Читать книгу Second Chance Love - Shannon Farrington - Страница 10

Chapter Two

Elizabeth stared at the ceiling, just as she had every day for the past two months. Trudy had brought up a light breakfast of tea, toast and marmalade, but Elizabeth left it untouched. She could not stomach food. All she wanted to do was go back to sleep. In her dreams, she lived happily ever after.

But there is no happily-ever-after.

The words of the church matrons repeated over and over again in her mind. She’d caught their whispers before she’d made such a fool of herself at the funeral.

“Such a tragedy...so young...but the best thing she can do is go on with her life. Find herself a new beau.”

Elizabeth winced and rolled to her side. She did not want to get on with her life. Had she actually been married to Jeremiah, society would have granted her a full year of heavy mourning. But as a fiancée, she was not afforded the same right. Somehow the pain was supposed to be less. Time is moving on. I’m expected to do so, as well.

Friends and neighbors hinted at such by their constant visits to the house. They wanted to chat with her, take her on some sort of outing. Trudy and her mother were forced to receive them as Elizabeth simply could not. Not an hour passed that she didn’t spend in tears. Crying was simply a way of life now.

“Oh, Beth, I know it is hard,” her mother said repeatedly, “but you must seek God’s strength. It was the only way I survived your father’s passing.”

Elizabeth tried, but she had no more prayers to offer. I prayed for Father, but he still died. I prayed for my country, and yet war still came. I prayed George would not have to leave, but he did.

Like so many others, her brother had been caught up in the states’ rights fervor that had gripped Baltimore after the riot on Pratt Street. When the Confederacy declared independence, President Lincoln had called for soldiers to force the seceding states back into the Union. Finding the thought of firing upon their fellow countrymen appalling, most men from Maryland, including George, ignored the call. Men from Massachusetts and Pennsylvania, however, answered it expediently. Summoned to Washington to protect the capital, they’d passed through Baltimore one fateful April morning.

As the Northern soldiers had marched to the southbound trains at Camden Street, a small group of citizens gathered around them at Pratt Street. Who started what, the world would probably never know, but insults were exchanged from both sides. Rocks and bottles, in the hands of the locals, began to fly. The Massachusetts men then opened fire. When the musket smoke cleared, eleven Baltimoreans were dead, along with four Northern soldiers. Countless more on both sides had been wounded.

In the days that followed, the federal army seized control of the city. They’d closed newspapers that held any hint of Southern sympathy, arrested anyone suspected of disloyalty to the Union and instituted martial law.

Outraged, Elizabeth’s brother, as well as many other men from her Mount Vernon neighborhood, had slipped out of the city by night and joined Confederate regiments. They’d promised to soon return and deliver Maryland from federal tyranny. Though heartbroken to see him go, Elizabeth had then supported her brother’s decision. She’d loathed those Northern soldiers occupying her city.

Then I fell in love with one. And I prayed for him, as well...

Swallowing back her sobs, she rolled to the opposite side of her bed. Sunlight was pushing its way through the shutter slats, testifying that it was now well past noon. Her mother had met with a local businessman that morning in regard to selling what was left of the family silver.

Elizabeth sighed. I should have accompanied her instead of lying about. As the oldest daughter, even if it is only by a matter of minutes, it is my duty. I shouldn’t be leaving all the housework for Trudy, either.

She forced herself to rise and put her feet to the floor. Going to the washbasin, Elizabeth splashed water on her face, then stared into the looking glass. Her cheeks were hollow, her color pale and sickly.

What would Jeremiah think if he saw me like this?

She tried to ignore the pain the thought provoked, but it was no use. Her tears got the better of her, and she sank to the bed once more.

* * *

David had been back in Baltimore for three days and still couldn’t bring himself to make his relocation known to Elizabeth’s family. Mindful of his duty, though, he passed by their house at least twice each day from the far side of the street and witnessed the coming and going of many friends.

There was little going on with the war at present. The March rains had kept both armies axle deep in mud and unable to fight. All, at least, appeared to be well and safe in Baltimore. David couldn’t shake the feeling, however, that he was supposed to stay.

