Wil silenced her with a kiss. Her lips were the softest things Clara had ever felt. The sweetest things she had ever tasted. She slid her hands up the back of Wil’s neck and buried them in her hair. Wil kissed her harder. Hard enough to leave a bruise. Clara would feel proud to bear the mark if one formed. Because each time she looked upon it, she would remember this moment. And she would know that it was Wil’s kiss that had made it.
“Clara.”
Whispering her name, Wil laid her on the bed and covered her body with her own. Clara felt her weight. Needed to feel her skin. She slipped her hands under the nightshirt and slid her fingers over Wil’s stomach. Wil shuddered against her. The tip of Wil’s tongue touched her lips, asking for and receiving entry.
As Wil’s tongue filled her mouth, Clara felt her body rising off the bed. She felt her body, her heart, and her soul rising to meet Wil’s.
“Clara.”
Wil’s lips were on the side of her neck now. Kissing her. Searing her skin.
“Wil.” Clara took Wil’s hand and placed it on her breast. “I need you to touch me.”
She moaned when Wil gently kneaded her flesh. Moaned because she had never felt anything as wonderful as Wil’s hands on her.
“Wil—”
“Clara, can I have my sandwich now?”
She pushed Wil away when she heard Percy calling for her. Heard his footsteps coming down the hall.
“Stay there, Percy. I’m coming.” She tucked Wil back into bed. “I’ll be right back.”
“Hurry.”
The urgency in Wil’s eyes spurred Clara to move faster. She wanted to finish her task as quickly as she could so she could spend more time behind closed doors with Wil. Sitting with her. Talking to her. Kissing her. How much longer would they be able to share these stolen moments? A few days? A few weeks? Because surely a lifetime was too much to ask.
After she made Percy’s lunch, she put Wil’s food on a tray and carried it down the hall. When she opened the door, she discovered Wil had fallen asleep again. Wil wasn’t pretending this time, if the soft snores coming from her were any indication. Clara set the tray on the nightstand, fixed the torn bandages as best she could, and kissed Wil on her forehead.
“What am I going to do with you?” she asked, even though she knew Wil couldn’t answer. “It’s too dangerous for you to stay here, and you’ll be found out if you leave. If you show up at camp with a fresh bullet wound in your chest, you’ll get sent straight to the infirmary, the doctors will find out who you are, and they’ll send you home. If you stay, anyone could discover you’re here and they won’t wait long enough to find out who you are before they kill you. You would be lost to me either way.”
She wrapped her arms around her middle to keep from falling apart. Though she hadn’t realized it at the time, she had been looking for Wil all her life. Now that she had finally found her, how could she possibly let her go?
Chapter Fifteen
Wilhelmina woke up feeling hungry. Not just hungry. Starving. Thankfully, Clara had left a tray of food on the nightstand. Ham, eggs, and a big piece of cornbread drenched in butter. Wilhelmina didn’t bother using the fork Clara had provided. She picked up the ham with her bare hands and wolfed it down. Then she broke the cornbread into pieces and used the smaller portions to sop up the yolk from the two fried eggs. She washed it all down with a pitcher of water still cold from the well. When she was done, she felt like a new person.
Her belly was full, her headache was gone, the pain in her chest had subsided to a dull ache, and even though she didn’t know what the future would bring, it didn’t matter because Clara Summers had kissed her. Technically, she had initiated the kiss, but Clara had been a more than willing participant.
She smiled at the remembered feel of Clara’s mouth on hers. Touching. Teasing. Opening for further exploration. She smiled wider when she thought of Clara’s body beneath hers. Soft in all the right places, firm in some unexpected ones, and oh-so-responsive to her touch. She wanted to go back for more.
A soft knock on the door dragged her from her reverie.
“Are you decent?” Clara asked as she stuck her head in the room.
“My attire is, but my thoughts certainly aren’t. You never told me you were such a good kisser.”
Clara looked scandalized.
“Careful. Percy might hear you.”
Wilhelmina could hear Percy singing at the top of his lungs. Off-key, but with great enthusiasm. Clara came in, closed the door behind her, and wedged the chair under the doorknob to give them some privacy.
“I brought fresh bandages so I can change your dressing.”
“You don’t have to think of an excuse to undress me.” Wilhelmina pulled the nightshirt over her head and tossed it aside. She sat before Clara wearing nothing but her underwear and the slowly unraveling bandages. “All you have to do is ask.”
Clara set the oversized bowl on the nightstand.
“You can’t say things like that.”
“Why? Because they’re true?”
“No, because they’re not decent.”
“I don’t feel decent when I’m with you.”
“How do you feel?”
“Wanton.”
Wilhelmina pulled Clara into her lap. She kissed her freely and without reservation. Clara kissed her back the same way, though not for long. She pulled away after only a few minutes. Wilhelmina searched her face, desperate to know what was hidden behind Clara’s veiled gaze.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Clara rested her forehead against hers. “I could kiss you all day, but we don’t have time.” She climbed off the bed and began to remove the bandages barely covering Wilhelmina’s shoulder and chest. “Enid and Mary are on their way over. Abram told them they didn’t have to come today, but they wouldn’t hear of it. They’ll probably be here any minute. We need to hide you somewhere before they show up.”
