Rainbow Hammock

by Becky Lee Weyrich

  “Oh,” Lilah cried, caught unawares. “I’m sorry, general.”

  “I know I’m not a handsome sight, but I’m not a curiosity either,” he said, and Lilah realized that his voice had a perpetual snarl in it. “Now you, I see, are quite another matter.”

  Lilah wished suddenly that the black gown she’d chosen had been cut along more demure lines. She felt the general’s hand eyes ravaging the rise of white flesh above her low neckline, then traveling down over her breasts and on to her narrow waist.

  “What’s your name?” he commanded.

  “Mrs. Patrick,” she answered, determined not to let him know her first name.

  “A widow, huh?”

  She glanced pointedly about the room at all the other women in black, and said, “We’re all widows, mourning our Cause.”

  “Humph! Mighty pretty speech.” He turned and caught another officer by the arm. “Wouldn’t you say so, colonel?”

  The officer turned and stood immobilized, unable to reply, Lilah filling his gaze.

  “Well, Colonel Denegal? What do you think of the Widow Patrick here?” Sherman demanded.

  “General, I think she’s the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever laid eyes on!” Steele answered.

  The general turned on his heel abruptly and left Steele and Lilah alone. Steele didn’t say another word, but took Lilah by the hand and led her to an out-of-the-way alcove, away from the crowd. He didn’t let her speak, but swept her into his arms and crushed her lips with his.

  Was that cannon fire she heard or her own heart bombarding her body?

  “Lilah, Lilah,” he whispered, “I was so worried about you. When I got back to Washington, I heard of Antonia’s arrest. I tried to find out what had happened to you, but it was as if you’d vanished into thin air. Secretary Stanton refused to give out any information about Antonia. I was so afraid you were locked in the bowels of the Capitol Prison. But you’re safe—alive! When I went to Rainbow Hammock looking for you, the house was closed up. I couldn’t find a soul on the island. You don’t know what a scare you’ve given me.”

  He kissed her again, and for the first time in over a year she felt alive.

  “Come with me,” he said, guiding her up the stairs before she could protest. “The last time I tried to coax you to my room, you got away. Not this time, love!”

  “But the general’s dinner,” she said.

  “Do you mind so much missing a chance to hear more of Sherman’s charming conversation?”

  She laughed. “Hardly!”

  They sat together in his room for a long time, sipping sherry before the fire, savoring quiet moments together, touching lightly, laughing softly. Some unspoken vow between them kept each from mentioning the other’s mate.

  “What are you doing here, Steele? You do turn up in the oddest places—when I least expect you.”

  “There was trouble in Key West, so I had to leave Washington for a time. When I got back and found out that Antonia was in prison and you had vanished, I had to find you. I thought you’d gone back to Rainbow Hammock. So I got a transfer to General Sherman’s staff, since he was headed this way.”

  “Antonia,” Lilah sighed. “I wonder what’s become of her. poor thing.”

  “You mean you haven’t heard?”

  “No. You have news?”

  “The best!” Steele beamed. “She spent seven months in prison, but Joe Willard pulled some strings to get her released. They were married last year—blissfuUy happy, the last I heard.”

  “Oh, that’s marvelous, Steele! They were so much in love. That day he came to arrest her, he looked as if he’d rather slit his own throat. I know they’ll have a wonderful life together.”

  Steele leaned forward and took Lilah’s glass, setting it beside his on the table. Slowly, he let his arms slip around her. His lips felt warm on her neck.

  “I’ve wanted you so long, darling,” he whispered.

  She couldn’t fight Steele and her own need any longer. “And I want you,” she admitted.

  He undressed her slowly, loving every inch of flesh as he uncovered it. Lilah’s skin tingled from his touch, his kisses. At last she stood naked before the fire, the reflection playing on her pearlescent skin, and dancing in her flowing hair.

  “God, you’re beautiful!” Steele groaned. “Just stand there and let me look at you, darling.”

  His eyes playing over her made her shiver. He lifted her in his arms, pressing his lips between her breasts, “I’m a starved man, Lilah! Be warned!”

  She unbuttoned his shirt and laid her cheek against his chest, breathing in the scent of him.

  Gently, he placed her on the bed, then slid in next to her.

  Starved he was! He drank deeply from the cup of her lips, feasted on her shoulders and breasts, devoured her whole body.

  “Steele, no,” she protested weakly when he pressed his lips against her mound of love, sending rivers of fire burning through her.

  He fed her with his strength, filling her with a restoring surge of heat. Feeling her passion rise, but not wanting it to end, Lilah pushed Steele on his back and rode him deliciously. He clutched at her, letting her hair twist about his face like the ensnaring net of an enchantress.

