"Then it's settled. We'll need to get our things out of the carriage."
"I'll see to that, Miss Allison."
They left the terrace, and Allison watched as Rebecca approached the carriage. A short distance away, she heard the woman's lilting voice. "Caesar, take the valise and that bundle down from the carriage. Miss Allison and I have decided to stay here at Bluegrass Meadors for good."
"I hear you, Rebecca!" the man said, swinging down from the carriage to do as he was asked.
Still feeling surprised at the turn of events, Allison walked to the carriage where Flood waited. But before she could say anything, Flood beat her to it. "I guess he's finally asked you to marry him. Well, that's exactly what Rebecca and I prayed for all along."
Allison laughed. "I wish you'd told me. Then perhaps I wouldn't have been so surprised."
Allison reached out and took Flood's rough hand. "Be careful, Flood. And if things don't work out, you can always come back to Bluegrass Meadors."
"That's awful kind of you, Allison. But my second sight is workin' hard today. And it tells me we won’t ever see each other again. But you'll be happy. I see that much. And I'll find my gold. So don’t worry about me."
Allison watched the carriage moving down the long driveway. She stood with Rad Meadors by her side.
"My mother's wedding dress is in the locked trunk in the attic. You'll find the key hanging on the white silk loop behind the door."
"How soon? I mean, when do you wish the ceremony to take place?"
He hesitated. "I don’t want to rush you, Allison. But if it isn't quite soon, the neighbors will gossip. I have no wish for them to talk about us."
"Does that mean—"
"Tomorrow, Allison. Or the day after. But no later."
He wasn't even giving her time to get used to the idea. He walked away, retracing the steps to the meadow where the horse was still saddled. She watched him stride toward the fence, leap over the top rail, and call to Bourbon Red with a whistle.
Allison left the steps and walked inside to find Rebecca. She was in the kitchen, and with Morrow content to remain with her, Allison walked back to the bedroom down the hall from the one occupied by Rad Meadors.
She put off going to the attic as long as she dared. But if she were going to wear the wedding dress, then she would have to see to it right away. With each step up to the attic, she thought of Coin and their wedding day.
She remembered Royal's words from two nights before. A future none too bright. A widow woman with a small child. "Coin, forgive me," she whispered. "I don’t know what else to do. I'll always love you, but there's Morrow to think of—and he loves her."
Allison found the key on the silken loop as Rad had said she would. With trembling hands, she walked to the large old trunk under the attic window and unlocked it. "Please, don't let it be lace," she prayed as the trunk lid swung open with a grating creak. "Anything but lace."
Her prayer was unanswered. The ecru lace dress and headpiece rested in layers of rice paper, waiting over the years for some other bride to lay claim to the family heirloom. With tears falling down her cheeks, Allison unwrapped the exquisite dress and held it up to the light, while her mind remembered another wedding day and another groom who had sworn his eternal love.
Chapter 37
Coin Forsyth rode into Roswell in the middle of the night. His horse had grown lame, and when he reached the long driveway below Vickery Creek, he got down and led the horse the rest of the way.
He had dreamed of this for months—his reunion with Allison and the baby after such a long, dismal separation. There was so much he wanted to do to make up for being away. He knew Allison must have had a hard time of it, as they all had—the women and children, forced to be self-sufficient while all the men were fighting.
But it was over now—the lost cause, with the specter of slavery somehow overlaying the real reasons behind the conflict—the right to govern oneself, the right to trade without suffering the enormously high tariffs the sectionalists in Washington had imposed on the South. The war had settled nothing. Now, with Lincoln dead and the radicals in power, there would be even more inequities, more hardships. But whatever befell them, he and Allison would brave it together.
The moon shone down on the few creek pebbles remaining to line the drive. Bits of mica gleamed at intervals to point the way toward the house through the deep woods.
On each side of the road, the trees and shrubs loomed in rampant growth, spilling over onto the driveway and broadcasting a dark, eerie gloom despite the moonlit night.