He’d sought employment in the only area that truly interested him. He’d gone to the Baltimore Sun and a host of other local newspapers, but no one seemed much interested in hiring a man who’d spent most of his time before the war fetching coffee and sandwiches, or covering the few cast-off assignments the feature reporters didn’t want. Then he came to the Free American.

The large brick building not far from Monument Square looked impressive from the outside, but the appearances were deceiving. David stepped inside only to discover the paper occupied just a small portion of the structure. The publisher, a man by the name of Peter Carpenter, served also as the executive editor, the editorial director and a host of other things. It was a struggling publication to be certain, but they were hiring.

I need a job, he reminded himself. And I need one here in Baltimore. If I am careful with the money I saved before the war, I can get by on meager wages, at least for a while.

“So you’re looking for work,” Carpenter said.

The man was older than David, midthirties perhaps. He was curt, to the point, with a military-like manner that reminded David of the officers he’d once served under.

“Yes, sir. I am.”

“Reporter?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You got any experience?”

The moment David mentioned he’d held an entry position at the Boston Journal, Carpenter asked to see some of his work. It wasn’t much and it certainly wasn’t very exciting, but the man looked intrigued. David held hopeful expectation.

“You serve in the army?” Carpenter asked.

“Yes, sir. I spent much of the time of service right here in Baltimore.” He told him about the hospital.

The man’s eyes narrowed. His forehead furrowed. “Then you know the lay of the land. Politically speaking, that is.”

“Yes, sir.” David was well aware Baltimore was a divided city. Immigrants and other newcomers favored a strong federal government, but many of the older established families still advocated strong states’ rights. As a Union soldier he’d received his share of derogatory remarks from those who supported the South.

David wondered what view the man before him subscribed to and what position his paper took. He can’t be too sympathetic to the South, though. The city’s outright pro-Southern papers have all been closed. But does he lean too far in the opposite direction? Fearing suspension, many publications now painted the federal government in such a glorious light, it was simply unbelievable. David believed wholeheartedly in the preservation of the Union, but he also believed in freedom of the press. He was impressed when Carpenter then said, “Notice the sign on the door says the Free American. You can’t have a free America without a free press. I don’t care which army occupies this city, or who is vying for control of the statehouse. Here we stick to the facts. We don’t bury or sugarcoat them, and we don’t try to make the local leadership something they are not.” He paused. “If you can check your own political agendas at the door, the job is yours.”

David’s heart skipped a beat. “Thank you, sir.” Then suddenly fearing a return to coffee and sandwiches, he asked, “What exactly is the job?”

“You’ll be handling local news and features.”

He could feel the grin tugging at his lips.

“You’ll report directly to me,” the man said, “and you can start immediately.”

As excited as he was to take pen in hand, immediately was a little too soon. There was another matter to which David must tend, even though he dreaded doing so. I need to visit Elizabeth. I can’t put this off any longer. For, once I begin reporting, I don’t know what my schedule will be like.

“Sir, I appreciate that, but given that I’ve only recently returned from Boston, I’ve a few matters I must see to first. Would tomorrow suffice?”

Carpenter squinted. “Why were you in Boston? I thought you said you’d spent your service here.”

“I did.” He explained his brother’s passing and then his return home. He didn’t tell him why exactly he had come back to Baltimore. He hoped the man would not ask. David wasn’t certain what he would say if he did.

“My condolences,” was all Carpenter said. “I should have noticed the black armband. See to what you must. Tomorrow will suffice.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Before you go, though, let me show you about.”

Carpenter reached for a cane that was hooked to the back of his chair. David hadn’t noticed it until now. The man rose somewhat awkwardly from his seat. Knowing his newest reporter was curious, he said, “No. It isn’t from the war. I was born this way.”

David nodded but didn’t say anything. He followed the man as he hobbled toward the newsroom. The space was clean and well organized but much smaller than what David had been used to in Boston. A half dozen or so desks were scattered about. Only a handful of men claimed them.

“Gentlemen,” Carpenter announced. “Our newest reporter, Mr. Wainwright. He comes to us by way of the Boston Journal.”

The men nodded their respect. Their publisher/editor then pointed to each one, starting with an older gentleman wearing spectacles. “This is Mr. Collins, business manager. He handles our advertising and circulation.”

