by Diane Wylie
“Yes,” she whispered in his ear, and he obliged. He watched her face as he buried himself deeply inside her, moving slowly, carefully. When the pain came, she knew he saw it, and he pressed his lips tenderly to her cheeks and her mouth, soothing it away.
“Jenny, my Jenny, my love,” he whispered huskily. She saw the moisture gathering in his eyes until it trickled down his cheeks.
“I love you, David…I do—”
Suddenly his hands were crushing her down into the bed. His body was driving into her with so much force that she wanted to scream at him to stop. This unexpected violence from her gentle soldier frightened her, but oddly her body seemed unaware of this fear. Her body was responding to his. She was climbing and climbing to a height whose peak seemed out of reach…until—
She cried out. Every muscle in her body tensed under him, making her clutch his broad shoulders desperately. Parts of her that had never known such feelings pulsed and throbbed. Closing her eyes, she let it take over as she shuddered and quaked uncontrollably.
He continued to move hard against her. A strange growling noise penetrated the sound of her own blood rushing in her ears, and she opened her eyes. His face was a mask of conflicting emotions. His green eyes met hers, full of anguish and love. Reaching up, she brushed her fingertips across his cheeks and the wetness there.
Seconds later a loud animal kind of noise seemed to come from deep inside him, and his body tightened and convulsed. The rush of warm liquid filled her and wet her thighs with its slickness. Watching his face, she saw that he seemed to be both happy and sad at the same time. After a time, with his body still quivering, he wrapped his arms around her tightly then slowly and carefully rolled to the side, bringing her with him.
Pushing herself up, she straddled his hips, carefully avoiding any contact with his bandaged leg. She raised herself up on her elbows and looked at him. He turned his head away and closed his eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
Bending lower, Jenny pressed a kiss to his ear and sucked his earlobe into her mouth then let go to breathe in his ear, “What are you sorry for, David? I have no regrets; you need not have any on my account.”
His head turned toward her and he looked at her. “You deserved better than that. I lost control. I-I wanted this to be good for you.”
Reaching up, she brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. “I know that I have no experience from which to say this, but I…” She ducked her head and smiled. “…I very much enjoyed what just happened.”
“Are you sure?”
Raising her head, she nodded. “I am absolutely positive…do you think…” A crazy, impulse stole over her. “Do you think we can do it again?”
She watched his face light up with joy. He began to laugh and laugh as he pulled her close to his chest. “Oh, yes, sweetheart. Yes.”
Chapter Twelve
With a bang the door to Kizzie’s cabin swung open, letting in a burst of cold air. The snow had melted during a short spell of warmer weather, but now the temperature had dipped down again. It was cold for this southern state, although it seemed almost balmy to David when compared to winters in his native Pennsylvania.
He was guiding Nate and Madeline through some of the more difficult words in the book Jenny had loaned him to keep boredom at bay. Nate told him proudly that they had been allowed to join the master’s son, Benjamin Winston, when his sister was giving him his lessons.
“Massa say as long as we gits our work done, we can have all the book learnin’ we wants.”
David had been pleasantly surprised to find that both sixteen-year old Nate and his thirteen-year old sister already knew their alphabet and could read fairly well. He had always assumed that Southerners kept their slaves ignorant of reading and writing.
This revelation about the regard that the Winston family had for their servants eased some of the anxiety he felt about living here on a slave-holding estate. He didn’t approve of slavery, which was part of the reason he fought this war to begin with. It made him uncomfortable to be on the receiving end of slave labor, but he reminded himself that he had had little choice in the matter and was leaving as soon as he was able.
The children sat on either side of his chair by the fire as they read Oliver Twist together. His bandaged leg was propped up on a log bench, and beside it rested the simple cane that Luther had made for him from a piece of hickory. The cane’s polished surface caught the light from the fire giving it a warm, rich appearance. David was very touched by the gesture from the big man and a little embarrassed by all the attention he was receiving.
