Читать книгу Counterfeit Courtship - Christina Miller - Страница 13

Chapter Five

An hour later, having seen Ellie home, Graham sank into one of the deep fireside wing chairs in the parlor, his thoughts racing as they always had before a battle. With Noreen at his side, rocking and singing softly to little Betsy, he sipped his tea and gave thanks for this peaceful home. Although common sense told him the baby would likely disturb that peace before morning.

Noreen paused in her humming. “You have a lot on your mind tonight. Your silence gives you away.”

“You’d think with the war over, a soldier could simply come home and pick up his life where it had left off.” Graham shifted in his chair, its plushness not sufficient to keep him as comfortable as it used to. But that probably had less to do with the chair’s quality than it did his own melancholy mood. “Life never turns out the way we’d planned, does it?”

She pulled the baby closer. “Not in the least.”

“I’m going to stay in Natchez with you and Betsy until Father gets home. But this afternoon, after I sent my request for amnesty to the Yankee president, I wrote to Major James White, superintendent of the Citadel. I inquired about teaching there, maybe starting this fall. Federal troops still occupy the school, but that surely won’t go on much longer.” He gulped the last half of his tea and set the cup on the cloth-covered walnut table at his side. “If I’d gone to the Citadel instead of West Point, I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Nobody should fault you for choosing the school your father attended.” The dimmed lighting couldn’t hide Noreen’s smile of encouragement. “And I’m sure he will be home soon.”

Graham wasn’t so certain. It was probably time for him to tell his stepmother all he knew of Father. “Because he and Father were classmates and close friends at West Point, General Lee graciously met with me after the surrender and tried to pinpoint Father’s whereabouts. I didn’t know he had been transferred to the Trans-Mississippi Department, which didn’t surrender to the North until May 26.”

“Then he could come home any day.”

“He was not on General Lee’s list of casualties. I sure wish the Confederacy hadn’t passed the new conscription law last year, raising the age limit to fifty. Father was a year too young to remain exempt.”

“Ellie’s uncle Amos escaped by only one year. He served in the Silver Grays instead.”

“Silver Grays?”

“The home guard. I declare, I wish James could have done the same.”

Betsy began to fuss then, as if she could sense their concern about her step-grandfather. Noreen jiggled the baby on her lap, but that didn’t seem to help. A new weariness lined Noreen’s delicate features, and she stood more slowly than usual. “She must want to be walked.”

Babies wanted their mothers—or grandmothers, in this case—to walk about the room with them at this hour of the night? The mantle clock looked nearly ready to chime one. Noreen had always been early to bed and early to rise. How was this going to work out, especially at her age? Sure, she was a spry fifty, but it had to be harder than when she’d cared for her own child at age twenty-one.

At once, he left his cushioned chair and laid aside his musings about his father and his own future. Until Father came home, Graham was needed here, and he’d care for his family with an undivided heart, no matter the sacrifice. He crossed the room to Noreen and held out his arms. “You’ve been looking after Betsy all day. Now I want you to go to bed and leave her to me.”

The baby let out a great howl, startling Graham into dropping his arms. Noreen shook her head. “You don’t know the first thing about quieting an infant.”

The howl grew to a shriek.

“Well, Noreen, I’m not sure you do either, at the moment.” He tempered his words with a grin, raising his voice to be heard over the racket.

Her eyes widened, and then she smiled. “I am a bit out of practice. But I’ll be all right.”

Graham reached for the child, and this time, he took her in his arms. “Sorry, Noreen, but I’m the man of the house now. Until Father gets back, I’m taking care of both her and you.”

Noreen pushed back a lock of hair that had fallen from her pins. “Maybe I’ll lie down for ten minutes.”

She climbed the stairs toward her room. Good thing it was in the back of the house, overlooking the gardens, while he cared for Betsy in the front. Otherwise, the little baby with the big lungs would keep Noreen from getting any rest at all tonight.

He looked around the parlor. What kind of atmosphere would a baby like at bedtime? Maybe less light. But dimming the room meant he’d somehow have to hold Betsy in one arm while turning the gasolier knob with the other hand. Could he manage that without dropping her? No, he should set her on the floor instead.

But the moment her set her down, she howled all the louder. With a sheen of moisture forming on his forehead, he dashed to the gasolier and turned down the light.

That was better. He picked up the baby again. Too bad she didn’t appreciate his effort.

Perhaps she was tired of being walked. He knew she wasn’t hungry, as Noreen had been feeding her when he came into the room a half hour ago. Graham eased himself onto the wing chair, first holding Betsy tightly and then a little looser. Jiggling her didn’t help either.

He had to get this baby to sleep, or Noreen would be right back down here, and she needed to rest after her exhausting day.

Fact was, Graham was beyond the point of exhaustion himself, and he couldn’t hear his own thoughts over Betsy’s howling. He shifted her in his arms and looked into her pretty little face, tears pouring from her eyes.

Did she miss her mother?

Heavenly Father, I can’t do anything about that. Please show me how to comfort this baby.

No ideas came to him, other than shutting the two massive parlor doors to keep Noreen’s room quiet. When he’d done that, he moved to the window, where he saw that the fog had obscured the Andersons’ gaslight. He closed the windows so the baby’s cries wouldn’t wake the whole neighborhood.

About five minutes later, as Graham began to despair of ever getting the child to sleep, the front door opened and closed quietly. Then the parlor door eased open, and Sugar trotted in, followed by Ellie holding the leash.

