Fragile Dreams Read online

“Of course she is,” Jed continued smoothly. “But Gran is getting old. Even with her help you’re carrying a terrible burden. Who will help you put in a crop this spring? You have to be realistic. What will you live on?”

  She stiffened, pulling her hand free. “I’ve had no news of James. My hope is that he will return.”

  The smile left Jed’s eyes. In its place, cold calculation glittered. He ran a hand along his face. “War often results in damage. I don’t mean to worry you, but if he does return he may be too injured to be of much use. I’m offering to marry you, to take over the plantation and spare James from coming home to a place that has decayed in his absence.”

  Caroline’s head pounded. She studied the rich velvet of the settee as she grappled with her feelings. She should marry Jed. She owed it to Magnolia Manor and all that Pa had worked to build. Yet, the rebel in her nature balked at marrying a man she was not truly sure she could learn to love, a man who even frightened her at times. Still, if she turned him down flat, whom would she marry if times got hard?

  Stalling for time, she forced a smile. “I will consider your offer, Jed. It is kind of you to concern yourself with our needs. Still, I’d like to wait a little longer. The war can’t last forever, and it would mean so much to me to have James’s blessing on our union.”

  “You’re only making things harder on yourself, Caroline. You’re not suited for managing a plantation, and you’ll blame yourself when you lose everything and come to me desperate and penniless.”

  The words frightened her. She stared into his eyes, looking for comfort and finding only stern disapproval. The pride born of her English ancestry lit a spark of temper. Circumstances were not so desperate that she would let fear goad her into marriage, not yet, at least.

  She rose abruptly. “Thank you for calling. I really must go up and tuck in Andrew as I promised.”

  “Then I will take my leave and come calling again. Next week, perhaps?”

  Caroline nodded curtly. She shivered, unable to convince herself that she enjoyed his attention as he lifted her hand and deposited a kiss. When he had disappeared into the night, Caroline stared at the closed door, unable to make the logic of this marriage submit to her reluctance.

  She sighed as she picked up the lamp and started up the stairs. She tiptoed into Andrew’s room. She was relieved to find him sleeping. He breathed evenly, his smooth, childish cheeks moving softly with each breath. She was glad she’d escaped hearing his prayers, something they still did out of habit. When she and James were small, her parents had come in every night to hear her prayers.

  After Ma died, Pa raised Andrew in the habit of nightly prayers. It had been months since Caroline had bothered to pray. After all, it was God who had taken Pa and allowed James to go to war. One by one, she was losing the people closest to her and perhaps, her home as well. Appealing to God had seemed about as helpful as whispering to the wind. If God chose to heap problems on her and not lift a finger to ease her distress, she wouldn’t give Him the pleasure of hearing her pray. She could look to no one but herself for decisions that would affect her future.

  She stood at her bedroom window and watched the full moon slip between the clouds in an overcast sky. She breathed the comforting scent of the damp earth of her home, shivering in the chilly air as she began to unhook the tiny buttons that closed the back of her dress.

  She blinked, staring hard as a dark form moved from the barn toward the pump at the old well. She held her breath as she tried to make out what had collapsed near the well and was now lying still. As the moon made a brief appearance through the layer of clouds, Caroline could see the prostrate figure of a man.

  Fragile Dreams

  Fragile Dreams

  CHAPTER TWO

  Caroline clutched her shawl about her shoulders as she gathered her courage and forced her leaden feet down the stairs. She reached the front door and paused, longing to go back to her room and bury herself beneath her covers. All that propelled her forward was the knowledge that, with Gran getting older, the responsibility of the household’s safety fell squarely upon her shoulders. Besides, she could never fall asleep knowing that a man lay in her yard.

  She compelled her shaking fingers to twist the doorknob. The humid night air enveloped her, urging her forward to whatever waited. If Pa was alive or James was home, she would not be out here, shivering in the night. But they were not. So, for the first time, she wished she had married Jed. Then she could have stayed safely inside while he dealt with unexpected events.

  She stiffened her spine, annoyed by her cowardice, and reminded herself that the war had robbed many women of the protection of their men. Yet, in spite of her resolve, the cacophony of crickets was hardly noticeable above the sound of her ragged breathing. Nonetheless, she moved ahead, driven by the necessity to discover whether the motionless figure was dead.

  She could see him better now. He lay on his side, knees drawn, and hands pressed to his ribs. He moaned softly and Caroline drew a sharp breath at the sight of his blue uniform. How had a wounded Yankee soldier found his way to her yard?

  She crouched beside him, debating what to do. If he died, she and Gran could simply bury him and hope the Yankees didn’t discover the grave and shoot them for murder. But if his wounds were not fatal, she could hardly leave him lying in the yard. The Yankees might find him and accuse her of the shooting.

  Swiftly, she turned back for the house, her feet flying over the damp grass. She dashed into Gran’s bedchamber on the first floor. Her entrance startled the sleeping woman, who sat up and grasped about the nightstand for her spectacles.

  Clutching the bed post, Caroline gasped, “Bundle up. You have to help me.”