  “Love me, Lilah! Love me!” he urged, arching his back to plunge deeper still.

  The rush of sweet joy came suddenly. Neither of them could hold it back.

  She lay in his arms afterward, crying softly. All her emotions had been pent up so long. This total, sweet release proved almost more than she could stand.

  Later, in the hours before dawn, Steele escorted her home. It seemed to Lilah that she walked several feet above the brick street.

  “What now, Steele?” she finally summoned the courage to ask.

  He sighed wearily. Had he played this scene before?

  “Now, my darling, I go back to the Pulaski House and prepare to leave in the morning.”

  Lilah felt her heart breaking. “Leave? So soon? When will you be back?”

  They were outside the Ryan house now. He pulled her into the shadows and kissed her before he answered.

  “I don’t know, Lilah. I have to return to Washington to receive my new orders. Where I’ll be sent from here is anyone’s guess. Then, of course, I have to go back to Key West.”

  For the first time all night, Lilah let herself think about Steele’s wife, but she couldn’t speak of her.

  “I can promise you something, though, darling.”

  “What?” she whispered, trying to hold back her tears.

  “I’ll come back to Rainbow Hammock to find you after this war’s over.”

  “If any of us live through it,” she sighed.

  “We will! We have to!”

  He held her close for a moment, kissed her once more, then disappeared down the dark street.

  Chapter 28

  In a few weeks Lilah received permission from the occupying forces to return to Rainbow Hammock. She invited Amalee and the Ryans to accompany her, but they declined.

  “We’ll visit, Lilah, in the fall. I promise,” Oscar Ryan told her.

  “Leave Savannah?” was Amalee’s sharp retort. “And live in your house?” Lilah had shown the Ryans and Amalee Geraldine and Lord Robert Patrick’s marriage certificate. “Besides,” Amalee answered smugly, “Mr. David Hillary has asked me to marry him. He’s been incapacitated by the war and needs a companion. He’s quite rich, you know. Foreign investments. He’s promised to take me and Henrietta to Paris to live after all this dreadful fighting is over. No, Lilah! I’ll never go back to Rainbow Hammock!”

  So Lilah, the children, and Kingdom’s family, which now included a son of his seed, returned alone.

  Together, Lilah, Kingdom, and Rhea repaired the house, damaged by time and invaders. They put in a garden. No cotton or indigo this time. Lilah took pride in their crops of tomatoes, com, greens, onions, and okra.

  “Next spring we g
onna put in yams,” Kingdom announced, “and watermelons for the younguns.”

  Life at Rainbow Hammock settled into a quiet routine.

  Months went by. In June of 1865 the news that General Lee had surrendered at Appomattox Courthouse, Virginia, on April 9, finally reached the island via Savannah.

  Boats appeared regularly at Rainbow Landing, bringing weary and invalid soldiers home from the war. Lilah and Rhea were kept busy preparing food for the men and dressing wounds.

  Every morning before she did her chores, Lilah ran to the beach and scanned the horizon—to the south in case Steele came from Key West, to the north in case he came from Washington.

  Finally, she gave up hope. What had she expected anyway? She knew Steele was married, that he had a son. Their romance had only been one of many wartime affairs. Men went home to their wives and children, not to their lovers.

  The weather the first morning she decided not to go to the beach helped her resolve. October showers drenched the island, and the first breath of fall was in the air. She gazed out her window, feeling alone and utterly miserable.

  “Mommy! Mommy!” Ruth called, racing into the room. “There’s a boat coming in. Kingdom says. Come quick!”

  “It’s only more soldiers, dear,” Lilah sighed. “Rhea can give them what they need.”

  “No!” Ruth insisted, pulling at her mother’s hand. “Kingdom says it’s a big, fancy boat! Like rich people ride in!”

  Lilah felt yearning rise in her breast again. Dare she hope it might be him?

  When she went outside with Ruth, the rain stopped suddenly. Gray clouds parted to drench the island in golden light. In the distance, out over the ocean, Lilah spied a rainbow.

  “Make a wish, Mommy!” Ruth chirped brightly. “Wish on the rainbow!”

  Lilah closed her eyes for a moment and allowed herself the childish folly of wishing on the rainbow.

  “Let it be Steele!” she whispered.

  When she opened her eyes, he was there. Although still at a distance, and wearing white linen rather than Federal mufti, there was no mistaking his determined stride and bearded jaw.

  “Steele!” she cried, running to him with arms outspread.

  Can this be a dream? she thought.

