Atlanta

by Sara Orwig

  The next day passed swiftly, and then Saturday arrived. Chantal and Sophia both hovered over her all morning, getting her ready for the wedding. Finally they rode to the church and went to a small, empty room to dress.

  “I should go see about Michael,” she said while Sophia brushed her hair.

  “Nonsense!” Chantal said from across the room. Sophia looked at Claire in the mirror and laughed. “All his uncles will take care of getting him dressed.”

  “We didn’t expect all this fuss,” Claire stated, watching Sophia carefully loop up a lock of hair and pin it with a small pink rosebud.

  “You might not have expected this fuss,” Sophia said, “but Fortune knew what to expect when he brought you here.”

  “This is different than your weddings. We’re marrying for Michael’s sake, not for love.”

  Sophia’s eyes opened in surprise, and she took a few moments to reply. “Still, it’s your wedding and it will happen only once. And you both want this.”

  “Yes, we do. I want it very much because now I can stay with Michael.”

  “Then it should be a very special wedding. One you will remember,” Chantal said, pulling a thread through a seam on the wedding dress. “This will be finished in just a few minutes.”

  Claire watched Sophia loop and pin her hair in curls on the sides and top of her head, placing rosebuds in her hair. Locks cascaded down the back of her head. Knowing that her hair had never looked prettier, Claire wondered what Fortune would think.

  “Now I’m finished,” Sophia said, stepping back, shaking her blond hair away from her face.

  “You both have been so kind to me,” Claire said.

  “I love a wedding!” Chantal exclaimed, handing Claire a crinoline. She wore a corset and thin batiste chemise Chantal had gotten for her. A servant came forward to help her into her dress, lifting the crinoline over her head, careful to avoid touching her hair.

  Next came the dress. All of them helped her into it, and the smooth satin shifted down over her. Claire felt fluttery and nervous, curious about Fortune and praying he wasn’t having qualms about going through with it.

  As the maid pulled the white satin dress up over Claire’s shoulders and began to button it, Claire gasped at her image in the mirror. She looked down at the satin dress, which had lace inserts and tiny pearls sewn into the bodice and skirt. “This is so beautiful.”

  “And you look beautiful in it. We’ll leave you to dress now,” Chantal said, smiling at her. She wore a pale blue silk, and Sophia was in a pink silk. Both of their skirts rustled as they hurried out of the room.

  Finally Claire was ready, taking one last look at herself when she heard a rap on the door and turned. “Come in.”

  The door opened and Rafferty appeared, his gaze sweeping over her as he smiled. He looked handsome in his white ruffled shirt and black coat and trousers. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes,” she answered, crossing the room while her nervousness increased. In a short time she would be Mrs. Fortune O’Brien, part of this family, stepmother to Michael. Rafferty took her arm. “You look beautiful, Claire.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Claire,” he said, pausing before they left her room, “give Fortune time. He may change.”

  Feeling a deep stirring of longing, she gazed up into Rafferty’s eyes, wondering if he had any idea how angry Fortune had been with her only a short time before. She nodded. “Whether he does or not, I’m so happy that I can be with Michael. That’s enough for me.”

  “Someday Michael will be a grown man, and you and Fortune will still have years ahead of you. Marriage won’t end when Michael is grown.”

  She nodded. “Your brother has made it very clear how he feels.” She looked into Rafferty’s blue eyes, so like Fortune’s. “Shall we go?”

  Chapter 13

  As they headed down the hall to the narthex, her attention shifted from Rafferty to the buzz of voices within. The church was filled with people, all to see her. Music began, and Claire’s nerves fluttered with the strains of the organ. While heads turned to watch, Chantal walked down the aisle, followed by Sophia. Then Rafferty tugged on Claire’s arm, and they moved to the doorway.

  A sea of bright colors and black coats filled the church. There were far more people than she expected, yet she should have known Chantal and Rafferty would have many friends. To hear Chantal talk, Claire had thought they would have only the family and a few friends, but she realized Chantal loved parties and weddings and wasn’t going to let the opportunity escape.

