short time later. Her trunk contained a limited assortment of plain, high-collared, drab frocks befitting a parson’s teenaged daughter.

  Dressed in the best of the lot—a guinea-blue gingham with a bit of a ruffle at the neck and wrists—Cluney approached Hunter’s room a short time later. She felt perfectly odd, wearing the old gown with its accompanying petticoats and pantalets. She’d drawn the line at lacing herself into Lorettie’s narrow corset. No way was she donning that torture device! As for shoes, her own hiking boots had to suffice. Luckily, her long skirt hid them. Lorettie’s foot must have been all of a size four. Cinderella might have worn those slippers, but not Cluney Summerland with her size eight clodhoppers.

  Carefully, Cluney balanced a wooden trencher filled with fragrantly steaming squirrel stew on her forearm while she opened the door to Hunter’s room. To her utter shock, she found him sitting up in bed.

  “Well, look at you!” she cried, delighted. “How did you manage that?”

  “I told Free my pretty wife was coming and I might get another chance to grab her if I was propped up, so he helped me.”

  Cluney laughed. “I’m glad you feel up to grabbing this morning. You were pretty restless during the night.”

  She glanced across the room to see the black man leaning against the window frame. He gave her a nod to let her know he’d said nothing to shatter the illusion that she was Larissa Breckinridge.

  “I reckon I’ll be going to help Miz Renfro now,” Free said, “if you don’t need me for nothing else, ma’am.”

  “Oh, there is one thing,” Cluney said. “Is there a basin and a razor about? I thought the maj…” she paused, stumbling over the words, then forced herself to say, “my husband might like a shave.”

  Hunter ran a hand over his bristly chin and grimaced. “I suppose that’s a good idea. I scraped you pretty badly before, did I? But don’t you think Free should do that? It’s hardly a task for a lady.”

  “I believe I can handle a razor well enough not to slit your throat. Besides, I want to do it.” Cluney meant that. She wanted to do whatever she could to bring comfort and pleasure into Hunter’s life.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Free answered with a twinkle in his dark eyes. It truly warmed his heart to see the major getting such fine treatment. “I’ll go heat some water right now.”

  “Thank you, Free,” Cluney answered, smiling.

  She perched on the edge of the bed to feed her charge. The stew smelled wonderful. What Hunter didn’t eat, Cluney finished for him.

  But soon, Hunter was all questions again. “You still haven’t told me how you found this place, Larissa. Who brought you here?”

  Cluney thought quickly. She did have an advantage in this situation. She had memorized Hunter’s journal and knew things about him and his wife that would lend credence to her performance.

  “It was the moon—our moon,” she said. “I had no idea you were here, but I came up to the falls to see the moonbow.”

  “Incredible!” Hunter exclaimed. “You couldn’t have possibly come all this way by yourself. Besides, I would have seen you out there. Free took me to the falls. I saw the moonbow, and I saw something else, too.”

  “Yes?” Cluney prompted.

  “I saw the bride of the falls.”

  “Tell me about her,” Cluney begged.

  “The bride was you, Larissa. First, there was the soft glow of the moonbow. Then it grew brighter and brighter until I was almost blinded by the light. Then you stepped out of that glowing silver ball, dressed exactly as you were the day we married. I knew then that you were coming, that I’d see you soon. I stayed up all night writing in my journal, trying to explain all my feelings for you.” He paused, seeming weary suddenly. “But it was no use. I suppose I shouldn’t have even tried. What difference does it make now?”

  His words confused Cluney. He sounded so hopeless suddenly. But why should the moonbow make him sad?

  “Now you don’t have to write anything down,” she said softly. “I’m here and you can tell me what you feel.”

  He muttered something under his breath that sounded like, “I’m not sure you want to know.”

  Cluney rose to put the empty stew dish on a nearby table, and Hunter shifted himself higher on the pillows. With nourishment he had obviously gained strength.

  “Come sit beside me, won’t you, Larissa?”

  Uncertainly, Cluney perched on the side of the bed.

  “Closer,” he demanded.

  “Hunter, I don’t want to hurt you.”

  He laughed—a short, sharp sound that made Cluney cringe.

  “You don’t want to hurt me, eh? Don’t worry about it.”

  The rest of his thought went unspoken. His wife couldn’t hurt him more if she tried. He knew the truth about her and Jordan. That hurt, really hurt, but the pain seemed to be fading now that Larissa was back. Maybe there was still time to put things back to rights between them.

  Suddenly, he clamped his good arm around Cluney’s shoulders and kissed her deeply. She felt heat suffuse her body and tried to pull away. She couldn’t let this stranger make love to her. She’d thought he posed no threat in his weakened condition, but apparently she’d misjudged his prowess.

  “No, please!” she gasped, drawing away.

  “I’ve missed you, Larissa,” he whispered. “Haven’t you wanted to lie with me? I’ve thought of little else all this time. And now I’m dying,” he stated bluntly. “Would you deny your own husband his last wish?”

