They walked to the kitchen just as Cricket was setting the table.
“Why, Cricket, what a pleasant surprise,” Sadie said, pausing to smile at Jesse. She was happy the two girls had put their differences aside.
“I made red sauce with clams. I hope that is ok,” Cordie said, dropping the linguine into the boiling pot of water.
“That sounds wonderful. Do you girls need any help?”
“Would you butter the bread, Aunt Sadie?”
Sadie was more than glad to help. It appeared Cordie was back to normal and had finally accepted that all of them, Cricket included, were only looking out for her best interest.
Chapter Twenty Six
Cordie Goes Home
Cordie paced, waiting for Cricket to arrive. Her aunt and uncle had gone to deposit their check from this year’s cotton harvest at the bank and were then going out to dinner. As soon as she heard Cricket’s car, she rushed to get dressed.
“Hey,” Cricket shouted as she closed the front door.
“I’m up here,” Cordie shouted. Cricket ran up the steps straight into her friend’s room.
“Are you ready?”
“Yeah,” Cricket said but the truth was she had other plans that she had not told Cordie or Jon about during their lengthy conversation about today.
“Okay, here we go.”
Cordie stood dressed in a pair of Jon’s pants and one of his father’s shirts, which was much too big for her. She wore a pair of riding boots. Cricket shook her head.
“I can’t ride a horse with one of those dresses on,” Cordie said and laughed. She placed her hand on the mirror, closing her eyes. “Take me to Jon Pembroke Schelling, December 1st, 1864.”
Just as Cordie began to slip through the surface of the mirror, Cricket quickly wrapped her hands around Cordie’s waist, and was pulled through the time portal with her.
“What are you doing?” Cordie shouted as they appeared beneath the Live Oak.
“I know how to shoot a gun, and you need someone here to protect Jon until you get back,” Cricket lied.
Cordie shook her head as Jon came across the field with his best horse, Blackie, in tow.
“Are you certain this is what you want?” Jon asked, pausing to hand the reins to Cordie.
“I have never been so sure of anything in my life. Trust me. It will work.”
Neither Jon nor Cricket knew Cordie was an accomplished equestrian and were rather shocked when she pulled the saddle from the horse, and waited for Jon to boost her onto the horse’s back.
“I played Polo in New York,” she said with a smile. “A kiss, for luck,” she whispered while leaning against the horse.
Cricket smiled as Jon kissed her best friend.
Cordie pulled on the reins of the horse and maneuvered him around the tree, then edged him to a gallop.
Jon watched as the only woman he had ever given his heart to disappeared into the night.
“Don’t worry, I’ve seen her fight. Cordie has a mean left hook,” Cricket said, hoping to ease Jon’s fears.
She pushed the horse, keeping him at a full gallop for as long as she could, knowing firsthand what happened when a horse was ridden at a full gait for too long. Cordie slowed the horse and slid from its back before leading Blackie into the woods.
The Union Army was there, in the woods, somewhere. She only needed to find them. Cordie knew her prominent New York accent would be easily recognizable if only she could get close to General Sherman.
Light was fading as the sun was beginning to set. Time was not in her favor as Cordie looked over her shoulder, then heard a twig snap.
“Up with those hands,” a voice with a heavy northern accent said.
Cordie slowly raised her hands above her head.
“My name is Cordelia Foxworth. I come with news meant only for General Sherman of the utmost importance. Please, tell him Virgina Bostworth sends her regards.”
She closed her eyes, praying all she had read, all those hours of research about General Sherman, and his lost love who resided in Savannah, was true. If it was, Cordie was certain she could change history and prevent not only Jon’s death but also the burning of Savannah.
The soldier stepped from the brush, whistling quickly to alert his men. Five men, clothed in near rags, stepped from the forest and surrounded Cordelia.
“Wait here,” he instructed. Cordelia nodded her head and removed her hat, allowing her dark curls to fall. One of the men gasped.
