In His Eyes: A Civil War Romance

by Stephenia H. McGee

  The major’s eyes softened and he reached out a hand to her. Ella remained rooted in place, dreading the words that would come next.

  “Ella….”

  “You couldn’t find one, could you?”

  He scratched his head. “No. I found one.”

  Ella hurried down the remaining steps and tried to skirt around him to open the door. He reached out and caught her arm. “He isn’t here.”

  Ella had to lift her chin to meet his eyes, her short stature feeling all the more diminutive so near his height and breadth. “What do you mean?”

  Westley lifted his hand, and when she remained frozen, he ran his thumb along the edge of her jaw. “I’m so sorry, Ella. He said he could not come. He had men to see to, and then his orders were to go to one of the hospitals in Memphis.”

  Ella stepped away from his disconcerting touch and turned a watery gaze on Lee as she began to pace the foyer. “But, then, who will see to him?”

  “I did explain the symptoms to the doctor, and he concurs with the shopkeeper’s assessment. It is most likely the whooping cough.”

  “And?”

  Despite her bristled tone, he continued to look at her with compassion. “And he said that we already have the treatments the doctor would give. There would be nothing more that he could do.”

  Ella jerked to a halt by the parlor door and clutched the baby tighter. “But…I’m not sure the medicines will work!” Her voice hitched, and she hated the frustrated tears that gathered in her eyes.

  His cane thumped over the floor and then his hand rested on her shoulder, and the comfort it brought ushered more tears to the surface. She should not enjoy his touch so. Nor should she wish to move closer to him or yearn to breathe in more of his scent—a mix of something like fresh rain and leather.

  Curse her weakness. She needed to worry about Lee. The tears spilled over onto her cheeks, and despite her self-admonition to do otherwise, she did not resist when Westley pulled her closer, tucking the baby safely between them. Something in her lurched, and she foolishly wished that they were a family, and that he were Lee’s father and she his mother in truth.

  Westley stroked her back, and she felt some of the tension drain from her. He would not touch her so if he did not care, would he?

  “Easy, Ella. It will be all right. We have the medicine. Your baby will be fine.”

  A sob bubbled in her throat. “I’m a terrible mother.”

  Westley stepped back and cupped her chin, forcing her to look into his deep brown eyes that brimmed with concern. “Do not say such a thing. Anyone can see that you love your son.”

  Ella shook her head. “Oh, Westley. Love or not, I shouldn’t have tried to keep him. What do I know of properly caring for a child? I should have done what was best for him and not just what I selfishly wanted.”

  His eyes sparked, and she wasn’t sure if the reaction came from her confession or the fact that she had let his given name slide from her lips.

  His knuckles caressed her cheek and then he let his hand rest on her shoulder as he looked down at Lee. “Come now, you know that isn’t true.”

  Ella sniffled. Such kind words, meant to soothe her guilt. But such things were hollow. “I was so foolish,” she continued as though he’d never spoken. “And look, now he is sick because I didn’t take him to the orphanage as his mother, his real mother, asked me to do.”

  “Ella.” Her name snapped from his lips, as though to revive her senses. He put his finger beneath her chin. “Look at me.”

  She reluctantly lifted her gaze, like she was a soldier under the influence of his commanding voice.

  “The doctor said the whooping cough takes days to show signs. It starts as a sniffle and grows from there. Lee likely had it before I even arrived home.”

  That still didn’t mean she hadn’t made matters worse. She always seemed to make things worse.

  He dropped his hand. “Have you been giving him the treatments I brought for him?”

  Ella nodded. “They have helped him sleep more, and they seem to ease the coughs a little but….”

  As though to disprove her claim, Lee began another coughing spasm, his little body wracking with coughs so violently that Ella had to tilt him and pat his back to help him spit up the mucus.

  Westley reached out to take him from Ella, and much to her surprise, she allowed it. Westley cradled the baby in one arm while Ella cleaned his face.