  Gran stared at Caroline as though she were a ghost. “Caroline, what are you doing up this time of night?”

  “A Yankee soldier is lying wounded in our yard. I don’t know how bad he’s hurt.”

  “A Yankee?” Gran lurched out of bed and felt for her slippers. She pulled a wrap about her shoulders and followed Caroline through the dark house and into the night.

  ****

  Nate swallowed hard against the pain that threatened to consume him. His side felt like a burning poker had lodged beneath his flesh. Yet, in the midst of his agony, he’d roused from his semi-conscious stupor and seen a woman, an angel perhaps. But she’d gone now, leaving him miserably alone when he’d wanted desperately to ask for a drink. It was only his discomfort that convinced him that she’d not been an angel.

  He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. Too bad he’d not reached the spigot before his strength failed, and he’d blacked out.

  He rolled his head back and studied the massive manor that rose before him, white pillars gleaming in the moonlight. A sweeping veranda graced the front entrance, approachable by a wide carriage drive. It would be a comfortable house, he thought, warmed by the ample fireplaces indicated by the abundance of chimneys that sat above the slope of the roof, looking like watchtowers on a castle.

  Where had the woman gone? And why had she come out alone? Hushed voices sounded from the porch, and Nate saw two darkened forms hurry down the steps. Whoever they were, one thing was certain. He was completely at their mercy.

  ****

  Caroline’s heart pounded as she pointed out the wounded soldier to Gran. “What are we going to do with him?”

  “We are going to help him, just like the Good Book says we’re to do. For all you know, your brother James might be needing nursing by some Yankee woman.”

  Caroline clutched Gran’s arm. “Are you sure? What if the Yankees come looking for him and say we shot him? They could burn the plantation, or worse yet, us.”

  Gran shook her head. “That’s in the good Lord’s hands.”

  Caroline bit her lip as they knelt beside the injured man.

  Gran put her hand on his chest. “I can feel him breathing; he’s still alive.”

  He stirred and whispered hoarsely, “Please, can I have a drink?”

&nb
sp; “We’d better get you inside first,” Caroline replied. “Do you think you can walk if we help you?”

  In answer, he strained to sit up. With a gasp, he struggled and let the women help him to his feet. He leaned on them heavily as they trudged slowly toward the door. In spite of his lean build, he was muscular, and Caroline struggled under her share of the weight. And though he was slumped, she knew he must beat her by several inches of height.

  The arm draped over her shoulder grew heavier, and she knew his endurance was flagging. When they reached the porch, his ragged breathing told her that it was sheer determination keeping this soldier on his feet. She wondered bitterly if the same determination would help return him to the union army to kill more confederate soldiers.

  She grimaced as they reached the front door. Her muscles ached under her burden. She paused and panted to Gran, “We’d better put him in your room. We’ll never get him upstairs. You can move into James’s room.”

  “I expect you’re right.”

  Moving slowly, they navigated through the dark house and into Gran’s bedchamber. Caroline sighed with relief as they transferred his weight from their tired shoulders onto the waiting bed.

  He sprawled onto the feather mattress. Caroline didn’t doubt that his blood soaked coat would stain the linen beyond repair. And there was no telling when they’d have the funds to buy more fine linen to sew new sheets.

  Gran lit the lamp. Flickering shadows danced across the walls. Gran’s round face puckered with dismay as she stared at the dark stain that soiled the soldier’s jacket. She clucked softly. “Fetch him a drink while I start to tend his wound.”

  Caroline hurried to the kitchen in quest of the water in the rose-painted ceramic pitcher. Moonlight spilled through the window, allowing ample light for her task. Yet her hand quivered so violently the water cascaded down the sides of the glass. When she’d filled the glass, she grasped it tightly and started back. She was glad the noise and activity had not wakened Andrew.

  Her feet froze at the doorway of Gran’s bedchamber. Her heart hammered as she watched Gran gently cleaning the soldier’s wound. She’d suspected he was lean and well-muscled. Now that Gran had peeled back his shirt, her suspicion was confirmed. She felt her cheeks grow warm as his eyes opened to see her staring. His face, pale from loss of blood, contrasted with his ebony hair. His eyes, a startling blue, beseeched her for the drink.

  Coming to herself, she hurried forward to lift the glass to his dry lips. She held his head as he drank deeply from the glass. Her fingers tingled where they nestled against his thick dark hair. When he was sated, she helped him lie back against the feather pillow. He seemed to drift from consciousness as he closed his eyes.

  She crossed to where Gran still labored. “How bad is he hurt?”

  Gran clucked softly. “I guess the good Lord was looking out for him. The bullet passed through his shoulder. If he can stand the loss of blood, in time, he’ll heal.”

  Gran squeezed the cloth into water that had grown pink with blood. She nodded to the soldier’s jacket. “Thought you might be interested in what I found in his pocket.”

