by Tara Cowan
“Shannon,” he said lowly, lifting a hand to his mouth and wiping it, turning away as though shaken.
“Have I hurt you?” she demanded, hot, angry tears rising to her eyes. “Good. It cannot amount to the half of what I have been forced to endure from you over the course of our marriage.”
He pressed his fist against his mouth, not speaking.
Shannon wrapped her arms around herself, feeling quite ill, and still shaking. “Say something,” she commanded after a moment.
He shook his head. “I never thought to hear such things from you.”
“A testament to my long-suffering nature!” she snapped.
His eyes pinched at the corners. “How?” he demanded, voice rasping. “What have I ever denied you? When have I shown you anything but respect?”
“When…” She shook her head, unable to speak, the anger and hurt was so deep.
“Shannon, I cannot bear it,” he said pressing his palm to his forehead and dragging his hand back through his hair. “To leave like this. But I must return to the training grounds, and I… They have told us to hold ourselves in readiness—we might leave at any moment.”
She looked at him, her mouth going slack. “What?” she breathed.
He met her eyes, nodding once, and then lowering his eyes to the ground. “We will…discuss it in letters. I…” He broke off, as though his voice were suspended. “I am sorry that I hurt you.”
A long silence ensued. Her lip trembled. “I want my mother,” she whimpered in a whisper, feeling remote.
His eyes pinched at the corners in compassion, his lips pressing together painfully. “I’m sorry.”
She swallowed, feeling an inward trembling that couldn’t be stopped. “I want to go home.” He met her eyes. “To South Carolina,” she said.
His brows drew together. “You couldn’t.”
She stiffened, lifting her chin.
He amended, “You wouldn’t.”
He sighed, turning and opening the armoire, removing his valise and stowing in it several items. Shannon watched in muted horror, unable to move. The shaking had not ceased.
He turned, looking at her, going to her, hesitating before kissing her cheek. “I did not mean to part on these terms,” he said, his voice scraping. “Please let me know when you are safely in Massachusetts.” He paused, looking at her, lips parting as though he wished to say something else, as though he wished she would speak. He took a shaky breath. “I must go.” He looked around the room once more, as though wishing to memorize it, and turned to go.
She watched him disappear through the door, feeling as though the ground beneath her were sliding. She stood there, breathing hectic breaths, wrapping her arms around her waist, too ill in her heart to cry. She suddenly remembered him, his eyes, as he lifted her and spun her beneath the oak tree at Santarella, around and around, her green skirts belling.
She did not know how long she stood there. The next thing she remembered was Phoebe coming in, looking worried, saying, “This fire’s gone out, ma’am,” and bending to stoke it.
Shannon turned from her, as one awakening from a dream. She went to the screen and numbly began removing her dress—skirt, shirtwaist, shift, corset, undergarments. She paused, looking at them. She closed her eyes. She waited a long moment. “Phoebe, my rags,” she said tiredly, weary, so weary of the ritual.
“Yes, ma’am,” came the quiet voice from the other side of the screen.
A tear escaped the corner on each of her eyes. She closed them and lifted her face upwards, towards the ceiling. She knew she must collect herself, and she had done so by the time Phoebe brought her all that she required.
“Phoebe,” she said, catching her arm.
Phoebe met her eyes. Shannon’s mind spun. It was a sign, was it not? No fruit could ever come from them. “I am going—somehow—to go to South Carolina.”
“What?” the maid breathed. “The borders are closed—you…”
“Do not underestimate me. I shall do it if I wish. You may come if you choose—I will not force you. You must make your own decision. You know very well what it would mean to you. I should try to ensure you would not be enslaved again, but I could make no promises. I am sure Captain Haley would see that you are provided for if you remain here. I shan’t return.”
Her maid looked frightened. “But Captain Haley–”
“Yes.” Phoebe searched her eyes. No more needed to be said.
Phoebe took an emotional breath, her dark eyes searching about as though for the answer. “I…I can’t let you face those men, the soldiers, alone.”
“Then pack our things.” She turned, calmly, rationally, to sit and compose a letter. “I am going home.”
Charleston, South Carolina
Chapter Forty-Three
On Tuesday morning, Adeline told the guys that she had to make a supply run, not wanting them to be suspicious. She was going to lose a ton of respect when this got out anyway. No use in hurrying it. Since the appointment wasn’t until ten, she drove through some of the sea islands, swept away by their beauty, wishing she had longer to take a detour and sniff out clues for Santarella.
She had read a letter from the Ravenel girl to someone who must have been an old beau, after the war, telling him that he ought to come out and look at their rice trunks and see if they were in any better shape than his. So rice. She would bet she could possibly narrow down some of the islands.
It was as she was crossing back into Charleston that the doctor’s office called. She hung up two minutes later, frustrated, and then, trying to keep an eye on the road, scrolled through her phone for his number. She knew he had set aside, probably with great difficulty, two hours that morning. She winced. She still had him in her phone as “Mr. Ravenel.”
She dialed, and he picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”
“Adrian?”