David acknowledged him.

“Mr. Russell covers local events. Mr. Detwiler, foreign news and finance. Mr. Ross, cultural events and daily humor.” To which Carpenter then added, “The ladies seem to like him.”

David wasn’t certain if the comment was made in regard to the man’s articles or looks. He did not ask, however. He was still too busy taking in his surroundings. There were no artists, no copy editors, no other reporters present.

Perhaps they are in another office or out on assignment, he thought. Surely this isn’t everyone.

“Well, that’s about it,” Carpenter said, as if he’d read his mind. “For now, anyway. Oh, and I forgot to tell you, you’ll also be handling whatever comes in over the wire concerning the war.”

David gulped. So he was to cover national news, as well? It was sink or swim. I wanted a chance to write, he thought. It appears I have one. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

At that moment a boy, who couldn’t have been more than sixteen or so, came into the room. He handed Carpenter a proof copy of the day’s edition. Evidently the man saw to that job, also.

“And this is young Mr. Keedy, our assistant,” he said.

David shook the boy’s hand. Keedy was wide-eyed, and innocent-looking, much like David had been before the war. God willing, the suffering will end before this young man comes of age to serve, he thought.

Carpenter dismissed Keedy, then motioned David toward the staircase. “Our press is this way...”

The moment David smelled the ink and paper, his excitement stirred. This is what I was meant to do.

Given the limited number of news staff, he half expected to find an old-style flatbed press churning out today’s edition. Much to his surprise, however, the Free American boasted a decent-sized rotary press, a Taylor Double Cylinder, in fact. It was a little worse for wear but functional. David wondered if Carpenter had acquired it from one of his competitors who’d recently been closed down.

A handful of typesetters and pressmen were busy preparing the machine, their over sleeves and fingers stained black. Carpenter introduced each of them, then motioned for David to return to the stairs.

“You change your mind?” he asked, as though he feared David had. “Want to try your luck at the Sun?”

David chuckled but did not let on that he’d already been there and been turned down. “No, sir,” he said.

“Good. Before you go, I’ve got some work I want you to take with you. Notes and outline are all in order. Just write the piece after you settle your business. It won’t take long.” From his coat pocket he pulled out a folded set of papers, handed them over.

So you’ll have me start immediately after all, David thought, but he wasn’t the least bit put out. Rather, he was intrigued. “What is this?” he asked as he quickly perused the notes.

“The city provost marshal, Colonel William Fish, has been arrested on charges of fraud and corruption. The man and his accomplices allegedly made a business out of arresting innocent citizens, accusing them of being rebel spies and whatnot, then interceding on their behalf.”

“For a price,” David guessed.

Carpenter nodded.

“I see.” It was exactly the kind of thing that made David feel so strongly about returning to Baltimore. There was already the risk of a rebel invasion. Elizabeth and her family shouldn’t have to fear the predations of unscrupulous, greedy bureaucrats, as well. David was again pleased to see his publisher had the courage to cover such a story, even if it would cast a shadow on a member of the Union army.

“I’ll have this on your desk first thing tomorrow,” he promised.

The man nodded matter-of-factly, then hobbled toward the staircase. “Eight a.m.,” he insisted. “Sharp.”

“Yes, sir.”

His own inexperience, coupled with the workload, was going to make his job here at the Free American a challenge. Keeping Elizabeth and his brother out of his thoughts while doing so was going to be an even bigger one. Even so, David had a feeling he was going to like working in Baltimore.

Leaving the paper, he returned to his room at the Hotel Barnum. The location worked well for his purposes, for the establishment was a fixture in Mount Vernon. This placed him in Elizabeth’s neighborhood, as well as close to the newspaper.

Sitting down at a small writing desk, David looked over the very detailed notes and outline Peter Carpenter had given him. Colonel Fish’s court martial was to take place in the next few weeks. If convicted, the man would be sent to prison in Albany, New York.

It was a straightforward, simple assignment. Although he wanted to dive right in, he didn’t. I can take care of this tonight, he thought, and he forced himself to leave pen and paper behind.