“You are a woman,” he said, quite astonished.
“The last time I checked,” Cordie replied dryly.
“And you are in the woods, alone, at this time of night?”
“I am not a Southern woman, sir, who relies on the men in her life to keep her from harm. I, sir, am a New Yorker.”
The men looked at each other, nodding their heads. Before they could question her motives further, the first soldier, who appeared to be a Sergeant, appeared from the woods.
“General Sherman has agreed to an audience. Follow me.”
Cordie handed the reins of her horse to the young man and followed close behind through the dense forest until they came to a small clearing.
“Miss Foxworth,” the Sergeant said as he introduced Cordelia. “Might I introduce General William T. Sherman.”
Cordie reached to shake the General’s hand, a quite forward thing for a woman to do. Sherman smiled.
“Come inside, please,” he said, parting the flap to his tent. Once inside, he offered Cordie a chair. “Now tell me, what brings a woman to the woods in the middle of the night.”
“I come with news that will turn the war in our favor, and to plead for one of my own. Well, two,” Cordie said, smiling, praying the charms of a young woman who was risking her life would be enough to at least warrant listening.
“Go on,” General Sherman said as he lit his cigar.
“As we speak, sir, the Confederate Army makes ready to flee across the river into South Carolina. By the time you reach Savannah, they will be long gone.”
Sherman stroked his beard, attempting to assess if the woman before him was lying.
“Yet somehow, I believe that is not the only reason you are here.”
“No, sir, I come also to let you know a large group of Southern sympathizers are gathered on my family’s property and that of the Schelling family. They mean to execute my husband for his act of freeing his slaves, which I would imagine is little value to you, except the man leading this horror is none other than a Union deserter named Carter Stockton. He joined the war under the pretense of gathering intelligence about the south,” Cordelia lied, knowing that as soon as the War Tribunal was held, Carter Stockton would be released under a case of mistaken identity just the same as she had read in history class.
“So you have come asking that we accompany you so that your husband’s life might be spared?”
“And the life of Virginia Bostworth and the city she loves.”
Sherman stared at Cordelia for a long time, not saying anything, not giving any insight into if he would help her. Finally, after ten long minutes of silence, he spoke.
“If you know Virgina, then tell me, what is her middle name.”
“Rose, Virginia Rose Bostworth, born in Savannah in 1832, daughter of Leonard Bostworth and Ginnie Smithers Bostworth.”
General Sherman nodded his head.
“Sergeant Graves, accompany this young woman back to her plantation and seize the men there, all but her husband.”
“Yes, General,” the Sergeant replied.
A sigh slipped from Cordie’s lips. It had worked. Jon was not going to die.
Cricket watched impatiently as she stood at the corner of the barn wearing Jon’s jacket with his father’s musket steadied against the wood.
“You really should hide. What if Cordie doesn’t make it back before that jerk of a brother arrives with his friends?”
“If that is the course this day takes, Miss Cricket, then our love was n
ever meant to be.”
She frowned and looked at the four guns propped against the side of the barn.
“If it comes to it, you make sure you reload as soon as I drop the gun after firing, you got that?” Cricket asked as her eyes scanned the fields for any sign of Carter.
Jon nodded his head and picked up one of the muskets. He was not about to let two women defend him.
“There he is,” Cricket whispered, pointing to the far side of the field. “He has four men with him.”
Cricket steadied her musket, pressing her cheek into the wood of the butt, and drew down her line of sight. Before Jon could stop her, Cricket pulled the trigger, shooting one of the men in the shoulder. She dropped the musket and reached for another.
“Come on Cordie,” she said, and just as she did, Cordie came riding Blackie at a full gait with six Union soldiers behind her. “Thank God,” Cricket said. “She made it.”
Jon hugged Cricket. Cordie had done it. She had saved him.
Cordie rode straight to the barn, yelling for them to get inside.
“See, history isn’t boring Cricket,” Cordie said as she hugged her friend tightly.