  In the next moment she forgot all the faces. Down the length of the aisle, Fortune looked incredibly handsome in a black coat and trousers, a ruffled white shirt and white cravat. She felt a rush of gratitude toward him for taking her as his wife. It was swiftly followed by a sudden longing that he really did want to marry her.

  Her gaze moved from him to Caleb and to Darcy, standing nearby. And then she saw Michael seated in the front row. She felt a lump in her throat as he smiled at her. His black curls had been neatly combed, but already were escaping into a tangle, and his dark eyes sparkled with joy. His small hand went up slightly to wave at her and she waved back.

  As the music rose, the congregation stood, and with Rafferty she walked down the aisle, unaware of anything except Fortune’s eyes steadily on her. Again she saw that look of admiration in his eyes and she felt better.

  When they halted before the altar, Rafferty gave her to Fortune to repeat her vows, placing her cold hand in Fortune’s warm one.

  “… to love, honor, and obey,” she repeated solemnly, feeling with all her heart that she was going to try to please Fortune.

  As he said the same words in his baritone voice, she gazed into his eyes and felt a longing that he meant what he said. The ceremony was long while they knelt and prayed and then stood again. Finally the balding minister looked at them both as Fortune’s fingers clasped hers firmly.

  “I now pronounce you man and wife.”

  The words made her heart leap. Michael is my son forever! She turned to face her new husband, gazing into his blue eyes, for a fleeting instant overwhelmed by gratitude toward him. With a solemn look he leaned forward to kiss her lightly, his lips barely brushing hers. Smiling, he linked her arm in his, and they hurried up the aisle.

  Soon they climbed into a carriage to go to Rafferty’s house, and Fortune motioned to Michael to climb up with them. As the boy settled between them, the driver started the carriage. Michael’s eyes sparkled, and he linked one hand in Claire’s and his other in Fortune’s. “Now I have a mother and a father!” he said, grinning at her and then at Fortune.

  “That’s right, Michael,” Fortune said, smiling at his son, and if he felt regret or grief, he kept it hidden. His blue eyes went over Michael’s head to look into her eyes, and her breath caught. He was so handsome, so good to Michael.

  The reception was at Rafferty’s. People spilled over the lawn and all through the house, and almost as soon as they arrived, she was separated from Fortune. Only later on, as she passed the library and glanced inside, did she see Fortune. He and Rafferty were talking. Both held glasses of brandy, Fortune standing with his back to her while Rafe frowned at him. She moved on, wondering what they discussed because they seemed to be having an argument.

  Inside the library Fortune crossed the room to look out at the bright yellow cannas and a row of purple and white cosmos. He swirled the brandy in his glass.

  “Take her down to the hotel,” Rafe urged. “Give your marriage some kind of chance instead of starting out for Atlanta tonight.”

  “I told you, I don’t love her and she knows that. And I asked her if she wanted the physical side of marriage. I told her I’ll oblige her, but she said no.”

  “Lord’s sakes, Fortune! What did you expect her to answer?”

  He turned from the window to face his brother, feeling annoyed. “I’m not about to lie to her. She knows I don’t love her.”

  “She’s a beautiful woman a
nd so caring with Michael.”

  “You should know that’s not the same as being the woman you love. If you had to go into a second marriage for your children’s sake, you might understand.”

  Rafferty raked his fingers through his hair. “It’s none of my business, but I think you’re cheating yourself as well as a fine woman. Marilee is gone and she’s not coming back. If you’d stop dwelling on the past, you could make a fine life for yourself. Claire is a wonderful, beautiful woman.”

  Fortune slanted him a look. “You’ve known her how long, Rafe?” he asked dryly.

  “We’ve all been together for several days now, and Chantal and Sophia have spent time with her. I’ve seen her with Michael. And any man here will tell you she’s a beautiful woman.”