Soon now, Coin would have his first glimpse of Rose Mallow, and his anticipation caused him to hurry, impatiently tugging at the reins to draw the winded horse along with him.
The September air carried a slight chill as the mist from the river floated and curled in varied patterns, obscuring and then framing his journey homeward. Reaching the small copse of trees, Coin watched for the mist to part enough for him to catch his first glimpse of the house.
He smiled and waited. In great swirls of gray, the fog rolled out, rising higher and higher, sweeping clean the view down the distant stretch of road to the steps of the wisteria-vined porch.
Coin drew in his breath. Nothing was as he remembered it—the boxwoods, the circled drive. Even the shutters hung on their hinges, with the slight breeze causing one of them to knock against a broken windowpane. In the deadly drench of moon beams, Rose Mallow appeared a ghostly shell of its former beauty. One column lay propped against the porch. He could see that a step was missing, and the magnificent old oak door, once a bastion against intruders, was warped and partially open.
"Allison," he called out., forgetting his intention to knock first so as not to alarm her. "Where are you?"
An owl hooted in the distance at the night's disturbance. "Allison," Coin shouted again, but in his heart he knew that it was useless to call her name. The house was deserted. Allison, his wife, was gone.
"Allison, you're beautiful."
She heard the deep, masculine voice from the hall as she descended the winding staircase. For a moment she hesitated, for Rad Meadors, dressed in the full military uniform of the enemy, was looking up at her and following her progress. She swallowed, then quickly moved down the last three steps and finally took the arm offered her.
Allison's lips moved, but no sound came. She wore the ethereal lace gown, with her face half-covered by the small veil—with tiny forget-me-nots woven by hand in the pattern—that teased the viewer with only a partial glimpse of the woman's beauty. And in her hands, she held the pink roses and white baby's breath that Rad had sent up to her room by Rebecca earlier.
The reality of this day—her wedding day—was shadowed with dreams. She held on to the remembrance of another time, another plantation house, and a sandy-haired boy also waiting for her to appear. But her heart told her that she was marrying a man this time. Not an innocent boy. And perhaps that was what disturbed her most.
There would be no wedding trip immediately; for all the money had to be put back into the land and the horses. Rad's only concession to the special day was the wedding cake and punch prepared by Rebecca and waiting to be shared with their two guests, Mr. Falcon, the minister, and his neighbor, Royal Freemont.
By evening, they would be alone. It seemed so callous to eat dinner together the same way they had done for the past several months and then to move immediately into the master bedroom. But Allison had little choice. Rad would never understand that, even though she'd been married before, a woman was shy on her wedding night.
Rebecca sat in the small room off the parlor and held Morrow. She was pleased at the way the parlor looked, with the greenery arranged around the mantelpiece and on the hearth. Big Caesar had outdone himself, combing the woods for the waxleaf magnolias and bringing back enough branches to fill half the room. The candles were lit, too, giving the parlor a festive air.
While the minister stood quietly by the hearth, Royal Freemont sat on th
e settee and fidgeted, crossing first one leg and then the other. But when Allison appeared in the doorway, Rebecca saw the man become still, with a wistful look on his face.
The minister smiled and motioned for the bridal couple to step forward in front of him. Then the ceremony began.
With the familiar words, Rebecca, too, was caught up in the past; for she had been with Allison on the day she had married the young Coin Forsyth. Six bridesmaids in rustling pink dresses; Miss Araminta, dressed in blue, as the matron of honor; Mr. Jonathan giving her away, since old Mr. Biggs was already bedridden by a stroke. What a full, lively house that had been. Nothing had been able to spoil the beautiful day, despite Miss Araminta.
And Miss Allison had looked so lovely in her traveling costume, leaving with Mr. Coin late that afternoon to board the ship in the harbor for Newport. Rebecca shook her head to clear it and to regain the present. It wouldn't do to let the past come between Miss Allison and her marriage to the major.
"…And do you, Rad Meadors, take this woman…"
"I do."
