Semmes considered her, then shook his head. “I don’t see that.”
“Why, anyone can obey,” Rachel said at once. “But you can’t command love. Sometimes love doesn’t even exist in a marriage, so it’s no wonder that two people become more like business partners than lovers. But I will tell you this, Leighton, I will never marry—not unless I am absolutely certain of two things. One, that I love the man enough to give everything to him.”
“And the second?”
“Why, that he loves me the same way.” Rachel gave a short laugh, then rose to her feet. “How did I ever get to talking like this? Come walk me to my hotel, Mr. Semmes.”
He paid the bill, and the two of them walked slowly along the street, speaking lightly of Rachel’s upcoming journey. When they got to her hotel, he said, “Let’s sit out on the balcony awhile. It’s early yet.”
“Just for a little while,” she agreed, and the two of them went out on the balcony of the second floor. They were alone, and for an hour they sat there talking until Rachel finally rose. “I have to be up early.”
Semmes stood and came close to her. A sickle moon hung in the sky, turned butter yellow by a haze in the air. The stars were great wooly crystal masses overhead, and the large magnolia tree that rose beside them gave off a sweet savor.
Rachel stood there quietly, watching Semmes carefully. She knew that he was going to kiss her. She did not turn away, as he half expected; instead, when he put his arms around her, she lifted her face. And when his lips fell on hers, she deliberately leaned forward, meeting him halfway.
The sweetness of her lips and the feel of her as she leaned against him stirred Semmes tremendously. He pulled her closer, his desires beginning to clamor. Rachel was different from any woman he’d known; he sensed that the same emotions that moved him were in Rachel, yet she seemed strangely removed from him.
After a moment, she slid her lips away, and he released her. “Good night, Leighton,” she said quietly. But she was shaken. Leighton’s kiss had touched something deep within her, some part that she kept buried—and for a moment, as Semmes had held her, she had felt her control slip. That was disturbing enough.
What was even more disturbing was that Rachel was aware that Leighton knew it.
Even so, he made no effort to restrain her as she moved away, for something had come to him—a sudden knowledge that this woman could not be taken by storm. He wanted to reach out and take hold of her again, but instead he said, “Good night, Rachel. Have a good journey.” Then he paused. “You’ve let me see something different tonight. I didn’t know a woman could be so independent.” Despite himself, he hungered for some modicum of commitment from her and asked again, “Do you think you could ever change your judgment of me?”
Rachel said, “You’ve been a woman chaser for most of your life, Leighton. But if you and I ever fell in love, I’d make sure you’d find something better at home than you could find anywhere else.”
Her bluntness astonished him, and he laughed ruefully. “By heaven, I believe you would, Rachel! A man would never get tired of you as his wife.”
“You and I are not placid people, Leighton,” she said, looking at him with a strange smile on her lips. “No, we’d either have heaven together—or we’d explode. But we wouldn’t be bored!”
Then she was gone. With a shake of his head, Semmes went to have a drink at the saloon. But he could not shake a restlessness, an awareness that she had stirred him in a way no other woman ever had.
As Rachel tipped the carriage driver and followed the tiled walk toward the entrance to St. John’s Hospital, she fought an impulse to turn around and run away. The trip from Richmond had been swift, and she had been thinking of Vince steadily. Now it seemed to her that there were few tasks in the world that appealed to her less than being a nurse to her half brother. But knowing that she had no choice, she squared her shoulders and entered the front door.
A small man dressed in white pants and shirt looked up from the desk that sat to the right of the large reception room. Getting to his feet, he asked, “Yes, miss?”
“My name is Rachel Franklin. I’m here to pick up one of your patients,” Rachel said. “Mr. Vincent Franklin.”
“Oh yes. Dr. Sealy left word that he wants to talk with you. Come along and I’ll take you to his office.”
“Thank you.” Rachel followed the man down a long hall, and she could see, through the open doors, patients in the rooms off to each side. At the end of the hall, the orderly knocked on a door. “Dr. Sealy? Miss Franklin is here to get her brother.”
