Spinning the Moon (62 page)

As he spoke he approached, and I retreated until my heels hit the wall behind me. “No, John, not until this is settled between us.”

He reached me, and I had nowhere else to go. “Avoiding me and my bed will not settle anything.” With a light touch of his finger, he stroked my cheek, the gentle touch nearly undoing my resolve.

I turned my head, making him drop his hand. “You treat my concerns lightly.”

“And I tell you that you have no reason for concerns. I have promised you that I will learn to trust more freely. You know it is not easy for me, and I am only learning. Be patient with me.”

“What of Marguerite?”

His face darkened. “That is still a subject not open to discussion.” He placed his palms on the wall behind me and leaned in closer. “I have sworn to protect you with my life, Cat. You need never fear anything as long as I am here. And I will do all that I can to give you the gentle life you so deserve.” His warm breath fell softly on my skin, making me sigh. “Surely there is nothing more you could ask of me.”

He kissed my cheek, his lips and deep voice the final caress needed to banish my resolve. I turned my head to face him, feeling the change in the air between us. I almost felt that if I lifted my finger to touch him, a great ball of fire would erupt, burning us to ashes.

“Let me love you, Cat. Let me show you that all is right between us.”

I hated myself at that moment. I hated myself for putting my arms around his neck and pulling him closer. And for allowing his fingers to undress me and for his lips to arouse me. I willingly succumbed to self-loathing and denial just to be in his arms again.

When we were undressed, he lifted me in his arms and carried me to the bed. His lovemaking was sweet and tender, reminding me of our
honeymoon, before the realities of our married life together had intruded. I clung to him, forgetting all that had gone between us, and cried out my passion for this man as he loved me into oblivion.

He turned to me several times that night, and each time I welcomed him. It was as if we had been starved of food and now could not be sated. As dawn approached, I lay in his arms, our bodies cooling under the thin cotton sheet, the other bedclothes thrown in rumpled heaps on the floor.

Stroking my bare shoulder, he kissed my temple and moved me closer to his side. “Tell me about Robert.”

I stiffened, startled at his request. “Why would you want to know about my first husband?”

“It is only natural curiosity. You know about Elizabeth, and I feel the desire to know about Robert. I want to know everything about you, Cat.”

I pressed my cheek against his chest and sighed. “There is not much to tell, really. We were only married a short time before the war. But we had known each other from childhood. Our mothers were great friends, so we saw them quite a bit, even though their cotton plantation was on the mainland.”

I shut my eyes tightly against the memories that were assailing my heart—the memories of happy childhood days on warm sunny beaches and of sand beneath bare toes and the stirrings of what I had thought to be love.

“Elizabeth was always our leader—she was quite bossy. Even though Robert was Elizabeth's age, he always agreed to follow. I was the younger sister and had always been the little soldier for Elizabeth, and I suppose both Robert and I were in awe of her. She would get us into scrapes and we would let her. I rarely remember her getting punished for them, either. She would feign illness or true remorse, leaving Robert and me, who were far less clever, to face our fathers' switches. Not that we ever learned our lessons, of course. We would be up to the same old tricks as soon as our bottoms had healed.”

I felt John's cheek smile against the top of my head.

“I always thought that she would marry him, and I think our parents did, too, even though she never treated Robert any differently than she
would have a brother.” I slid my hand underneath the sheet as I talked, smoothing John's taut chest, my fingers curled in the thick black hairs.

“I do not believe she paid any attention to him at all until he started courting me.” I recalled then the look of rage on Elizabeth's face when she had caught Robert trying to steal a kiss from me. At the time I had thought that she had been angered that he would take such liberties with her sister, who was barely fourteen. But now, for the first time, I looked back on that memory anew.

“It was during your visit—when you and Elizabeth became engaged. I suppose Robert had realized that Elizabeth was forever lost to him, so he turned his interest to me.” I rolled over, placing both arms on top of John's chest, my chin cradled on my hands. “She became the most outrageous flirt. Even though she was engaged, she sought Robert out at every opportunity. I heard other mothers and their daughters calling her fast, but it did not stop her. It was only after she married you and moved away did she stop.”

He pushed the hair away from my forehead with gentle fingers. “Did you love him?”