"…for richer, for poorer, till death do you part?"
The minister stared at Allison and waited for her answer.
As if her mind were a thousand miles away, a startled Allison looked up The minister nodded in encouragement.
"I do."
The ring was a small gold one, removed from Rad's little finger and placed on Allison's left hand. There was no other to use; for the family heirlooms had been taken by Glenn. And once he had placed his own small ring on her finger, he continued to hold her hand in his.
"…I now pronounce you man and wife. Whom God hath joined together, let no mortal put asunder…."
Rad stood and looked down into Allison's eyes, which were veiled by the lace. With a suddenly impatient movement, he drew back the veil to see her face in all its beauty. Again he was the dark one, a stranger standing in the house, magnificent in his strength, with his presence overpowering the room.
He bent down and touched her lips with his own for the first time. It was a dangerously restrained kiss that promised a much fuller exploration later when they were alone. Allison felt the shock like a bolt of lightning splitting a tree and shattering its heart.
Then the minister's voice broke the spell. "Congratulations, Rad. You have a fine bride."
Then it was Royal's turn. He cleared his throat and averted his eyes from Allison. "Be good to this woman, Rad. Or you'll answer to me."
Rad laughed and gripped Royal's hand in friendship. "You mustn't let Allison hear that, Royal. The first argument, and she might flounce out of my house—to yours."
"I think the refreshments are ready," Allison said, overlooking Rad's remark. "Would you care to come into the dining room, Mr. Falcon? Mr. Freemont?"
Rebecca left Morrow in the kitchen with Big Caesar while she saw to the wedding cake and punch.
Allison stood at Rad's side, but the conversation of the three men switched to horses and tobacco, and the bride seemed momentarily forgotten.
"You've got a fine-looking colt in the pasture, Rad," Mr. Falcon commented. "Will you be grooming him for the races?"
"Yes. In fact, Caesar and I plan to start training him sometime next week.
"I've got a better colt than Rad," Royal bragged, "He's going to give Standing Tall a run for his money a little later on."
Rad smiled. "I always did enjoy a little healthy competition, Royal. It makes winning all the sweeter."
"Yeah, I noticed that, my friend," Royal replied.
"May I propose a toast to the bride and groom," the minister said, holding his punch cup high. "As these two have put away sectional differences and become united in wedlock, may these divided states be reunited into one country."
For Allison, it was a bitter cup, a bitter toast. A frowning Rad, noticing that Allison did not drink, said, "You didn't drink to the reverend's toast. Is there something wrong?"
Allison forced herself to smile. "I don’t believe it's protocol for a bride to drink to her own health."
Quickly, she held up her full cup. "But I will drink to all brave men everywhere—including the three in this room."
"Hear! Hear!" The men had no such hesitation as Allison. They drained their refilled punch cups, all the time wishing for something a little stronger.
The two men were not encouraged to stay, once the brief celebration in the dining room was over. As they said their good-byes, Rad turned to Allison. "I'll see both of them down the drive. It won’t take long."
But Rad walked toward the kitchen, and Allison, with the silver tray in her hands, heard him call to Big Caesar. "Get my horse for me, Caesar. I've decided to escort the reverend to Royal's house."
Soon the house held only Allison, Rebecca, and Morrow.
"It was a beautiful ceremony, Miss Allison. You and Mr. Rad sure do make a handsome couple."
Allison looked down at the lace wedding dress. "Somehow I don’t feel married to him. Rebecca."
Rebecca grinned. "You will, Miss Allsion. By tomorrow mornin', you'll feel like a wife again, that's for sure."
"But I'm afraid, Rebecca. I think I've made a dreadful mistake."
"Well, what do you want to do about it? Pack your bag and have Caesar take us to the station?"
"You know I can't do that. I made a promise—a vow."
"Then, if you won’t leave, I guess you'll just have to keep that vow."
The two looked at each other, and Allison knew that Rebecca was right. She couldn't run away from Rad Meadors. He would find her and bring her back.
