In a Stranger's Arms

by Hale Deborah

  “There’s where you’re dead wrong, Mr. Right and Fitting.” Caddie poured herself a glass of lemonade. “Half of anything will never be enough for Lon Marsh.”

  For once in her life, Caddie wished she hadn’t been right.

  At Manning’s suggestion, they’d met with Lon outside the Methodist parsonage with the parson, Dr. Mercer and Bobbie Stevens acting as their witnesses.

  When Manning pulled the tarpaulin off the battered old box, Lon looked as though he’d been struck by lightning. “Where the hell did you find this, Carpetbagger?”

  Manning’s fists balled tight but he answered in a voice of controlled reason. “The where part hardly matters. What’s important is that the valuables your father hid have been found, on our property. We figure you’re entitled to half.”

  The parson beamed. “If only the family states of our poor country had treated one another so fairly.”

  “Fair?” Lon spit on the ground.

  It was almost worth a half share of the findings, Caddie decided, to see the smirk wiped off her brother-in-law’s face.

  “And just who’s to decide what constitutes a fair division of my family’s valuables?” Lon glared his challenge. “A Yankee, like the ones who looted the Stevens place?”

  Much as she hated to admit it, Caddie knew Lon had a point. Without an expert appraiser on hand, how could they hope to reach an agreement over any division? If they let Lon do the choosing, they’d be lucky to end up with a quarter share. Any split she and Manning suggested, no matter how generous, would have Lon claiming he’d been grossly cheated.

  Something about the look on Manning’s face told her he’d anticipated Lon’s objection. “You go ahead and divide what’s here into two lots you consider equal.”

  Lon’s glacial eyes lit up. Caddie opened her mouth to protest Manning’s noble but foolish integrity.

  “Then,” added Manning, “Caddie and I will choose which of the two halves we want.”

  For an instant Lon appeared ready to object then the full implication of Manning’s proposal hit him. He gnawed the end of his cigar in speechless fury.

  The parson murmured something about “the wisdom of Solomon,” while Bobbie Stevens cracked a grin so broad, Caddie worried his face would split in two. Doc Mercer, who’d looked dubious about the whole proceeding from the start, seemed to regard Manning with newfound respect.

  “If you’d rather, we can divide and you can choose first.” Though he had every right to gloat, Manning made the offer in earnest.

  Any trace of resentment Caddie had felt toward him for doing the right thing melted like hailstones after a summer storm. The man might have high principles, but he wasn’t a fool. A new ingredient slipped into the mix of contradictory, combustible emotions Manning Forbes stirred in her. If she didn’t look out, they might bake up into that sweet, poisonous cake called love.

  By suppertime a deal had been struck that appeared to satisfy everyone except Lon. As Caddie and Manning rode home with their share of the Marsh valuables, a light rain began to spit.

  “Shame we have to sell these things that have been in the family so long.” Manning sighed. If they’d been his own family heirlooms, Caddie doubted he could have sounded more regretful.

  “If it’ll let us hang on to Sabbath Hollow, I don’t mind parting with them.” Caddie tried not to think about her family’s special possessions and what might have become of them during Sherman’s scourge of the Carolinas. “There’s a little cameo that belonged to my mother-in-law. I’d like to hang on to it for Varina, if we can.”

  Manning nodded. “I wondered why you chose that half. We shouldn’t waste any time taking this stuff to Washington to sell. It’d probably fetch a better price in New York, but that’s a long trip to make with the children.”

  “Go wherever you need to.” Caddie tried to keep her tone matter-of-fact, as though this was not a decision she’d struggled over. “I’ll stay here to keep an eye on the business. The city’s no place for children in the summer. They’ll be better off staying put.”

  Had he heard her? Did he understand the risk she was taking? The hard-won, still-fragile trust she offered in atonement for all the suspicion and antagonism she’d directed at him in the past.

  Finally he looked over at her. “You sure about this?”

  Caddie could tell by the gravity of his tone and the searching blue gaze he aimed at her that Manning understood, perhaps more than she did herself.