Feeling much more uncertain than he had knocking on Peter Carpenter’s door, David approached Elizabeth’s house. The wreath on the front door and the black crepe that had draped the windows at the time of his brother’s funeral had been removed. In the garden, crocuses were in bloom and the daffodils were just beginning to flower. Spring had come, yet David wondered if winter still held Elizabeth in its icy grip.

Drawing in a deep breath, he stepped to the porch and rang the bell. Trudy greeted him. Her eyes flew open wide the moment she recognized him.

“David!” she said, quickly hugging him. “What a surprise! Oh! It is so good to see you!”

He chuckled slightly. It was nice to know that someone had missed him. “Hello, Trudy. It is good to see you, as well.”

Stepping back, she happily ushered him inside. “Come in! Come in!”

She was an exact duplicate of her sister in features, yet whereas Elizabeth carried herself like a queen, Trudy was more like an excited child.

“It is so strange to see you out of uniform,” she then remarked.

It was still strange to him, too. He’d looked forward to the end of his service, but little had he known he would put away his blue wool for a black suit of mourning.

“The coat looks nice,” she said. “Have you come to Baltimore on business?”

He wasn’t certain how to answer that. It didn’t seem right just to blurt out, I’m here to look after you and your family. “Business in a matter of speaking, I suppose.”

“May I take your hat?”

“Yes. Thank you.” As she laid it on the table behind her, David realized just how fast his heart was beating. Any moment Elizabeth will round the corner or appear at the top of the staircase. What will I say to her? He wasn’t one who had trouble with words, except when it came to her.

“I’m afraid Mother isn’t here,” Trudy said. “She’s out on business herself, but she should be home very soon. Please, come visit for a while.”

He balked. She had not mentioned Elizabeth, but even if she was here, that meant the ladies were alone. “Perhaps, I shouldn’t...”

Trudy cocked her head and offered that delightful, innocent grin. “Don’t be silly. You are no stranger. You’re family. Mother will be pleased to see you.”

Yes, he reminded himself. Family. Elizabeth’s would-be brother-in-law.

She motioned toward the parlor. David stepped forward and drew in a shallow breath. The furniture had all been returned to its original position, but the setting from the funeral remained raw in his mind. He still had trouble believing his brother was actually gone. Some days he expected him to appear, as if returning from a long journey.

But he isn’t coming back. I buried him. His coffin was right there. I sat here...and she...she sat there... Her face flashed through his mind. He forced the memory of her heartbroken expression aside.

“Shall I fetch you some lemonade?” Trudy asked. “You must be thirsty after that long train ride.”

He knew he should be honest, and he felt himself redden. “Actually, I’ve been in Baltimore for several days.”

She blinked. And you are just now coming to visit? her look said. It was quickly replaced, however, with a smile. “Well, I imagine you must be thirsty, anyway. I’ll fetch you a glass.”

“Thank you, Trudy. I would appreciate that.”

She scurried for the kitchen. The moment she had gone, the floorboards above his head creaked. David swallowed hard, for he knew exactly who was treading overhead. Had she heard his voice? Was she now on her way to see him?

Will she be pleased to find me here?

He suspected not. Silently he prayed God would give him both guidance and grace to handle whatever was coming. He claimed a chair beside the fireplace, only to immediately stand. Trudy had returned with the lemonade.

“Oh, please,” she insisted, “sit.”

She handed him the glass, then a plate of freshly baked scones and afterwards took a seat opposite him. The creaking overhead had stopped. David kept one ear cocked toward the staircase but heard nothing further. Apparently Elizabeth wouldn’t be coming down anytime soon. He wasn’t sure if he was troubled by that or relieved.

Trudy seemed to know what he was thinking. “Elizabeth is upstairs,” she said, “but I’m afraid she won’t be joining us.”

“I see,” was all he could think to say.

There was a long pause. When Trudy bit her lip, the hair on the back of his neck stood up. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

She hesitated, making him all the more concerned. “David, please, don’t say anything...but...I’m worried about her. You saw how she was at the funeral.”

Not an hour went by that he didn’t think of that. The memory of her cries still cut him to the core.

“It has been two months and she will not leave the house. She barely steps foot outside her room. Julia and Sally come almost every day, but she will not receive them. She hardly even speaks to me or Mother.”

David’s heart ached.