“Adeline? Are you okay?”
She laugh-sighed. “Yeah. I don’t know why I said your name like that. They called from the doctor’s. They overbooked this morning, if I want an ultrasound, and had to reschedule for four this afternoon. I do want an ultrasound, don’t I?”
“Yeah,” he said, as though he were thinking.
“Sorry. I know this totally messes with your schedule, and that you probably won’t be able to go. Are you with a client right now? Sorry if I’m bothering you.”
“Yeah—that’s okay, though. It’s not your fault.” A pause. “I’ll do some rescheduling. This is actually better: I can pick you up before.”
“Adrian, you really don’t have to do that.”
“I’m going, Adeline,” he said firmly.
She blinked. Her heart fluttered a little. “Okay. I’ll, like, be on the sidewalk at 3:45, or something,” she said with a little laugh.
She could feel him smiling. “Don’t get hit by a tourist.”
“Good point. I’ll let you go.” She hung up and drove toward the house. She couldn’t miss a whole day of work, and she’d just have to make up some excuse when she had to leave before they usually stopped work.
Adeline surveyed her handiwork on the library fireplace. One fully restored rosette. She could fix all of the delicate wood herself, there was no trouble in that. Except that it would probably take two months of eight-hour days. But the inner workings eluded her. She had been on the phone with someone from Williamsburg about the possibility of flying an expert down to look at it. They were happy to oblige, for a price. She scheduled the meeting two weeks out and hoped time hadn’t damaged it structurally too much.
They had asked her a question about whether some piece inside was sagging that had seemed really crucial, but she hadn’t known. Now, she surveyed it, contemplating sending for Joe. She didn’t want to get dirty, and who knew what lived in there? But Joe and three of the others were working on the balconies with a crew of ten locally
hired men. It was a big day for them structurally.
So, wryly, she knelt down and looked into it. Unlike the fireplace which had covered it, this one had been wood-burning, and there was still black charring which wiped onto her skin and, being so old, refused to come off without soap. She reached her arm up, feeling. It was almost as if someone had nailed a piece of wood up there.
She sat back, brows drawn together. No one would ever put wood up into the flue or smoke shelf of a fireplace which they intended to use. What on earth? She reached her hand up again, feeling. It was quite definitely wood, would have left splinters if she hadn’t touched it so gently.
She stood, brushing her hands off as best she could, and went next door, where she found Jose. “Jose,” she said, “will you come here?”
He looked up from his careful restoration of the baseboards and said, “Sure,” getting up and following her. She showed him, and he was equally confused.
“Do you think it was about to crumble and they put it in there for structural support?” she asked. “Maybe that was why they covered it in the first place.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think one piece of wood would support all of that brick.” He was watching her. “What do you think?”
She shook her head. “It’s a crazy theory… But I think maybe they hid stuff in there during the war.”
His brows drew together. “And then covered it—the whole shebang—to really seal the deal?”
She bit her lip, forehead crinkled, and then realization dawned on her. She took a step back, cast her eyes over the masterful piece of work, and then added to that what it must’ve looked like in its heyday. Then she imagined herself a Federal soldier, very angry at Charleston, especially its wealthiest residents. What would she have done upon entering this house? Well, she would’ve wanted to explore every room, but she drew on her inner beast. She would’ve torn this down, this beautiful symbol of power and wealth and history. And the Ravenels who had lived here had to have known that. “I think they did it to save it,” she said. “Probably once things started to turn rough but they still had the money. They knew the destruction that was happening. And bonus: where better to hide your valuables than in a fireplace that doesn’t exist?”
He nodded slowly and then shook his head. “I think you’re right about the covering. I’ve racked my brains for why anyone in his right mind would cover that. And I bet it was famous in its day. But why leave it like that after the war?”
“No money,” she said. “They probably told succeeding generations to fix it once there was, but I bet the children didn’t believe how beautiful and special it was and thought the one that was there was good enough. Remember, it was really pretty.”
“Alright, that works, but why literally bury your valuables where you couldn’t get to them without ripping down a wall?” He glanced toward it, a flicker of something lighting his features. “Do you think they’re still there?”
She laughed. “If they are, they’re Dr. Ravenel’s now. But…” He had a point. That made no sense. She started thinking of routes of alternate access. They could’ve gone through the wall behind the fireplace and broken the bricks out. If so, Williamsburg would be disgusted. But they’d found no evidence of that in the structure during their inspection.
Then she lifted her eyes up slowly, another thought forming. Jose’s eyes had followed hers there, and he said, “The chimney.”
She nodded slowly, excitement making her take her mind off of it all for the first time in days. “Jose, knock that shelf out,” she said.
He was happy to oblige. He was petite, so she let him stand up in there. He said, his voice echoing, “There’s pegs all the way up. I bet they lined it with shelves full of stuff.”
Adeline blinked away tears. “Yes, and then accessed them later from the roof with something to pull the stuff up, knocking the shelves down as they went.”
“Until they got to the last,” he said.
