“If she had truly loved you, she’d have followed you to the ends of the earth.” Valerie allowed her hand to remain in his. “I know I would have . . . that is, I’d follow the man I love . . . when I find him, of course.” Oh, how embarrassing to stammer like some besotted schoolgirl!
His eyes seemed to assess her every feature, and when they paused at her mouth, she quickly glanced out the window. “Oh, look at the decorations in that store window.” Had he been thinking of kissing her? She wouldn’t have minded, but here inside the carriage wouldn’t have been an appropriate place.
He sat forward and leaned over to glimpse the shop as the carriage rolled past.
“So what’s your next step in finding your brother?” Valerie changed subjects.
“Funny you should ask.” Sitting back again, he released her hand. “My strategy might be changing some. I might stay in New Orleans awhile.”
Valerie wasn’t at all disappointed to hear it.
The carriage rolled to a halt in front of the Elliots’ red brick house.
Benjamin jumped down and helped Valerie alight. He removed his gold pocket watch from inside his waistcoat, opened it, and peered at its face before replacing it. “Looks like we’ve arrived at our destination right on time.”
“Perfect.” Valerie smoothed her skirts and adjusted her cloak.
“The tour of New Orleans was most . . . informative. I enjoyed it.” He extended his arm, and Valerie placed her hand around his elbow. Together they strolled to the house.
***
A Christmas tree stood in the corner of the Elliots’ cozy living room. Valerie paused to admire the homemade decorations that hung from its branches. She noticed too the little red bows tied here and there.
“I’m sure our tree is quite pitiful compared to the one at your house,” Catherine said.
“No, on the contrary, your tree is lovely.” Valerie fingered a tiny replica of a gingerbread man cookie. “This ornament is adorable.”
“I made it and others with my students.”
“How ingenious of you.”
When Valerie turned, Catherine followed. “What kind of ornaments do you hang on your Christmas tree? I imagine they’re frosted glass and quite costly.”
“Some are, yes, but this year I arrived home too late to decorate.” She didn’t mention that Father refused to allow her to dig out the holiday decorations.
“Oh, that’s right. You were away at boarding school.” Catherine bent to speak softly into Valerie’s ear. “Mama told me you left school without permission.”
“No, that’s not true.” Despite the soft reply, discomfort beat loudly in her ears. “I wired my father when I left Virginia, but the message never reached him.” They stepped nearer to where Benjamin talked with Pastor Elliot and Robert, Catherine’s younger brother.
“So next thing I know, Luke’s gone. Clint had left to get his wife out of harm’s way when the pandemonium broke out.”
Pastor Elliot shook his head, but his young son looked at Benjamin with wide, curious eyes.
Benjamin added explanation for the boy’s benefit. “You see, carriages filled with spectators had been lined up to see what was supposed to be a huge Confederate defeat. A lot of civilians were hurt.”
“I wish I could’ve been there to see it,” Robert said. “Better, I would have liked to fight with the Rebs.”
“Robert, honestly!” Catherine was aghast.
Benjamin did his best to quell a small grin. “Well, in the midst of it, Luke disappeared.”
Valerie saw the angst that now shadowed Benjamin’s face, and sorrow filled her own heart. Lord, please let him find his brother . . .
Mrs. Elliot suddenly entered the room. She wore a black and white ensemble that was simple yet elegant. “Dinner’s ready.”
Valerie followed Catherine. In the dining room, the small table had been covered with a white linen cloth and set for six. Candlelight flickered from the tall white tapers in the middle of the centerpiece created from evergreen boughs.
“Valerie, you’ll sit here. Beside Robert.” Catherine nodded to the place.
Benjamin came up behind her and held the chair for Valerie. She smiled her gratitude, then watched as he did the same for Catherine. Finally he took his own seat opposite Valerie. When their gazes met, he gave her a quick wink.
Pastor Elliot seated Mrs. Elliot, then took his place at the head of the table. “Let’s pray, shall we?” All heads bowed. Once the blessing was asked, bowls and platters of food were passed.