  “This is what the doctor warned would happen,” Westley said as Ella tugged the soiled blanket off him, leaving him in just his gown. “He’s going to cough up the thick spittle until he clears it from his lungs. After that, if he doesn’t choke and he hasn’t grown too weak, he should begin to recover. With the treatments, and as my mother would insist, prayer, he should be just fine.”

  Ella stared at the man she’d not too long ago called a devil. The gentle way he held the child and the soothing words he tried to speak to her stirred a longing in her she would do better to squelch. She straightened her shoulders. “Then I will be diligent in making sure he keeps taking the treatments, and I will try to be sure he eats as much as we can get him to take.”

  Westley handed the baby back to her. “Ella, you are a good mother to this child. You took it upon yourself to care for him when I doubt anyone else would have.” He lifted his brows. “And I don’t know that I have ever seen a woman quite so protective. You are like a bear with her cubs.”

  The unexpected thought made Ella chuckle, despite the gravity of the moment. “You think so?”

  He smiled, making him even more handsome. “I do. Or perhaps still a dragon. I haven’t quite decided.”

  Lee coughed again and Ella bounced him, but at least this time he didn’t spit anything up. After the fit eased, his eyes drifted closed. Ella followed Westley into the parlor where he propped his cane against the settee and settled his large frame.

  “A dragon?” she asked as she laid Lee down into the cradle.

  He chuckled. “Indeed. A tiny dragon with flaming hair and sharp claws.”

  She knew he jested, but she frowned anyway. She did not mean to have sharp claws.

  He must have sensed her thoughts, even though she kept her back to him.

  “I did not mean to offend. I meant it as an endearment.”

  How did he do that? Read the private things that swam in her head as though she’d spoken them aloud? It was disconcerting, to say the least.

  Ella sat on the edge of the chair near the cradle and studied the man across from her. A dragon as a term of endearment? What a strange man. She wrinkled her nose and he chuckled again.

  She turned her gaze to the window, and though she could feel his gaze heavy upon her, refused to meet his eyes.

  He shifted, and she could feel him leaning closer. “Would you mind telling me something?”

  Given their earlier conversations, she could hazard a guess as to what he wanted to know. She turned her gaze from the safety of the window and let it settle back on him. “You wish to know about how I came to be with Lee?”

  Conflict shifted in his eyes as his gaze roamed her face. “I do.”

  “Very well.” Ella told him of how she happened to be at Lee’s birthing, and the things that Cynthia told her about the Remingtons and their kindness. Westley nodded at several increments, but let her finish her tale before he sat back and considered her.

  “So that is how you came to show up at the house with him.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Of all the things I speculated, that wasn’t one of them.”

  Her brow furrowed. No, he’d seen her as a harlot. “Yes, and you already know what happened then. I claimed to be your….” Why did the word stick to the roof of her mouth?

  “My wife,” he supplied.

  Something about the way he said it made it seem like the title felt heavy on his tongue as well.

  Ella cleared her throat. “Aye. That’s the truth of it. So now you know the whole of my pitiful tale.”

  Westley coc
ked his head. “I doubt that. I would like to know how you came to be employed at that inn in the first place.”

  Her mind scrambled. To begin that story would lead to the revelation of more secrets, and those she was not yet ready to share. She forced a laugh. “Nothing to tell there. I was trying to get to the North and ran out of money.”

  He stroked his chin and watched her in that odd way he had that made her feel like he tried to see her soul. Try as she might, she couldn’t contain the shiver that the look sent down her spine.

  “Are you cold?”

  Mortified, she forced a nervous laugh. “No, sir. I’m fine.” She cleared her throat again. Why did it feel so clogged? She glanced at him, only to find the expression in his eyes even more potent. Perhaps a diversion would avert his ardent study of her face. “Major….”

  “Westley.”

  She inclined her head. “Major Westley….”

  He laughed. “No, Ella. Just Westley, if you please. I believe I’ve already given you leave to call me by my given name, have I not?”

