My Heart Belongs in the Shenandoah Valley

by Andrea Boeshaar

  “Do not trust your feelings,” Mac said. “The heart is, indeed, deceitful and desperately wicked.”

  Lily recognized a piece of biblical truth in his remark.

  “I realize that some unions are born from love,” he continued, “but not all. Many marriages are business arrangements or pairings of practicality.”

  “How utterly romantic of you, sir.”

  “How utterly honest.” His dark eyes seemed to pierce Lily, and she couldn’t ignore his cynical tone. “Surely, you can see why it might benefit you to consider Mr. Everett, once he declares himself, of course.”

  “I will not!” A knot formed in her chest and she closed her eyes. “Lord, may that day never come when he does approach me.”

  “Have you any other prospects?” Mac’s voice was soft and devoid of its previous cynicism.

  “Well, no …” From the corner of her eye, Lily spotted the gaming table, on top of which the chessboard was laid out. During their chess match, Mac had heard Mr. Everett say she was penniless. “Ah, so that’s it.” This conversation suddenly made perfect sense.

  “That’s what?”

  “You think I should marry Mr. Everett because I’m a penniless waif.” Lily grabbed hold of the mantel. A hurt as deep as the sea washed over her. Here she thought she had a trusted friend in the good captain, but he obviously considered her far less of an equal socially and far more of an unattached female in need of a husband. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not that desperate.”

  “As you say.”

  She curled her right hand into a fist. Heat rushed into her cheeks. “My father left us in good financial standing. He told me so long before his death.” Lily knew things could have changed since her conversation with Papa. And, as Aunt Hilda said, Papa loved the gaming table, although he didn’t possess the knack for placing bets. But Lily refused to believe all their money was gone, especially after the sale of their land. “There should be no reason for me to be forced into a loveless marriage with a man twice my age.” She nibbled her lower lip. “I’ve got to find Papa’s last will and testament. I feel certain the document exists … somewhere.”

  Mac stood and stepped toward her. “I cannot say what you should or shouldn’t do. I merely wanted you to be aware of the situation, as it seemed quite obvious to me that you were not.”

  “Thank you. But I am aware of it.” Unfortunately. Lily shuddered, imagining herself married to Mr. Everett. She stared at the tips of her black slippers peeking out from beneath her gown. In a word, the idea disgusted her.

  Mac cupped her chin and she lifted her gaze. “I really only meant to repay your kindnesses of the meals and the drawings with the gift of knowledge.” His smile looked rather sad. “I could not have my new friend ignorant of Everett’s plots.”

  “God forbid.” Lily hated to think what else Mr. Everett might have in mind for her family. “And we cannot be friends. I understand that now.”

  A frown furrowed his brow. “Why on earth not?”

  “Because you are socially superior to me.”

  Mac dropped his hand to his side before tossing his head back and laughing. The sound echoed around her while delighting her at the same time. “I care very little about what is socially acceptable and what is not.”

  She grinned at his declaration, because he could not be serious. “You speak like a true pirate, sir.”

  A lasting smile still toyed with the edges of his lips, but as he opened his mouth to speak, Mr. Everett strode into the room.

  “It appears that a storm is on the horizon. I think it’s time to go.”

  You’re besotted. Admit it.”

  “I will not.” Mac pushed off the tree trunk on which he’d been leaning. He had rented a team of mules, a wagon, and sundry equipment from James Hawkins, the blacksmith and liveryman. In the last week, he and Blake had proceeded to pull down what they could of the old barn. The rest would be burned over time. But now Mac felt soreness in muscles he didn’t realize he possessed. Worse, Blake’s goading irritated him to no end. “You would do well to button your lip, my friend.”

  “Why? I freely admit that I’m besotted.”

  “With what?” Mac cocked a brow. “Mutton cakes or pork chops?”

  Blake snorted a laugh that had a good-natured sound. “I always hoped for finding a sturdy woman who could cook, and Brunhilda Gunther is certainly that.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me.”

  “At last!” Blake flung his stocky arms toward the sky. “We agree on something.”

  Mac groaned. He was tired of their verbal sparring.

