New Beginnings Spring 20 Book Box Set

by Hope Sinclair

  Amelia felt bad for Mr. Porter. Obviously, Carson’s death had affected him profoundly.

  “Edward worked a very stressful job, and he really wasn’t in the best health to begin with,” Mrs. Porter went on. “And when… when everything happened… it all became too much for his body to handle. The doctor says some type of vein or bloodline must have burst in his head, and it left him absentminded and dimwitted.

  “He’s slow at everything he does and has a hard time understanding many things, and his memory is shot. He’s childlike in a lot of ways—though, he’s also quite bitter. There are certain topics he doesn’t handle that well, and he gets a bit riled up about them. But that’s where his tonic comes in. The doctor prescribed it to calm him.”

  “I hope my coming here hasn’t disturbed him,” Amelia said. “I know I showed up here unexpectedly, but I had no idea of Mr. Porter’s sensitive state… All I knew is that I hadn’t heard from Carson, and I needed answers.”

  “I understand, dear,” Mrs. Porter replied, adding a spoonful of sugar to her tea. “And please, don’t worry about disturbing Edward. Regardless of his state, there are still certain realities that he must face—and the fact that Carson is dead and has left behind a fiancé are among them.”

  Mrs. Porter took a sip of her tea, then set her cup back down and cupped her hands over it as she continued.

  “Indeed, your showing up here was unexpected,” she said. “But despite what the sign on the door says, it was not unwelcome… I hope you’ll be staying here, with us, until you can return home or make other arrangements.”

  Amelia shifted in her seat and glanced toward the window. Town was a far ways off, and Mr. Porter was right: it was getting dark out… and cold.

  “I’d hate to impose,” Amelia replied, ever considerate. “I don’t want to disrupt—”

  “Nonsense,” Mrs. Porter interjected, waving her hand in the air. “It’s not a problem. And at least for tonight, it’s your only option. I won’t allow you to walk to town, by yourself, at this hour. The hotel will already be locked up for the night before you even get there. And you could get lost, or worse, along the way.”

  Amelia couldn’t argue with Mrs. Porter’s reasoning—and she didn’t want to.

  “Thank you,” she said, reaching out to take a biscuit.

  Mrs. Porter tipped her head and took another sip of her tea.

  FIVE

  Amelia didn’t wake up until well after sunrise the next morning. If the cock had crowed, she hadn’t heard it. She was in a deep sleep, and her body and mind were busy recovering.

  But when she finally did wake, it was to a delightful smell—the unmistakable scent of fatback bacon. She got up and readied herself for the day, then went to join Mrs. Porter in the kitchen. She helped her make breakfast, then enjoyed a delicious meal with the elderly couple.

  The dynamic between the trio was a little awkward at first. But by the time they had all finished eating, Amelia and the Porters had talked a lot and become more at ease with each other.

  Amelia told them about her life back in Arkansas, and in Maryland before that. She explained how she’d turned to the mail-order bride periodicals to search for a husband mostly to get out of her mother’s house and relieve her of the financial burden of providing for her adult daughter; how she’d narrowed her search to men that were in places nearby Arkansas, so that she could occasionally go back to visit her mother; and how she’d counted her blessings when she found Carson’s advertisement and started communicating with him, for he’d not only met, but exceeded, her expectations and standards.

  When the conversation got “emotional,” Mr. Porter bowed out of it. He stepped out onto the front porch, sat on the bench, and stared out into the horizon as the warmth of the sun blanketed him. And as soon as he was situated out there, Mrs. Porter changed the subject and talked about even more “sensitive” matters. She told Amelia more about the circumstances surrounding Carson’s death and confirmed that, indeed, Carson had told her and her husband about his engagement to Amelia.

  She was just about to tell Amelia even more when Mr. Porter walked back into the house. Once he joined them again, the three of them moved on to more pleasant, less sensitive topics. Mr. Porter even fondly reminisced about Carson when he was a child, though, from time to time, he twitched or seemed otherwise hurt or bothered when Carson’s name was mentioned.