“I’ll tell you the truth,” Trudy continued. “I have never seen her this way. When father passed, she grieved, of course, but she attended to mother faithfully. And when George left for the war, she stepped up and tried to fill his shoes.”

“She kept busy,” he said.

“Yes.”

That was how she’d managed at the hospital when she was troubled. Whenever one of the wounded had died, she’d immediately taken to changing the bed linens, preparing for the next man.

“She won’t eat,” Trudy said. “Mother and I are at a loss as to how to help her.”

Tears filled her eyes. David reached over and took her hand. “Don’t cry, Trudy. We’ll think of something.”

Hope now flickered across her face. “We? Will you be staying in Baltimore for a time?”

“Yes. Indefinitely, as a matter of fact. I have taken a job with one of the local newspapers.”

“Oh, David, that’s wonderful! You are an answer to prayer!”

He wasn’t so sure about that, but her eagerness encouraged him. “I’ll be here, and if you, your mother or Elizabeth have need of anything, do not hesitate to ask.”

She didn’t. “Will you come for supper this evening?”

“Supper?”

“Dinner, as you say up north.”

He knew to what she was referring, and although he greatly appreciated the invitation, he wasn’t certain it would be wise to accept. True, he’d just told her he’d do anything to help, but he’d been thinking more along the lines of household repairs, assistance with business transactions.

If Elizabeth isn’t even receiving her closest friends, what makes Trudy think she’d be willing to endure a dinner with me?

“I know what happened between the two of you,” she said.

David dropped her hand immediately and sat back in his chair, wondering just what exactly Trudy knew. Have my feelings for Elizabeth been obvious? Does Elizabeth know, as well? Is that why she was so angry with me?

“I know you convinced Jeremiah to delay the wedding. Despite that, I believe your presence could be a comfort to my sister. She always spoke very highly of you.”

“I don’t believe she thinks very highly of me now.”

Trudy shook her head in protest. “As dreadful as the circumstance are...you acted in her best interest. A baby is more than a keepsake. And in times like these...” Knowing she’d said far too much, she then blushed. “Forgive me. I don’t normally go about discussing such things. It’s just that...well, as I said before...you are family.”

Why did that word cut him and yet console him at the same time? “I am honored that you think of me that way, Trudy. Still...I regret what I did.”

“We all have regrets, David. I regret encouraging her to volunteer for the hospital in the first place. I suppose a body can only take so much suffering. I think her having watched all those other soldiers die makes Jeremiah’s death all the more difficult.”

“I believe you are correct.”

David didn’t know what to say next. He wanted to make Trudy feel better in some way, but he didn’t know how. He wanted to make up for what he had done to Elizabeth but had no idea where to even begin.

“Will you then come?” she asked. “For supper?”

He drew in a breath. He still wasn’t certain it was such a good idea, but he knew he had to do something. He wanted to be there for Trudy’s sake, if nothing else. “What time should I arrive?”

Her face brightened. “Around seven.”

“Seven it is, then.” Though it pleased him that he had made her happy, it was her sister’s smile he most wanted to see.

* * *

Elizabeth heard the front door shut. Wanting to apologize to her mother for not lending whatever assistance she could, she hurried for the staircase. Trudy was in the foyer. She had a happy look on her face, so Elizabeth assumed the silver had brought a good price.

“Did Mother’s meeting go well?” she asked.

The look faded to a more cautious one. “I don’t know. She hasn’t returned yet.”

“I thought I heard the door.”

“You did. It was...David.”

“David?” Elizabeth blinked. “David Wainwright?”

“Yes.”

She felt the blood drain from her face. “What was he doing here?”

Trudy stepped toward the staircase and leaned against the banister. “He has returned to Baltimore. Apparently he’s taken a job with one of the local papers, although he did not say which one.”

Oh, no, Elizabeth thought. That means today’s visit more than likely will not be the last. Why would he come back to Baltimore? He always said that when his enlistment was over he would go back to his job at the Boston Journal.

She pondered for a moment. Perhaps Trudy had misunderstood. Perhaps the Boston paper had sent him here on assignment. If that is the case, then he will not be in town for very long. I can simply avoid him.

