Amy's Choice (A More Perfect Union Series Book 2)

by Betty Bolte

  "I'm sure I do not have anything of yours." Walter's voice sent the timbers of the rafters ringing above Amy's head.

  "If you find it, I insist you return it." Ben's voice was more modulated but equally adamant. Amy heard the rumble of his concern and wondered at the issue.

  "I'll consider your request if such a need arises. Now, out of my way."

  Walter stomped past her as she navigated the steps. She stopped as Walter rushed out the front door. The slamming door shook the timber and stone structure. Amy spotted Benjamin striding her way.

  The expression on his face boded ill for her. She held firm to the banister and finished walking down the stairs.

  Benjamin stopped before her and frowned. "What about you? Will you not come away with me now that the lad has arrived?"

  "Of course not." A slight frown tightened her forehead. She must make him understand how vital her presence here, at her sister's side, remained. "How can you go on about this so?"

  "You're not safe here, darling." Ben opened his hands with palms facing the ceiling. "What more can I say to convince you to ride with me?"

  "You're being overly dramatic. As long as we're in the house, we're safe enough. It's a good, sturdy house even if it is oppressive to me." She glanced at the heavy damask drapes hanging at the windows, the elegant furniture gracing the entry. She'd talk to Evelyn about opening the drapes, even redecorating with bright, more inviting colors. "Walter seems to be a man of his word even if he is an ogre. We'll be safe enough here, I'm sure."

  "I'm not." Benjamin raked a hand over his head, leaving finger grooves in his dark, wavy hair. "I believe you're right to be afraid, which is why I insist you leave with me on the morrow." He stepped closer, reaching for her hands.

  Crossing her arms, Amy glared at him. So her earlier hope that he could see reason was nothing but flimsy dreams. "You cannot honestly think I'll leave Evelyn and Jim here so soon after his arrival. Evelyn needs my help, and I want to become more acquainted with my precious nephew. I'm not going anywhere."

  Benjamin inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. "Once you're my wife, as you will be one day, you'll pay me more mind. I'll see to that."

  "Then you must realize the day will never arrive when you will be my husband." Amy smoothed her damp hands on the white apron protecting her favorite blue day dress. "I'll not marry you or anyone as long as men have that opinion. No man will be my master."

  "Of course you'll marry one day, and I mean for you to marry me." He took her hands and lifted them to his chest. "I have cared for you since we were in our teens, kissing under the old live oak on your father's plantation. Your fictions have allowed you to lie to yourself that you can do anything you have a mind to. But as you enter your more mature years, you'll see the storytelling must stop. As a republican wife, you must set the example of honesty, integrity, and love of country."

  "A republican wife?" Amy shivered at the concept. "Fiddlesticks! I'll not marry an entire country, after all. I will not marry any man, in particular you, with your officious opinion of my stories. You think they are lies? Believe what you will; it matters not to me. If you'll excuse me, I've wasted enough time talking with you." She moved to walk around him, but he blocked her way with one muscled arm.

  "Lies come in many forms, my dear." A muscle twitched in his jaw, drawing her eyes to the hard face and steely gaze. "Now that the war is ending, we can both stop lying for a living and return to decent, honest lives." He tipped her chin up to force her to meet his eyes. "We can start over, together, laying the foundation of this new country by creating strapping boys and pretty little girls to populate these fertile lands."

  Amy could not believe his views. For years she had hoped to marry this handsome, intelligent, patriotic man. Now he claimed her stories were lies and she would have to stop, not if but when they married? He obviously thought he could control her every movement, her actions, her future. "This is why I vowed to never marry. Because men believe they rule the world, and I'll not have you ruling me. I'll be my own woman and run my own life in my own way." She stabbed a finger into his chest to emphasize her words. "And you'll not have any say in the matter."

  "What do you mean, you'll never marry? How will you survive without a husband to take care of you?"

  Did he not hear all she said because he was stuck in this fascination with marrying her? "I'll survive on my own terms. How could I possibly even consider marrying a man who can't tell the difference between creative stories and lies? My goodness. You have such little respect for me, you make me ill." She pushed past him, hurrying across the echoing entryway before he saw the tears threatening in the corners of her eyes. "Go away, Benjamin!"