Wilhelmina was relieved to hear her actions—her kisses—weren’t the cause of Clara’s distress. The news of the Braggs’ impending arrival concerned her, too, though she tried not to show it. Panicking wouldn’t do her any good. She needed to keep her head if she wanted to keep from getting caught—and to keep the Summerses from being forced to pay a severe penalty for saving her life.
“Where do you suggest?” she asked as Clara replaced the old bandages with fresh ones. “There isn’t enough clearance for me to fit under the bed, and the smokehouse is too popular a destination to provide a good hiding place.”
Clara thought for a moment.
“The hayloft,” she said at length. “No one goes up there except for the boys, and they already know about you. You’ll be safe there as long as you keep quiet.”
Wilhelmina dragged her rifle and cartridge box from under the bed. After Clara handed her her uniform, she began to dress.
“I thought the Braggs were your friends.”
“They’re more than friends. They’re practically family.”
Wilhelmina buttoned her coat and put on her hat. She felt like she was preparing for battle even though no enemy was in sight.
“If they’re that dear to you, can’t you trust them?”
“Not with this. Enid has been like a mother to me since Mama died, but she’s as pro-Rebel as they come. If she laid eyes on you, all she’d be able to see is your blue uniform, not the person inside it.”
“What do you see when you look at me?”
Clara caressed her face.
“I see you, Wil.”
Wilhelmina buckled the wide black belt that cinched her coat into place and draped the cartridge box over her uninjured shoulder.
“You must think I’m a fool.”
Clara stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to Wilhelmina’s cheek.
“I think you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met, man or woman.”
Percy banged on the door.
“Stop smooching and come out of there, you two.”
Cla
ra moved the chair and opened the door.
“We were doing no such thing.”
“Then why is your face so red?” Percy asked.
Clara cleared her throat as she smoothed her skirts.
“You’re supposed to be sick in bed, young man, so go change out of your overalls and into your nightclothes. Try to work up a sweat first so Enid will think you have a fever.”
“All right then.”
Percy ran up and down the hall. He sounded like a herd of horses as his shoes clomped against the floorboards.
“Come with me, Mr. Wil,” Abram said. “I’ll show you to the hayloft.”
Clara made herself busy in the kitchen. Wilhelmina wanted to stay with her, but she forced herself to follow Abram outside.
The farm was small but thriving. Plants of all kinds were growing in the fields. Chickens roamed free while hogs and goats were confined to their pens. Two mules and a pair of dairy cows roamed the gently rolling pasture.
The whitewashed barn smelled of fresh hay and old horse manure. Its interior walls were lined with rows of neatly arranged tools. In a small stable, a horse with a canvas feedbag strapped around its head dined on what Wilhelmina assumed was oats while a small orange cat cleaned itself on top of a bale of hay.
“The horse’s name is Slim, but he’s getting too fat for us to call him that much longer,” Abram said. He jerked a thumb at the cat. “That’s Jack. He might not look like much, but he’s a real good mouser.”
Jack seemed to know his name. Pausing his grooming, he looked at Wilhelmina with the tip of his flat pink tongue stuck between his teeth.
“Look, Mr. Wil. He’s poking his tongue out at you. That means he likes you.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Wilhelmina said as Jack went back to licking his belly.
“Are you all right, Mr. Wil? Percy said you were feeling kind of poorly this morning.”
“That was this morning. I’m better now.”
He looked at her hard.
“You still don’t look so good. The ladder’s over there. Do you feel strong enough to climb it? I can give you a boost if you need one.”
The handmade ladder looked strong. And tall. A good ten feet at least.
“I’ll be fine, though I don’t know how I’m going to manage with one hand.”
“That’s all right. I’ll carry your rifle for you.” He took her rifle and scampered up to the hayloft and back before she barely noticed he was gone. “Your turn, Mr. Wil. I’ll climb up behind you in case you need that helping hand we talked about.”
Wilhelmina tucked her left hand into her coat to prevent herself from using her injured arm. The bullet wound didn’t hurt as much as it had the night before, but the burn from the cauterization was starting to smart. She hoped that meant it was starting to heal instead of becoming infected. She couldn’t afford to give the camp physician any reason to examine her when she finally returned to camp. If she returned to camp. She had to make it through the day undetected before she could worry about tomorrow or the day after.
She grabbed the side of the ladder with her right hand and gripped it tight as she used her legs to push herself up. The first few rungs were easy. The middle ones were a bit harder. By the time she neared the top, her calves burned as well as her legs. How had she lost her conditioning so fast? The trauma she had endured must have been harder on her body than she thought because she was panting by the time she collapsed onto a hay bale.
Abram climbed off the ladder and pulled the wooden doors closed.
“When these are open and it’s a clear day, you can see for miles from up here. Percy and I play up here all the time. Well, not as often as we’d like. Looking after the farm takes up most of our time. Clara’s, too. We’re helping out the Braggs at their place until Mr. Joseph gets back, so now we’re looking after two places instead of one.”
“Sounds like hard work.”
“It is, but I like it.”
“Do you want to be a farmer when you grow up?”