  “You haven’t seen Miss Lily in days. Methinks ya miss her.” Another amused snort. “Why, just look at yourself, staring aimlessly between the two properties, longing for a glimpse of her golden head.”

  “I am hoping Mrs. Gunther comes soon with your lunch so you’ll quit your incessant blather!” Truth to tell, Blake’s words hit the mark.

  Mac inhaled the sweet smell of drying grass but winced as the muscles surrounding his ribcage protested. Nonetheless, the question lingered. Why hadn’t he seen Lily? Was she unwell, or had he offended her last week? It was the latter that haunted him. Yes, Everett’s intentions were none of his business, but Mac had only been looking out for Lily—as one friend looked out for another.

  Or so he told himself.

  But now here he stood, gazing across a meadow of wildflowers, hoping she’d walk out of the house, accompanying her aunt with her picnic basket of good eats.

  “Come to think on it, I haven’t seen them two rascals either.” Blake scratched his stubbly chin. “Maybe they’re ill, although Hilda didn’t mention it.”

  And Mac had been too full of pride to ask. The last thing he wanted was for Lily to get the wrong impression about their … friendship.

  “And we haven’t been asked to evening supper in a long while.” Blake placed his hands on his hips. “What say you to us walking over there and inquiring?”

  Before Mac had a chance to reply, Mrs. Gunther appeared at the kitchen doorway. In one hand she carried the picnic basket, and in the crook of her other arm, she held the familiar blanket. Blake needed no prompting and crossed the meadow to relieve her of her burdens. Within minutes, the couple selected a shady spot upon which to spread the picnic blanket. Similar to noontime the past several days, Mac had no plans to infringe on their meal together.

  Except, he could scarcely believe that Blake had, at long last, fallen in love. Besotted was an apt word to describe his friend’s peculiar behavior.

  “Captain Albright.” Mrs. Gunther’s voice stopped him as he strode toward the stone bridge. She stood and fluttered the paper in her hand. “Lily asked me to give this note to you.”

  A wave of encouragement splashed over Mac. He backtracked and accepted it. “Thank you.”

  As soon as the conversation resumed between Blake and Mrs. Gunther, he stepped a ways off and opened the missive. His first thought was that Lily displayed neat penmanship. His second was that it filled nearly the entire page.

  Reading on, Mac was sorry to learn that Blake had guessed correctly. The boys had come down with a fever and peculiar rash, but they were on the mend now. Lily wondered if Mac would attend church with them tomorrow. She was scheduled to sing.

  “What answer would you have me give my niece, Captain?”

  He turned to find Mrs. Gunther standing only a few feet away. “I’ll give the matter some thought.” He hadn’t attended church in years. Did he really want to restart a habit that had been forced upon him in the first place?

  “I’m afraid I need your answer now. There’ll be no picnicking for me today. I need to be getting back home. With the boys sick all week, the housework piled up.”

  “Then you needn’t have troubled yourself to pack us a lunch.”

  “Lily insisted.” With a light laugh, Mrs. Gunther tucked strands of her hair into her white mobcap. “She saw you and Mr. Blake through the window. She said you w
ere standing on the edge of the meadow, looking hungrier than bears in springtime.”

  Mac grinned. So she’d been watching them, eh?

  “Please ask Miss Laughlin to accept my apology for not inquiring over her and the boys. It wasn’t neighborly of me.”

  “Don’t fret yourself, Captain.” Her lips curved into a rather sly-looking grin. “I think Lily had a hunch you were thinking of her—them.”

  Only continually!

  “So what about church tomorrow? Will you attend with us?”

  “I’ll be a good sport and go if you will, Cap’n,” Blake said from his lounged position on the picnic blanket.

  Mac felt slightly coerced, but how could he refuse? He’d already blundered by not checking on his neighbors. He should have known things were far too quiet next door. Besides, he longed to hear Lily sing again. “Please tell Miss Laughlin that I am most happy to accompany her—your family—to church tomorrow.”

  “Good news then.” Smiling, Mrs. Gunther whirled around. “We leave promptly at seven thirty.”

  “In the morning?” Deep creases lined Blake’s forehead. “But, Hilda, that’s after Saturday night.”