  "Amy, wait. I love you. Doesn't that count for anything?"

  With a heavy sigh, she turned back to glare at him. He had not moved from the bottom of the stairs, his face revealing the depth of his puzzlement.

  "Go back to your precious general and your integrity and leave me out of your future. I don't want to be owned by any man, let alone by someone with such a low opinion of me and my talents." She made a shooing motion with both hands as though chasing away chickens. "Go away."

  With that she disappeared through the kitchen door, not caring what he did next. She never wanted to see him again.

  Chapter 10

  Amy blinked awake, the echo of some disturbing noise fading into silence. Glancing about the room, she searched for the source of the sound as a yawn stretched her mouth wide. The house creaked and popped around her, likely digging in to prepare to fight off the forces working against it. Would it win the battle with the encroaching forest, its vines inching toward the back fence and then across the garden to the house? She shivered and pulled the quilt closer to her chin.

  A light tap on the door broke the early morning quiet. Reluctantly she slipped out from under the warm quilt and donned her robe, shivering as the chilly air caressed her bare legs. Pushing her feet into slippers, she padded to the door and pulled it open.

  "Samantha? What's wrong?" Dread shot through her as she took in the slight frown on Samantha's face. "Is it the baby?"

  "No, no," Samantha whispered. "Everyone is fine. In fact, asleep. That's why we must hurry, so we return before they awaken."

  "Return from where?" A trickle of dread crept down Amy's back. Samantha's grin didn't reassure her one bit.

  "I need you to help me harvest basil and sorghum to replenish my supply. I've used the last of what I brought."

  "You mean go back into the forest?" Amy hugged herself, one hand clasping the heart-shaped pendant. The gem warmed in her grasp. She'd discovered she still wore it when she prepared for bed the night before. All the commotion of Jim's birth had made her forget its presence around her neck. She planned to return it to Benjamin as soon as she saw him. A shiver shook her shoulders.

  Samantha bobbed her head quickly. "We won't go far. I saw a good patch of it the other day. We passed it a little ways into the forest on a steep bank."

  "Can't you use something else?" Amy quailed at the thought of the proposed journey into the woods before the sun was even fully awake.

  "No, it's the only herb I trust for Evelyn. But I need your help to gather enough because it will be hard to reach." Samantha studied her, eyebrows rising. "Pray tell me you're not afraid?"

  Amy nodded, mute with fear.

  "Come, don't be silly. What could happen?" Samantha cocked a brow. "I'll be there to protect you from the ghosts and goblins. Now, come on."

  Having exhausted her limited excuses but still feeling this venture a mistake, Amy relented. "Fine. I don't like it, but I understand your need. I'll meet you downstairs in a few minutes."

  Samantha nodded, quietly moving down the hall to the stairs. Amy slipped into her clothes and grabbed her heavy shawl, her favorite one since her grandmother had made it for her years before. The thick red wool comforted the icy tension from her frame as she walked down the hall. She couldn't let Samantha go alone, but she would sorely pref
er to stay in her warm bed.

  She eased the kitchen door closed to quiet its persistent squealing. "I can't warrant how I let you talk me into venturing out before the sun is fully up. And without even a cup of tea to chase away the chill."

  "I'll brew you a lovely pot of tea from my own special mixture as soon as we return. Now keep your voice down so we don't awaken anyone. They need their rest."

  "And I don't?"

  Samantha put a finger to her lips, eyes twinkling, before hurrying through the garden to the rear gate. As Amy trudged along the narrow trail, she marveled at the spider webs scattered among the tall stalks of the low plants, each thread illuminated by glistening dewdrops reflecting prisms of light. With each step she took, the shadows receded, relinquishing their ownership of the forest to the strengthening sunlight. Birds made a symphony of song to herald the sunrise from their hidden nests and perched among the bare branches of the surrounding trees and bushes.

  "Why are you so afraid of being outside among nature?" Samantha glanced over her shoulder, curiosity plain in her expression.

  "It's not the natural part I'm worried about." Amy walked behind, darting glances around her.

  "You're not still going on about ghosts, are you?"