The door opened, and a thin man with sparse graying hair and wearing a white suit looked out. “Thank you, Evans. Come in, Miss Franklin.” He stepped aside and motioned her to a chair, the only one in the room except the one behind his desk. He waited until she was seated, then settled behind the desk. “You made a quick trip, Miss Franklin. Any trouble with the Federal navy?”
“Two days ago we were sighted by one of their ships, but the Jupiter was so much faster that she just ran away.”
“That’s good. Won’t be that way for long, I’m thinking. They’ll close in as soon as they build their navy. Well now, how about the voyage back?”
“The Jupiter is loading today and tomorrow and will leave the day after that. She’ll go back to Richmond with a load of supplies. I’ve got a stateroom for myself and my brother.”
“Good. I think he needs to be taken home right away.”
Rachel asked, “How badly is he hurt, Doctor?” She listened carefully as Sealy outlined the injuries, then commented, “So it’s mostly just going to take time and good nursing?”
“Exactly right, Miss Franklin,” Sealy confirmed, nodding. “Now just two things. First, his physical condition. He doesn’t look too good thanks to some rather serious burns on his forehead. Also, he took in so much smoke that it damaged his throat, so we haven’t been able to get him to eat much. Mostly liquids and soft foods. When you first see him, don’t let him see how you feel if you get a shock. He’s not as bad off as he appears, though his eyes need care. Mostly you need to keep him from bright light and apply the ointment—I’ll give that to you—twice a day. The burns on his right hand will heal quickly, I hope. Put the dressings on once a day and, as soon as your physician at home thinks it wise, leave the hand open to the air and light. The ankle will be painful for at least a month or more, but only time will help.”
“I’ll see to him, Doctor.”
“Yes … well, the other thing isn’t quite so easy. He had quite a shock, you understand, and he’s not over it yet.”
Rachel blinked, then asked directly, “Is his mind affected?”
“I don’t like to put it like that,” Sealy said quickly. He rubbed his chin, trying to put the thing to her well. “It’s almost as if his thinking processes were slowed down. You’ll notice that he doesn’t respond to questions quickly. Or perhaps that’s a way of his?”
“No, Vince has always been very quick with words.”
“Well, I don’t think it’s a permanent thing, but he can’t seem to remember very well. Again, I think he just needs rest, but you must be patient with him if he forgets some things.”
“I’ll do my best. But I assume he won’t be seeing too many people at first. Just the family, and I’ll tell them what you’ve said.”
“Fine! Now I’m sure you want to see him. I’ll take you to his room; then I’ll leave you. I wish you’d watch the nurses change the dressings, things like that. We’ll take him to the ship in our ambulance day after tomorrow.” He rose and left the room, Rachel walking beside him. “This is his room. It’ll be darkened, so you’ll have to let your eyes get accustomed to that.”
Rachel entered the room, and Dr. Sealy said, “Well, Mr. Franklin, your sister is here to take you home. Think you feel up to a sea voyage?”
“Yes, Dr. Sealy.” The voice was husky and halting. Rachel would not have recognized it as Vincent’s.
“I’ll just leave y
ou two alone,” Sealy said. When he left, Rachel moved closer to the man in the bed. One lamp burned on a table, and some dim illumination filtered through from the covering over the window. Her eyes were not adjusted to the murky room, and she stopped when she was a few feet away.
“How do you feel?”
“Pretty well, Rachel. Better than when I first came here.”
“Does your throat hurt?” she asked, squinting at him. “You sound so hoarse.”
“Still hurts, but not like it did. I couldn’t even croak when I first got here.”
“Father would have come, or Grant, but the Grays were sent to reinforce Jackson in the Valley.” She saw a chair and pulled it next to the bed and sat down. “Dr. Sealy’s been telling me about your injuries. He’s very hopeful.”
“Good man.”
