Spinning the Moon (11 page)

Willie pointed out toward the cotton field, and I spotted Stuart astride Endy. A tall man stood next to him, and as I walked toward them, I recognized Zeke Proudfoot. I stayed to the side of the turnrow, not wanting to trample the plants underfoot. Some of the creamy white blossoms had already turned red. Soon they would be sprouting burst bolls stuffed with a fluffy white mass of cotton fibers.

Stuart had climbed off his horse and was squatting on his haunches, his long fingers manipulating the leaves on one of the plants. Both men looked at me as I approached. Zeke's rich chocolate brown eyes were edged with deep creases. I had the odd sensation that I had been the object of their conversation.

Stuart stood slowly when I stopped before them, the footprints behind me in the sticky red mud marking my passage. Stuart's eyes were cold as he looked at me, and my stomach lurched. The last time I had felt this way was when I had worn my mother's favorite scarf without her permission and ruined it. I looked up at him, prepared to do battle. I didn't know what I would tell him, but it had to be something good to keep me here. I had no place else to go.

Stuart tipped back his hat to glare at me. “Well, Mrs. Truitt. It seems you have an ally in my sister-in-law. I think she is too trustworthy. But she wants you to stay.”

Relief flooded me, but his words made my relief short-lived.

“Just realize that I will not let you out of my sight. And one wrong move from you, and I will personally escort you to the proper authorities and see you tried as a spy.”

I moved closer. “I am not a spy, Yankee or otherwise.” I met his blue gaze unblinking.

Zeke walked toward me and placed his hand on the top of my head, his brown eyes softening slightly as he stared into my face. Too stunned
by his actions to move, I remained still. “You travel in the shadow,” he said softly. It wasn't a question.

“What do you mean?” His eyes were warm and I felt a familiarity with his presence.

Removing his hand and turning to Stuart, he continued. “She will not harm you. Her heart is good and her powers are strong. Listen to her and trust her. Salvation will lay in her hands.” Without another word, he turned on his heel and began walking toward the woods.

“What does he mean?” I asked, half-afraid of the answer.

“Zeke tends to talk in riddles. But I think he is wrong here. He wants me to trust you, but you are holding something back. I have an odd way of not trusting people who are not honest with me.” He paused briefly to call for Endy. “Laura, I can only hope that you will tell me everything in due course.” He hoisted himself into the saddle, wincing slightly as he put his wounded leg in the stirrup. “But I will find out everything. Sooner or later, I will find out who you are. And if your motives are to cause us harm by spying or otherwise, then you will wish you had never come here.”

Without another word, he galloped away from the field, Endy's hoofbeats muted by the soft, damp earth.

There is something haunting in the light of the moon; it has all the dispassionateness of a disembodied soul, and something of its inconceivable mystery.

—JOSEPH CONRAD

I
stood motionless, watching Stuart ride off, feeling more hurt than I cared to admit. I slowly walked back toward the house, my thoughts in turmoil. I hadn't asked to be dropped into their lives, and I certainly didn't want to be there any more than they wanted me. I kicked a hapless cotton plant as I walked by. I wanted nothing more at that moment than to just find Annie, if she were even within my reach, and then go home. I certainly didn't want to care about Julia, her family, this house. Or Stuart. I only hoped it wasn't too late.

At the thought of home, I looked up. The sweet aroma from the Osage orange trees drifted in the rain-soaked air. They had been planted when the house was built to discourage flies and rodents. The ancient oak tree with its sprawling limbs was still rooted to the same spot in the backyard, looking a great deal smaller than in my own time. There was even a swing on a lower branch, just as Michael had made for Annie. I slowed my pace. How was I going to find her? I stopped completely when I considered my next thought. How was I going to get home?

I felt utterly alone. The children were nowhere to be seen, so I turned the corner of the house in search of Julia. I found her amidst cucumber plants and potatoes, furiously pulling weeds. Not seeing me approach, she appeared startled when I spoke her name.

Shielding her eyes with her hand, she looked at me with a frown. I knelt down beside her in the sodden ground among the ridges and began pulling weeds, the moist earth crumbling easily off the roots and
the smell of freshly turned soil reminding me of an open grave. I wrinkled my nose and turned to Julia.

“I can do this, Julia. You just gave birth two days ago—shouldn't you be resting?”

She wiped at a piece of dirt clinging to her forehead, smearing it across her skin. “I do not mind, really. It keeps my mind off . . . things. Besides, there is so much work to be done and only a few pairs of hands.”