  “That she is.” Fortune looked at the brandy in his goblet, raised it, and drank it down, feeling it burn inside. He faced Rafe. “I can’t fall in love just because it’s convenient. Love comes from the heart, and you know it isn’t always logical. But it’s something that you can’t conjure up just because it would make life more orderly.”

  “Dammit, you could give her more than you are.”

  “She’s more than satisfied. Ask her.”

  “I don’t have to. I can see that. But someday some man will come along and take her from you, and you’ll wish you had opened your eyes a lot sooner.”

  Curbing his annoyance, Fortune set down his goblet with a faint clink. “We’re leaving tonight for Atlanta.” He strolled toward the door. “Michael is packed and ready. Thank you for everything. I’ll talk to Chantal, because this was much more than I expected and it was good to have all the family together again.”

  “You know what you want to do. Fortune, give her a chance.”

  Fortune nodded tightly as he reached out to shake Rafferty’s hand. “Thanks. I’ll get them and go. Come to Atlanta.”

  “I’ll come see about my investment. And you keep in touch.”

  “Thanks again for all this.” Fortune left the room to get Claire and Michael.

  After hugs and kisses and promising to come visit, they finally climbed into a buggy driven by one of the servants. As they left, Claire turned to look back at the house. The late afternoon sun splashed over it, and she wondered if she had just spent a brief idyll in her life that might never happen again.

  She gazed at her new husband. With each turn of the wheels he seemed to transform into the tough man she had known while traveling. He was quiet, Michael chattering to her as they rode to the ship. When they reached the busy dock, Michael was enthralled with the ships.

  “Look how big they are!”

  “You’ll sail on one, and part of the time I’ll see to it that you get to handle the wheel,” Fortune promised.

  “Criminy!” he exclaimed in awe. “Mama, look how huge it is.” Sails were furled, lines tied to the dock and men were scurrying about while casks were still being loaded.

  “Let’s go,” Fortune said, leading the way up the gangway onto the ship, his boots scraping the boards. Halyards clinked in the faint breeze, and the cries of gulls were shrill and constant. The servant carried a trunk on board, and she thought of the dresses Chantal had given her wondering if Fortune would even notice them. Michael was excited over the prospect of riding on a boat, something he couldn’t remember because he had been a tiny baby the last time he’d been on board a ship.

  They went below and were shown their cabin and one next to them for Michael. She glanced around at the narrow room and the bunk bed, the simple furnishings, realizing they would be in close confines.

  “I’ll take Michael to talk to the captain, and he can watch them get under way,” Fortune said.

  She nodded as he left. She glanced at an oval mirror secured to the bulkhead, seeing her image in her bridal dress. She was alone, her husband above decks with his son. She felt another pang of longing, wishing the wedding could have been because of love. She reached back to unfasten the dress, but quickly decided she would have to wait for Fortune because she couldn’t reach all the buttons.

  She felt the ship shift and wood creak. Hastily buttoning the dress again, she caught up the train and went above decks. Sails were unfurled, sailors scurrying over the deck. Fortune and Michael stood in the bow, wind blowing their hair as they watched the ship sail out of the harbor. She stepped to the rail, looking at the spire of the church where she had married, over the trees and rooftops of New Orleans, a city that would always hold memories of one of the happiest times in her life. Her gaze shifted to swirling water of the muddy Mississippi, and she felt a chill as she stared at it, wondering what lay ahead.

  Lifting her chin, she looked for Michael and was reassured. Always when she feared the future with Fortune, she could look at Michael and know how blessed she was by the marriage.

  A fine spray blew against her, and she stepped back from the rail, lurching forward again as the ship changed course slightly. Atlanta, Georgia. In all her travels Claire had never been there. She heard it had been burned during the war, and she wondered what kind of home Fortune had, wondering if he even had a home since he had just got out of the army. She watched docks give way to muddy banks covered by tall cypress draped in Spanish moss.

  Fortune shifted, looking the length of the ship, seeing Claire standing at the rail, holding the train of her wedding dress, the wind whipping her hair lose from pins. He talked to Michael, gesturing toward the captain.