Rachel leaned forward and, by the light of the lamp, got her first clear view of the injured man. She let nothing show in her face, but a shock ran through her. She would never have known Vince! She was not prepared for the sight of him without a beard; she hadn’t seen him clean-shaven since she was very young. What’s more, his face was hollow, much thinner than she had expected, and the raw burns on his forehead were painful just to look at. His hair, which still showed signs of having been singed, was cut short, and he was wearing a pair of smoked glasses so that she couldn’t see his eyes at all.
“You look awful,” she said frankly. “I hope you don’t feel as bad as you look!”
That seemed to amuse him, for his lips turned up and he said in a husky tone, “Just like you to cheer a fellow up, Rachel!” Then he shook his head, adding, “It could have been worse.”
“Yes, I suppose so. Well, we’ll leave day after tomorrow. I’ll get the nurses to teach me how to take care of you.”
He said nothing, and she thought, Just like him. I come all the way around the country to help him and he can’t even grunt a thank-you!
Rachel sat there in the dimly lit room, saying little. Sometimes he would ask a question, but not often. He dropped off to sleep, and Rachel sat there beside him wishing that she had more of a heart for Vince. She knew she should care more, that that was what the Lord would want of her—but the years had not given her the love for Vince that she had for Grant and Les.
After a moment, she squared her shoulders. If she could not love him, she would at least do her duty. I’ll get him home and do what I can to care for him. Then when he is well, he can shift for himself, was her final thought as she rose and left the room.
She didn’t like the feelings she had and wished that they were milder, gentler, more loving. But surely even God couldn’t expect her to force herself to love a man who’d spent his entire life making himself despicable.
PART TWO
The Impostor
CHAPTER 6
MAN WITHOUT A STAR
Rachel, holding a straight razor in one hand, had just touched the cold steel to Jake’s face. He flinched, and she lifted the blade, saying firmly, “Hold still!” Reaching out, she placed her left hand on top of his head, then drew the razor through the thick foam on his right cheek, ignoring the raspy sound it made as it plowed through his whiskers.
“Be careful with that thing,” Jake pleaded, then asked, “Did you ever shave anyone before?”
Rachel, biting her lower lip with concentration, did not answer until she made another clean strip appear on Jake’s cheek. Wiping the blade on a towel she’d draped over his shoulder, she began work on the other cheek. Only when it was finished did she say, “No. Now put your head back.”
As she gripped the crown of his head and forced his head back, Jake decided it was no time for a debate—not with the edge of the blade moving over the taut flesh of his throat. He sat up in the bed, enduring her effort, thinking that Rachel Franklin was not very feminine, at least in her manners.
She had marched into his room at dawn with a pitcher of hot water, shaving equipment, and a determined look on her face. “Sit up,” she had greeted him. “I’m going to get you cleaned up.” He had wrestled himself to a sitting position, and she had practically ripped the white cotton gown from him, ignoring his startled protests. He kept the sheet pulled up as high as possible, but she had washed his upper body without a flicker in her blue-green eyes.
She might as well be washing a dish for all the emotion she shows, Jake had thought, then had realized that her cold attitude was what he could expect. She had cleaned his face carefully, actually causing him much less pain than any of the orderlies who had performed the same service, then had picked up a mug and begun working up a lather with a brush. Without a word, she had lathered his face and begun shaving him.
Still, despite her brusque and cold manner, there was nothing mannish about her appearance. Her simply cut tan dress with a line of white lace at the bodice and sleeves complemented her trimly rounded figure. As she shaved him, her face was only inches away from Jake’s, and he could not help admiring the clean sweep of her jaw and the silky texture of her skin. Her eyes were fixed on the progress of the razor, so he could study her without fear of being noticed, and he was somehow surprised to see that she was so pretty. He had expected less, for some reason. As she held his head firmly and ran the razor over his face, he realized that there was an element in Rachel Franklin that most women lacked—at least, most of the women he had known.