“Mm-mmm . . . roast goose with all the trimmings.” Benjamin helped himself to a good-sized portion.
“With mashed potato stuffing. Your favorite.”
“Well, now, Catherine Elliot, how would you know a thing like that?” Benjamin wanted to know.
“You made mention of it the last time you visited.”
He paused to consider the reply. “That was a long time ago.” He passed the platter to Mrs. Elliot. “You have a mighty good memory.”
“Well, yes, I do—especially when it’s of you and your family.”
Valerie arched her brows and looked from Catherine to Benjamin. She couldn’t see his expression as he ladled several spoonfuls of rich brown sauce onto his meat before passing on the porcelain gravy boat. But Valerie had quickly drawn her own conclusions.
“What’s your favorite food, Miss Fontaine?” twelve-year-old Robert asked.
She looked at the boy. “My favorite meal . . . hmm . . . well, I must admit, this one is certainly up there in the top three.” She peered over her lashes, first at Mrs. Elliot and then at Catherine. They gazed back at her expectantly. “It smells delicious. I can’t wait to try a few bites.”
“Thank you, my dear.” Mrs. Elliot handed her the bowl of sliced beets, and Valerie helped herself to a spoonful.
“I’m sure you’re accustomed to more elegant fare,” Catherine said on an apologetic note.
“Accustomed? No, not really. This meal is one of the nicest I’ve had in a long while. At school we ate very simply, and since I’ve been home, our cook Chastean goes home to her family in the evenings.” She looked at Benjamin. “Unless there’s a guest, of course.”
He grinned politely.
“Tell me more about Bull Run, Cousin Ben,” Robert said, changing the subject. “I want to hear all about the fighting.”
“Robert, dear . . . ” His mother shook her head at him. “Let’s remember our manners, shall we?” She turned to Benjamin. “Have you heard from your mother recently?”
“Not for a while. I’m assuming she’s just fine.”
“And how’s Jacob?” Mrs. Elliot leaned forward, an earnest expression on her face.
“Well, as you might know, Jake enlisted with the Confederacy under General McCulloch and served with his army of the West. Last August he was wounded at Wilson’s Creek near Springfield. He returned home with a permanent leg injury. Foiled his plans to be a lawman.” He drew in a heavy breath. “He’s disappointed, to say the least, but God has other plans for him.”
Catherine placed her long fingers on Benjamin’s wide wrist. “What a shame.”
“Jake is alive. We’re all grateful for that.” He politely removed his arm from beneath her hand and lifted his fork.
Valerie felt every bit the outsider, so she said, “Where does Jacob fall into line in the McCabe family?”
“Second oldest,” Catherine replied before Benjamin could answer. “Just a year younger than Ben and myself. Jacob comes next, followed by Leah, then Luke, and Sarah’s the youngest.”
“I see.” Valerie chanced a look across the table. Benjamin sent her a grin before forking a bite of food into his mouth.
“We remember Jacob and Luke in our prayers every evening.” Pastor Elliot dabbed the sides of his mouth with his linen napkin. “Just as we remember every one of your family members.” He cleared his throat and peered at Valerie. “We pray for our congregational members too, of course.”
“I�
�m sure you do.” Valerine didn’t doubt it. She’d always known the wiry, energetic pastor to be sincere and very sacrificial with his time.
“And the girls? How are they?” Mrs. Elliot asked.
“They’re well,” Catherine interjected. “No wire has come through yet, announcing the birth of Leah’s baby.”
Benjamin gave her such a surprised look that Valerie found the woman’s behavior quite funny. She bit one side of her mouth to keep from smiling.
“Cousin Rebecca said she’d send off a wire to you, Ben, in care of our name and address. I’ve been watching for it,” she went on to explain.
“Well, thank you kindly, Catherine. I’d forgotten that Ma had told me of the plan.” His gaze captured Valerie’s, and he shrugged as if he didn’t know whether to be amused or irritated by Catherine’s behavior.
