“Is the offer made out of pity? Or regret? Because I told you before, Colonel, you need not lament over something that was done honorably as a soldier.”
A sigh so deep it sounded like a groan escaped him. “Andrea, must you prove I have a heart by ripping it out?”
Andrea turned from him as she fought for control. She did not want to hurt him, but neither could she allow herself to be hurt again. Every inch of her being, every nerve, every sense, remembered the agony.
“You are in command of this battle, Andrea,” he said coming up behind her. “I only ask that you allow me to surrender with honor. Will you grant it?”
Andrea turned her head, startled, knowing that his nature did not allow him to say the words easily.
“No conditions,” he said as if reading her mind. “Complete and unconditional.”
Andrea felt his hands on her shoulders. “The terms sound satisfactory, but unfortunately I have found it does no good to lodge an objection with fate. And the fate of war has already decided against us.”
“Fate cannot deny us what our hearts most crave,” he said, turning her around. “I believe our love is sacred. There can be no bond stronger than that which unites enemies—”
“I’m sorry,” Andrea interrupted. “I can’t.”
“Can’t? Or won’t? Can’t let down your reserve and accept the circumstances that have been thrust upon us? Won’t let down that wall you’ve built thick enough and high enough to keep everyone out?”
“I am enfleshed only by skin, not a coat of armor!”
“Then why won’t you allow yourself to feel? Why can’t you see that loving someone, needing someone, is not a sign of weakness? What are you so afraid of?”
Andrea turned her back on him, her mind numb and confused. Did he not know she had allowed herself to feel once, and the pain it had caused had been almost more than she could bear? Why could he not see that she was only pretending to be alive now? Of course she could not feel. A part of her had died the day she left Hawthorne. And it would never live again.
“Tell me, Colonel, do you come to me now because of the promise?”
“No!” he yelled almost before she had finished the sentence. “This has nothing to do with Daniel. Thunderation, your stay at Hawthorne had less to do with that promise than you can possibly know.”
Hunter let out his breath and leaned against the wall with an outstretched hand. “I am here because my heart…my soul…is not whole without you.”
Andrea swallowed hard and rallied once more, though her voice was barely a whisper. “Then I pity you—because I’m sorry, but I have nothing left to give.”
Chapter 14
You must think as kindly of me as you can and believe that I have endeavored to do what I thought right.
– Robert E. Lee
Andrea’s words were like a deathblow. She watched Hunter let his breath out in a long, pitiful sigh, and could tell he had finally let go of all hope. Even his eyes possessed a dull, far-away look to them.
After a few moments to regain his strength he spoke again. “I understand that I have no right to ask anything of you, Andrea, but your forgiveness I will seek before you leave here. Truly, I implore your pardon.”
Andrea forgave him at the moment and on the spot. There was such remorse in his eyes, such true despair in his tone, such manly compassion in his countenance she could do nothing less. She forgave him all down to the core of her heart, but she did not form the words. “I blame no one but myself and never have,” she said in an unemotional voice. “You are clear, sir, of all liability.”
A look of intense regret flashed across Hunter’s eyes, but he collected himself and spoke in an unemotional voice. “I brought a horse, in case you wished to leave tonight. I assume you would like to do that.”
Andrea nodded, her eyes closed tightly. Considerate to the core, generous to a fault, he had envisioned the possibility she would not want to spend the night. He was too chivalrous, too much a gentleman, to force her to do so.
“I-I have the highest regard for you and your wishes, and so will not seek you out again. But live or die, Andrea, my love for you will never end.”
Andrea heard the door close behind her as he went out to saddle the horse, and a fresh set of tears spilled down her cheeks. The pain that tore through her was like no other she had ever felt. But she had to send him away—had to get it over with—even if it was going to kill her.
After a few minutes, Andrea put her hand on the doorknob, drew a deep breath, and put her hood up against the cold night air. Hunter stood outside with the horse already saddled, staring at the sky, his face etched with pain.
Without words he handed her the reins. Then he pulled back her hood and held her face in tremulous hands, gazing at her as if trying to commit every feature to memory. “I am not the enemy, Andrea,” he said, brushing his lips gently against her cheek. “I will wait indefinitely for you to realize that, and will submit to any conditions you impose.”
Never had Andrea seen more devotion or affection as she glanced up at him. Never had she looked into eyes such as his and seen a noble soul so tortured by despair. She swallowed hard and blinked back tears as she turned to mount. Strong hands wrapped around her waist and lifted her effortlessly into the saddle.
Hunter put one restraining hand on the bridle and another on her leg as Andrea gathered the reins. “You do understand that I have surrendered to you—heart and soul—unconditionally and without hesitation, and swear on all that is dear to me that I will love you until the end of time.”
Andrea nodded, pretending to understand, pretending that she knew anything of the word. For a moment, just a moment, she thought about sliding off the horse, back into the comfort of his arms.
But the fear of being hurt again, of hurting him, was too great. She could not allow herself to be weak, for she could never bear the crushing weight of pain like this.
“Andrea, so help me God, with my last breath I will love you. Please …”
“Goodbye, Colonel.” Hunter let go of the bridle and Andrea urged the mare forward.
