by Denney, Hope
It’s only Sawyer, she told herself. It’s only Sawyer.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said. “Thinking about you. Thinking about me. Thinking about what I did.”
She smelled the rye on his breath. She made a face on top of the already cold expression assumed upon seeing him.
“You let go of me now or I’ll expose you for the murderer you are to all these people,” she hissed and jerked away from him.
“I’m not a murderer. Killing and murdering aren’t the same things.”
He grabbed the post by the back steps to steady himself. Somerset couldn’t help but note Ivy was singing “Her Bright Smile Haunts Me Still” while someone played the piano. Her lush soprano voice burst out of Riverside.
“I take it all back,” he pleaded. “I’ll marry you like I said and make your life as comfortable as can be. I told you what I did because I’m weak. I’m not strong like you, but you could teach me. If you could just forget—”
“I’m not likely to forget anything you told me either in this life or the one to come,” she whispered, her voice fierce. “You are intoxicated at a public function and you are humiliating yourself. Anyone could come out here to get some air and see you. Now do try to get yourself under control. You may have failed at everything you ever attempted, from being a sharpshooter to running a profit this year on your plantation, but maybe, just maybe, if you applied some effort, you could appear like a gentleman for a few minutes.”
“I still love you.”
“Here.” She thrust her handkerchief at him. “This contains the earrings you bought me, my old engagement ring, and your picture. Take them now. They don’t belong in the same box as Eric’s gifts.”
“You don’t have to go to Richmond,” he said. “There are other alternatives if you don’t wish to be with me anymore.”
“Any alternative I choose has nothing to do with you. You abandoned me.”
“I changed my mind. I’d rather die than be without you.”
Somerset reached for the back door.
Sawyer grabbed her wrist.
“You can do anything you want to do. Blanche can’t make you marry anyone against your wishes. Think! You’re intelligent, Somerset! You were a nurse during the war. Go find work in a hospital somewhere, but don’t marry a man you don’t love just to hurt me.”
“You made your decision, Sawyer. You can regret but not take back your words.”
“Do you remember the night I put this ring on your hand?” he asked. His words slurred.
She twisted her wrist away from him and opened the back door hard. It popped closed behind her as she ran into the house. No one was in the entranceway to see or hear them. She smoothed her hair after looking in the sunburst gilt mirror on the wall and walked into the ballroom. Ivy was the first person she saw.
Ivy looked beautiful in a green dress that was the exact shade as Blanche’s prized cinnamon ferns. It made her milky skin glow and gave her dark gray eyes a pronounced shimmer. Somerset thought it was extraordinary, the commonplace colors Ivy could make look rare.
She felt at a loss for words as she tried to push away her distressing exchange with Sawyer. She should have paid Ivy a visit since Fairlee fled Orchard Rest in the middle of the night or sent her an invitation to visit. She promised herself she wouldn’t be an unworthy friend ever again. She was going to be less absorbed in her own problems, she told herself. There was never a moment when Ivy wasn’t willing to put their friendship first.
Ivy seemed cheerful to see her in turn, though. If she had felt lonely or passed over for Fairlee, there was no indication on her face. Ivy was a lady and would be pleasant no matter what Somerset did, and Somerset knew she would never deserve her friendship. Somerset embraced her and felt the words tumbling out of her mouth unchecked.
“I’ve missed you! I don’t ever want to go that long without seeing you again!”
Ivy laughed.
“It wasn’t a good time to visit, Somerset, and I knew it. You look pretty, though. Every girl in the room has noticed you.”
“You dear! I could kiss your face. Isn’t this party divine? I feel about sixteen years old hoping to see my dance card soon.”
“Did you hear? There are no dance cards tonight. Everyone is fending for themselves to find partners. I was always afraid of dance cards anyhow. I lived in fear of being made to dance with too many cousins. Remember what fun we had dancing together as young ladies when most of the gentlemen had enlisted?”
“We’ll just have to dance together a time or two tonight and make all the men envious, won’t we? I’ll lead!”