  This was absolute insanity! Cluney had lost one man she loved and she knew how that hurt. And yet she felt herself longing to give in to Hunter Breckinridge—not only because he wanted her, but because she wanted him. As crazy as it sounded, it was almost as if she had found Jeff again. She had suffered so over Jeff’s death. Now, suddenly, this stranger was kissing her as Jeff had kissed her, making her feel the same things Jeff had made her feel, forcing the love she had buried with Jeff to come out of the grave and burst into full flame once more.

  How could Hunter Breckinridge do this to her? How could she let him?

  Cluney knew she was only setting herself up for another fall if she gave him her heart. As Mary had warned her, he had little time left, but there seemed nothing she could do to resist. It was almost as if her sole purpose in coming back here to Hunter’s time was to love him—to give him all the affection and passion that still smoldered deep inside her for Jeff
.

  Still unconvinced that she should allow this to happen, Cluney said, “No, Hunter. You’re not well enough.”

  “I feel well enough,” he said. “Maybe I’m not as strong as other men, but take my word for it, darling, I can please you.”

  Cluney swallowed hard, sure that his bold words were true. Casting about for some other excuse, she said, “You haven’t had your shave yet.”

  He gave a low chuckle. “So, that’s the only problem. I forgot about my whiskers. I apologize, my dear. You must look as if you’ve been grazing in a briar patch. I promise to behave until after I’ve had my shave. Shall we do that right now?”

  “Hunter,” Cluney said in a somber tone, “you’re badly wounded. Mary said …”

  “Mary’s a prude!” he exclaimed. “How could she know that the ache in my heart is far worse than the pain in my shoulder, my leg, or my head? You know, if it weren’t for Free, I’d be dead now, and I’ve cursed him many’s the day for saving me and causing me all this agony. But it’s worth it, Larissa. I wouldn’t have missed being with you again for anything. Maybe we still have time to make things right. Unless you and your love…”

  The blood drained from Cluney’s face. She couldn’t stand this any longer. How could he know about Jeff? And why did he keep bringing up their relationship?

  “Please don’t,” she whispered. “He’s gone.”

  Her words shocked him into silence for a time. Did she mean it was all over between her and Jordan? Finally, Hunter said, “I’m sorry. But, Larissa, I’m still here and I want you back. I can’t promise things will be as they were before, but we’ll have each other no matter what. You will stay this time, won’t you?”

  Cluney’s thoughts were spinning. “I don’t know,” she cried. “I mean, I hadn’t thought past today or tomorrow. But then, I don’t know where else I could go, at least for the time being.”

  There was a world of hurt in Hunter’s silence.

  “Oh, Hunter! You know I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “Never mind how you meant it,” he said with deadly calm. “Whatever has happened between us in the past, you’re here with me now and I don’t intend to let you go as long as I have a single breath left in my body. I want you to be a wife to me again. Now, come here!”

  Cluney hesitated. Jeff had never ordered her about. Even when he had finally made love to her, he had convinced her with gentle teasing and persuasion. So why did she even consider complying with Hunter’s command? She didn’t know. All she understood was that she could not refuse him. He might not have long, but what time he had left she wanted to share with him. She felt like his wife. It almost seemed to her that they had shared years and years together. Years that she couldn’t remember, but had read about in his diary.

  Careful of his wounds, Cluney slipped her arms around him and held him close, tears spilling down her cheeks.

  “What do you want me to do?” she whispered.

  “I want you to love me, Larissa. Love me as you have never loved any other man. A kiss, perhaps?”

  Aroused by the sudden tenderness in his voice, Cluney brought her open mouth to his. His tongue was as smooth as his beard was scratchy. The opposing sensations sent tingles of fire through Cluney’s blood. Still kissing her deeply, Hunter brought his hand to her breast. He squeezed gently, then harder. Cluney caught her breath.

  “You were always so tender there,” he murmured, “so pleasing to touch.”

  Just then, a footstep in the hallway caused Cluney to pull away.

  “We can’t,” she said breathlessly. “Not in the daytime. Mary might come in—or Free.”

  “I don’t care. Do you?”

  Cluney thought about it for a moment. No, she decided, she really didn’t care. What they had started needed finishing. With that thought, a new terror suddenly gripped her. What if he found out she was not Larissa? Would he send her away in one of his lightning flash rages? She knew she wanted him, this minute, as she had never wanted any other man but Jeff. And it wasn’t simply a physical need, although there was that, too. No, she wanted Hunter Breckinridge as a part of her life from this day forward. She wanted him to promise her as he had promised his Larissa that their love would last even beyond the grave.

  Hunter’s next words only added to her fears. “Larissa, I think my eyesight’s returning. I can see some light and vague shapes. I’m sure that bright glow at the falls coupled with my writing all night did the damage. But it seems to be only a temporary disability.” He cupped her face between his palms and gazed at her. “I can hardly wait to see your face. When we make love tonight, I want to be able to see you again. All of you!”