  "I don't know—I feel like I'm being watched by something decidedly unfriendly." She scanned the trees and brush, equally hoping and fearing she'd discover what studied her.

  "There's nothing watching you except the creatures that live here. Such foolishness." Samantha's laughter echoed among the tree trunks.

  She'd known better than to say much about her concerns to Samantha, but she'd expected more understanding from her at the same time. After all, they were friends and had been for almost two years. She bit back a retort, preferring to keep her own counsel rather than confront her friend's opinions again. They walked in silence for a few minutes.

  "Are you afraid of anything, Samantha? You seem unperturbed by everything."

  Samantha chuckled as she pushed a branch aside. "Only one thing but I won't tell you because I don't want to make it happen."

  "Oh, that's not fair!" Amy slapped at a fly buzzing in her hair. They'd left in such a rush she'd forgotten her bonnet, and she regretted the lapse. "I'm only truly afraid of one thing—fire."

  "You needn't worry about that out here." Samantha stopped and gazed at the faint trail leading steeply downhill into the woods. The path stretched toward where a stream could be heard babbling below. "Steady me while I cut off several stems."

  Amy gripped the heavy cloth of Samantha's cloak as she inched down the plummeting embankment to reach the dancing branches. The morning proved chillier than she'd anticipated when she selected her shawl rather than her own cloak. Nothing to do about it at the moment except concentrate on preventing Samantha from falling. She wouldn't let her down.

  "Just a little bit farther," Samantha said. "That bunch right... over... there."

  Amy gasped as the cloth tugged on her hands. The thick fabric filled Amy's petite fist, too coarse and woolly for her to hang on to for long. "Hurry, Samantha."

  "Almost have enough." Samantha snipped another stalk and added it to the basket hanging on her arm. "A few more should suffice."

  The dense fabric tired Amy's hands. The ache in her fingers turned into hot pricks of pain; then a spasm reflexively opened her hands, and Samantha lurched forward.

  Amy managed to grab the cloth again, willing her hands to be strong enough.

  Samantha leaned even farther, both hands reaching, one holding the branch, the other the scissors. Suddenly her feet slipped out from under her, wrenching the cloak from Amy's exhausted fingers.

  Samantha screamed, the sound of her voice receding as she tumbled out of sight, heading for the fast-flowing creek below.

  Amy gasped as Samantha disappeared into the underbrush.

  * * *

  The sun had barely cleared the horizon when Benjamin entered the dining room to seek out his morning meal. He hoped to find Amy there as well. He had not seen her long enough to talk with since she'd walked out on him yesterday. He'd not slept well, what for thinking over her angry words, but Emily's cooking made it worth climbing out of bed. He perused the buffet, smiling when he saw his favorite poached quail eggs. Filling a plate with eggs, sausage, and warm bread, he took his place at the table, ready to enjoy his repast in the early morning quiet.

  Scurrying footsteps made him pause in the act of taking his first bite. Now what?

  Emily ran into the room, her ashen face and frantic eyes shooting alarm through him. He laid his fork down regretfully. "What is the matter?"

  "Have you seen them? I knew something was going to happen, I could feel it, but I didn't expect this." Emily huffed and puffed, trying to catch her breath. "I went to wake them for breakfast but they were gone."

  "What?" Concern propelled him to his feet, breakfast forgotten.

  "No, who!" Emily laid a hand to her chest, her breathing slowing.

  "Who, then? Out with it."

  "Amy and Samantha—they're not here. Where have they gone?"

  "Where indeed." He threw his napkin on the table. "Did they run an errand perhaps?" Fool girls. If they left without him, he'd flog them himself.

  "Maybe they were kidnapped..."

  "And nothing and no one else harmed? I'd think not. They're probably out picking berries."

  "I know something bad has happened." Emily wrung her hands, her fear palpable. "Find them, Benjamin. If anyone can, it's you."

  "I'll find them, don't worry about that." He just hoped he found them first.

  * * *

  Pine needles slithered beneath Amy's feet as she half slid down the steep bank toward where Samantha lay motionless. The forest birds resumed their many-voiced choir, ignoring the hurting woman as they sang to the morning sun.