  On the night table, Caroline spotted a worn copy of the Bible. So the stranger was a believer, or at least he carried a Bible. Caroline felt a tug of curiosity that she tried to suppress. It wasn’t seemly that she wanted to know more about this man. He was a Yankee soldier, an enemy. It would be disloyal to find him either interesting or attractive.

  Gran straightened from her nursing. “I better get some fresh water to finish this cleaning. You can go on up to bed if you’re tired.”

  Caroline sank into a chair. “I’ll stay until you get back in case he wakes up.”

  Gran nodded as she shuffled out to refill the basin.

  Caroline studied the soldier, who stirred without waking, seeming to sense her scrutiny. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties, perhaps three or four years older than she. He wore a dark, neatly trimmed beard that framed his chin and strong jaw.

  Gran bustled back into the room. “Now Caroline, you get back to bed. I’ll sit with our patient tonight.”

  Caroline shivered violently, suddenly aware that the house was chilly.

  “No, Gran, I’ll stay with him tonight. It’s cold, and you won’t sleep well. Then you’ll ache something terrible in the morning.”

  Gran smiled. “I’ll grab a quilt, and I’ll be fine. The older I get, the less I sleep at night. I can sleep tomorrow while you sit with him.”

  Caroline hated for Gran to take the night shift. Yet, Caroline wanted to be alert the next day in case he awoke. It wouldn’t do to be asleep with a Yankee in the house, even a wounded one.

  Finally, she told Gran, “Promise to wake me at first light so you can get some sleep.”

  Gran stooped over the basin, her kind face full of concern for the stranger. “I’ll try to get some sleep. I’ll rest right here in the chair.”

  Caroline hesitated again and Gran waved her up to bed.

  When she reached her bedchamber, it seemed oddly quiet after the drama that had just occupied their energies. She slipped under the down coverlet and tried to forget the enemy soldier they harbored in the room directly beneath her. But, forgetting wasn’t easy as he was by far the most handsome man she had ever seen.

  The night passed at last and Caroline woke from fitful sleep to the first rays of winter light filtering weakly through the windows. She dressed in haste and hurried down to hear Gran snoring from the overstuffed chair beside the bed. She tiptoed into the room and stood beside the soldier.

  His eyelids flickered. His face had been pale the night before. Now it was flushed with fever. As though sensing her presence, he opened his eyes and fixed her with a pain-filled gaze.

  Through cracked lips, he whispered, “When I first saw your pretty face, I knew you were an angel of mercy.”

  Caroline swallowed hard, unprepared for the unwelcome sympathy that flooded her at the trust she saw in his eyes. Did he think she had wanted to help him? It had been her last thought. Yet, he’d left her little choice.

  She turned away. “I’ll get you a drink.”

  Gran stirred in the chair. “Is he awake?”

  Caroline nodded. She fetched the drink and lifted it to his mouth while Gran inspected the wound. “It’s not bleeding anymore. That’s a good sign.”

  She patted his arm. “You’re going to need lots of warm soup in order to replace the blood you lost. I’ll get some started.”

  Andrew’s voice rang from the kitchen. “Caroline? Gran? Where is everybody?”

  As Gran headed for the kitchen, Caroline turned to follow. The soldier grasped her wrist with a strength that surprised her. “Please don’t leave. Stay and tell me where I am and who you are.”

  Gran glanced back.

  “Stay with him. I’ll get breakfast for Andrew.”

  Caroline knew how a mouse felt in a trap. She felt as though his intensely blue eyes could see right through her, to the depth of her soul. She wanted to run. Yet she wouldn’t scurry away and let him see how uncomfortable he made her. So, instead, she said a bit too harshly, “Perhaps we should start with you telling me who you are.”

  He nodded. “Lieutenant Nate Sikes. I was ambushed in the woods. My men were killed.”

  “I’m Caroline Ashcroft. You’re in my home. I found you in the yard last night.”

  He squeezed her arm gently. “You’re very kind to take me in. You’ve got such gentle eyes, like a deer, and the longest dark lashes. Your hair matches your eyes. I knew I’d be in good hands last night when I saw you appear, like a vision, with curls falling over your shoulders. Just like they are now.”

  Caroline felt a flush creep into her cheeks. She had not thought to put up her hair before she’d come down. Fortunately, his stamina was short lived. A few moments later, his grip weakened and he drifted off to sleep. Caroline quickly withdrew her hand.

  She turned to see Andrew staring wide-eyed from the doorway.

  “How
did he get here?”

  She put a finger to her lips and led the young boy back to the kitchen.

  “Gran and I found him wounded in the yard last night. There must have been an ambush. He survived and made his way here.”

  “But I saw his blue coat. He’s a Yankee.”

  “I know. But he’s injured. We couldn’t just leave him in the yard.”

  “He can’t stay here,” Andrew insisted.

  Caroline studied her brother. “I don’t like having a Yankee soldier in the house any better than you do. But he’ll have to stay until he’s better.”

  They reached the kitchen where Gran had bowls of steaming oatmeal ready at the table. After the perfunctory prayer, Andrew said, “Promise me you won’t tell Jed that the Yankee is here.”