  Mr. Porter was rattled a few other times throughout the day. Any talk of the war seemed to stir him and cause him to get agitated. But for the most part, he was able to handle his emotions and avoid displaying, or feeling them. He’d either excuse himself or take a few drags of his tonic, then he’d come back later, more agreeable and “stable.”

  So, for the remainder of the day, Amelia and her hosts continued to have a fine, albeit uneventful, time together. But later that evening, something shocking happened that changed everything.

  Amelia had retired to her room early, to rest up for her journey the next day. She planned on going to town to find out when the next eastbound train would pass through Alton, then to stop at the church to pray for Carson’s soul in God’s House.

  She was just about to crawl into bed when she heard screaming. It was Mr. Porter, and he sounded angry. Amelia couldn’t make out everything he was saying, but she heard a few words clearly. He was yelling something about “the war,” “his son,” and his son “bringing shame” to their family. Amelia had no idea what she was talking about. But for the time being, she didn’t care so much about making sense of his words, as she did about responding to the situation at hand. Mr. Porter’s voice had gone from angry to very angry… and now, someone else was yelling too. But it wasn’t Mrs. Porter.

  Shivers ran down Amelia’s spine. There’s someone else in the house, she thought to herself.

  “Get out!” Mr. Porter shouted, confirming Amelia’s suspicions. “Get out now, before I make ya!”

  The other person yelled back. His words were mumbled but sounded combative.

  Amelia didn’t know what to do. Obviously, whoever was in the house was unwanted and unwilling to leave. Maybe it’s a robber or a bandit looking for a hideout, Amelia thought to herself nervously. Or maybe it’s some enemy of Carson’s come for payback.

  Whatever the case, Amelia concluded that the person in the house had to be a “bad guy.” She knew that it’d be safer for her to just stay where she was, or, perhaps, even hide under the bed or in the closet. But at the same time her mind was telling her to stay put, her heart was telling her to go out and intervene in some way. The people out there being terrorized by this bad guy were her late fiancé’s parents. They were up there in age, and Mr. Porter was mentally and physically feeble. They’d been so gracious to open their home to her, and they’d suffered so much, and lost so much when Carson died. She couldn’t leave them out there like helpless victims. She was there, and she had to try and help them.

  Amelia crept out of her room and down the hallway. When she came near the kitchen, she noticed a long coal spike. It was heavy and familiar to maneuver, so she picked it up, to be used as a weapon if she needed it.

  She turned the corner from the kitchen to the dining room. From where she stood, she could see into the living room where the confrontation was taking place. She could clearly see Mrs. Porter standing there. Her face was drenched in tears, and her hand was wringing her forehead. Mr. Porter and the other man were still shouting at each other, but they weren’t in sight.

  Amelia stepped to the right a little, and arched her neck outward—and then, she dropped the spike she was carrying.

  “It can’t be.” she said aloud. “It’s impossible.”

  The trio in the living room turned to face Amelia, and again, Amelia felt shivers go down her spine.

  That wavy brown hair, those deep-set eyes, she thought to herself. That square jaw, and that broad nose. Just look at his rugged features, and his stature.

  Amelia felt light-headed, as if she was going to faint. Even t
hough we never met, I’d recognize him anywhere, she thought. She envisioned the photograph Carson had sent her. The man in the photograph was standing right there in front of her.

  “Carson?” Amelia asked. Her voice cracked, and a single tear rolled down her cheek.

  SIX

  “Please, dear, come in here and have a seat,” Mrs. Porter said, wiping the tears from her face. She gestured toward Amelia, who reluctantly walked toward her.

  As she made her way to the wingback chair near Mrs. Porter, Amelia locked eyes with Carson. But she got a strange feeling from it. He should have recognized her from her photograph too, but instead, he looked back at her like a stranger.

  “This isn’t Carson,” Mrs. Porter explained as Amelia sat down in a chair. “This is our other son, Luke.”