“I’m sorry, Alex.”
Her words went unheard. Colonel Hunter sank to his knees and heard nothing over the sobs that racked his body as darkness swallowed the woman he had hoped to never let out of his sight—or his arms—again.
Chapter 15
Love comes out of heaven, unasked and unsought.
– Pearl Buck
It took Andrea more than a week to track down J.J., thanks to the weather and his constant movements. When she rode into the bustling Union camp, the sound of shouted orders, galloping cavalry, and scrambling orderlies indicated something was afoot.
Her curiosity increased even more when she found that J.J. was not in his tent. A kind orderly allowed her to wait for him there, and after an hour’s time, he arrived. Andrea watched his expression change from one of fatigue and worry to shock and surprise when his eyes fell upon her.
“Jehoshaphat, Andrea! Where have you been? How did you get here? Why did you come?”
Andrea forced a smile. “Winchester. Horse. Do I need a reason?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, walking over and giving her a hug. “I’m just surprised. Is something wrong?”
“Does something have to be wrong for me to visit you?” Andrea kept her tone calm while suppressing the urge to remain in his arms and bury her head against his strong chest.
Despite her poker-faced response, J.J. seemed to sense that something was wrong. “You’ve heard.” His voice was soft and consoling.
Andrea pulled away and looked up at him. “Heard what?”
“Nothing. Nothing.” He waved his hand in air, then picked up some papers on his desk before putting them down again. Sticking his hands in his pockets as if he didn’t know what to do with them, he began to pace.
“Is something wrong with you?” she asked, noticing his nervousness.
J.J. l
ooked hard at her, apparently weighing whether or not to divulge something of great importance. “Since you’re here, let’s take a walk.”
Andrea tried to keep up, but J.J. seemed anxious to distance himself from camp and all its chaos. He finally stopped in a picturesque grove of young trees on the crest of a hill, and took a moment to light his pipe. “We’ve got him cornered,” he said nonchalantly as if talking about the weather.
“Who?” Andrea’s gaze was locked on a squawking blue jay insulting them mercilessly from a limb right over their heads.
J.J. only sighed, resting his foot on a rock and crossing his arms over his knee. His silence told Andrea the obvious.
“Hunter?” She grabbed his arm in alarm.
He nodded but did not turn around.
Andrea’s heart stood still, then fell to her feet, before banging in her chest tumultuously. Yet her blood seemed stagnant in her veins. “Please, you cannot fight him.”
“It’s my sacred duty, Andrea. You know that.”
“But how?” she asked, fearing she was somehow to blame.
“They ventured north,” he said, “across the Potomac for forage. And now with the rain they cannot re-cross. We’ve driven them practically to the water’s edge.”
Andrea put her hand to her head. The two men she cherished most in the world were going to meet on the battlefield and she was helpless to stop the inevitable slaughter.
“We’ve given him the opportunity to surrender.”
“He will not back down from a fight for his beloved Virginia,” Andrea shouted, grabbing his arm again. “It is his lifeblood!”
Andrea knew Hunter better than she knew herself—knew he was a Virginian first, a man second. Surrender would never be an option for him. Even hemmed in by nature and the enemy, he would not consider yielding. She turned away, holding her stomach, gasping for breath.
How much more would she have to endure? She had faced death, anguish, and torment at every hour and at every step in this awful hell of a war. But not this! Please Lord, if you are there—not this!
She took a deep, quivering breath and turned back to J.J. “There is not a cowardly soul among them. They will fight you to the gates of Hell.”
J.J. nodded while staring at the tree overhead, seeming to search for the blue jay that had since flown away. “We are ready.”
Andrea looked at him, but she did not see. What she saw was a disturbing scene worthy of a nightmare —two groups of men preparing for mutual slaughter. She turned away and took a deep, agonizing breath, her prophetic gaze fixed on the distance. “I can take no more of this, J.J.,” she said, turning back to him. “For mercy’s sake, I swear to you, I can endure no more!”
J.J. placed his hand on her shoulder and she grabbed fistfuls of his jacket with both hands. “Can we not let them live in peace? They are guided by love of liberty and what they believe to be a just cause. Why must you fight them?”
Andrea looked up at him, blinking tears from her lashes, but she already knew his answer. He was too loyal and responsible a general to ignore the enemy and not press the advantage.
Drawing a deep, sobbing breath, she stared again at the landscape, thinking of the terrible ending to come from all her suffering and sacrifice. They were going to clash—the Union general who was too loyal to avert a fight and the Confederate colonel who was too proud to run from one. She would rather be dead than witness the bloodbath to come.
“Andrea, I know your loyalty is with the Union. But it appears your heart lies in the South.”
Andrea glanced over at him, confused.
“He cares for you, deeply. I could see it in his eyes.”
Andrea took a rapid breath and averted her gaze, knowing he had figured out her deception when Hunter had been captured.
J.J. took her chin in his hand and turned her face up. “You’ve given enough, Andrea. You’ve suffered enough. Go to him.”
Andrea looked into his eyes, astonished that he would suggest such a thing.