  She heard him call her name. Then she stopped, and her happiness dissolved. Following behind him was a lovely woman holding a little boy by the hand.

  Lilah forced her tears back.

  He only said he’d come to Rainbow Hammock, she thought. He never promised to come alone!

  Then he was there, sweeping her off her feet, kissing her passionately. Her emotions raged.

  “Steele, you mustn’t,” she scolded.

  He set her down and looked at her, confused.

  “Why on earth not?”

  Lilah offered the woman an embarrassed smile. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your wife, Steele?”

  “My wife? He looked at her as if she’d lost her wits, then realized the mistake she’d made, and hugged her. “Lilah, may I present Miss Maggie O’Connell, J.D.’s nurse.”

  Lilah smiled broadly, holding out her hand to Maggie, who whispered, “Mrs. Denegal passed on two years ago, ma’am.”

  Lilah went into Steele’s arms and kissed him with a fury.

  “Darling, darling,” he murmured, lifting her off the ground again.

  “Oh, Steele, I never really gave up hope!”

  They walked arm in arm toward the house, feeling the gilded glow of sunlight on their faces.

  “Do you have something appropriate to wear to a wedding, darling?” Steele asked.

  “Who’s getting married?”

  “We are, love! The captain of my yacht will do the honors. Then, if there’s room at Fortune’s Fancy for Maggie and J.D., I thought we’d honeymoon aboard the Queen Delilah”

  The whole family stood in the flower-decked cabin for the simple ceremony. Lilah and Steele lingered over their “You may kiss the bride” embrace. The others filed out silently. The bride and groom never noticed.

  Far into the night, Mr. and Mrs. Denegal lay in Steele’s bed, feeling the soothing motion of the waves caressing them.

  “Steele, darling, promise me something,” Lilah whispered.

  His lips fondled her ear as he answered, “I already have—to love and to cherish.”

  “Promise me that it will always be this wonderful, and that we’ll be together forevermore.”

  “I promise,” he answered, taking her to him once more.

  Author’s Note

  Rainbow Hammock, although a fictitious island, is named for the numerous sand-marsh islets along Georgia’s coast, which were called in the last century the Rainbow Hammocks. However, St. Simons, Cumberland, and Jekyll served as models for this fantasyland.

  Three persons, in particular, deserve thanks for their help in researching this novel. Fraser Ledbetter, of the St. Simons Public Library, never winced at my demanding calls for instant information. Most of the history of the Golden Isles is within easy reach for her—carried about in the wonderful file cabinet of her brain.

  On a research trip to Key West and the Dry Tortugas, I made a new friend in Betty Bruce, the local librarian. Mrs. Bruce made me feel she’d known the “Conchs” of my period personally. She supplied me with valuable maps and a feel for Key West under Federal occupation.

  She, too, introduced me to Ed Crusoe, the great-great-grandson of Peter. Ed graciously filled in details of his illustrious ancestor that he said had never before appeared in print. Peter Crusoe carried his loyalties beyond the courthouse siege, and the end of the war. According to Ed, the Crusoe family had been members of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church since first transplanting to Key West. When Peter returned to his home from exile, he found a “damnyankee” minister in the pulpit, whereupon he marched his entire family off to St. Mary Star of the Sea Church to be baptized Roman Catholics—a loyal Confederate to the end!

  Another of Key West’s heroes, this one in Federal blue, was Colonel T, H. Good of the 4th Pennsylvania Volunteers. In appreciation of his return to the island to stop the evacuation order, the citizens presented him with a gold-hilted sword in formal ceremonies.

  Antonia Ford deserves a book all her own. Arrested by the man she loved and sent off to the old Capitol Prison, she was released seven months later, her health, but not her spirit, broken. She married Joseph Willard, and they spent their honeymoon in New York and Philadelphia before returning to Willard’s Hotel in Washington. After giving her beloved husband three sons, only one of whom survived—Joseph E. Willard—Antonia died in 1871, never having recovered fully from her imprisonment. She is buried in Oak Hill Cemetery in Washington.

  But her memory lives on in literature and music. John Esten Cooke did write his book about Antonia’s wartime exploits, Surry of Eagle’s Nest (New York: Bruce & Huntington, 1866). The heroine: Violet Grafton. In the 1950s the Daughters of the Confederacy dedicated a carillon in the Methodist church in the old town of Fairfax to Antonia Ford’s memory.

  Last, but by no means least, I’d like to thank my husband, who kept me on the track when I might have derailed. And my son, for enduring the seaplane ride to Fort Jefferson, “for Mom’s book.”

  Becky Lee Weyrich

  St. Simons Island, Georgia

  September 1982

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