  “It is. So you’d best leave the gaming table early, you old scamp.” With a laugh, Mrs. Gunther bent over, removed Blake’s hat, and kissed the top of his graying head. “Leave the picnic basket on the kitchen doorstep when you’re through with it.”

  Blake’s grin grew wide enough to reveal a few dark gaps where teeth had once been. “You see that, Cap’n? She kissed me.”

  “She’s a very courageous woman.” Mac watched Mrs. Gunther retreat across the meadow. “Lord knows I wouldn’t kiss you for a pouch of Capped Head Half Eagles.” He dropped down on the picnic blanket and drew the basket closer to himself. “Now, let’s see what’s for lunch.”

  The following day, Mac rented a buggy and a team of horses from Mr. Hawkins, at the livery. He recalled that the church wasn’t a far walk from his property, but if Jonah and Jed had been ill, it was better they ride the short distance. Besides, Mac didn’t want to chance soiling Sunday clothes by walking. It had rained last night and, though the sun promised to shine this morning, everything from rooftops to gravel roads had gotten soaked.

  Passing the dining hall at Stony Inn, Mac didn’t see Silas Everett, which suited him just fine. Mac didn’t want to get drawn into the middle of a prickly situation. He’d done his best by revealing the truth to Lily. Now he would stay out of the way.

  The clock chimed seven as Mac and Blake left the inn. They didn’t wait long before the rented vehicle pulled up in front.

  Mr. Hawkins waved away the payment. “See you at church soon.”

  Mac’s expression of obvious surprise caused the liveryman to grin.

  “My wife is good friends with Miss Lily Laughlin. We visited last night and Lily told us you’d be there.” He jumped down from the buggy and waved. “See you soon.”

  News certainly traveled fast in Middletown. Mac would remember that. He climbed up onto the buggy. Blake hopped up beside him.

  As they bounced along the rutted road toward the Laughlins’ home, Mac listened to his friend voice his conundrum for at least the third time since last evening.

  “I want to marry Hilda, but I’m not a landlubber. I don’t even like farm animals, unless they’re roasted to perfection. I only came out here to help you settle.”

  Mac heaved a bored sigh and cut a glance at Blake. He hardly resembled the seaman he claimed to be. In fact, he appeared every inch the perfect gentleman. Wearing dark boots and tan breeches, a fawn-colored waistcoat and a dashing blue frockcoat, he seemed to belong in Mac’s new life here in Middletown.

  “There’s no other occupation I know,” Blake lamented. “How will I support the both of us?”

  “You might discuss the matter with Mrs. Gunther before despairing. She may not wish to remarry, and then your fretting has been for naught.”

  “Oh, she wishes to marry, all right. I feel it in m’ bones, and m’ bones don’t lie. But I’m a sailing man. I have been all my life. It’s the only work I know how to do.”

  “Tell your bones to keep quiet. Perhaps if you don’t listen to them you’ll hear the right answer.”

  “If you say so, Cap’n.”

  “I do.” It was advice that Mac wished himself to take. He hadn’t moved to Middletown to get ensnared by a lovely member of the fairer sex. Quite the opposite. He’d relocated from Alexandria in order to live alone off his prized land and occasionally entertain family members … yes, on his rooftop portico, once he got it built.

  He noted the farms he passed. Had someone told him before the war that he’d end up building in a remote village in the Shenandoah Valley, Mac would have enjoyed a good laugh at the prediction. Yet, here he was.

  He pulled the team to a halt in front of the Laughlins’ manor. Jumping down, he avoided several puddles and walked toward the house to greet the two ladies. They met him in the walk and, immediately, he noticed Lily’s pale complexion. He didn’t care for the dark half moons beneath her eyes, either. However, he very much enjoyed the way the peach-colored gown hugged her slender frame. She’d draped a light swag of the same hue across her shoulders, and an ivory bonnet hid her lovely golden hair.

  Blake had transferred to the back seat, and he patted the space beside him. Mac assisted Mrs. Gunther into the buggy then turned to Lily. “Are you certain you’re well enough to attend church this morning?”

  “Oh, yes, I’m feeling much better.” She smiled in a way that caused Mac to wonder. “I’m a bit tired after coming down with the same fever the boys had, but definitely on the mend now.”