“Until they got to the last,” she affirmed. Which remained.
Charleston, South Carolina
Chapter Forty-Four
Adeline didn’t bring up their discoveries to Adrian. It seemed a little trite in comparison with their crazy personal lives, and she didn’t want mix work into this. Oh, I know you’re still waiting on an answer to your proposal, but did you know your fireplace served a really cool purpose during the Civil War? Although, she was willing to do just about anything to put off talking about the proposal. She couldn’t seem to make any reason of her thoughts about it.
He picked her up at the appointed hour, and they headed toward downtown. Michael Bublé (or was it someone he had done a remake of?) played in the background softly. She glanced at him now and then, and, unfortunately, he must have finally noticed it.
“You okay?” he asked, glancing at her.
“Yeah.”
“Nervous?”
“A little,” she admitted.
“I knew I should’ve brought you a milkshake,” he said.
She laughed, looking over at him. “Where would you have gotten a milkshake?”
“The hospital.” When she gave him a look, he defended, “Jude could live on those things. You should come have lunch sometime.”
“That’s so romantic,” she said, eyes twinkling.
His lips twitched, but he shook his head. She saw a bunch of sleek medical buildings start to pass and then one with palm trees in the large parking lot. “I think that’s it,” she said, basing it off what she’d seen on Google images.
“It’s this parking garage,” he said decisively. “I looked it up.”
Okay, then. She was glad someone knew where they were going. They parked and walked into a nice waiting room where super-married women sat looking calmer than she felt. She glanced at him, and he nodded encouragingly, going to sit down. She walked up to the desk and signed her name. Then she turned to find him and saw him sitting by one of the wide windows which made the room sunny.
They talked softly while they waited, and she made a sketch glance around the room, taking in all of the people. She had the hottest baby daddy, there was no question. Never mind that was what had gotten her into this mess, that woman who had made a careful study of their ring fingers knew it.
“Miller,” a woman in scrubs called from the door.
Adeline looked up, heart in her throat, and stood, not sure whether having him here made this better or worse. She didn’t want to do it alone, but it was embarrassing to think about the things he might hear about. Okay, pull it together, honey.
He held the door for her, and they followed the nurse back to a room. Adeline took her seat on the patient’s chair, and he took the other. In five minutes, a woman entered, giving her name (which Adeline couldn’t afterwards remember) and saying that she was her ultrasound tech.
“Great,” Adeline said.
“How far along do you think you are?” she asked chipperly.
“Um, six weeks,” she said, lying back as the tech nudged her that way. She had beautiful ebony skin. Adeline tried to focus on that rather than her shirt being lifted. She was pretty sure that at the point you were having a baby with a guy you weren’t supposed to be embarrassed by an exposed tummy. Or by the fact that it was really cold in the room. Note to self: wear padded bra to next appointment.
She looked up at the screen as the woman put the cream on her and waited.
“Aww. Yeah!” the woman said a few seconds in. “There it is. Sweet little thing.”
Adeline caught a glimpse of Adrian. His focus was intense on the monitor, scanning over it, and his eyes were different—she finally realized it was moisture. He was clearly in love with their little pea, and she couldn’t even find it on the monitor. She looked back at the monitor, swiping at her eye surreptitiously. “I’m afraid I don’t know where it is,” she said. Her voice didn’t sound like her own.
“Dad knows, doesn’t he?” the tech said, smiling at Adrian.
He nodded, leaning up and pointing. Adeline bit her lip. “Oh, I see,” she breathed. A little tadpole-like, and teeny tiny, but in the general shape of a body. She blinked away tears and stared forever.
“It’s just sitting there all comfy and waiting,” the woman said.
Adeline swallowed and then bit her lip. “Everything looks okay?”
“Fine and dandy!” she said. “I’ll show Dr. Jay the pictures and send him in. You’ll talk about what will happen going forward and ask him any questions you have.”
Adeline nodded, still swiping at her eyes. He came in, all business, but she formed a good opinion of him. A few awkward questions were thrown in, but Adeline responded like an adult, and they left fifteen minutes later.
Then they went out into the sunshine briefly before entering the parking garage again and getting into the car, Adeline’s thoughts more in a whirl than ever, her heart pounding. She glanced at him when they got in, but neither seemed to know what to say. And though he started the car, he didn’t leave; it was almost as though he could feel that she had something weighing on her. The air seemed especially thick in the Land Rover.
She looked at him, getting a lump in her throat. She’d been totally taken off guard back there. But that was the way everything seemed to be with him. She’d never seen something so sexy in her life. She swallowed, tearing up, feeling a strange ache of affection for him. She bit her lip, holding his eyes, and said, “Pretty amazing, huh.”
He smiled softly, nodding.
Nothing else could really be said. Nothing could adequately capture what they were both feeling, this heady, strange sense of awe. His hand slowly found hers on the console, and he pressed it. She looked from there back up to his eyes and swallowed.
There was a long silence as the seconds ticked by, the moment expanding and holding. “Does your…offer still stand?” she asked, trying to smile just a little.