It was not, he decided, that she was pretty, even on the verge of true beauty. It was clear that she was physically attractive; it would be difficult to ignore the soft roundness of her form or the well-shaped eyes and generous mouth. But there was something more, a reserve in her eyes, and the shadow of strength, intensity, and control that intrigued him. That control was evidenced by the firm line of her lips and the deliberate light of her eyes. She was, he decided, possessed of a great degree of vitality and imagination—which he guessed were also held under careful restraint. As she moved the razor over his upper lip, he observed a hint of her will—or her pride—in the corners of her eyes and lips.
She finished the shave without speaking, carefully removed the lather with the damp cloth, then stepped back to study him. Still she didn’t speak, and Jake said, “A good job, better than most barbers. Can’t believe you’ve never shaved anyone.”
“I’m going to change the bandage on your arm,” she said, ignoring his remark. There was a cold efficiency in her manner, but she did a good job of removing the old bandage, which was the worst part of the job. She had a light touch yet moved firmly as she cleaned the burn, applied the ointment that Dr. Sealy had furnished, then bound the arm up in fresh bandages, saying, “In a week or two, it’ll be better to leave the bandages off.” She looked at his ankle, pushing at the swollen flesh, then remarked, “Going to take some time before you can get around on this.”
“Not too long, I hope.” He took the fresh gown she handed him, saying, “Rough on you, having to take care of a sick man.”
“No worse than when one of the horses gets injured,” she remarked without a change of expression. While he put on the gown, she picked up the shaving equipment and began to clean it. “We’ll go down to the ship late this afternoon. The captain said he wants to leave after dark to avoid the blockade ships of the navy.”
She left the room, and Jake stared after her. “Not much chance of Miss Rachel finding out I’m not who she thinks,” he muttered. “She sure does despise you, Vince, old boy!” It was a relief to him, for he had envisioned having to try to carry on long talks with her, which would be dangerous.
After the noon meal, Dr. Sealy came by to check him, accompanied by Rachel. “You’re looking better than I hoped when they brought you in,” he said, standing over Jake. “You’re a lucky man. If you’d been a few feet closer, they tell me, you’d have been crushed by that building.”
“Wasn’t my time to go,” Jake said with a shrug.
“Well, you mind your sister,” Sealy said. “Biggest problem I have with patients like you comes from their own foolishness. Don’t try
to get up too soon. Do what your nurse tells you.”
“Guess I don’t have much choice, tied to this chair.” Jake put out his hand and, when Sealy took it, said, “I appreciate what you’ve done for me, Doctor.”
“Well, good-bye, then, Vince. Take care of yourself.”
As soon as the doctor left, Rachel began putting Vince’s things into a small bag. There wasn’t much, for the fire had destroyed all of Vince’s clothing and personal things. “I got you some extra gowns—and plenty of underwear,” she said. “You won’t need much, and you’ve got all those clothes at home that you just recently bought.”
“Be glad to put some pants on!”
“Well, don’t get too glad, because you won’t be wearing any for a while,” she said calmly. “I’ve got to get a few things. Anything you want to take on the boat? Whiskey or some special food?”
“No. Guess not.”
She was surprised. Turning to stare at him, she said, “That’s the first time you ever turned down liquor as far as I can remember.” She frowned and wondered for a moment what Vince was up to. Then she brushed her hair back from her forehead and left, saying only, “All right. We’ll go to the Jupiter about four.”
Jake was restless until she returned. Being bound to the care of others was galling, but he forced himself to remain calm. Blunt followed her into the room, and when it was time to get Jake into the wheelchair, he deliberately slammed him down, drawing a sharp gasp of pain from the injured man.
Rachel had been packing, but she had not missed the scene. Anger flared in her eyes, and she moved across the room to give the orderly an abrupt shove that set him back on his heels. “You clumsy ox!” she burst out. “Get out of here!” Blunt glared at her until she said, “Maybe you’d rather I take this up with Dr. Sealy.” Then he scurried out of the room, his face reddened with frustrated anger.
Three Books in One: A Covenant of Love, Gate of His Enemies, and Where Honor Dwells Page 73