I laid my head down on my clasped hands and closed my eyes for a moment, opening them quickly at the remembered sight of bloodstained sheets. “I think I did—at least in the beginning. I thought what I felt for him was love. But what does a young girl really know of love? We were good friends, and I thought that would be a fine start to a marriage. And he was going off to war and looked so handsome in his uniform. We were just all caught up in the excitement of it. We were young and happy with no idea of the harsh realities of life or of the devastation of war. And it never occurred to us that perhaps whatever we had based our marriage on was not strong enough to help us survive the bad times.”

I looked up at him again, and he used a roughened thumb to wipe away the wetness on my cheeks. “No, I do not think I really loved him. He gave me my beautiful son and I was grateful to him for that, but I can't say that I loved him.”

His large hands closed about my waist and lifted me on top of him. My hands spread on the pillow behind his head to support me, my long hair brushing his face and chest.

“I am glad,” he said. “I have no intention of sharing your heart with another man.”

Our passion was frenzied this time, as if the heat and rising tide of our emotions was needed to negate the past and forge new, stronger bonds. The image of sandy beaches and bloodstained sheets evaporated in a sea of feeling and need for this man, and for the refuge he offered my bruised and battered heart.

It was only later, when his breathing had slowed to the deep and heavy rhythm of sleep and I watched the dawn light the sky, that my doubts returned. His reluctance to dismiss Marguerite alerted me to a secret that had been kept hidden from me. But I was powerless against his will. My last thought before I lapsed into a deep sleep was that perhaps I was being unreasonable by not accepting his word that he would protect me. And that, indeed, there were some secrets best kept hidden.

I
kept Rebecca close to my side, her dreams of ghosts and voices calling to her from the pond haunting me. I had spoken to all of the servants and threatened them with dismissal if I ever heard that one of them had mentioned the Indian woman and her baby to Rebecca. Still, I wanted the child with me, trusting my protection more than any promises.

With the heavy heat of summer gone, we spent a great deal of time outside. I would speak soon to John about buying a pony for Rebecca and teaching her to ride, but for now, we would go for long drives in the small buggy that had been Elizabeth's favorite. We would race along the lane of oaks in front of the house and beyond, but I would slow the horse as soon as we reached the levee road.

I was still uncomfortable on the levee after my fall, and would have avoided it altogether if the child had not clamored for it. She loved the view of the water and could never be convinced to try a different route.

On an overcast morning, just as Rebecca and I approached the levee, we were hailed by a lone rider. With dismay, I thought at first it was Philip Herndon but soon realized that it was Dr. Lewiston. I smiled warmly and waved back.

He bowed grandly to both Rebecca and me, wiggling his golden eyebrows as he did so and making her giggle. “What a lovely surprise to find two such beautiful ladies out for their morning ride. I would be so flattered to accompany you, if only so I can bask in your beauty.”

Rebecca laughed harder and I had to smile, too, despite my trepidation. I could only imagine John's anger were he to find out I had seen Daniel again without John's presence.

Daniel pretended to be hurt, and pressed his hat to his heart. “You
wound me, ladies. I am merely trying to brighten this terribly cloudy day, yet you laugh at me.”

He winked at Rebecca, then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a string of licorice. “And this, my dear, is for you. I always carry it around in case I am lucky enough to see you.”

Rebecca reached up to take it, her smile never fading. Then she placed it in her lap, one of her gloved hands on top lest it should fall off. I assumed she was protecting it to make sure it made it to her collection in the bottom of her bureau drawer.

Despite my wariness, I could not help but show my genuine gladness to see him. “It is good to see you again.”

I smiled up at him and he grinned back, but his eyes were serious. “You are looking as lovely as ever, Catherine.”

I looked down at my gloved hands, attempting to hide my discomfiture. I knew Daniel was simply being gallant, but I doubted John would have considered it so innocently. The thought of John sobered me considerably, casting another cloud onto my day. I considered Daniel my friend and felt I should not be made to feel guilty for spending time with him.

“Thank you, Daniel. Your flattery goes too far, but it is always nice to hear. But I am afraid we need to be returning home.”

Daniel looked disappointed. “But surely you could spare a little bit of time for me to show you Rebecca's secret place.”