  Why, then, did he not look happier about it?

  By rights, Templeton Marsh should have been a happy boy. Any lad in his position might have dreamed of finding hidden treasure to save his home and restore the family fortunes. Well, he’d been credited with doing just that. His mother’s eyes held a special glow of pride when she looked at him now.

  His stepfather had gone to New York and returned with money to pay the taxes, promising business contacts, and presents for the family. Tem’s gift had been a book about a Dutch boy who’d also saved his family from ruin. Reading about Hans Brinker’s courage and honesty made Tem feel like a fraud.

  “Say, Tem, want to go catch toads out back of the stable?” Varina tucked her new doll into the cradle Manning had built.

  “Maybe later.” Tem leaned against the porch rail and stared off down the lane. Sergeant sprawled at his feet, panting and swishing his tail in a lazy rhythm.

  It wasn’t honorable to take credit for something you hadn’t done, and even at the age of eight Templeton had a finely honed sense of honor. His grandpa had often lectured him on the subject when he’d been just a little shaver back in Richmond. Only since Manning Forbes had come into his life had Tem begun to understand the day-to-day living of an honorable life.

  “Want to go pick blackberries?” Varina marched over and leaned against the railing in a perfect imitation of her brother.

  Sergeant’s ears pricked up, as if he sensed the opportunity for some fun.

  “In a while maybe.” Long ago Tem had learned that saying no to his little sister just got her riled up. And if there was one thing he hated, it was folks getting riled up.

  He had an unpleasant suspicion honor demanded doing the right thing even when it riled folks. The way Manning had stood up to his uncle Lon, and the way he’d risked riling Mama by insisting they share all that silver his grandpa had hidden.

  “You been no fun since you found them old forks.” Varina flounced over to the cradle and pulled out her doll. “Miz Maymie and me are going for a walk and you can’t come—so there.”

  The dog raised his face to Tem, an expectant look in those faithful dark eyes.

  “Go on if you want to, boy. Go with Rina and keep her out of trouble.” After a brief show of reluctance, Sergeant barked and loped off after Varina and Miz Maymie.

  As Tem watched his sister stalk away with the dog at her heels, he almost hollered after them that toad catching or berry picking sounded like good fun. It was no use. While his conscience ached like a sore tooth, it took the fun out of everything.

  Behind him Tem heard the front door open and close. Soft, sure footsteps approached. Mama.

  “Are you feeling poorly, Son?” She laid a cool, graceful hand on his forehead. “You haven’t been yourself lately. Is the heat bothering you?”

  “No, ma’am.” It might have been easier to pretend some minor ailment but that would have been like telling a fib, and Tem didn’t want to overburden his conscience just now.

  His mother sighed. Tem stole a guilty glance to find her wearing the old look, where puzzlement and worry mixed with the love. Tem liked the new look far better. A look so full of pride and wonder it glowed.

  Too bad he didn’t deserve it.

  “Then what’s the matter, precious? At first I thought you were just moping for Manning to get back. Now I’m wondering if you need a good dose of sulfur and molasses.”

  Tem made a face.

  “What else am I supposed to think? You’re off your food. You don’t want to play
with your sister or the dog. Are you provoked because we had to sell off the things you found?”

  Tem shook his head. It seemed as though the more he studied on his problem, the bigger it got. Like a bubble full of air, it just grew and grew until it popped.

  “Mama, promise not to be awful mad if I tell you something.”

  His mother wrapped her arm around his shoulders and tilted her head until it rested against his. “That’s a pretty hard promise to make before I know what you’re going to say. What I can promise is that I’ll respect you for telling me the truth, and I’ll weigh that in your favor.”

  “I... didn’t find that silver and such.”

  A little noise broke from his mother that might have been a wet laugh or a happy cry. “Is that all you’re upset about? Well, of course you didn’t dig the heavy old box up by yourself. But you told Manning where to look and that’s what—”

  “No, ma’am!” Tem shook his head hard. “I didn’t tell him where to find it. Manning knew—he knew! Oh, he asked me all sorts of questions about Grandpa and back in Richmond, and did Grandpa ever talk about Sabbath Hollow.”