“And Sarah’s still—?”
“—as sassy as ever.” Benjamin quickly put in. He glanced at Catherine and grinned. “Did I take the words right out of your mouth?”
“Well, not exactly.” She pulled her chin back in surprise.
Laughter flitted around the table, and at last Valerie rid herself of the mirth she’d been holding in check.
Seven
Ben sauntered away from the dinner table with a full and satisfied feeling. “A marvelous dinner, Cousin Amanda.”
“Thank you, but Catherine did most of the cooking.”
“My compliments.” He turned to Catherine with a small bow of appreciation.
She smiled and latched on to his right arm. Ben glanced at Valerie, who was deep in conversation with Robert, and for a moment he wished she was the one holding his arm. They moved into the parlor.
“Catherine can cook and bake practically anything.”
“Good for you.” He pulled his arm free when they reached the red-upholstered settee.
Catherine blushed.
“She’s a musician too.”
“Oh, Mama—” Catherine gestured with her hand.
Ben grinned. “You’ll have to play something for us.”
“She’d love to!” Cousin Amanda wore a broad smile. “Why, she makes up melodies and writes poetry to go along with them. Plays for church and her students mostly.”
“I’m impressed. Let’s hear something from your repertoire.”
Catherine fingered the tiny embroidered bow on her high neckline. “Well, I don’t know . . . ”
“C’mon, Sissy,” Robert said, coming up behind them with Valerie. “You’ve been practicing for hours every day since you learned Cousin Ben was coming to New Orleans.”
“Robert!” Cousin Amanda clucked her tongue.
Ben suppressed a smile. Typical little brother . . .
Luke came to mind—as a kid he could be was just as irksome when he’d been the same age as Robert. “Now, Catherine, we’d all like to hear you play.”
Catherine ran her long hands down the folds of her green and white striped skirt. “I . . . well, I . . . ”
Seeing as Cousin Amanda had seated herself in one of the two printed armchairs, Ben sat down on the settee. “Don’t be shy, Catherine. Play a song for us.”
“All right, if you insist.”
Robert plopped down beside him, causing Ben a measure of disappointment. He’d been hoping Valerie would sit next to him. Instead she lowered herself into the second armchair while Cousin Max dragged in a dining room chair for himself.
Across the room, Catherine took the piano bench. Her frame was so thin that her shoulder blades looked like clipped wings poking out of the back of her dress. Once more Ben hoped she wasn’t ill. Her countenance appeared healthy enough. Seconds later, she began to plunk out a simple tune before singing.
It was all Ben could do not to wince at each flat note she hit, but he noticed that Valerie sat quietly, attentively, with her delicate hands folded in her lap.
Our needs are met.
Our God is great.
“Hey, that doesn’t rhyme!” Robert shouted.
Catherine struck an errant key and glared at her brother.
“Robert, don’t interrupt your sister,” Cousin Max said.
“But the words met and great don’t rhyme,” he argued.
“Let’s not be so critical.” Cousin Amanda sent her son a stern look before her gaze returned to Catherine. “Please continue, dear.”
Robert groaned and Ben winked at the boy. His family members were all musically inclined, so he knew a little bit about making “a joyful noise unto the Lord,” and he appreciated Catherine’s efforts.
The recital finally ended, and everyone applauded, Ben included. Catherine lowered her gaze and smiled, blushing.
Her mother looked pleased and swung her gaze to Valerie. “Do you play a musical instrument?”
“Yes.” She shifted in her chair. “I’m trained on the violin and piano.”
Ben didn’t detect an air of haughtiness, but he sure could feel the sudden tension crackling in the air.
“Oh, yes, now I remember.” Cousin Amanda looked as though she wished she hadn’t asked. “Your mother told me about your lessons a while back.”
Valerie merely smiled.
“Then you must play the piano for us too!” Robert exclaimed. “Please. I want to hear you play!”