  Once again Mac felt guilty for not inquiring, but promised to be more neighborly in the future. He offered his hand and Lily placed her gloved fingers in his palm. He helped her up into the buggy. “Where are the boys?”

  “They ran off ahead with a group of their friends,” Mrs. Gunther answered. “Obviously, they have regained their health. And if they’re late for the service, I won’t stop the reverend from boxing their ears.”

  Chuckling, Mac climbed up beside Lily and grabbed the reins. A delightful fragrance of blooming honeysuckle wafted to his nose. “Dare I admit to having a reverend box my ears on more than one occasion?” With a flick of his wrists, the horses jerked forward.

  “None of us would be shocked to hear your confession, Captain.” Lily leaned playfully against his arm while Blake’s chuckle filled the coach. He glanced back in time to see Mrs. Gunther’s wide grin as she adjusted her puffy light-blue cap whose lacy trim outlined her round face.

  “Thank you for bringing a carriage for us,” Lily said softly.

  “Entirely my pleasure, Miss Laughlin.”

  She smiled and the entire carriage seemed to brighten. Indeed, she looked healthier than she had only minutes ago.

  The ride to the church was a short one—too short as far as Mac was concerned. He had enjoyed Lily’s proximity. As they strode to the white, wooden structure, Mrs. Gunther paused to make introductions to a small group of ladies congregating near the doorway. Lily murmured something about rehearsal and set off into the church with only a brief smile and wave for the cluster of females.

  Mac doffed his black top hat.

  “I’ve never met a naval officer before,” a bonneted brunette by the name of Miss Cynthia Clydesdale said. She followed up with a bat of her dark lashes. “Did your wife accompany you today?”

  How Mac longed to fib and say he had a wife, for he knew what was about to follow. But his new life here dictated honesty. The truth of his past might appear soon enough, but he’d hate for his new community to consider him a liar from the start.

  “I am unmarried, miss.”

  The young lady squealed. “Oh, Mama, did you hear that?”

  Mac cringed inwardly. Everyone in the churchyard heard her reaction. He lowered his head and toyed with a piece of gravel beneath the toe of his boot.

  “The captain is not married.
We simply have to invite him to dinner.”

  Mrs. Clydesdale stepped closer to Mac and inspected him through one round eyeglass. He would have laughed out loud at the woman’s conduct if he wasn’t convinced that he’d offend the well-intentioned matron and, perhaps insult Mrs. Gunther too.

  “Yes, you’re a fine specimen of a man.” Mrs. Clydesdale turned to her daughter. “Dinner on Tuesday night it is.”

  Miss Clydesdale giggled and clapped her gloved hands together.

  “Then you must dine with us on Monday,” a freckle-faced female declared. She turned and pleaded with her mother who, of course, agreed. Monday night it was.

  Mac decided to put a stop to the dinner invitations, kind as they were. “Ladies, I beg your pardons, but I cannot dine with you this week. I’m in the process of clearing my land. I must work from dawn to dusk.”

  A collective moan rose from the group.

  “How about the following week on a Wednesday then?” A young lady in a straw bonnet with a large pink ribbon came forward. Since she was small in stature and her hat swallowed up so much of her head, Mac couldn’t get a glimpse of her face. “I’m one of Miss Lilyanna Laughlin’s closest acquaintances.”

  “Mrs. Hawkins, I presume.” Mac just had that “feelin’ in his bones,” as Blake liked to say.

  Her bonnet bobbed. “I’m Isabella Hawkins.”

  “I’m acquainted with your husband, madam, and any friends of Miss Laughlin’s are friends of mine.”

  “How very excellent, sir.” Holding the top of her hat, she lifted her gaze to his face. Arresting hazel eyes met Mac’s stare. “Then you’re aware that my husband is Mr. James Hawkins, the blacksmith and liveryman in town.” She pointed toward the right where a group of men stood conversing near a wagon, Silas Everett being one of them. Mac spotted Mr. Hawkins with a baby on his hip.

  “You have a very healthy baby by the look of him.”

  “Her. You would have known that if she kept her bonnet on her sweet bald head.”