Somerset threw her arm around Ivy’s waist and took her hand and waltzed her around the mauve-carpeted parlor. Several of the ladies clapped and several gentlemen cheered while Somerset passed a plethora of familiar faces. Dr. Harlow’s wife, Ruth, was in the crowd beaming at them. Evelyn Buchanan stood scowling on Mr. Buchanan’s arm but wearing what Somerset guessed was every piece of jewelry she’d managed to save during the war. Joseph raised his glass briefly to her as she spun past him. Lorena Hall stood next to him, and Somerset had just enough time to see her looking up at him before she and Ivy turned. Ivy’s mother looked on them with concern. It was showing in her thin, colorless face that young ladies had no natural modesty anymore. Frances Buchanan smiled, but it was a tight smile that showed resentment that no eyes were on her when she was turned out in a brand new sky blue velvet dress with navy blue ribbons. Kirk Harlow saluted them as they twirled past, and Benson Garrett whooped in approval. Mary Lynn Hall giggled in excitement and asked no one in particular if the Forrests didn’t have the best time at parties.
Somerset stopped where they started on the rug by the marble-topped console and caught her breath. She hadn’t danced in nearly five years and the heft of her dress had slowed her down as she led Ivy across the floor.
“It was an honor,” said Ivy and dropped a curtsy to Somerset.
Another round of applause followed.
Kirk Harlow put his glass down on the piano.
“Who says dancing follows supper?” he cried. “I say let’s have some dancing now! Ezra? Ezra, start up a quadrille!”
He grabbed Somerset’s hand and led her into the middle of the ballroom as Ezra directed the band to play the Lancier’s quadrille. Joseph cheered again and, taking hands with Lorena Hall, he led her onto the floor as well. Somerset’s heart raced with excitement. Mr. and Mrs. Russell were laughing in indulgence at the youth but joining their formation, and then Holt Harlow and Ivy Garrett joined.
“You look stunning!” exclaimed Kirk as they bowed to each other.
“And here you are dancing with me, you old rebel,” laughed Somerset as she bowed to Mr. Russell before they rushed forward to meet Joseph and Ivy.
“I make my own luck,” he called to her over the band. “I haven’t danced since sixty-four and never with you. We are making up for lost time tonight, my dear.”
She had the best time since her debut. Timothy Russell claimed her for the following polka and then she found herself on George’s arm for the Carolina promenade. He was serious, diffident, and he bored her. However, she was on the dance floor, and her heart was light enough to not mind. Then she found herself in Kirk’s tight arms again for the Spanish waltz. She couldn’t suppress her grin at his nerve and didn’t bother to twit him about manners. It was nice to spend time with a daring, handsome man.
“Every man is the room is going to dance with you tonight,” he said as every pair of masculine eyes tracked her.
“I know.” She sighed in contentment. “Being out of black is divine.”
“I thought Sawyer would have stolen you from me by now. Where is he?”
“He was enjoying the moonlight last I saw him,” she said.
“Are you spoken for yet, my lovely?”
“Indeed no.”
“You could take pity on me and rob me of my bachelorhood.”
“Then what would we talk about?” she demurred
.
“Touché.”
He smiled at her in old friendship, and then she was in Joseph’s arms for a few minutes.
“How light on your feet you are tonight!”
“I feel as if I was never hurt.”
“Lorena Hall is watching you over George’s shoulder.”
“Ah, yes. She gives simpering a new meaning. I shouldn’t have grabbed her for the quadrille. She was already looking inquiringly at me before that.”
“When this figure ends, you can fetch me a cup of punch. I forgot what thirsty work all this is, but what a time, Joseph! What a wonderful night.”
“I believe you’re having a good time,” Joseph said in amazement. “I thought you’d forgotten how to smile, much less laugh and dance.”
“See, if I can change my character then there’s hope for you yet.”
Joseph chuckled.