Intrigued, I looked at the little girl beside me. She jumped up and down on the seat, her eyes pleading. “Please? There is my own little waterfall, and sometimes I find bird eggs and rocks for my collection. I have not been there since my other mama went up to heaven.” Her blue eyes shimmered.

Reluctantly, I nodded, hoping that our extended excursion would not be noticed. “All right, Rebecca. But just for a little while.”

Daniel leaned over and reached for Rebecca. “Then come on, little peanut—let us go for a ride and show your aunt our special place.”

“She is not my aunt anymore, Dr. Lewiston. She is my new mama.”

Daniel's eyes met mine over Rebecca's blond head and he nodded approvingly.

“Let us go, then,” I said, and flicked the reins on my horse. I followed Daniel and Rebecca along the levee for a short distance before
turning off onto a narrow dirt road hardly wider than a trail. It bisected a dense pine forest, a thin line of brown against lush green. We dismounted and tied the horses, then followed Daniel into the woods.

It was hard to imagine that we were so close to the river in this secluded place. The only sounds were those of the birds and other small forest creatures who inhabited the tall, scrubby pines. A thick layer of pine needles lay across the path, bristling and cracking underneath our feet. Rebecca held the doctor's hand, and I followed quietly, not wanting my voice to ruin the magic of this place.

We soon came to a clearing, a brilliant white gazebo marking the end of the path. It was large—large enough for a couple to dance the waltz—and the roof had been painted a dark green. A weathered brass hawk perched on the cupola, its eyes bright and penetrating, frightening away any small birds who might come to perch there. In the far distance, a great house rose into view, its unprotected back glaring at us. Half of the roof was missing, the charred walls like blackened bruises on the white house. A flock of sparrows lifted off what had once been the attic, darkening the sky and leaving us in the quiet solitude of the ruined mansion.

“Where are we?” I asked, completely lost.

Daniel smiled. “We are at Pine Grove—the King family's cotton plantation. Not that it can be called that anymore, since no crop has been planted in almost five years. It burned in the first year of the war, and they left. Nobody has heard from them since.”

A frown crossed his face for a moment and I looked away, studying the gazebo. It, too, appeared to be in disrepair, with floorboards missing and paint peeling, and a great sadness fell on me. It seemed that whatever the Yankees had not outright destroyed during the war had been left to face a slow and lingering death. Watching my own house burn to the ground had wounded my spirit more than a bullet to my heart ever could, yet at least I didn't have to watch it slowly fall to the ground as a mother would watch a sick child slowly founder out of this life.

I turned to face Daniel. “It is so quiet here.”

He walked onto the octagonal floor of the gazebo, carefully stepping over a protruding board. Rebecca followed closely behind him, easily avoiding the first board and then skipping, with the agility of a
child who had done the same movement many times, over two more gaping holes before finding a seat on the far wall.

Daniel leaned against an archway and studied me carefully. “Yes, it is. It is reminiscent of so many lives after the war, is it not? Everything in ruins.”

I walked around the gazebo, taking note of the late-fall scarlet camellias, their bright, leafy bushes hiding the base of the structure, which was nearly completely swallowed by brambles and vines. I turned back to Daniel, eager to turn the conversation. I had no wish to remember those desolate days following Robert's return. “I have not had the chance to ask you what Philip was doing at Whispering Oaks the last time we met.”

Before he spoke, Daniel turned to Rebecca. “Go see if you can find any eggs—but stay away from the water until we come, all right?”

Eagerly, the child nodded and skipped off in the direction of a dirt path close to the one we had just been on.

“Is it safe?” I asked, remembering the dangers of our grotto.

Daniel nodded. “She has been there many a time and always stays away from the water—even though it is merely a trickle and cannot cause her more harm than wetting her pinafore.” He smiled. “She knows to not venture far from the path, and it only meanders into the woods for a short distance. She is perfectly safe and will wait for us until we are ready to come and get her.”

I wrinkled my brow. “It sounds like she has been here often.”

“Yes, she loves it here. Her mother and I would bring her here quite a bit.”

I nodded, remembering Mr. O'Rourke explaining to me the jaunts Elizabeth would take with Rebecca. How desperately Elizabeth must have wanted to get away from that house. She had hated the outdoors with a passion and had always gone to great lengths to avoid it.