“How did you ever manage it?” Cricket asked.
“Love is just the beginning, Cricket, and if it is true, it can melt any man’s heart.”
They watched in silence as Carter and the other Confederate Soldiers were rounded up and led to the waiting wagon.
“You are certain he will not be found guilty?” Jon asked.
“I am positive. Nothing about the future will change unless your brother decides to change his ways. Maybe if he decides to become a decent man, he can have a happy life.”
Cordie turned toward Cricket. Her eyes filled with tears. She had not told Cricket she had no intention of returning home.
“We need to get you home,” Jon said.
“I am staying,” Cricket said defiantly.
“But you can’t. You have a family.”
Cricket looked at the ground, kicking the dirt and hay with her foot.
“Yeah, about that. I never told you the truth about my family. My mom took off years ago, couldn’t handle having a kid I guess. Aunt Petulia has cancer, Cordie. When she dies, I have no where to go. I left her a note and told her not to try to come for me, that I was making a life for myself here, with you and Jon, so things could be different. She’s in intensive care. Aunt Petulia won’t tell your family. She suspected this was what you were going to do all along. If she hadn’t got sick, she probably would have told them right away, but not now, she won’t, not when she knows I have nowhere to go but with you.”
Cordie wrapped her arms around Cricket holding her tightly. “Well, Miss Cricket, you should not worry that pretty little head of yours. As far as I am concerned, you are my cousin,” Cordie said in her best southern voice. “The best cousin a girl ever had.”
“There is only one item left to tend,” Jon said, smiling. Cricket tilted her head, not sure what Jon meant, but somehow knew it had something to do with the mirror.
“Cordie, we’re home,” Sadie shouted as she closed the front door behind her. When there was no response, she immediately looked at Jesse.
“Cordelia!” he shouted as he felt the panic begin to build in his wife.
Just as Sadie turned toward her husband, they heard a loud crash. They both ran up the stairs to Cordie’s room and threw the door open. There, on the floor, was the glass from the antique mirror shattered into thousands of pieces.
Chapter Twenty Seven
Our Niece
Sadie and Jesse did all the proper things that should be done in the wake of a child going missing. They contacted the authorities, put up fliers, called old friends, and spoke to detectives. But, they went through all these motions knowing they would never see Cordie again.
Sadie was well aware of the tales of the south. She might not have believed some of them, but deep down, she knew they had to come from somewhere. She knew that Cordie had seen Jon and she knew that Cordie was unhappy in her current life.
Most detectives assumed the girls, both being almost eighteen, had run away together. There wasn’t much of a search or much evidence of any police activity.
Two weeks after the girls left, Petulia passed away. Sadie sat by her bed and assured her that she would never stop looking for Cricket, and once she found her, she would take care of her.
“Miss Sadie, those girls are gone,” Petulia said, through dry, cracked lips.
“What do you mean?” Sadie asked.
“You must know that Cordie is deeply in love with Jon Schelling. You can tell yourself it’s impossible every single day, all day, but it won’t make it go away. She just loves that boy.”
Tears welled in Sadie’s eyes.
“How is it even possible?” she wailed.
Petulia tried to sit up more. “Miss Sadie, you listen to me.”
Sadie wiped her tears and looked into Petulia’s eyes.
“Miss Sadie, those girls found a way out of this life. They both had lost or were losing people they loved. They wanted to start over. They are almost eighteen and, pretty soon, they’d be off at college or where ever else they chose. Why not this? Why not a life filled with happiness and the kind of love most of us can only dream about?”
Sadie sort of understood at that point. “It’s like a dream come true in a way. I dress up every week and pretend to be part of that time, loving the feel of it, how simple life was. I just never imagined Cordie would want any part of a time without wifi.”
Both the ladies laughed a bit.
“What she wanted was true love. And she found it. We should all be as lucky,” Petulia said.