  "Samantha, I'm coming." Her feet slipped several times, and she grabbed hold of a sapling to stop herself from falling as well. Finally reaching the bottom, she tentatively touched Samantha's shoulder and drew a long breath when she saw her friend's chest rise and fall. A low moan indicated her friend was coming around. She nudged the woman's shoulder, unsure what to do. Samantha was the healer, after all. "Samantha, can you hear me?"

  Samantha eased herself onto her back. Amy started to untangle the gnarled skirts and cloak when Samantha yelped and stayed Amy's hand.

  "My leg." Samantha pulled the fabric away, and Amy gasped. A thorny stick from a nearby dormant blackberry bush pierced the heavy fabric and disappeared into her leg. A thin trail of blood oozed across the skirt, slowly soaking in and turning the dove-gray dress maroon in a small circle. Amy hated blood, any blood. Seeing her best friend's lifeblood on the fabric made her stomach heave. She swallowed back the bile, commanding the spots before her eyes to go away, and squared her shoulders.

  "What do I do?" Amy focused on Samantha's pain-filled eyes rather than the bloody stick. "I don't want to hurt you."

  Samantha's breath came in quick, shallow gasps. "Tear your hem into a strip, quickly."

  "Where did the scissors go?" Amy scanned the bank, spotting them halfway up. The descent had been precarious, but the climb back up would be daunting. With Samantha wounded, how would she make such a climb? How could she help her friend back to the house? She studied Samantha and realized she had to stop the bleeding. To do that, she needed those scissors to quickly make the strips. Amy scrambled up the steep slope, her shoes finding little purchase on the thick layer of needles. Suddenly she lost her footing and slid back down, scratched several times by hidden sticks and roots.

  "There's no time to try again." Samantha looked at Amy, her face white.

  "You must stay awake, to tell me how to help you." The pallor of her friend's face scared Amy as she scrambled back to her side. She grabbed her skirt hem and yanked on it, but the cloth didn't yield. "Fiddlesticks!" It had to tear. She gripped it again and pulled with all her strength, pleased to hear a tiny tear begin. With renewed vigor she pulled again, and
the fabric split along the threads. She made a long strip from her hem. "Now what?"

  Inhaling sharply, Samantha braced both hands on either side of her legs. "You need to pull out the stick, then tie the strip around the wound. I'd prefer some of the spider webs we passed earlier to stanch the bleeding, but since climbing that bank is not an option at the moment we'll have to make do with what's at hand. We'll need something else, perhaps some lint or linen, to put under it, to absorb the blood."

  Amy blanched at the necessary steps, fixated on the first one with horror. "Pull it out? But that will hurt you. I can't do it."

  "Yes, you can and must." Samantha locked eyes with her. "You have to."

  "But..."

  Samantha gazed at her. She fisted her skirt into each hand and clenched her jaw. "Do it now."

  Refusing to think about the amount of pain she was about to inflict, Amy grasped the stick, careful to avoid the thorns spaced along its length, and yanked with all her strength. Samantha screamed as Amy fell on her backside, the bloody stick in her hands. She dropped it and raced back to Samantha, quickly pulling the fabric off the leg. The flesh of Samantha's leg gaped raw and jagged, blood trickling across her white skin. Tears streamed unheeded down Amy's face as she stared at the wound.

  "Use your shawl." Samantha's words emerged through clenched teeth.

  Without comment Amy bundled her grandmother's knitted shawl and tried not to dwell on the sentimental value of it as Samantha laid it on the small wound. The thirsty flax yarn soaked up the blood. Amy wound the strip of cloth around the bulky pad as Samantha indicated, pulling the makeshift tourniquet tight and secure. Samantha collapsed back onto the ground, her breaths jagged, sniffing as her tears slowly dried on her cheeks.

  Amy flopped on the pine-needle-covered ground and rubbed her temples, closing her eyes briefly as the beginning of a headache threatened. Opening her eyes, she evaluated the situation. Samantha had her eyes closed, her breathing fast and shallow. Amy surveyed the bank they had to ascend to return to the safety of the house. Could she manage it to summon help? Behind them the creek flowed fast and full from the recent rains, so they had little chance of a way home via that route.