I watched Rebecca disappear and waited for Daniel to answer my question about Philip. The doctor leaned down and picked up a long sliver of wood that had been dislodged from a floorboard and rubbed it between his fingers. Without looking at me, he said, “He was there to see you, regardless of what John might think about it. Luckily, I was able to persuade him otherwise.”

“He wanted to see me? Whatever for? I am quite sure he understands that his behavior toward my husband the last time we met is completely unacceptable to me. I will not see him.”

Daniel's gaze traveled to the neglected camellias, their gentle beauty now hidden under tall grass and weeds. “I told him that, but he seems quite obsessed with you.”

“But that is absurd. We have known each other since we were children. It was always Elizabeth that Philip was interested in.” I took a deep breath, the memory of the baby that had died with Elizabeth never far from me. “I also gather that their relationship may have continued after Elizabeth's marriage.”

A shade of sadness passed across Daniel's face. “Perhaps. I do not listen to gossip, nor will I speak ill of the dead. But as for Philip, I think it would be wise to avoid him. His antagonism toward John could be due in part to the fact that John's a Yankee and may have nothing to do with Elizabeth at all. I avoid him simply because he is a member of that rabble-rousing White League.” He dropped the scrap of wood, hitting the gazebo floor with an oddly hollow and lonely sound.

“He has threatened John. Philip said that John had taken his most cherished thing from him and now Philip would repay him. He is not the same boy I knew.”

Daniel swept his hand along a balustrade, peeling paint flaking off and drifting down onto the camellias. “No, Philip has changed. He ran away from the war and now is stirring up trouble in the hopes that people will forget his cowardice. But I would avoid him—especially now that he has all but admitted to being obsessed with you.”

I waved my hand in the air, dismissing his words. “He was obsessed with Elizabeth, and she and I bear strong resemblance—that is all. He certainly never gave me a second glance all through those summers of coming here to our grandmother's.” I said it without bitterness, glad to have been left to my own devices to paint and read instead of worry about what my hair and dress looked like at all times.

Daniel smiled. “Perhaps Elizabeth's shadow was simply too large for you to emerge from. But now that it is no longer here, we all see how you shine.”

I turned away to study the camellias, embarrassed at his words.

He stepped down the gazebo's steps and stood near me. Reluctantly, I looked up.

“Are you happy, Catherine?”

He stood so close, and I suddenly felt uncomfortable. I shot a glance toward the path where Rebecca had gone, feeling somewhat safer with her nearby. I stepped backward, still smiling, but trying to maintain a distance between us.

With a self-deprecating look, he stepped back, too. “I am sorry, Catherine. I forget sometimes that we have known each other for such a short time. Perhaps it is your resemblance to Elizabeth that makes me believe that I have known you for much longer.”

I looked sharply at him, curious as to how well he really did know my sister.

As if reading my thoughts, he quickly added, “Elizabeth and I were good friends. She needed someone to confide in, and she chose me. I know she confided in Clara, too, but I think that perhaps Elizabeth might have been more reticent in sharing certain things with her than with me. I was her doctor, after all.”

I nodded, my doubts satisfied. I glanced down at the scarlet camellias, their showy blooms staring out from among the glossy green leaves and the climbing weeds. Taking pity on the vain flowers, I knelt down and began plucking as many as I could fit in my hand. The weeds would soon choke out their beauty, withering their buds on the vines. I brought the cluster close to my face and closed my eyes, feeling the velvet softness of the flowers against my chin. These blossoms were so much like my dead sister: brash and vibrant, yet so vulnerable to the weeds of vanity and the fruitless search for happiness that had finally choked out her life. For a moment, I felt only pity for her instead of the anger that had resided in my heart since her death—my anger at her desperate and ultimately selfish act of leaving me completely and utterly alone.

A gentle touch on my arm made me open my eyes, and I saw Daniel's compassionate ones staring into mine.

“Are you well?”

I nodded, then buried my face in the blooms again until I felt Elizabeth's memory drift back into the dark recesses of my mind, where they belonged. “Let us go find Rebecca. We need to get back.”

We found her crouched in front of a thin rivulet, the water valiantly struggling over mud and rocks, creating a small, dripping waterfall that had entranced the little girl. It lay in the middle of an unexpectedly large clearing. I noticed with delight that the old camellias had found their way into this place and were pushing their heads toward the daylight sky.