All four people in the cabin looked up to see Isaac as he burst in carrying an armload of firewood for Kizzie. The big man’s dark face was wet with perspiration from chopping wood all morning. Because there was little fieldwork to be done during the winter, he, Luther, and the other field hands spent a large part of their days gathering and chopping wood to fuel the many fireplaces of the estate.
Isaac dropped a new log on the fire, scattering sparks on the stones dramatically. Then he dumped the remainder of the logs in the corner of the cabin. David looked up to see the man mopping his face with a cloth and eyeing his two children grimly.
Madeline leaned across him to see the book, but Nate sat as close as possible without touching the Yankee. Neither child noticed their father’s stare. They were both pointing at the book, to the page that had an illustration of Oliver Twist begging for more food.
“That boy smart,” Nate declared, “he ask for mo’ food, and he gonna git it.”
“He jus’ plum stupid,” Madeline argued, “he gonna git into heap o’ trouble fo’ that, you see if he don’t.”
Noticing Isaac’s less than pleased expression, David asked quietly, “Is something wrong?”
“No, suh, Cap’n Reynolds, suh. I just got somethin’ on my mind.”
“Is it something I can help with? I haven’t been much good to anyone since I came…”
“Oh, don’t yo’ worry none ’bout that. We knows yo’ been hurt and sick and all…I just thought I could ask yo’ a question.”
David handed the well-worn book to Madeline. “Why don’t you two go read to Patsy a bit while I talk to your father?”
Madeline looked at Isaac and Kizzie for permission. “That be all right, Mother Kizzie?”
Nate hesitated. “Daddy, I gotsta bring wood to the big house, don’t I?”
Isaac nodded, “Go on, both of yo’.”
Both children grabbed their coats and were out the door in a flash.
David lifted his leg from the bench, placed it carefully on the floor, and motioned for Isaac to sit. The man moved to the bench, picked up the cane and studied it for a moment, then handed it to him without comment. He folded his big body to sit directly across from the Yankee.
He really liked Isaac. The man was truly devoted to his wife, Cordelia, and two children. He had a good sense of humor and seemed to be a very patient father to the very active Nate and Madeline. From what he had seen, Isaac had also taken his slightly slower witted brother-in-law, Luther, under his wing as well and watched out for the bigger man as if he were a brother. In fact, in the order of things among the slaves he had met, Isaac stood second-in-command to the wisdom and power of tiny Mother Kizzie.
“You have some great children, Isaac. They read very well.” The man nodded in acknowledgement, but his mind was obviously elsewhere. David waited.
“Cap’n Reynolds,” he began slowly, almost reluctantly, “y’all is from the No’th, right?” David nodded, so Isaac continued, “Mizz Jenny say, when she bring yo’ here, that the No’th be fighting fo’ us slaves. Is that right?”
“That’s right. This war began to keep our country together, united as one nation as our first president and forefathers intended. We could not allow the Southern states to break away from the Union. Now it has grown into more than that, at least on the Federal side. In September of last year, President Lincoln issued an Emancipation Proclamation to free
the slaves in the South. Of course, the Confederate states did not acknowledge that proclamation. But, if we win this war…the North that is…you will be set free…at least that is what I have come to believe. I believe President Lincoln is a man of his word.”
Isaac looked at him with dark, sad eyes. “And if y’all don’t win?”
David shrugged. “I honestly don’t know, Isaac. I suppose life will go back to whatever it was for you before the war started.”
There was no response as the big man stared at the fire. Kizzie still sat at her table. The old woman had heard every word, but she stayed silent. Only the crackle of the fire broke the stillness.
Finally Isaac spoke again. “Cap’n, now you know that I truly respect Massa Winston and his daughter. They’s done all right by me and my kinfolk. And I’s a slave, but I’s still a man all the same…and a man that got a family, too.”
“Isaac, you have a wonderful family. You are a lucky man in that respect.”
