Unwilling Warrior

by Andrea Boeshaar

  Catherine pressed her lips together.

  “And if you never marry, my dear, you’ll always have your teaching.”

  “Yes, Daddy.” She was clearly trying her best to be patient with him.

  Obviously Valerie took note of it too. “Pardon my saying so, Pastor Elliot, but my friend Elicia Donahue has a cousin who met her husband through correspondence. She became a mail-order bride, moving out to the territories. She’s quite content.”

  “Well, I . . . well . . . ” Cousin Max cleared his throat. “We’ll not encourage this talk of mail-order brides and prairies.”

  “Yes, sir.” Valerie folded her hands in her lap.

  “I personally don’t like the idea of young ladies traveling long distances,” Cousin Max said, “especially now while there’s a war going on. Although I’m aware our Valerie, here, made the trek from Virginia in one piece.”

  Ben felt Valerie tense at his side.

  “Thank God for her safe arrival,” he said.

  “Yes, sir, and I do,” Valerie replied.

  “But the war will be over in just a month or so, Daddy.” Catherine’s huge eyes rested on Ben. “People will begin traveling out West again. Isn’t that so, Ben?”

  “One can only pray the fighting will end soon,” he said with a long sigh.

  “Son, you’ll find him.” Cousin Max had about read his next thoughts.

  Ben shook his head, amazed that his emotions had been so transparent. He noticed the compassionate stares from the three people surrounding him. “I’m sorry.”

  “Let’s all pray,” Cousin Max suggested. Catherine came over to sit on the floor near Ben’s knee, and the four of them clasped hands. Ben couldn’t help feeling the difference between the two women, Catherine’s hand long and cold, and Valerie’s warm, soft, small, and fragile.

  “Heavenly Father, we come boldly before Your throne of grace and ask after Luke McCabe. We pray for his protection. Lord, please send Your angels concerning him to guide him home. Give Ben Your peace that passeth all understanding as he searches for his younger brother. May Thy will be done, Lord God, and may we have the courage to accept it. In Jesus’s name, amen.”

  “Amen.” The word tumbled from Ben’s lips as doubts filled him. What if God’s will had been to take Luke home to heaven?

  He squeezed his eyes closed against the very idea. And in that split second, he realized he didn’t possess the mettle to accept that possibility. God, help me!

  Valerie tugged on his hand, and her sapphire eyes snared his gaze.

  “You’ll find him.” She spoke the words in whispered reverence. “Somehow I know . . . I can feel it.”

  “Can you?” Ben wanted to latch on to that nugget of hope and never let go.

  A smile inched its way across her lovely face, and he knew right there that Miss Valerie Fontaine had not only encouraged his soul, but she had also captured his heart.

  ***

  Around ten o’clock Valerie and Benjamin bade the Elliots good-bye. She hugged her woolen cape more tightly around her shoulders as she stepped from the parsonage. The night air felt thick, damp, and cold. A dense fog had rolled in from the gulf, impairing visibility. But Valerie managed to see Willie waiting by the buggy. The brown-faced man helped her climb in, and Benjamin soon followed suit. Within minutes the vehicle lurched forward.

  For several long seconds neither of them spoke. Finally Benjamin broke the awkward silence. “I hope you had a nice time, Valerie.” An apologetic note lingered on his words. “I have a feeling there’s been a terrible misunderstanding between Catherine and me.”

  “I have a feeling you’re right. She’s in love with you.”

  “What?” Benjamin jerked his body back. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that.”

  “But it’s true. I saw it in her eyes each time she looked at you.”

  “We haven’t seen each other in years!”

  “Perhaps she’s in love with the last memory she has of you.”

  “Well, maybe . . . ” Benjamin cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the notion.

  “Did you correspond with her from time to time?”

  “No. I mean, she wrote to me, but I was too busy to answer.”

  Valerie folded her gloved hands. “Perhaps your parents encouraged a match between the two of you.”

  “I highly doubt it.” He shook his head. “We’ve never spoken of such a thing.”

  Valerie recalled how Mama used to tell her that when she met the man with whom she was to spend the rest of her life, she’d know it. He would encourage her in her faith and she in his.