  “Please, Hunter, you’re embarrassing me,” Cluney whispered.

  Actually, he was doing far more than embarrassing her. He was both frightening her and arousing her. She knew with a dreadful certainty suddenly that she would let him make love to her once darkness fell, that she wanted him with all her heart and soul. But she had a feeling that would never happen. Once he realized she had tricked him, she was sure he would hate her for deceiving him.

  Before Free arrived with the basin and razor, Hunter had drifted off to sleep again. Cluney, feeling as if she’d been granted a reprieve, slipped out of the room for a time. She went in search of Mary Renfro and found her out by the washtub in the yard.

  “Mary, can I talk to you a minute?”

  Still stirring the laundry with her long stick, the woman motioned to Cluney to come on out.

  “How’s the major?” Mary asked.

  “Sleeping again. He ate most of his stew, and he thinks his eyesight is coming back.”

  “Well, glory be!” She glanced up. “Thank You, Lord, for all small favors.” A look back at Cluney told her that the young woman did not share her relief. “What’s got into you, girl?”

  “Once his sight comes back, he’ll know I’ve tricked him, Mary. What will I do then?”

  Mrs. Renfro looked hard at this strange girl who’d wandered up from nowhere. She couldn’t quite figure her. “You can’t be blamed. You didn’t trick the major, child. He done it his own self. He wanted you to be his Larissa so bad that he just made it all up in his mind. Could be he won’t see no difference once the truth is right before his eyes.”

  Cluney spelled Mary at stirring the wash while they talked. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean.”

  “Well, I’ve had a lot of sick men and boys through here the past year or more. Some heal up and go on back to the war. Others are buried yonder in the woods. But they all got one thing in common; they’re all missing someone—wife, sweetheart, mother. And more than a few times, I’ve been taken for that loved one. I reckon it helps them a mite just to pretend.”

  Cluney frowned. “I don’t think Hunter is pretending. I’m sure he really believes I’m Larissa.”

  Mary nodded and smoothed a work-roughened hand over her brow. “Right now, he does because he needs to. Don’t you see? He’s got nothing left to live for without his wife. If he gets worse, likely he’ll keep on believing. If a miracle happens and he starts recovering, he’ll be well enough to deal with the truth, I reckon.”

  “So, you think I should just go along with him and hope for the best?”

  “Can’t see as you have much choice, now that you got yourself into this. Not ’less you want to kill him outright by telling him the truth right out.”

  Any mention of Hunter’s dying went straight through Cluney’s heart like a sharp knife. Mary’s words brought immediate tears to her eyes. She sniffed loudly, trying to hold them back.

  Mary gave her a sharp look. “Here, now! What’s come over you, girl? You got to keep up a bright face—let the major see you smiling all the time, not blubbering like it was the end of the world.”

  “Oh, Mary …” Cluney paused, choking on her emotions. “Something’s all wrong!”

  “This whole war’s wrong, honey, but we can’t go to sobbing ove
r it all the time.”

  “I know! I know! But that’s not what I mean.”

  “What then?” Mary waited for an answer that didn’t come. “What ail’s you, girl?”

  Gathering her breath for a rush of words, Cluney blurted out, “I think I’m in love with him!”

  “Lord, help us!” Mary muttered, shaking her head. She put her hands on Cluney’s quaking shoulders and looked into her eyes. “You /mowed he was dying. I told you, if you couldn’t see it for yourself. A sane woman don’t go giving her heart to baby lambs that’s raised for slaughtering or dying men who love somebody else. It just ain’t done!”

  “I know,” Cluney whispered “But he’s so much like a man I loved and lost.”

  “Well, that’s sure a weight off my soul!” Mary exclaimed. “I reckon it all makes sense now.”

  “It does?”

  “I believe so, child. You’re doing about the same as the major is—taking love that’s got no home no longer and finding it one. Just mind you don’t get too wrapped up in this poor soldier boy. He ain’t got long!”

  Mary said the last words in such a stern tone of voice that Cluney felt as if she’d just had a good scolding. How could the woman be so hard-hearted?

  Just then the front door to the cabin banged open and Free yelled, “Miz Larissa, come quick! He’s awake and he can see clear as day. Wants his wife there, right now, he does!”

  Cluney and Mary exchanged quick, uncertain glances before “Larissa” turned and ran for the house. She was eager to be with her “husband,” but troubled and fearful at the same time.

  Who would Hunter see before him—Larissa Courtney Breckinridge or Clair de Lune Summerland?

  Chapter Ten

  Hunter immediately regretted telling Free that he had his eyesight back. He realized that he had missed the perfect opportunity to observe his wife closely without her knowing that he was watching her. He was sure she was Larissa; she was the same as he remembered in almost every way. But there was something about her that was different, too.