“It sure would have been nice if it was a nice young man from around here,” Sadie said after a few silent moments. “I mean, Jon Schelling… he’s a bit old for her, don’t you think?”
The ladies laughed again at Sadie’s little implication.
“I’ve now lost my parents, my brother and my niece. I feel like Jesse is the only constant in my life,” Sadie finally said, fighting back tears.
“Let love live. The person doesn’t have to be present for that. Death ends a life. It sure doesn’t end love. It’s stardust,” Petulia said.
A monitor started to beep loudly, as Petulia slipped from this life. Sadie brushed silent tears from her cheeks as the doctors called the time of death.
Chapter Twenty Eight
August 22nd, 1866
“Well, look at this,” Cordie said, handing the newspaper to Cricket.
Cricket glanced at it. “Well, I declare.”
They both laughed at their overly southern accents and leaned in close to read the article.
‘Yesterday, President Andrew Johnson signed a Proclamation. This proclamation, declaring that peace, order, tranquility, and civil authority now exists in and throughout the whole of the United States of America.’
“I suppose that it is over,” Cordie said. “Good thing, too. It was so taxing on my free time.”
Cricket giggled again.
“More tea, Madam?” the server asked.
“No, thank you,” Cordie answered. “We are late to meet my fiancé. I do believe it is time for me to pick out a wedding dress.”
The server smiled as Cricket and Cordie rose and left the small tea-room and started down the cobblestone street.
“Jon, Dear!” Cordie called when she saw him. “We are here.”
He beamed at his bride to be. “Have you ladies had a nice day out?”
“We have,” Cordie said and smiled. “Now, we are ready to go home.”
Just as the women readied to walk to the waiting carriage, Cricket noticed a wagon navigating the streets, headed toward the courthouse.
“Jon, that is a prisoner wagon,” Cricket said, reaching for Cordie’s hand. They had all discussed what might happen at length, knowing it would be discovered Carter was not the man the North believed him to be.
“No time like the pres
ent,” Cordie whispered, straightening her dress and taking a deep breath.
“Are you certain this is what you want,” Jon asked.
“I am. You both must understand, there is no certainty in the events we stopped unless Carter’s heart is healed. The easy part was saving you, the hard part will be keeping you safe.”
Cricket walked ahead of Jon and Cordie with a determined step. She meant to let her intentions known to Carter immediately. When she reached the wagon, she shouted, “Carter Pembroke Schelling!’
“Yes ma’am,” a voice replied, as the man stepped forward. Cordelia gasped at his appearance. Though his resemblance was nearly identical to Jon, he was broken and torn by the war. His clothes were near rags, his appearance was unkept and disheveled, and his complexion was shallow.
“I am Cricket Derringer, I have come to fetch you home.”
His eyes smiled as Carter stared at Cricket and her unusual beauty, slowly drinking in every detail of her dark green dress and shawl. He stepped from the wagon and removed his hat.
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, but tell me, do I know you?”
“I find it highly unlikely,” Cricket said, pausing to open her parasol. “I am the cousin of Jon’s betrothed.”
She reached forward offering her hand to steady Carter as he walked with an unsteady gait. Cricket leaned close to him. “And you should know, it was me who shot your beloved compatriot in arms, and I will not hesitate to end your life, sir, if you interfere with Cordelia’s happiness.”
Carter slowly nodded his head and looked through the crowded streets to see Jon waiting patiently with Cordelia on his arm. They walked until they reached Carter, not knowing what to expect. Jon was flabbergasted, when he reached forward to shake his brother’s hand. Carter, instead, hugged him like he once had when they were children. Cordie stepped aside, wrapping her arm through Cricket’s as the brothers embraced.
“I am sorry,” Carter whispered. “For every thought and transgression my heart held toward you.”
Tears streamed across Carter’s face as he refused to let go of Jon. “I have seen things, things no man should see, and have been driven by anger, hatred, and blinded by what the truth was all along. You were, and are, the better man.”
House at Whispering Oaks Page 12