  “Valerie, I want you to know that I never intentionally gave Catherine false hope.”

  “Well, you are charming to a fault.”

  Benjamin chuckled. “I’ll try to act less chivalrous in the future.”

  She smiled at his jest. A minute later, however, she grew solemn. “I do feel sorry for Catherine though. How dreadful if she’s brokenhearted.”

  “Hmm . . . and here I thought you viewed Catherine as some sort of musical rival.”

  “I wanted to impress you. After all, you brought me as your guest to my pastor’s home.”

  “I was very proud to escort you tonight.”

  “Mama would be pleased if she could hear the compliment. She spent hours cajoling me into practicing despite all my sour chords.”

  “Yes, I’m all too familiar with those ‘sour chords.’ I’ve hit many wrong notes playing my bugle.”

  “You play?”

  “Yes, and once I took quite the ribbing after a certain Christmas program.”

  “Poor boy,” she teased.

  He shrugged his broad shoulders.

  The conveyance slowed to a halt in front of the Fontaines’ townhouse. Benjamin jumped down and then assisted Valerie. After thanking Willie for his service, she took Benjamin’s proffered arm, and they strolled together up the walkway.

  Adalia opened the door before they even reached it. “What perfect timing. I just got home myself.”

  Once inside, Valerie removed her woolen cape and hung it up while Adalia dutifully saw to Benjamin’s overcoat. Leaning close, the maid whispered, “Y’ father’s home. Had a fit that the house was dark and the hearth cold when he walked in. Now he’s sitting in the library, nursing a bottle o’ scotch.”

  Valerie gasped, drawing a concerned look from Benjamin.

  “Everything all right?” he asked

  She forced a smile to say it was nothing and proceeded to untie and remove her velvet hat.

  “Might I suggest you say good night,” Adalia whispered, “and encourage your houseguest to retire for the evening?”

  “Good idea.” Valerie pulled off her gloves.

  Meanwhile Benjamin moved toward the parlor’s entrance.

  She stepped toward him. “Well, I’m quite tired, so I think I’ll—”

  A shadow down the hall caught her eye, and before she could say more, her father appeared in the foyer.

  “Where have you been, ma fille?” He moved next to her.

  “I dined with our houseguest, Mr. McCabe, at the Elliots’ tonight. You remember Pastor Elliot, don’t you, Father?”

  “Of course.” He nodded a greeting to Benjamin. “Shall we sit down?” Father inclined his head in the direction of the parlor, and with his palm at Valerie’s low back, he guided her forward.

  She wondered at the wisdom of conversing with Father when he’d been imbibing; however, his words didn’t sound slurred and he seemed steady on his feet.

  “Would you like a drink, Mr. McCabe? A bit of scotch, perhaps? Otherwise I’ve got some of the finest bourbon in all of New Orleans.”

  “No, thank you, sir. I don’t partake, but I appreciate the offer just the same.”

  Father regarded him for a long moment before nodding to Adalia. “Bring in my scotch, please. I believe I left it in the library.”

  The maid left the room to do his bidding while Valerie sat down on the settee and
began to fret. It wouldn’t do if Benjamin saw her father in one of his pathetic, inebriated states.

  Father claimed his usual armchair, and as there was nowhere else around the fireplace to sit, Benjamin planted himself next to her on the settee.

  She pushed out a weak smile.

  His understanding expression let her know she needn’t worry.

  “I saw James Ladden at the club tonight.” Father pulled out a fat cigar from its ornately carved box. He struck a match and lit the tobacco, then held out the cigar box.

  Benjamin politely declined.

  “James told me he enjoyed the Donahues’ gala last night, and he hoped he didn’t offend either of you with his, um, enthusiasm.”

  Valerie tossed a gaze upward. The last person she wanted to discuss was James Ladden!

  “All’s forgiven on my end.” Benjamin leaned back and casually brought his left booted ankle up to rest on his right knee, bumping against Valerie’s leg. “Pardon me.”