  Things were starting to make sense. But just as they were, Mr. Porter ushered in more confusion.

  “I have no other son!” the old man shouted.

  “Edward, please,” Mrs. Porter pleaded.

  Mr. Porter shook his head. He looked at Luke and scowled. “Get out of my house, boy,” he said coldly.

  Luke looked to his mother, then looked to Amelia. He didn’t know who this young woman was. But she looked frightened and confused, and he didn’t want to further disturb her to argue what had proven, for the night at least, a moot point.

  “I’ll be going,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll be back later this week.”

  “The dickens you will!” Mr. Porter shouted. “Stay away from here!”

  Luke bowed his head and turned to leave. He looked at Amelia one last time and their eyes met again. They both felt something that neither one of them could understand or explain.

  “I mean it!” Mr. Porter went on. “I don’t want you coming around here… not after what you did.”

  Luke walked out of the house, and Mr. Porter all but chased after him and slammed the door shut.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Luke earlier,” Mrs. Porter said, sitting in the chair next to Amelia’s. “But as you can see, it’s a very sensitive topic for my husband. And quite frankly, he’s all a mess about it. One day he despises Luke and wants to ignore and disown him, then the next, he acts as if… nothing had happened.”

  “And why don’t you tell her what happened?” Mr. Porter said, adding to the conversation. “Why don’t you tell her why I disowned that boy, why he’s no son of mine any longer.”

  Mrs. Porter took a deep breath and stared at her husband intently. Mr. Porter was obviously aggravated, but he was also the most lucid Amelia had ever seen him.

  “Why don’t you tell her how that boy brought shame to our family,” he went on, “how he betrayed us, and the Confederacy… He was called to duty, but he did not answer. Like a coward, he ran away when he was asked to be a soldier.”

  “Edward,” Mrs. Porter said, like a school marm correcting an unruly child.

  Mr. Porter shook his head. “If Luke had gone to war, he would have fought alongside his brother,” he added. “And the two of them would have looked out for each other like only brothers could. They would have protected each other and helped each other… and Carson wouldn’t have died in that ditch. Your fiancé would still be with us.”

  Another shiver went down Amelia’s spine. She could see why Mr. Porter would want to disown Luke, and she started to dislike him too. Whether or not his going to war would have prevented Carson’s death, his dodging the draft did sound rather cowardly.

  “I’ve had enough of this,” Mr. Porter said, throwing his arms in the air. “It’s all given me a terrible headache… I’m going to take my tonic and go to bed.”

  Mr. Porter left the room, and Mrs. Porter waited a moment before picking up the conversation.

  “Despite his conclusions, he’s got the basic facts right,” she said, leaning forward. “What Edward said is mostly true. Luke did flee when he was asked to fight for the Confederacy. He was later found and arrested for his abandonment of duty and was sent to prison for several months. He was only recently released but a few weeks ago, and he’s been trying to reestablish himself in the community and work himself back into his father’s graces… Clearly, he’s not doing so well at the latter.”

  “I can’t believe Carson didn’t tell me he had a brother,” Amelia said.

  “I can believe it,” Mrs. Porter replied. “Carson and Luke may have been brothers by blood, but that’s all they really were to each other. They had very different ideals.”

  Mrs. Porter paused and bowed her head lamentingly. “Our family is nothing of what it once was,” she sighed. “And my husband prefers to blame it all on Luke. He can’t blame it on the war, on the Confederacy, or the ghost of his favorite son, and he certainly doesn’t want it on his shoulders.”

  Mrs. Porter glanced toward the window, then toward the hallway. “As for me, I just try to take it all in stride and pray for some type of resolution,” she went on. “And perhaps, in time, it’ll come—but not tonight… It’s getting late and you’ve got your trip to town in the morning. And I really should go check on Edward, to make sure he took his tonic.” She stood up from her chair and smiled at Amelia.

  Amelia stood up as well.

  “Good night,” Mrs. Porter said.

  “Good night,” Amelia echoed.