I sat on my heels, watching her attack the weeds. “I wanted to thank you for what you said to Stuart. I promise you that your trust hasn't been misplaced. I swear I'm not a spy.” She yanked up more weeds, throwing them with a vengeance into a pile. I continued. “I have only known you for a short time, but I feel as if I really know you—you're almost like a sister to me.”

A small smile crossed her face. “I feel it, too. We have certainly been through quite a bit since we met, have we not? It is terribly selfish of me, but I would want you to stay here as long as possible.”

I looked down at my hands. “But this isn't where I belong. As soon as I find my daughter, assuming she's even here, I'm going to bring her back home.”

She paused and looked at me, her hazel eyes suddenly cool. “What if you cannot find her?”

“I can't allow myself to ever believe that, because then I am lost. I will search for her until my last breath. You're a mother. You understand.”

Children's laughter carried over to us from around the corner of the house, and we turned to watch Willie chasing Sarah, her blond pigtails flying. I remembered again that shrug she had given me that was so much like Michael's, and I stared at her fair hair, my mouth suddenly dry.

I swallowed thickly. “Julia, Sarah is around the same age my Annie would be now.”

Her clear eyes studied me, the breeze stirring the curls around her face. As if hearing my unspoken question, she said, “Sarah is mine.” Her gaze never wavered. “Her birth is recorded in the family Bible, and Dr. Watkins was present at her birth. He will verify everything I have told you.”

Silence settled between us as she resumed her chore, and I joined in,
hoping I was pulling the weeds and not the vegetables. Suddenly, without looking at me, she said, “I gather such strength from this garden.” She grabbed a handful of dirt and let the thick muddy clods fall slowly from her fist. “It is not much, but it is the only buffer my family has against starvation.” A crooked grin settled on her lips. “Before the war, I never would have dreamed of sticking my hands in dirt. It is amazing what one will do to protect one's family.” She looked directly at me. “I do not know if there is anything I would stop at to protect mine.”

A cloud drifted across the sun, creating large pools of shadow. I shivered and rubbed my hands over my arms. Was she warning me? Did she really think I was a spy? She gently placed a gloved hand on my forearm and smiled. “Laura, you have already saved the lives of two of my children. I am in your debt and I will do all I can to help you.”

I dropped the weeds clenched in my hands on the pile and looked down at her as I stood. “Thank you, Julia. I appreciate that. But I don't know if anybody can help me.” I brushed at weeds clinging to my skirts, ignoring the mud. “If the children are done with their chores, I'll go see about starting their lessons.”

Leaving Julia, I trudged to the house to search for the children, who had mysteriously disappeared, as if they knew I'd be looking for them. I went inside and noticed a piece of the broken teacup left in the middle of the library floor. I picked it up, then moved to the window to see if I could spot Willie and Sarah. I saw them by the kitchen, and, forgetting the broken piece of china, I squeezed my hand into a fist to hammer on the window. I cried out, dropping the china, and watched the blood ooze from a thin line bisecting my palm. I stared dumbly at my seemingly disembodied hand, wondering absently what I should do.

A movement from the doorway made me look up. I turned away from Stuart's scowl and looked back at my hand, my eyes tracing the path of blood as it dropped down my wrist and landed in spots on the dark wood floor.

“What happened?” He strode into the room, lifted my arm, and looked at my cut.

“I cut my hand on your broken teacup.” I looked into his eyes to see if my barb had had any effect. “If you just want to close the door, I'll be happy to stay in here and bleed to death.”

He frowned, but I allowed him to lead me to a sofa. His voice was brusque. “Sit here for a minute.”

He came back quickly with what looked like sewing scraps. He retrieved a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet and sat down next to me. “Since you believe alcohol cures all things, we will use this. It might hurt a bit.”

I gave an unladylike snort. “Like that would bother you.”

He ignored me as he bent to his task of pulling a small shard of china from the wound. His hands were gentle as he soaked a cloth with whiskey and began to bathe the cut. Waves of pain shot up my arm, but I bit my lip, resisting the urge to scream.

“Go ahead and scream. I know it hurts.”

I kept my face turned away. “I wouldn't give you the satisfaction.”

He had stopped cleaning the wound but still held my hand. I turned back to him and found him scrutinizing me. I tried to jerk my hand out of his grasp, but he wouldn't let go.

“Despite what you might think, I do not relish inflicting pain on you or anybody else. Unless, of course, something of mine is being threatened.” His hand tightened on mine, but I refused to wince. “I would like to suggest a truce between us. If we are going to be living under the same roof, we will have to learn to be civil toward each other—at least for Julia's sake. But do not be mistaken.” His blues eyes narrowed. “I will still be watching your every move. I will also be accompanying you every time you leave the house. So you had better get used to my company.”