“Um . . . ” Her questioning gaze flew to Ben. “I haven’t played in months.”
“You’re under no obligation.”
“Perhaps I’ll fetch the coffee and dessert,” Cousin Amanda said.
But the suggestion came too late. Robert was already out of his seat and tugging on Valerie’s elbow. “Oh, come on. Please. Play a song for us.”
“Well, I suppose I could play just a little something.”
Valerie moved to the piano and Robert reclaimed his seat, forcing Catherine to seek refuge in the now-vacated armchair.
Meanwhile Valerie gathered her hoop skirts and made herself comfortable on the wooden bench. “After I received news of Mama’s death, it was hard to practice at school,” Valerie said. “That was last June.”
“We understand if you’re a tad rusty.” Cousin Max had straddled a wooden chair and rested his arms along the top of its slatted backrest.
Valerie began to play, and Ben stole the moment to admire her from afar—her beauty awed him. The soft curls in her dark hair that hung to her shoulders, her flawless, pale complexion, and pert nose. While petite, she still possessed an attractive, curvy figure. It was little wonder that he’d overheard several men comment about her beauty at last night’s gala.
Her delicate fingers cavorted across the piano’s ivory keys. He recognized the melody she’d selected as an Irish folk song.
Then she began to sing:
The water is wide,
I cannot get o’er.
Neither have I the wings to fly.
Give me a boat that can carry two,
And both shall row, my love and I.
Valerie’s wispy soprano coupled with the heartfelt melody stirred up something deep inside of Ben. But that was no surprise—so far he was enamored by everything about her.
The shaking of Catherine’s head caught his eye, and he glanced her way. “It’s one of those insipid ballads,” he heard her mumble to her mother, who had the good grace to ignore her.
Ben wondered. She almost seemed . . . jealous.
The notion brought him up short. Surely Catherine didn’t think . . . no, it wasn’t possible . . . she couldn’t be entertaining the idea that he’d come to New Orleans for the purpose of courting her! Could she?
He closed his eyes. Oh, Lord, I should have read those letters she wrote me.
Valerie finished the song, and again, everyone applauded. Her cheeks turned a striking strawberry pink.
Cousin Amanda stood, and Ben noted the frown lines on her forehead. “I think it’s time for our dessert. Catherine made her specialty—coconut custard.”
“Can I have an extra helping?” Robert lifted his tawny brows in hopefulness.
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sp; Catherine flung a warning look at him. “Perhaps you ought to help Mama in the kitchen, darling brother.” The words came out through a clenched jaw.
Robert looked doomed. But he stood and, without complaint, followed his mother out of the parlor.
Still near the pianoforte, Valerie smiled after the boy before walking over to the vacated place beside Ben. Gathering her skirts, she sat down. The scent of lavender and spice wafted to his nostrils, and Ben fought the urge to lean closer and inhale deeply of the sweet scent.
“Well, now, Valerie dear,” Cousin Max began, turning his chair around and seating himself, “you must play for us at church. I had no idea of your musical talent. Why didn’t your mother tell us? You could be playing in church on Sundays.”
“Perhaps because Catherine plays so nicely week after week.”
Cousin Max jutted out his bottom lip in momentary thought. “Even Catherine needs a day of rest.” He smiled at his daughter. “Sometimes I think she’s wearing herself too thin.”
“Oh, Daddy, I’m fine.” Catherine shifted uncomfortably. “A picture of health. Besides, I read that women who are more slender have less difficulty living on the prair—”
Ben saw her eyes dart in his direction before she turned her gaze to the braided rug on the wooden floor. He had a sinking feeling his earlier hunch was correct. He prayed he’d done nothing in the past to give her false hopes.
“My daughter has a bit of wanderlust.” Cousin Max sounded amused. “She fancies herself a prairie bride.”
“Daddy, please!” Catherine looked mortified.
“There are plenty of good men in our congregation who would make fine husbands, and they live right here in New Orleans.”
Unwilling Warrior Page 7