The number ended and they strolled over to the refreshment table to get a cup of Sarabeth’s much-lauded watermelon punch. As Cleo filled their cups, Somerset felt a sharp rap on her shoulder and, turning, she found herself eye to eye with Caroline, Eric’s sister.
She was a tall woman, and she was attractive in the Rutherford way with unruly black hair, blue eyes, a straight nose, and a strong jaw. She was stately with no rounded softness, no feminine frills. She was in full mourning and the white accents on her tired black gown were becoming to her snowy skin. Somerset recalled that her husband recently lost a brother and she hastened to smile. She used to want Caroline for a sister but had not laid eyes on her for at least a year. She tried to think of an opening to begin a conversation but Caroline always had something in mind.
“Can this damsel in lilac be the same woman that my brother was so wild about?” she asked plaintively. “Now that you’re grown I feel worse jealous of you. I thought people lost their looks as they aged.”
“I look a fright and I know it,” said Somerset. “I’m so tired of the conventions of dress: heavy mourning, full mourning, half-mourning. This is the first true color that I’ve worn since sixty-three, and I’m so happy to be out of black. Growing up, I always wanted a bright blue silk and I may get it yet.”
“Even if there was another war, there would be nobody left to die,” winked Caroline, “so you’ll probably get your wish. Is this scalawag your brother? I am so far removed from you in Tuscaloosa that I can’t keep up. You should write more. We don’t have Eric anymore but we have the connection, child. Joseph, is it? We used to fight over DeeDee’s fudge pies when we were small. Eric usually got them while we whined and harassed each other. Do you recall?”
“How could I forget? Any girl who hit harder than me is bound to be unforgettable.”
Joseph hung back a little, smiling but striving to stay out of the conversation. Somerset recalled that he disliked Caroline’s straightforward manner. He’d called her cake with no icing on a number of occasions.
“Tell me, have you seen Mother and Daddy yet?”
“No, I haven’t seen them. Are they here?”
“Well, they saw you when you went waltzing around the room with the Garrett girl. They want to see you before the night is over. I have an open seat on my community improvement committee if you want it, Somerset. Now that you’re out of mourning you’ll be able to dart in and out of town the way that you used to. I know that you, Mrs. Forrest, Mrs. Garrett, and Helen used to handle quite a few projects in the Grove. I could sponsor you. You’d meet plenty of new friends. Of course, you’ll spend lots of time fundraising and making crafts to sell, but there are worse ways a lady could spend her time.”
“I’m only just now out of mourning so Mother is used to me being at home,” declined Somerset.
The one characteristic she forgot about the Rutherfords from one interaction to the next was what involved people they were. It didn’t matter if it was community theater or Main Street beautification, a Rutherford clamored to be involved. Eric bore it all with amused tolerance. He hadn’t lived long enough to go on a volunteering rampage the way all of them did, but his family still whispered that, with his thriving law practice, resonant voice, and charismatic manner, a Senate seat would have been his if he lived.
“That’s fine, Somerset, but I’ll hold the spot vacant for a few weeks just in case you change your mind. We were almost sisters, and I’d like to work with you. I suspect that face of yours would come in handy selling raffle tickets on the square. Oh, there’s Charles motioning for me to come greet Phillip. Excuse me, please. I’m hunting you back down with Mother and Daddy. We haven’t caught up.”
Caroline bustled off into the crowd.
“She makes me appreciate a docile woman, and you understand that takes talent,” whispered Joseph.
“She’s a Rutherford,” observed Somerset. “What is bred in the bone tends to come out in the flesh, I’ve noticed.”
“She’s a shark,” corrected Joseph.
Ivy, fresh from a waltz, spotted them and made her way to the refreshment table. She didn’t make eye contact with Joseph, but she looked them in the faces as she joined them. Somerset wondered who told her that Fairlee was gone. She cut her eyes at Joseph to warn him to behave, but he was too busy considering the rug to notice.
“Curtis Lawton just nearly tripped over my toes three times in a row, and how they throb!” she laughed with a wince. “Somerset, how many times did you dance with Kirk tonight?”