He ran one hand over his eyes, his fatigue making his head pound. He hadn’t the energy to spar with Ellie tonight. Why did she have to come over here? “Ellie, please...”

She unfastened Sugar’s leash, her smile as bright as if she’d just risen from a full night’s sleep. “I heard Betsy crying, and I came to help. I have an idea.”

He groaned like a cadet on his first ten-mile hike. “I’m not letting you involve this helpless child in one of your schemes. No baby, not even a Yankee baby, deserves that.”

* * *

“I’m a better nursemaid than you are.” Still in her ball gown after her short visit with Uncle Amos, Ellie sat on the edge of the gold settee. She had to admit that she came here to do more than help with the baby. The moment she’d glanced out her window and seen Graham’s silhouette in the parlor, pacing the floor with Betsy, she’d known how to calm her. This was the perfect opportunity to show him that not all her schemes went wrong. If she could somehow get that baby to stop crying, maybe he’d believe the courtship ruse would work out too.

Graham’s square jaw clenched, and it made him look all the more commanding in his Confederate grays. “I’m not a nursemaid at all. I’m relieving Noreen so she can rest.”

“She’ll never fall asleep as long as Betsy is crying so hard. Let me try. You haven’t done a great job thus far.”

“Fine. Have it your way.” He carried the squalling baby to her and placed her in Ellie’s arms. “What can you do that Noreen and I haven’t already done?”

She sat Betsy on the floor in front of her. “Nothing. But watch this. Come, Sugar.”

Sugar ambled up to Betsy and licked her toes. After a few moments, the baby’s cries began to taper off until she quieted. Then she reached out and grabbed a tiny fistful of black-and-white fur on the dog’s neck.

“How did you know that would work?” Graham no longer looked as if he were ready to fire a cannon at someone—namely, Ellie—but she also didn’t see the amazement she’d hoped for in his face.

“I remembered how calm Betsy got this morning when she grabbed that long, floppy ear, so I thought Sugar might settle her down tonight too.”

“I have to admit, it made her happy again.”

Graham Talbot—acknowledging that Ellie was right? That was momentous, and she needed to seize the moment. “My plan worked, and so will my courting idea. Give it some time, and—”

“Wait a minute. That’s not the same. Just because a dog came over here—”

“She didn’t come here on her own. I brought her. On purpose, so she could distract Betsy from whatever was wrong with her.” Surely even Graham couldn’t argue with that.

Sugar’s high-pitched whine drew Ellie’s attention. She looked down to find Betsy grabbing the dog by the tail.

“Not the tail, Betsy.” She gently pried the little fingers away, and Sugar retreated to a far corner.

Betsy’s face wrinkled, and she let out a long, low wail that sounded as if her heart had broken.

“Sugar, come,” Ellie coaxed, but the dog did her ceremonial dance of three circles and then flopped onto the floor, curling herself into a ball.

Ellie lifted the baby and held her against her shoulder, patting her back. “A wagon ran over Sugar’s tail last winter, and she can’t stand to have it touched.”

Graham strode to Sugar’s corner and bent down as if examining the tail. He must not have touched it, though. The dog would have let her know.

“Don’t you see that your schemes don’t work out because they aren’t based on logic? You have to think things through. You can’t expect a dog to sit with a baby all night long so the people in the house can sleep.”

Betsy’s sobs had dissolved into shallow, fitful breaths now, and Ellie lowered her from her shoulder and cradled her instead. The baby’s eyes drifted shut.

“Success,” Ellie whispered.

“Don’t forget how it went the last time she stopped crying.”

“I remember that Sugar quieted her, just as I thought she would. I wanted you to see that so you’d realize what a good idea my courtship plan is.”

“That’s not how it happened at all. Yes, Sugar momentarily distracted her, but that’s not what put her to sleep.” She could feel Graham’s exasperation in the air. “We’re not children anymore. I’m a grown man with a grown man’s responsibilities, and I can’t go along with you and play your silly games like I used to. This courtship of yours has to end.”

“Being an adult doesn’t mean you have to be gloomy all the time.”

“I’m not gloomy.”

Bless his heart. He didn’t begin to realize how much the war—and military school too—had changed him. “You used to be a lot of fun, but now everything is serious to you. The war’s over, Graham, and it’s time to stop fighting.”

A look of pain crossed his face, and although she used to know him better than anybody, she couldn’t understand that look or what had caused it. Was it her complaint about his seriousness? She couldn’t imagine that. Was he remembering the war, the suffering?

When he dropped his gaze to the floor as if unable to look at her, she knew. This powerful man, this war hero, had his mind on the past—their past—and she’d caused his pain with her careless words: You used to be fun. Her subconscious, underlying message spoke her truth: he wasn’t fun anymore.

But was that true? Considering how he’d spent the past eight years, was it fair of her to compare him to the carefree boy who’d proposed marriage to her?

She twisted the ring on her right hand. She’d give Mama’s best pearl if only she could take back those hurtful words. She wished she hadn’t said them, wished they weren’t true, wished she could somehow comfort him as she’d managed to comfort Betsy. She opened her mouth to say so, but he lifted one hand and shook his head.

“I can’t think about it tonight. I wasn’t this tired even after Chickamauga.” He strode to her side and took Betsy from her. “Let’s talk about it later. I’m going to put her in her crib.”

When he’d disappeared up the stairs, Ellie leashed Sugar and started for home, the mist of regret heavier in her mind than the settling fog.