  “Y-yes, but—”

  “See, Mama? I don’t deserve you to make a fuss over me for finding those things. Manning does. He talked about different places—the stables, the woodshed, the pump. He kept coming back to the pump until I said, ‘Maybe,’ then we started to dig.”

  “I see.” Mama sounded queer—like she was talking in her sleep. Rina did that sometimes, so Tem knew.

  “I’m sorry I let you make a fuss over me instead of Manning. Sometimes I think you don’t like him much, Mama, and I sure wish you would.” Aw shucks, he was going to start bawling like a big old baby. Templeton squeezed his eyes together real tight until the tears leaked down into his nose.

  “Listen to me, Templeton Randolph Marsh. You’ve got no call to be sorry. I’m prouder of you for telling me this than if you dug up fifty treasure chests with your bare hands. Understand?”

  Tem opened one eye and looked into Mama’s. The pride was there, all right. But so was something else. Something wild that frightened him. “Yes, ma’am, I understand.”

  “Good.” The way her slender fingers dug into his shoulders scared Tem so bad he almost wet his drawers. “Now you run along and play with your sister and no more moping.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Who’d be fool enough to mope with Judgment Day at hand? Somehow Tem knew a storm was brewing that might be on that order.

  And he had unleashed it

  He tore down off the porch and around the house, his bony chest heaving beneath his shirt. There he stopped and listened.

  Mama was talking to herself. Words that didn’t make sense, about how she should’ve known, questions about why he’d do this.

  The front door slammed shut. When Tem mastered his panic enough to peek around the corner of the house, his mother was gone. Inside, feet thundered up the stairs. Surely that couldn’t be his composed, light-stepping mother.

  Tem’s stomach felt as if he’d swallowed a handful of tadpoles, as Rina had once dared him. Part of him—almost all of him, as a matter of fact—wanted to tear off after his sister and stay clear of the house until this ruckus passed.

  But another part—a tiny one and new to his nature—insisted he take responsibility for whatever he’d set in motion. Set things right, if only he could figure out how.

  He nearly jumped a foot when a familiar hand reached up from behind and tousled his hair.

  “What are you doing, Tem? Playing hide and seek with Varina? You’ll have to find a better hiding place than this. Sorry, Son, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “You’re home early, Manning.”

  “Benefit of owning your own business, boy. You can come home early on a fine summer day. Think you and Varina might like to go splash around in the creek with me?”

  “Ah... sure, let’s go.”

  Manning laughed. “Give me a minute to lose my socks and work boots and find a towel. You round up Varina.”

  “I—I wouldn’t go in the house if I was you. Mama’s not in a real good humor.”

  “Templeton, what’s going on?” Against his advice, Manning strode into the house, and almost immediately his voice blared through the open window of his bedroom.

  Tem’s mother shrieked her answer, words that sounded like, “Well, why are you doing this to me?”

  The boy clamped his hands over his ears to protect himself from the anger in Manning’s voice and the anguish in his mother’s. The harsh words that rang in his thoughts were at least as bad as anything they could say in real life.

  He had to stop them—even just for a little while. Give them something else to think about besides their quarrel. He could think of only one distraction serious enough to qualify.

  Chapter Fourteen

  HER SON’S BLURTED confession tore the blinders off Caddie’s eyes once and for all.

  Why had she been too weak and stupid to do it for herself long before this? Manning Forbes and Delbert Marsh must be the same man.

  But why? If Del wanted to pass himself off as a Yankee, why come back to Virginia to do it? Was it like Bobbie had suggested—wanting more than anything to be on the winning side? By the time he’d disappeared in the spring of ’64, the fate of the Confederacy had been written on the wall, in blood, for anyone who had the courage to see it.

  Surely, it must be more than that. Caddie paced the front porch, muttering to herself in a fever of speculation. Maybe Del had taken a head wound and woken up in some Yankee hospital without a full recollection of who he was. He might have returned to Sabbath Hollow, the one thing he did remember, looking for answers.