“Enough to cause a stir but it didn’t mean a thing to either of us,” said Somerset, passing her a cup of punch. “We both love to dance, and he thought well of me waltzing you about to get the evening started. Kirk loves a good time almost as much as our Joseph.”
“Oooh, this is the watermelon punch. I’ve missed it. Oh, there is Sawyer. I wasn’t sure he was here. He looks terrible.”
“I would too if I were going to the Dakota Territory to homestead it,” said Joseph to her.
“Dakota Territory? Why go there? One rough year on this plantation isn’t enough to justify packing up and going to fresh frontier.”
“His cousin is out there and needs a partnership to get his wheat farm off and running. Sawyer thought a year or two out there might get him started, and then he might come back. Lawrence is going to take over Sawyer’s duties in the meantime. Business in the store has been down for so long that it just makes sense for him to have the free time to put back into the plantation.”
“We want him here. He’ll be in grave danger in a new uncivilized place like that. I thought he had his fill of adventure during the war and would never leave home,” Ivy mused.
“So did I,” Joseph agreed, “but people change.”
“Why are you both looking at me?” asked Somerset in a huff.
“I thought that the two of you had longevity,” said Joseph.
“Now who’s the shark?” she asked.
“I thought he’d propose and you’d come live here,” said Ivy.
Somerset kept the emotion off of her face and managed a shrug.
“Oh, we did some halfhearted courting,” she said.
“I thought it was quiet but not halfhearted,” mused Ivy. “I thought it was rather intense.”
Joseph turned and looked at her with a quizzical expression. Somerset got the impression that he just noticed he was conversing with Ivy. A smile appeared at the corners of his mouth as he studied her, and as he kept on looking the corners of his eyes crinkled.
“I haven’t had the pleasure of dancing with you, Miss Garrett. Would you honor me with a waltz?”
He extended his arm, and Ivy took it, blushing from her hairline down into her dress. Somerset rolled her eyes heavenward as she heard him murmuring to her about her powers of perception and pretty dress. Ivy’s blush looked burned into her face as he took her in his arms. Somerset would have to remind her later to take everything he said and did with a grain of salt, perhaps the whole shaker.
She turned her back on Walter Macon, who was coming, no doubt, to whisk her onto the floor and caught si
ght of Victoria, who had found her way to Helen and George. She remembered what she had promised Victoria and headed for the front door.
“Taking some air?” asked Kirk as she passed him. He was trapped by a gaggle of unmarried girls, hemmed in all sides. It made for an entertaining picture as they gawked at his blond hair and strong features. He couldn’t take four steps in any direction without having to entertain some eligible lady.
“I am,” she said. “Would you escort me? Protect me from all the things that go bump in the night? It’s too hot in here.”
Every Buchanan girl near him frowned in frustration. Kirk blazed a grin at Somerset that should have lit everyone’s handkerchiefs on fire and slipped through the throngs of hopeful women. They strode out the door together just as the band began to play “I Cannot Sing the Old Songs.” Laura Russell’s smooth alto joined the sounds of the band.
Somerset strode down the steps.
“What are we doing, my lady?” asked Kirk with faux gallantry.
“Now that I’ve saved your hide from a dungeon of Buchanan dragons, I’m embarking on a quest to unite a lady with her knight of choice.”
“I take it you are not the lady nor am I the knight.”
“No.”
Somerset slipped around the corner of the house. There were couples, chaperones, and servants in various formations all around the yard and the lanterns made it brighter than day. She made a beeline for the picnic tables.
Kirk hummed along with the music.
“I can sing the old songs,” he said, just as they reached the beginning of the tables. “They don’t make me sad anymore. Do they you?”
“They used to cloak me in sadness.”
“But no more?”
“No, no more.”
“We lived a magnificent dream,” Kirk continued. “I won’t be sad for the memory of those wonderful times in my life. I wouldn’t dream of dishonoring them in that way. I like Sarabeth’s way of honoring the past. I’ll drink to it any old night. Wouldn’t you?”