  “You’ll get that dress wet.”

  She turned to face him, her dark eyes wide and compelling. “I can’t unfasten the buttons without help.”

  He glanced back at Michael. “I’ll take Michael up to the captain and come below to help you.”

  He left, taking Michael’s hand. She could hear the boy’s voice raised in excitement, but they were too far away and the wind was blowing too strongly for her to tell what he was saying.

  With a last look at New Orleans as it receded around a bend, she turned from the rail and went back to the cabin. In minutes Fortune stepped inside, seeming to fill the tiny space.

  He started to remove his coat. “Let me get out of this,” he said, untying the cravat and crossing to a bottle of champagne. “Compliments of my brother.”

  With a pop of the cork he opened the bottle and she waited, watching him while he poured the champagne. As it bubbled, he picked up the glasses, handing one to her and looking at her solemnly. “Here’s to a good marriage.”

  Touching her glass to his, she wondered if he already had regrets, because he didn’t sound happy.

  He gulped down the champagne and moved away from her to refill his glass. Watching him with a fluttery nervousness, she drank the bubbly champagne. He came back to her. “Turn around, and I’ll unbutton you.”

  She turned her back to him and felt his fingers tug the buttons. The air was cool as the dress opened, and his fingers were warm, brushing her flesh.

  Fortune turned the buttons, desire rising in him in spite of the desolation he felt when he remembered his wedding to Marilee. He’d had brandy at Rafferty’s, and he knew it was clouding his thinking. As he freed the row of tiny pearl buttons, Claire’s slender back looked satiny smooth. Locks of brown hair fell over her shoulders, parting to reveal the nape of her neck. When he looked at her, he wanted to touch her. She was a beautiful, desirable woman.

  His hands shook as longing burned in him. Her waist was tiny, narrow enough he could easily span it with his hands. His gaze ran over the thin chemise, the laces of her corset. He looked at her nape again and leaned forward to brush his lips over it.

  She shifted slightly, but she didn’t stop him. He moved locks of her hair, feeling their silky softness as he kissed her neck. He turned her around to slide his arm around her waist and pull her up against him.

  Claire’s hands flew against his chest. Her heart pounded violently as she looked up at Fortune, whose gaze lowered to her mouth. His arm tightened around her, pulling her against his chest. When he did, her hands slid to his ar
ms. He bent his head, brushing her mouth with his, his lips warm and enticing. He placed his lips over hers to open her mouth. His tongue entered her mouth, sliding slowly over her lower lip, and she moaned with pleasure. As she tightened her arms around him, she felt his hard arousal press against her.

  Thoughts vanished, her senses reeling. He pushed away the wedding dress, sliding it off one shoulder. She started to protest as his hand slid across her exposed breast, his fingers brushing her nipple. Warmth shot through her, heat starting low in her body. She felt as if she might melt against him. She moaned softly again, the sound muffled by his mouth upon hers.

  He pushed away the other sleeve of the dress, and it slid down around her waist. Leaning away from her slightly, he caressed her, his hand cupping her breast, his thumb brushing across her nipple. On fire, she began thrusting her hips against him, desire awakening. She hadn’t known what it would be like to be loved by a man, but this was beyond anything she had imagined. She felt faint from his touches, and she wanted him to keep on and never stop. Her arms slid around his neck as she clung to him. Her tongue entered his mouth, touching his tongue, and a dizzying bombardment of sensations rocked her.

  He bent his head to take her nipple in his mouth. She gasped with pleasure, her fingers winding in his hair. He hooked his fingers in the satin and slid it down over her hips, letting it fall with a whispery rustle to the floor. Her pulse roared in her ears, drowning out everything else while he stroked her.

  She glanced at him to see him looking at her breasts, his gaze filled with unmistakable desire, but then she realized what she was letting him do so easily. There was no love in his heart. He was taking her as he would one of the sporting women.