“There’s a feeling you get when you pick something you grew with your own hands. I like it.” Abram stuck a long piece of straw between his lips. “Percy and I used to want to be soldiers, but we changed our minds after we saw all those men laid up at the Ogletrees’ place and the ones lying dead on the road. After seeing something like that, I think I’ll stick to farming. Did you always want to be a soldier when you grew up, Mr. Wil?”
“When I was growing up, I didn’t have a chance to plan my future because my parents had already decided it for me. I was supposed to live a certain life and be a certain way. I never thought it was possible for me to be who I am now. For me to be myself. But anything’s possible if you put your mind to it.”
“Can you stay with us instead of going back to the war?” Abram asked plaintively. “Clara’s different with you here.”
“Different how?”
“She hasn’t lost her temper even once since you showed up, and she hasn’t smiled this much since before Mama died. She’s happy, and I think it’s all because of you.” He stood on the ladder and looked at her before he started to descend. “So don’t get killed, okay?”
Wilhelmina laid her rifle across her lap and peered through the cracks between the boards as she heard a wagon approach.
“I’ll try not to.”
*
Clara shaded her eyes with her hand as she watched Abram tie Enid’s horses to the hitching post near the chicken coop.
“We’re in for a hot day today.”
Though it was only spring, the heat of the midday sun already made it feel like summer.
“I think you might be right,” Enid said as Abram offered her a hand to help her down from the wagon. “How’s the patient?”
“About as well as can be expected.” Clara shoved her hands in her pockets because she didn’t know what else to do with them. She told herself to act normal, but she didn’t know what that was anymore. “He’s sleeping right now.”
“Poor thing. He needs all the rest he can get. I don’t want to wake him. It seems odd the sickness came over him all of a sudden. He was fine just yesterday. Not even complaining of a sore throat or anything.”
Clara hated deceiving Enid after everything they had been through, but she simply couldn’t take the risk of telling her about Wil.
“These things happen,” she said with a shrug.
“We can look in on him before we go,” Mary said.
After Abram helped Mary climb down from the wagon, she held his hand a fraction longer than necessary. Clara wished she could hold Wil’s hand like that in public, but she didn’t know when—or if—she would ever be able to.
Enid reached into the back of the wagon.
“I brought some ointment you can rub on Percy’s chest. It stinks to high heaven, but the fumes will open him up so he can breathe. You might not want to breathe too deep, though. If I was you, I’d slather him up real good and make him sleep in the barn tonight. That way, only the animals will have to put up with the stink.”
Clara twisted the lid off the jar and smelled the greasy substance inside. She jerked her head away when she felt her nose hairs curl.
Enid let out a hearty belly laugh.
“I wasn’t joshing when I said it was powerful stuff. Go ahead and take it in the house. While you’re gone, Mary and I will see how the mustard greens are coming along. We lost part of our crop to boll weevils last year, and I want to make sure the little devils don’t strike again.”
Clara tried not to let her eyes drift toward the barn as she walked away. She didn’t want to draw Enid or Mary’s attention to the hayloft. If she did, they might find Wil hiding inside. Then what would she do? Mary’s voice stopped her before she got too far.
“There’s been a man in your yard.” Mary pointed to a set of tracks leading to the barn. “See his footprints?”
“A Yankee tried to rob our smokehouse the other night,” Abram said quickly. “He must have left them then.”
“These prints look fresh,” Mary said. “Like someone made them today. And aren’t those your prints beside them?”
Enid grabbed Mary and pulled her to her side.
“Did that Yank come back, Abram? Is he hiding out somewhere on the property? Is that why you and Clara are acting so funny?”
“He can’t come back,” Abram said. “He’s dead. The Federals shot him for deserting.”
Abram looked regretful as soon as he said the words, but it was too late to take them back.
Enid narrowed her eyes.
“How do you know?”
Abram turned to Clara to help him find a way out of the corner he had backed himself into.
“We heard a volley of gunshots later that night and assumed it was a firing squad,” Clara said. “We haven’t seen anyone roaming around here since.”
“Just because you haven’t seen them doesn’t mean they ain’t here,” Enid said fearfully. “Soldiers are deserting on both sides. There’s a steady stream of them passing through town. Some are wearing blue, and some are wearing gray, but they’re all as yellow as they come. They’re too scared to fight other men so they go around terrorizing innocent women and children instead. I’m going to fetch Jedediah so he and some of the other boys in the Reserves can check your place out. Mine, too, while they’re at it. Unhitch the horses for me, Abram. Come with me, Mary. These men haven’t seen a woman in months. There’s no telling what they might do to you if they saw you.”
Enid climbed into the wagon. Mary followed her, but Abram didn’t move.
“Abram, what are you waiting for, boy? Get a move on. We don’t have a minute to waste.”
Abram held the horses’ leads, but didn’t untie them from the hitching post.
“I’m sorry for spilling the beans,” he said, turning to Clara, “but you got to tell her the rest.”
“Tell me the rest of what?” Enid slapped the reins against her thigh. The horses flinched as if they felt the blow. “What in tarnation has gotten into you two?”
Divided Nation, United Hearts Page 18