I seethed inside but knew that I had no choice but to agree. “All right, then. A truce. Just promise me one thing.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“When you discover that you are wrong about me, I want an apology from you.”

His eyes widened, mocking me. “Agreed.”

He put a piece of material in his mouth and bit it, tearing it in half. “Why are you hiding something from us? You have nothing to fear from us here—unless you really are a Yankee.”

I looked down to where he was wrapping the bandage around my hand. Denying that I was holding something back would only make his suspicions worse, so I said nothing.

He looked at me, his eyes solemn, as if awaiting an answer. Shaking his head, he continued his bandaging.

I had always hated the sight of blood and tried to distract myself by looking at the bookshelves. A single title grabbed my attention.
General History of Nature and Theory of the Heavens
by Immanuel Kant.

“What do you know about astronomy?”

He raised his eyes to my face, his expression curious. “Not a lot.” Following my gaze, he saw the book. “Oh, those are Julia's mother's books. She had a feeling Nashville would fall to the Yankees and sent them down here for safekeeping.”

I studied the thick brush of dark hair as his head bent back to his task. “Would it be all right if I borrowed one to read?”

He looked at me, his face unreadable. “Of course. But if you really want to learn about astronomy, you should speak with Zeke. He is known as an expert on such matters.”

As he knotted two ends of the bandage together, I asked, “Is Zeke's house far?”

“No, not far at all if you ride. It is quite a bit of a walk, though.”

“I would prefer to walk, if you can show me the way.”

“You want to go now?”

Deciding the children's lessons could wait, I nodded. “Yes, so if you could just—”

“You are not going without me, remember? I will accompany you.”

I gave him my patient-teacher smile. “I assure you, that is not necessary.”

“And I assure you, madam, that it is. I must protect my family.”

I exhaled, then stood and walked briskly to the back door. Charlie yelped with excitement when he saw Stuart and happily followed us, trotting at our heels.

Despite the tense moments earlier in the day, my step was lighter. This visit with Zeke could be the first move toward finding Annie and the way home.

The path through the woods was well worn, the damp earth compacted by passing feet and littered with fallen pine needles. A weak sun filtered through the high canopy of pines, sprinkling the ground below with pinpricks of light.

I had deliberately walked fast, knowing that Stuart's limp would make him trail behind. But when I came to a fork in the path, I stopped, unsure of the direction. While I waited for Stuart to catch up, I lifted the hair off the back of my neck and wiped the sticky sweat with the palm of my hand. I unbuttoned the first two buttons on my dress, welcoming a cool breeze.

Feeling guilty at making a wounded man walk briskly through the woods, I slowed my pace to his and walked beside him, searching for a neutral topic of conversation.

“I've been wondering about something.”

He looked at me expectantly, probably curious at my civil tone.

“Where did Charlie get his name?”

A smile cracked his stern face. “So you have noticed the resemblance between Charlie and Dr. Watkins?” He stopped briefly to rub his leg. “So did Sarah. When she was four she called the dog Dr. Watkins. We made her change it but she insisted on Charlie. Luckily, Charles has not seemed to notice.”

I had suspected Sarah was a smart little girl and that confirmed it. I laughed, thinking about her astuteness. “It's a good thing she didn't think he looked like the rear end of a horse.”

Stuart made a strangling noise in his throat as if he were choking. When he recovered, he said, “Yes, our Sarah has a very active imagination. She is always making up stories.”

As we approached a clearing, I saw a small log cabin, a wide covered porch surrounding it on three sides. Zeke sat on the porch in a rocking chair, nodding at us in greeting. Charlie bounded off, running around Zeke and barking happily. The old man leaned over and stroked the dog's back.

Thinking of Zeke's last words to me and feeling suddenly shy, I allowed Stuart to approach first. He climbed the stairs of the porch slowly, nodding a greeting to his grandfather. They both turned to look expectantly at me.

I smiled and approached the porch. The rudimentary aspects of Zeke's house didn't surprise me. Despite his family status, I wouldn't have expected him to live in anything grand.

Zeke broke the silence. “I see you two have made peace with each other.”

Stuart cleared his throat, and I looked down at the ground. Stuart spoke first. “We have called a truce, yes. No reason why we cannot be civil to each other.”

The old man looked over at Stuart and his lined face crinkled slightly into a smile. He picked up a large jug by the side of his chair and offered it to Stuart. After Stuart took a swig, Zeke offered it to me. “Drink some. It will help the pain in your hand.”

I realized that my hand was throbbing. Not wanting to appear rude, I walked up the steps and took the proffered jug.