  Her mouth went dry. Oh, no. This was not at all where she wanted to steer the conversation. Did he wish to discuss those private moments they never should have shared? “I, uh….”

  He chuckled again. “Why, Mrs. Remington, your face has turned an alarming shade of red.”

  Ella’s eyes widened, and she lurched to her feet. His laughter died and alarm replaced the mischief in his eyes. Her throat constricted. He shouldn’t tease her so. Not when hearing him call her such a thing made her ache somewhere deep in the forgotten places of her heart.

  “Ella, I—”

  She held up her hand. “Please, just don’t.” She gently lifted Lee from his place and held him close.

  Westley rose and made a move toward her, but she shook her head. “I need to go.”

  He set his jaw, the little muscle on the side of his face twitching. He gave a single nod as she gathered up what little dignity she could and hurried from the room.

  She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t stay here, dependent on Sibby with her secrets and lies and Major Remington with the way he stirred feelings in her that made her senses go awry. No doubt a man like him was used to charming the fine ladies with such words and gestures. They were probably all accustomed to such things, and the flattery did not unseat the elite the way it did Ella. But she was a simple girl, and she did not like the way her defenses had begun to crack around him.

  She’d only known him a matter of days! What kind of blubbering mess would she become a month from now, or however long it took for him to return to the army? No. That simply would not do. She would have to make her own plans and devise a way to make sure she had options.

  Ella stomped up the stairs, her resolve growing with each step. Yes. What she needed most were options.

  And she knew just how she was going to get them.

  “What you mean you want a goat?” Sibby furrowed her forehead, creating wrinkles that resembled a freshly plowed field.

  Ella tried to get Lee to suck the rag dipped in the elixir, but he kept turning his head to the side. “Just what I said. If you want me to keep quiet and stop asking questions about whatever it is you have going on back in that field, then I want my goat.”

  Basil tugged at her hair. “But what you want with a goat?”

  Sibby snorted. “She want to try to make that baby drink goat milk. But it ain’t good for him.”

  Ella rubbed the rag over Lee’s lips, trying to get him to open his mouth. “Plenty of people do it, and their children are just fine.”

  Sibby came off the bed and tested her weight on the crutch Westley had fashioned for her. She leaned heavily on it, but managed to hobble closer to where Ella swayed as Lee began to cry from her efforts.

  “Now, Miss Ella, this don’t make no sense.” She frowned down at Ella’s increasingly desperate efforts but had the good sense not to comment on it. “Major Westley said you could be stayin’ here, and I ain’t goin’ nowhere. There ain’t no reason to make that boy drink no goat milk when I can nurse him.”

  Lee opened his mouth to scream and Ella squeezed the rag to make a few drops of the elixir drip into his mouth. “Please, wee one, drink,” she whispered fervently. She bounced him, and he began to quiet some. Hopefully, he would ingest the drops, and they would help the coughs.

  Basil stepped over to the oil lamp and lit the wick, dispelling some of the gloom that had gathered in the room. Evening had come early, ushered in by the heavy clouds that hung low over Belmont and smothered the final rays of day. “Miss Ella, you wants for me to bring you up something to eat?”

  Lee started another coughing spasm, and Ella squeezed a few more drops into his mouth.

  “Now don’t you go chokin’ him. He’s spittin’ stuff up not swallowing it down.” Sibby made a move to reach for Lee, but Ella swung him away.

  She resumed her trek around the nursery, stepping past Basil, who stood with her hand on the doorknob and watched Ella warily as though she feared Ella may take leave of her senses soon, if she hadn’t already.

  Ella narrowed her eyes at Sibby. “And what if something happens to you? Or Westley changes his mind. Then what?”

  Sibby’s eyes flew wide and Ella realized her mistake. She drew air deep into her lungs, held it, and let it out slowly. Then she cleared her throat and resumed her pacing. “Major Remington will soon enough return to duty and cannot be counted on for any aid.”

  “But, Miss Ella….” Sibby started talking, but Ella refused to let her interrupt.