  “Quite all right.” Valerie couldn’t say she minded sitting so close to him. Father cleared his throat, and she realized she’d been staring. “Well, I . . . ” She blinked and looked over at her father. “I’d say James owes us an apology.”

  “He told me that he expressed his regrets more than once to you last night, but you were being stubborn about accepting his apology.”

  She didn’t know what to say. Had he apologized? She couldn’t recall.

  “Well?”

  “I suppose I am being stubborn.” Valerie lifted her chin. “But James wasn’t much of a gentleman. He tricked me into going outside with him, kissed me, and made me tear my gown.”

  Beside her, Benjamin tensed.

  Just as Valerie suspected, her father did not look pleased by the news. A frown creased his forehead as he puffed on his cigar. “I’ll talk to James.”

  “Thank you.” Valerie waved away a cloud of smoke. “And could you please extinguish that dreadful thing?”

  Father scooted to the edge of his seat. “This is my house, and I shall smoke wherever I wish.”

  Valerie pressed her lips together. There was no use getting Father all lathered up. But Mama wouldn’t allow smoking in the parlor. In front of a guest, no less! Mama always insisted that he smoke in his library or out in the solarium.

  Adalia entered the room, carrying a large silver tray. On it stood Father’s crystal decanter and matching tumbler, a teapot, and two cups and saucers. She poured the scotch first and handed it to Father. Then she set the tea service in front of Valerie and Benjamin. “None for me, thanks,” he said as Adalia poured out.

  Valerie welcomed a cup of the steaming brew.

  “Mr. McCabe,” Father began, “how did your interview with Colonel LaPorte go this morning?”

  “Fine.”

  Father squinted his eyes to study him as he took another puff on his cigar. “Well, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you’d like.”

  “I appreciate the offer, Mr. Fontaine. As of now, I’m not sure how long I’ll be in New Orleans.”

  Valerie hoped it would be a good while longer.

  “But on that note, I think I’ll say good night. I hope you’ll excuse me. The last forty-eight hours have been exhausting.”

  “Of course.” Father waved a dismissive hand in the air. “I certainly understand.”

  Benjamin stood and turned to Valerie, lifting her hand and bringing it to his lips. “Good night, Miss Fontaine.” His warm, golden gaze seemed to fasten onto hers, and he lingered a moment longer than necessary. “See you in the morning.”

  “Good night. Sleep well.” Valerie couldn’t keep her eyes from following his long-legged, broad-shouldered frame out the door.

  “So you like our houseguest, do you?”

  “Hmm?” She looked back at her father.

  “Mr. McCabe? You enjoy his company?”

  “Oh, yes, Father. He’s very nice.”

  Father sat back, pursing his lips, looking thoughtful.

  Valerie smoothed out her skirt. “I think Mama would have liked him.”

  Strained moments of silence passed during which she regretted mentioning Mama. At long last, he replied, “Your mother was glad to have both Pastor Elliot and Reverend McCabe nearby during her darkest hour.”

  Valerie felt a surge of anticipation. She’d yearned to talk about Mama. He drained his glass in a single swallow. “I didn’t meet Reverend McCabe until . . . ” He shook his head and rose from his chair, heading for the decanter on the polished sideboard. “Enough of this talk.” He sighed and lifted a hand as if to brush the conversation away.

  “No, Father, please . . . ” Valerie stood and strode toward him. “I have to know. I want to hear how it happened . . . from you.”

  He cursed, causing her to jump back. “I wasn’t there.”

  “What?” Valerie’s mind raced to understand. “Where were you?”

  “I have a business to run, you know!”

  “Yes . . . ”

  “I had no idea your mother had taken ill.”

  “Didn’t she send for you?”

  “I couldn’t receive messages, and a terrible storm kept me from getting home. She sent for Pastor Elliot and his wife. Not wanting to bring a woman out in the bad weather, the pastor brought his friend Daniel McCabe instead.”

  “Benjamin’s father.” Valerie gave a quick nod of understanding, hoping to encourage him to go on.

  “Benjamin? That’s twice now.” His dark brows furrowed. “You’re on a first-name basis with the young man, and he kissed your hand before he left the room.”