“Thank yo’, sir, but that’s part o’ the problem. See, the man in me wants to be free. I knows that I could run away to the No’th and be free, lots o’ slaves been doing that…but what about my family?”
He looked at him with bleak eyes that mirrored the soul of a captured, imprisoned being. David knew that he was being trusted with information that had the potential to hurt Isaac should the master of Pleasant Run Manor learn of the slave’s desire to be free.
From the lack of reaction on Kizzie’s part, David surmised that this topic was nothing new to the old woman. She kept her head down and her expression carefully blank.
“Well, Isaac, you know that I can’t tell you what to do, I can only provide you with information that you might not have to help you make your own decision. Every man should have the right to choose his own path in life, right or wrong.”
Now David stared into the fire as well. If he told Isaac what possibilities lay open to him, he could be betraying the trust of the woman he had come to love, the woman to whom he owed his very life. With all of his heart he regretted having any part in something that could bring pain into Jenny’s life. She truly loved these people and treated them almost like family…but they were not family and never could be…they were property.
The silence in the room lengthened. Isaac waited patiently, not rushing him. Patience was one of the first things a good slave learned.
David took the cane and pushed to his feet. He limped slowly around the room, lost in his thoughts and weighing the decision he had to make. As he hobbled past Mother Kizzie for the third time without looking at her, she laid a weathered, brown hand on his arm stopping him. Looking at her face, he saw the years of wisdom and understanding in those old eyes. She nodded. Without a word she, had conveyed her trust in the man she barely knew and confirmed for him the conclusion he had already made.
He made his way back to Isaac, who looked up expectantly. Then he sat down in front of the big man again.
“Isaac, you will have to decide what is right for you and your family, and you should be fully aware of the risks involved, but there is a way to get you and your entire family up north to freedom. It is called the Underground Railroad. Using it is very dangerous, but this is how it works…”
* * *
Kizzie’s tiny cabin was aglow with light and soft music when Jenny finally made her way toward the slave quarters. The moon was full and high in the cold, cloudless sky, so she needed no lantern to light her way. Thankfully the music didn’t carry to the manor house because the night air was so still.
This was David’s last night here, and she still did not want her father to awaken and discover his presence, especially now that she had fallen helplessly in love with the Yankee. Even now it was hard to admit this. Her beloved was part of the relentless blue machine that was marching through her homeland killing her friends and neighbors.
No. She shook her head and pushed that thought away. This was David. He is kind and considerate and…wonderful. She could not imagine him that way…as part of them…the ones that murder and butcher.
Stopping outside the door to the cabin, she took a deep breath. Smoothing her hair and gown nervously, she decided to put aside any thoughts of war and concentrate on the man instead. She hoped that it would not be inappropriate that she wore one of her best gowns. Although she never considered herself one to put on airs, she wanted to look nice for him tonight, this special last night together. Putting a smile on her face, she pushed aside the growing ache inside, determined to make this time memorable.
Slowly pushing open the creaky wooden door, she stepped inside the tiny cabin. All heads turned when she stepped in the door, and the harmonica music stopped.
Cordelia was standing beside the door as she stepped inside. The woman put her hands out in a wordless request to relieve Jenny of the basket of food she carried. Placing the basket in Cordelia’s hands, she turned to Isaac and smiled.
“Please continue playing, Isaac. It is a wonderful tune.”
He grinned, a quick flash of white teeth, nodded, and picked up the tune again.
The small shadowy room was crammed from wall to wall. Jeb, Luther, Patsy, Kizzie, and the children were all there. Then she saw him.
He stepped out gracefully from behind big Luther and walked toward her slowly. Only a slight limp marked his step as he approached. He used the cane but just barely. Her breath caught.
David wore his full cavalry uniform, minus the hat, which he had lost before she found him. On his broad shoulders gold captain bars glistened brightly against the dark blue jacket. The jacket’s cut accentuated his narrow waist, and the pale blue striped trousers left no doubt that muscular legs lurked beneath. His high black boots were polished to a soft glow. The sword at his side gleamed in the lamplight. The dim light and the all-consuming love in her heart made her blind to the worn and patched scars on his uniform. Captain David Reynolds of the Seventeenth Pennsylvania Cavalry was truly splendid!