  “Therefore, I require a secondary means of caring for Lee should anything happen to you or I once again find myself alone with a hungry infant.”

  Sibby grumbled and inched her way back to the bed and sat. Basil, whom Ella had nearly forgotten, still stood by the door. She elevated her voice. “Miss Ella, you didn’t eat no supper. You wants for me to bring you sumthin’ up?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “But we got some mighty fine ham in the kitchen.”

  Ella smirked. “Oh? Shared by the new family that came with three wagons and a procession of livestock?”

  Basil scowled. “You want it or not?”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  Sibby grunted. “You is gonna end up fainting clean away again. Then what gonna happen to that boy iffin you drop him on the floor?”

  Sibby’s words ground Ella’s feet to a halt. The woman had a point. She gathered up Lee’s medicines from the table by the crib and stalked toward her room. “You are correct. I shall lie down with him.”

  “But, Miss Ella,” Sibby sputtered. “Don’t you wants—”

  “If I need you, Sibby, I will call.” She forced some of the tension from her shoulders. “And I would greatly appreciate you securing a goat for me. A healthy one. We can keep her in a pen up here by the cistern.”

  Sibby pressed her lips into a firm line, but finally bobbed her head. Ella pushed through to her room and closed the door behind her. After doing so, however, she realized she had forgotten to bring a lamp. Shadows clung to the walls and swathed her room in darkness. Even the moon remained hidden, refusing to give Ella any aid in making her way over to the bed.

  Her eyes drifted to the ribbon of light that seeped from under the door that separated her chamber from the confounding man on the other side. As though without her consent, Ella’s feet drifted toward the sliver of light like two moths drawn to the flame.

  What did he do in there? She shook her head. What did it matter?

  Lee coughed and she moved away from the door, lest Westley discover she stood so near. Feeling with her foot, Ella located her dressing table in the gloom. She held both medicine bottles in one hand, and had to tip the larger one sideways to place it down.

  It slipped on the marble and tilted precariously. Fumbling to set down the amber oil, Ella tried to quickly grasp the elixir again, but it began to roll. “No!”

  Ella lunged, startling Lee who began to wail. Her fingers darted to
ward the bottle, sliding over the smooth glass as it rolled toward the edge of the marble top. It hit the floor with a sickening crack. “No, no, no!”

  She dropped to her knees, her fingers clawing through the shadows to find Lee’s only hope at survival. They plunged into something sticky and her heart sank. Yards of fabric pooled around her and she laid Lee in her lap so that she could use both hands to cradle the leaking bottle.

  The rag. Where had she put….?

  Light flooded the room, and the clomp of boots sounded over the floor. “Ella?”

  The murky darkness scattered from the lamp’s path, and the light caught on the cracked surface of the brown bottle in her hands. The crack ran along the full length of the glass, and the thick liquid seeped onto her hands. “Please, a rag….something!”

  Westley moved away, taking the light with him. Lee started to cry, a pitiful sound that dissolved into yet another horrendous hacking fit.

  Please, God! Why do you never answer my pleas?

  “Here, give it to me.”

  Ella’s fingers tightened on the bottle, and Westley had to pry it from her grasp. He lifted Lee’s life away from her along with the bottle! She began to weep. No doctor, no treatments, and no more hope.

  Lee wailed, and Ella plunged her elixir soaked finger into his mouth, rubbing it against the insides of his cheeks. He would get this much, at least!

  When she got what she could into his mouth, she pulled him against her chest, her tears cascading down her face and landing on his head as she rocked herself back and forth.

  Anguish bubbled in her, a fountain that had filled with each tribulation until finally the loss of hope sent it spilling over. Why? Why must she gain someone to love only to lose him in such a cruel way?

  “Ella….” Westley bent beside her and cupped her elbow. “Come now, get up.”

  She shook her head and hugged the coughing infant tighter.

  “Ella.” The major’s voice became more urgent, poking at her like a needle. “Ella! You’re holding him too tight!”

  Fear burst through her and she gasped, loosening her grip on Lee.