  “He’s very polite.”

  “Indeed.”

  Valerie wished the subject would return to her mother. “Father, please, let’s talk about Mama.”

  “The more pressing matter is you and our houseguest—and the fact you’re not speaking to James Ladden.”

  Valerie whirled away from him. “Oh, James and all his buffoonery. I’m tired of him.” She strolled to the hearth where the fire crackled behind the brass-trimmed screen.

  “I said I’ll speak to him about his behavior last night, and I will. Nonetheless, I think he’d be a good match for you.”

  Valerie suddenly felt as though she couldn’t breathe. “I refuse to marry him. I don’t love James. I never will.”

  “What do you know about love?” Father guffawed. “You’re so young, not even nineteen years old. What could you possibly know of the subject of love?”

  “Enough to know I don’t want to marry James.”

  Folding her arms obstinately across her chest, Valerie turned away from him, but she could hear her father emptying his tumbler. His silence sent an eerie message that she might not have a choice in this matter.

  Eight

  Ben barreled down the steps, his Bible clutched tightly in one hand. Landing at the bottom of the stairwell, he swung around in the direction of the dining room when he collided headlong into the lovely Miss Valerie Fontaine. He heard her tiny cry of alarm when they hit, his chest sending her careening backward.

  He quickly wrapped his right arm around her slender waist to keep her from falling while his left hand came to rest on her delicate shoulder. “I beg your pardon. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

  “I–I think I’m unharmed.” She stared up at him with those azure eyes while her pretty pink mouth beckoned to be kissed.

  Ben wanted to oblige in the worst way, but he forced himself to step back a pace. He steadied her on her feet before letting her go. “I’m afraid I overslept.”

  “I’m sure you needed the extra rest.” She ran her hands down the skirt of her simple dark brown dress with its cream-colored lace cape. He couldn’t help but notice how nicely she filled out the gown’s shapely bodice.

  He cast off the thought and forced a polite grin. “You’re an understanding hostess.” He glanced at the Bible he still clutched in spite of their collision.

  “There’s plenty of breakfast left,” she said. “In fact, I was just go
ing to fetch more tea. Shall I have Adalia bring you some coffee?”

  “I’d be grateful.” Ben’s smile grew.

  She returned the gesture. “Well, then, make yourself comfortable in the dining room. I’ll be along in a minute or two.”

  After a nod of affirmation, he continued on and, reaching the long, polished oak table, pulled out a chair and sat down. He turned his Bible to Matthew chapter seven, where he’d left off in his reading yesterday. After a few minutes Ben paused to mull over the words of Jesus Christ when Valerie entered the room.

  “Adalia will be in soon with your coffee,” she said.

  “Perfect.” Ben stood and pulled out the adjacent chair for her. An idea formed. “May I be so bold to inquire about your plans for today?”

  “I haven’t any really. And you?”

  “I’m meeting my partner, Clint, and his wife a few miles outside of the city at a Confederate camp. We’ll see what we can gather about Luke there and photograph some officers.”

  “Sounds intriguing—at least to me who’s never been around officers and photographers.”

  With a smile, Ben sat back down on his chair. “Would you like to come along? It wouldn’t be dangerous or anything.”

  Her countenance brightened, and her eyes seemed all the more blue. “I’d like that.”

  It was the response for which Ben had hoped—but now dreaded. He wanted to get to know Valerie better, and what better way to accomplish that feat than to spend more time with her. And yet, he must be stark raving mad to think he had time for a woman in his life. First and foremost, he had to find Luke.

  Adalia came in and set the silver coffee service in front of Ben. She poured out his first cup.

  He inhaled deeply of the rising steam. “Now this is some kind of good coffee.”

  Valerie smiled while Adalia poured a fresh cup of tea for her. “I’m going with Benjamin to a Confederate camp today,” she told the maid. Then, looking at Ben, she added, “To look for his brother and take photographs. But I suppose I shall require a chaperone for propriety’s sake.” She folded her arms and a pensive frown creased her forehead. “It’ll take too much time to send a message to Elicia, and chances are she couldn’t come anyway with her cousins in town.”