Trudy still held the rail. She now looked rather sheepish. “I invited him for supper tonight.”

Panic spread over Elizabeth. “Supper? Oh, Trudy, what were you thinking? I can’t sit across the table and make polite conversation with that man!”

“That man? Beth, he’s family, and I believe he is grieving as deeply as you. Perhaps even more so. He regrets interfering. He told me so himself.”

Indignation tightened Elizabeth’s jaw. He may indeed regret what he has done, but it doesn’t change anything, and it doesn’t make the thought of supper with him any more bearable.

“You could be a help to one another,” Trudy insisted.

“I don’t see how.”

“You could be a comfort to each other. You could also be a comfort to Mother. I know it will do her good to see him.”

Elizabeth seriously doubted she or David could benefit from the presence of each other, but Trudy had a point. Their mother liked him. She always had. When Elizabeth had worked at the hospital, Mother had often visited the wounded men. She would bring fresh bread and flowers to cheer them. While some of the Northern soldiers did not wish to be bothered with the local civilians, David had always treated her mother with courtesy and respect. As a result, she thought very highly of him.

And if she knew how I spoke to him at the funeral, she would be severely disappointed in me. Embarrassment burned her cheeks as she remembered her words. I told him he could not take Jeremiah away. I told him it was all his fault. He must have thought me mad.

She knew she should apologize, and not just for the lunacy of trying to postpone the unavoidable. He was not responsible for his brother’s death.

Even if Jeremiah and I had married when we wished, our marriage would not have held back the inevitable. He still would have been a soldier. He still would have been working in that disease-infested hospital. He still would have taken ill.

Trudy was waiting patiently at the bannister. Her words echoed through Elizabeth’s mind.

He is grieving as deeply as you...perhaps even more so. He regrets what he has done.

She still didn’t like the idea of his company, but she did need to apologize for her behavior at the funeral. And if spending the evening discussing his new job or whatever else he is now involved in will lift Mother’s spirit, I should do my best to comply.

“For Mother’s sake, then,” Elizabeth said.

Trudy offered her a gentle smile. “I’ll help you dress, if you like. I’ll roll your hair for you.”

Elizabeth appreciated the offer. Tonight’s supper made it impossible for her to go about in her gown and morning robe or even a cotton wrapper, but the thought of putting on that black taffeta dress again made her tremble. She had not worn it since the funeral.

In tune to her thoughts, Trudy moved toward her. “It’s only David, Beth. He won’t be expecting witty conversation.”

Nor will he offer it, she thought, for he had always been a quiet man, seemingly content to observe life rather than participate in it. So unlike his brother. “He probably won’t stay long, will he?”

“No. Probably not.”

* * *

By the time the supper hour approached Elizabeth was properly dressed, and Trudy had managed to roll her mangled mass of unruly red curls into a low conservative bun.

“Shall we now go downstairs?” her sister asked.

Hiding a sigh, Elizabeth complied and followed Trudy to the dining room. Their mother had set the table with their finest dishes, minus the silver. The wall sconces were glowing. A vase of freshly cut daffodils was on the table. Trudy fingered one of the bright yellow petals and smiled once more.

“I picked them earlier this evening,” she said. “They just opened.”

“That was kind of you,” Elizabeth said.

Her sister was well aware that daffodils were her favorite flower. She appreciated the gesture, but all she could think of was the last time there had been food and greenery in this room.

We covered the table with pine boughs. People hovered about speaking in whispered tones. David kept staring at me, looking as though there was something he desperately wished to say but could not bring himself to do so.

The kitchen door creaked, and her mother stepped into the room. Elizabeth noted her face looked a little brighter than it had the past few weeks.

“The table looks lovely, Mother,” Elizabeth said.

Jane Martin set the soup tureen on the table, then kissed her cheek. “I am pleased that you approve.”

The doorbell rang, and Elizabeth’s stomach immediately knotted. She knew exactly who was now standing upon her front porch. Since Trudy had run to the kitchen to fetch the bread, Elizabeth’s mother urged her to the door.

“That’s him, Beth. Please, welcome him while I see to the last of the food.”

Her knees felt weak. She had no idea what she was going to say when she opened the door, but forcing her feet forward, Elizabeth went to greet him.