“The South’s Cause is not dying, it is dead. Petersburg is about to fall. The end is near and sure. Rely upon it.”
“They do not believe—will never believe—the Cause is lost.”
J.J. held her by the shoulders and shook her. “Tell him it is.”
Andrea thought again of Hunter, envisioned him plowing his way through against impossible odds with nothing but fury, resolve, and strength of will. How could she explain to J.J. that nothing short of annihilation would stop him? That his soul and the soil of Virginia were inseparable?
“This may be your final chance,” he said.
Andrea sighed deeply, thinking of everything she had battled for and how confused and complicated and distorted it seemed. She looked again at J.J., but her thoughts were miles away.
“He’s a dangerous man,” she said, as if revealing information new to him. “Too fearless and stubborn and loyal for his own good.”
“Perhaps that’s why you love him.”
Andrea blinked. “Love him?”
“You little fool.” He shook her gently again, his eyes full of pity. He knew better than anyone that she’d never witnessed love in her childhood—and it certainly wasn’t something expected in the midst of a raging war. “You do know you love him, don’t you?”
“No. I’m a— I mean…he’s a—”
“My dear, love of country should not exclude you from loving a man. You have sacrificed enough.”
“But how?” She gazed at him intently. “How can I love him and be loyal to the Union?”
He pulled her toward him again. “Just let your heart see what your eyes cannot. You love him, and neither you—nor I—can will it otherwise.”
Andrea nodded, staring over his shoulder, thinking back upon the longing, the yearning, the need for him that had never diminished in all their time apart. Closing her eyes, she experienced an epiphany as liberating as it was painful. A gush of warmth followed as something new and exhilarating awakened within her.
“How soon will you move? You will give me time? Engage while I am there?”
J.J. gazed into her eyes and smiled, apparently seeing in her resolute face the secret that had long lain dormant in her heart. “I will do what I must—as you should do. I will try to give you until tomorrow afternoon, but already Washington is breathing down my neck. You must tell him if he surrenders, he will be preventing the useless effusion of blood.
“I will tell him,” Andrea said, suddenly hopeless again. “But it will do no good.”
Chapter 16
I would rather die a thousand deaths than surrender.
– General Robert E. Lee
A quick knock on the door was followed by the entrance of Malone. “Kulnel, the boys got someone trying to get through our lines.”
Hunter looked up from the map he’d been studying with his officers. “What does he know?”
“Can’t get a thing out of him one way or another. Says he wants to speak to you.”
“I don’t have time for a private consultation with a—” Hunter’s gaze drifted to the window where he saw the lone figure being held at gunpoint about twenty yards away. He shifted his focus to Carter and then to the other men in the room. “Excuse me, gentlemen. Perhaps it’d be best if I see what he has to say. Send him in, Lieutenant Malone.”
When the other officers had departed and the door opened again, Hunter stared at the figure who stared at the floor. His heart sank and swelled at the sight of the slender form whose boots and trousers were splattered with mud. His nerves quivered and tingled at the danger she had placed herself in by coming, and his mind whirled at what could possibly have been her motive for doing so. He dismissed the escort with an impassive nod, hoping it masked the hurricane of feeling raging within.
Hunter heard the door latch close, but waited for her to speak. He could not help but remember with anguish the torment of their last meeting. And deep down, he possessed little hope there
was to be a sudden reconciliation now.
* * *
“The impending attack…” Andrea swallowed hard in mid-sentence at the sight of Hunter’s stalwart form standing behind a table, his hands braced on either side of a map. “You cannot—”
There was something in his proud eyes and kingly bearing that took her breath away. She’d been unsure if he would receive her, let alone agree to hear her request. And now, face to face with him again, she could not frame the words she had practiced to say. Andrea averted her eyes and tried to catch her breath, recognizing for the first time she both worshiped and feared this man’s size and martial masculinity.
“You did not come to ask me to surrender.”
Andrea looked up at the tone of disgust in his voice and noticed his eyes seemed to portray deep annoyance. She unconsciously put one hand on her chest to ease a pain so intense it felt as if invisible claws had seized her heart and were slowly wrenching it from within. How often had she thought of him…pictured him…dreamed of him? Yet seeing him thus caused an agonizing and mysterious pain to pulse through her heart.
“I have never surrendered and it is a little late to be learning the meaning of the word now.” His focus moved from the window to her face. “Surely you did not come here thinking to teach it to me.”
There was no affection or even friendliness in his voice. His cold and uncaring tone was enough to freeze the blood in Andrea’s veins. But when she saw his gaze drop down to her boots, she thought she read a hint of wistfulness there, as if the memory of the night she’d received them had invaded his thoughts.
“I should not have come.” Andrea took another deep, shaky breath as his expression returned to one of callousness and indifference. Riding into his heavily armed camp had not been half so hard as facing him thus. “I would not have come,” she started again, “but you will be facing General Jordan.” She exhaled loudly, relieved to have finally finished her sentence.
“And that is why you are here?” Hunter threw his hands up in the air. “It cannot be helped. It is the fate of war.”
Glory Bound (Shades of Gray Serial Civil War Trilogy Book 3) Page 8
