by Sharon Drane
Chapter One
Shiloh – April 7, 1862
Joshua emerged from the tent and sat by the campfire. He scrubbed the dust from his face with his hands. It had been a long couple of days. Smoky air stung his eyes while the smells of blood and human waste assaulted his nose. He could hear the moaning and occasional screams of the wounded at the nearby field hospital. The Union Army had finally routed the Confederates, but at a heavy cost. Many of the men in his regiment were either dead or wounded.
“Captain Hawthorne? The cooks have set up the mess. You want me to bring you a plate, Sir?”
Joshua looked up at the fresh-faced private standing above him. “No thanks, Olsen not now, maybe later.” The last thing he wanted was food.
The young man saluted and moved on to the next tent, ready to query the next officer.
Joshua reached into his saddle bag for his pipe and a miniature portrait. He looked at the smiling young lady with golden curls and laughing green eyes portrayed in the picture.
She wore the red dress he remembered. It cheered him just to look at her lovely face once more.
“Looking at your Amelia again?” Captain Phillips’ jovial voice sounded nearby.
“She’s not my Amelia.”
Phillips sat beside him. “Well, not for lack of trying. Did you ever find her? Or learn why she stopped writing to you?”
“No. I’ve had no word from New Orleans at all. Correspondence is not dependable these days.”
Phillips lit a cigar. He leaned back and puffed deeply. “Maybe she never got your last letters.”
“It’s possible, who knows? She wrote me faithfully while she was at the seminary. Then she stopped after she completed her term. I don’t even know where she went from there.” He looked at the portrait once more and then put it back in his saddle bag.
“You’d like to find her, though, wouldn’t you?”
Joshua took a long drink from his canteen. “Of course I would. Some days the thought of Amelia is all that keeps me from going insane.”
“I know what you mean. This has been a rough campaign.”
“That it has,” agreed Joshua. He looked up at the star-filled sky overhead, the same sky that covered the Union and the Confederacy. “Wherever Amelia is, I hope she is well and happy.”
Galveston, Texas – April, 1862
Amelia Wilcox inspected the opened packing boxes in her new home. She found her treasures still intact as she searched each box. A small chest caught her interest. She glanced around to see if she was still alone before lifting it out of the packing box. She opened the chest and took out a bundle of letters.
Joshua’s letters.
Why did he stop writing to me? A familiar ache swelled in her chest. His letters had stopped abruptly when she left school.
Jo Beth had called on Madame Dumond several times to inquire if there was mail for Amelia. There were never any more letters from Joshua.
Sighing, she put the letters back into the chest and hid them on the floor of her armoire behind her clothes. There was no sense upsetting Clayton. He was a kind man and Amelia knew he loved her. It was not his fault that he wasn’t Joshua.
I should be happy. I’ve got everything women dream of, a kind husband who loves me, and a grand new home of my own. I should be more grateful.
The sound of footsteps in the hallway made her hurry and close the armoire. She turned to face the door in time to see Clayton enter the room.
“There you are.” He walked into their room with a smile.
“You’re home early today. I hope nothing is wrong at the office.”
He took her into his arms. “Nothing is wrong except I missed my bride.” He kissed her gently. “Since the Union blockaded the port we have no business at our shipping office. So I thought, why not come home early and spend some time with you?”
Amelia tolerated his kiss, feeling nothing but a vaguely pleasant sensation. She could not help but compare it to the kiss Joshua had bestowed on her palm. Shivering at the memory, she absentmindedly patted Clayton’s shoulder.
If only Joshua had kept writing to me. No, you’ve got to get over it. He did not care enough to continue to write. Clayton is your husband. You owe him your loyalty, even if you cannot give him your love.
“Hello? Are you wool-gathering again, my sweet?” Clayton smiled at her. “You silly little girl with your head in the clouds.” He touched her hair as he laughed.
He was a man of medium height. In her high-heeled boots, she could almost look directly into his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Clayton. I don’t know what is wrong with me these days.”
“It’s all right. You’ve had many changes since our wedding last year. We moved to Galveston and here we are moving again to a bigger house, wears me out to just think about it. It’s bound to distress a sweet little thing like you. Now don’t you fret. We’ll settle in nicely.” He hugged her. “I know we will be happy.”
“I’m certain we will. Do you think the blockade will last much longer?”
“You don’t need to worry about that. That’s an issue for the man of the house.” He put his arm around her waist and led her to the door. “What has Mariah got for our supper? I’ll wager it will be something good.”
Amelia nodded. “She’s making gumbo. At least we have abundant fresh seafood.”
“That will take a while to make. How about we take a carriage to the shore and walk along the beach. It’s lovely there. Would you like that?”
“Yes, I would. I’ve been cooped up in the house all day supervising the unpacking.”
“That settles it, then. Get your walking shoes, your hat, and a parasol. You know how forgetful you are.” He touched her cheek. “I don’t want the sun spoiling your beautiful skin.”
“All right, you go ahead. I’ll be along in a few minutes.” She watched him start down the stairs before returning to their bedroom.
Amelia gathered her things for the outing, firmly pushing Joshua from her mind. Clayton, I promise you, no more holding back from you. No more pining for what could never be. I will work to be a good wife.
As she hurried down the stairs she thought of Jo Beth, her best friend and now her sister-in-law. Amelia felt she truly belonged in this family. With her own parents dead, her sister married, this was the only family she had.
She would relegate Joshua to the past, much as she had put his letters in the back of the armoire. He had not cared enough to contact her again, so good riddance to him. He was out of her life for good.