Then she looked at his face, and her knees nearly buckled. His expression, still easily readable despite the short dark beard he now sported, was one of tenderness, love, and barely disguised passion. Those dark green eyes shone with vitality and energy. He was whole and healthy, the picture of a robust, handsome young man.
* * *
David’s entire body leaped to attention the moment he saw the vision that was Jennifer Winston. She stole the breath from his lungs and rendered him speechless. He had nearly choked when she removed her cloak to reveal the daring décolletage of the dress. It was no secret that she was a beautiful woman, but tonight she was stunningly elegant in the shimmering rose-colored gown.
Her hair was swept up in a shining mass, revealing the pale slender column of her neck. He could not stop himself from reaching out to touch her creamy soft cheek the moment he drew close to her.
He was drowning in the deep blue oceans of her luminous eyes. His fingertips traced the flower petal softness of her lips with no conscious effort on his part. It was as if he were under some kind of spell she had wrapped around him.
“Cap’n Reynolds,” Madeline’s high voice broke in, “yo’ got to come eat some o’ that party food before Nate gets it all.” The young girl tugged at his sleeve insistently until David, with the dreamy feeling of a sleepwalker, allowed himself to be led over to the food without taking his eyes from his beloved.
Kizzie’s little table was brimming with delicious things to eat. Ham, sausages, beans, collard greens, snowy mashed potatoes, hush puppies, and various pies jammed the surface, but he barely noticed the feast.
“Mama says yo’ is the guest of honor and ain’t nobody can eat lessen yo’ eats first,” Madeline whispered in his ear. She then proceeded to pile a plate full of steamy food and push it into his hand as he stared over the girl’s head at Jennifer. She looked back at him with a dazed expression of her own. Cordelia, Patsy, and Kizzie surrounded her, touching the shimmering gown and chattering words that only they heard. He watched the women lead her like a
child to a chair by the fire.
“Cap’n Reynolds!” Madeline’s high impatient voice brought David back to reality with a jolt.
“Oh, sorry,” he muttered and moved out of the way. Nate, Luther, and Madeline moved closer to the table, plates in hand ready to join in the feast.
Something was pulling at the plate in his hand. He looked down, reluctant to take his eyes off Jennifer. It was Mother Kizzie. She had a gnarled hand on the edge of his plate.
“Here, let me carry this fo’ you. Yo’ gotsta go sit next to Miz Jenny.”
Barely noticing what he was doing, David let go of the plate and walked over to Jenny, drawn to her as if by some unseen force. She had not taken her eyes off him until he approached then her gaze dropped to her shoes in a beguilingly shy manner.
Sitting beside her, he hooked the cane over the back of the chair and took the heaped plate from Kizzie again when she pushed it at him. The old woman smiled her nearly toothless smile at both of them and walked away.
Isaac’s harmonica playing had stopped again while he too helped himself to the rare treats available. The room was soon filled with the comfortable chatter of friends and the sounds of people eating with gusto.
“Why don’t we share this?” He nodded at the plate on his lap. “Madeline must have thought I was hungry.”
Without waiting for an answer, he picked up a hush puppy and offered it to her. Instead of taking it from him, she gently placed her hand on his and guided it to her mouth. She took a bite. He hardened even more at the sight of her luscious pink lips and tongue.
“Oh, Jenny! You are going to make my heart explode for wanting you,” he whispered in her ear, taking her earlobe between his teeth for a quick nibble before letting go and straightening up in his chair.
She smiled at him coquettishly. “Sir, how you do tease a girl!”
“Now you sound like a true Southern Belle!” he laughed. “My father would have apoplexy on the spot just hearing you speak like that. He is a staid conservative and scorns anything remotely different from his stuffy, proper ways.”