"I think I'll go upstairs and change clothes."
"Then I'll help you." With Morrow between the two women, they walked slowly up the wide stairway.
An hour later, with the wedding dinner waiting on the dining room table, Rad had still not come home. A furious Allison, looking at Rebecca, said, "I'm not waiting any longer." She got up from the table. "I'm going for a walk. Will you please put Morrow to bed for me?"
"Of course. The major asked me to, anyway."
"I don’t even believe the major is planning to come home tonight," Allison complained. "So I might as well sleep in the same room as Morrow."
Allison left the house by the front door. A few raindrops fell onto the leaves of the surrounding trees. At the sound, Allison looked up, but she saw only a small cluster of clouds to the east. Nothing to get excited about or cause her to turn around and go back inside the house. She had braved a few raindrops before. And it was not as if she were wearing the lace dress that had once belonged to Rad's mother.
Allison crossed the meadow and began the trek along the creekbank. In front of her, the sky was relatively clear. But behind her, clouds began to gather in dark, swirling funnels. She continued walking until she reached the creek, where she sat down on the grass and peered into the green water.
For some time, Allison was content to sit, feeling nothing but the wind on her face. Then it changed from a gentle zephyr to a more insistent breeze, slapping against the hem of her gray dress and lifting the old willow tree's branches like a broom to sweep back and forth across the rippling water. Suddenly, it was dark.
With her mind on other things beside the weather, Allison finally became aware of the change when the first crack of thunder sounded, bringing with it a jagged streak of lightning on the other side of the creek.
Startled, she stood and turned in the direction of the house. She saw the dark clouds swirling, the solid sheet of rain in the distance bearing down upon her, threatening to catch her in its fierce lashing. And behind her, the sound of thunder grew increasingly louder.
She was caught with no shelter from the storm. She had not meant to walk all the way to the creek, had not meant to stay out this long. What if Rad returned and she wasn't in the house? Would he think she'd run away from him? Perhaps she had, in her own way.
Allison gathered up her skirts and began to run just as Rad urged his horse over the fence and headed toward the creek. "Allison, where ar
e you?"
All around her, the telltale smell of sulphur permeated the air, the bolts bursting upward through the sky and down to the meadow at the same time, like a sleight-of-hand trick, with the human eye unable to tell where the flame started and where it stopped.
In one great burst of light, the horse and rider appeared directly in her path. Unable to get out of the way, she stopped, helpless, as the horse, equally startled at her appearance, suddenly reared.
Allison closed her eyes and waited for the hooves to hit her. But instead, strong arms gathered her up and she was in the saddle with Rad. Behind her, a tree split, the noise of the great limb hitting the ground. But she didn't look back.
The great horse seemed to have no difficulty, even with a double load. He jumped the fence and continued going, straight to the steps of the plantation house.
The front door was wide open, revealing the candlelight that flickered and threatened to be snuffed out with each sweep of the wind through the front hall.
"Rad?"
The man was like a demon possessed. He rode the horse inside the house, through the hall and up the wide stairway toward the second floor. With the ring of the horseshoe against one of the treads, Allison remembered the earlier indentation. Now it was no secret how it had gotten there. Rad, in a dark temper, must have done it.
Like one looking on and not believing what was actually happening, Allison felt herself slide from the saddle. But a split second after Rad had slapped the horse on its flank to get rid of him, he returned his attention to Allison.
He lifted her in his arms and said, "So you were running away from me, were you?"
She didn't deny it. Instead, she said, "Rad, put me down."
He ignored her demand. "No wife of mine runs away on our wedding night."
He leaned over and kissed her wet, parted lips—not in the same gentle manner of the afternoon wedding ceremony, but with all the force of a man who had waited much too long to claim what was rightfully his.
As Rad slammed the door to the master bedroom, a grinning Caesar stopped the horse as the animal bolted onto the porch. Then he led him to the stables.
The Roswell Women Page 27