  A third possibility occurred to Caddie—one that left her bilious. Had Del come back in the guise of a Yankee, to tempt her into betraying his memory? To prove that fidelity wasn’t as easy as she might have thought?

  She had to find out. She had to know.

  If Manning... or Del... or whoever he was wouldn’t tell her, Caddie had a pretty good idea where she’d find some answers. Wrenching the door open, she charged up the stairs, almost tripping over her skirts in her haste. She tore down the hall and skidded to a halt in front of her husband’s bedroom.

  For a minute or two, some unseen force kept her from crossing the threshold, almost like a magical ward. Her craving to know the truth proved an even stronger counterspell.

  She yanked open the dresser drawer into which she’d last seen Manning thrust that wooden box. It was still there. But when she tried to open the lid, it wouldn’t budge. Caddie made a brief search for the key but couldn’t find it. Very well—there was more than one way to skin a cat.

  Pulling out one of her hairpins, she jabbed it into the lock and commenced to wiggle it around. She didn’t have a clue what she was doing, but years ago she’d seen her brother Breck unfasten a lock this way.

  Click!

  That faint but portentous sound set Caddie’s pulse rushing faster than a drumroll.

  Then she heard another sound that set her whole body aquiver. The heavy, rapid clatter of a man racing up the stairs.

  When Manning reached the doorway of his bedroom, he found just what he’d feared.

  Caddie sat on the edge of his bed with the wooden box on her lap. Somehow she’d managed to pick the lock, which had never been intended to deter serious prying.

  It didn’t look as though she’d read any of the papers inside, but that did nothing to quiet the ferocious alarm that reared and raged within him.

  “What the hell are you doing in here?” He swooped in and grabbed the box from her.

  He was less furious with Caddie than with himself. Why couldn’t he just burn the damn letter, or tear it into a hundred pieces and scatter them to the four winds? It wasn’t like he was apt to forget his promise without that tangible reminder. The whole business made no sense, and things that made no sense scared Manning—especially when it came to his own behavior.

  Nothing fueled
anger like a good charge of fear.

  “If you don’t quit spying on me, woman, so help me I’ll—” What would he do? What could he do?

  Not a damned thing. No matter how grave a threat she posed to his one chance at redemption, he’d let the devil take him before he’d harm one flame-kissed hair on her beautiful, dear, dangerous head.

  “Just get out and leave me be!”

  Caddie rose to her feet, her eyes searching his face as if it was a far more cryptic lock she intended to pick. Her whole body trembled, surely in the grip of emotions as intense and contrary as his own.

  Her lips parted. Lips he could never see or think of without remembering the kiss she’d given him and without feeling his whole body burn, like a heretic at the stake.

  Of all the words that might discharge from those lips, the last Manning ever expected was, “Del?”

  As Caddie reached for his face, Manning found himself frozen to the spot. “Del Marsh, that is you in there, isn’t it? Why are you doing this to me?”

  That was what she suspected? As understanding crashed upon Manning, Caddie’s charge seemed both completely inevitable and completely impossible.

  For one mad instant, he considered saying yes.

  After all, he’d assumed most of Delbert Marsh’s earthly responsibilities. Would it be so much of a stretch to assume his identity? Never again would he bear that hateful title, carpetbagger. Never again would Caddie discourage the children from calling him Papa. Never again would he have to hold back the floodgates of his desire for this woman.

  “No!” It was the hardest word he’d ever had to say.

  Manning staggered back from Caddie, lest her gentle touch pummel his battle-weary scruples. “I’m not your husband. I mean I am, but not your real husband. That’s craziness!”

  “It’s not craziness. It’s the only answer that makes sense. The first time I laid eyes on you again, I knew it had to be you. But I let myself be persuaded otherwise.”

  He should have known this might occur to her. Till the day he died, and maybe even after, while he burned in hell, Manning would remember that soul-chilling instant when he’d rolled a mortally wounded rebel officer onto his back and seen a face too much like the one that stared out of his tiny shaving mirror every morning.