  Both women went to their rooms, and Amelia wound up tossing and turning a bit before falling asleep. She still couldn’t get over having just learned that Carson had a brother and couldn’t believe that two men who looked so very similar could be so fundamentally different. Whatever type of “swooning” she might have felt when she first saw him had been based only on his appearance; he wasn’t the man she was in love with, nor was he the type she could ever fall for.

  SEVEN

  As much as he plagued her mind before she fell asleep, Amelia had pretty much forgotten about Luke by the time she woke up and went out to breakfast. She had more important things to accomplish today, and she couldn’t be distracted.

  After forcing down a few biscuits and a slice of bacon, Amelia went out to head into town. The Porters were good enough to lend her one of their horses—and the horse couldn’t have been happier and more excited to be of service after an unnecessarily long hiatus.

  Before she left, the Porters went over the directions to town three times with Amelia. She’d admitted to them that she hadn’t paid much attention to her surroundings on the wagon ride in. When she finally left them, she was confident she had them down. But when she came to an intersection some distance into her ride, she second-guessed herself. She thought she remembered Mrs. Porter telling her to turn right here, but she also thought she remembered Mrs. Porter saying to go straight.

  As she approached the intersection, Amelia couldn’t make up her mind, so she let her horse make it for her. She decided to let it go whichever way it wanted to at the intersection, since she figured it must have been familiar with the way to town.

  The horse went straight at the intersection, as most service horses that aren’t steered in another direction do, and Amelia traveled the road for a few more minutes. She neared a crest in the road, and she could hear another horse clomping on the other side of it. She thought nothing of it at first, but then, when the rider showed up on the peak of the tiny hill, her heart fluttered. She felt a bit of a swoon again, and she reminded herself that it was just based on Luke’s appearance and his similarity to Carson.

  “Good morning,” Luke smiled, tipping his head.

  Amelia looked off to the side and tried to ignore him.

  “I said ‘good morning,’” Luke repeated. “I’d greet you by your name, but I don’t know it.”

  “It’s Amelia Johnson,” Amelia answered. “And I’d prefer not to talk to you, if you don’t mind.”

  Luke slowed his horse and chuckled. “I guess my parents told you all about me,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Pity you, I caught Father on one of his sour nights though. If I’d come at a time where he’d better received me,
you might now know how I won a pig wrangling contest at the town fair when I was nine instead of what awful things he must have said about me last night.”

  Amelia didn’t know whether to find Luke’s attitude amusing or disturbing, but in any event, she refused to reply to him and spurred her horse forward.

  “What?” Luke asked, eying Amelia as she came closer to him. “You’re just going to ignore me?”

  He isn’t going to let up, Amelia told herself. She reluctantly slowed her horse beside him. “Yes. I’m going to ignore you,” she answered. “I’m going to ignore you like you ignored your call to service, like you ignored your family’s allegiance… like you ignored your brother.”

  “So, you do know some pretty awful things about me?” Luke asked, arching his eyebrows. “My parents told you about how I wouldn’t fight for the Confederacy. But is that all they told you?”

  “They told me that you were sent to prison,” Amelia replied.

  “Anything else?” Luke asked.

  Amelia looked at him curiously and said nothing—and her silence answered his question.

  “You know,” Luke said, straightening his form to resume riding, “my brother and I took different paths in life… And perhaps you, too, should take one.”

  Again, Amelia looked at him curiously. He kicked his horse lightly and started off in the opposite direction.

  “You’re going the wrong way,” he called back. “If you’re headed to town, you should have gone right, not straight, at the last intersection.”

  Amelia’s face flushed red and felt warm, and her mind started racing. She was embarrassed and felt a bit foolish, and she hoped this would be her last confrontation with Luke Porter.

  But of course, it wasn’t. She ran into Luke again later that day after she’d accomplished what she’d set out to accomplish and was leaving the church after her own private vigil. She stepped out of the door and nearly collided with a ladder that was out front of it. There was a man on it, fixing the awning.