The Bride Price (7 page)

“Thank you,” he said gruffly.

Despite his reservations, Jamie forced himself to sit
with the women and, if it were just for Emma, talk about Sophie’s
disappearance and feign acceptance for her absence. It was
ridiculous, but Jamie tried to nod at all the right times and
appear to be grateful for their interference. He tried to keep his
relief hidden when his phone rang, and he excused himself to take
the call.

Sequestering himself in the library, he took another
call from the authorities, all the while trying not to punch his
fist into a wall. Slamming the phone down, he dropped his face into
his hands.

“Jamie?”

Raising his head, he forced a smile. “Sorry, Squirt,
the FBI was returning my call. Are the ladies still here?”

“No, they left almost an hour ago. I tried to find
you…”

“Sorry,” he interrupted.

Emma snorted. “Right. You were hiding, admit it.”

“I admit nothing.” Jamie smiled.

Emma raised her eyebrow. “You weren’t on the line
with the FBI this entire time, were you?”

Jamie shook his head. “No, part of the time. A
courtesy call from the man who’s been put in charge. He’s
investigating a few other disappearances.”

“Like Sophie’s?”

Jamie nodded but didn’t want to elaborate. “You’re
all dressed up. Are you going out again?”

Emma slid her hands down her hips, across
tight-fitting jeans. “Yeah, Hannah and I are going to check out a
new club in the Pearl.”

“Do you think that’s wise? It’s the third time this
week.”

“Um, hel-loh, you’re not my father, and it’s not like
you’re in the frame of mind to be good company—” and then, “Oh,
Jamie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

Jamie gave her a sad smile. “I know, Emma. We’re all
under stress. Just be careful, okay? Call me if you need me to pick
you up.”

“We’ll take a cab, but thanks.”

Jamie walked her to the door before returning to the
library and grabbing a glass and a bottle of Patrón Silver. He
climbed the stairs and headed towards his bedroom at the end of the
hall, unchanged since Sophie’s disappearance.

Stalling at the threshold, eyes scanning the familiar
scene, he forced himself to walk inside and inch toward the antique
sleigh bed. He set his glass and bottle on the nightstand, and
dragged his hands over his beard as he stared into space. Hitting
play on his iPod, he lowered himself onto the mattress and buried
his face in the soft down of Sophie’s pillow. The familiar scent of
peach, apricot, and sandalwood, the one distinctively Sophie,
invaded his senses as he hugged it to his chest and reverently ran
his hands over the satin pillowcase. “I miss you, baby.”

An hour and six shots of Tequila later, he stumbled
to his closet, wanting to hold something else that smelled like
Sophie. He yanked the door open, his seventh drink teetering
dangerously at the rim, and watched in horror as Sophie’s wedding
dress slipped from its hanger and pooled onto the floor. He
swore.

“Sophie’s gonna kill me.” Then, a pathetic laugh,
followed by a scowl and the sound of glass shattering against the
wall. He stared down at his empty hand, registering he’d thrown the
tumbler.

Wiping the splash of liquor from his hands, Jamie
reached inside the closet and lifted Sophie’s wedding gown from the
floor. He fumbled with the hanger in an attempt to get everything
put back together. Eyeing his own wedding attire, nestled lovingly
next to where her gown had hung just moments before, he reached for
it. He held the Union Army uniform at arm’s length, her gown
forgotten. In homage to his wife’s obsession with the War Between
the States and her unwavering attention to detail, Jamie had made
sure it was period correct to every last element.

Because of Sophie’s love of horses, Jamie learned to
ride soon after they met. As a surprise for their wedding, he chose
to have this cavalry officer’s uniform made and relied on Alex to
help make it authentic. To this day, he didn’t know what Alex said,
or did, so that Sophie never caught wind of his plans, but it
worked.

Pulling the light blue pants on, he smoothed the
yellow stripe down the side, surprised they still fit. His unstable
fingers fumbled with the buttons and a growl escaped. “A zipper
would have been better,” he slurred into the air.

He grasped the silken rope around his neck that held
Sophie’s engagement ring, anniversary band and a New Zealand bone
carving Hannah had given him for his birthday one year, and slipped
it into his undershirt. He’d found Sophie’s rings the night she’d
disappeared, but there was no sign of her wedding band. He took a
modicum of comfort knowing that wherever she was, she still wore
it, along with the ring that matched his.

His Civil War shirt, although in the style of a
nineteenth-century army shirt, was better made and much more
comfortable, but the jacket was authentic. Dark blue wool, with
nine brass buttons in equal distance down the breastplate. Alex had
found antique shoulder boards for a 1
^st
Lieutenant and
added them as a little joke.

Jamie asked her at the time why she didn’t make him a
captain, and Alex had laughed. “Because you don’t ride well enough
to be a captain.”

Buttoning the jacket as he sang along to their
favorite Tonic song, Jamie could barely hold back the desperation
as he forced memories aside and tried to forget – just for a day.
He stared at his reflection in the full-length mirror. Satisfied
with his appearance, he grabbed his cavalry hat, the tequila bottle
from the nightstand, and stumbled down the stairs and into the
library.

He froze. “What the—?”

Turning around, he stared at the railing of his
staircase, but when he turned back to the library, he gazed upon a
vast field, hazy with smoke, and the smell of gunpowder
overwhelming. No hint of Sophie’s beloved library remained.

Before he could make sense of anything, excruciating
pain spread through his side and then, blackness.

* * *

“Sir? Sir? Can you hear me?” Amelia Powell
frantically whispered. “Oh, please, please wake up.” She turned
toward the house, and called out, “Daddy, come quick, there’s a
soldier out here.”

“Amelia, there’s been no fighting around
here, how can there be a soldier on the field?” a deep voice
bellowed from a distance away.

She let out a quiet huff before calling back,
“I understand that, Daddy. Nevertheless, there
is
a soldier
lying here and he’s bleeding.” Amelia turned back to the soldier
and tried tapping his cheek again. “Sir. Please wake up.”

His eyelids fluttered open and Amelia was
taken aback by the dark blue orbs staring at her in confusion. He
squeezed his eyes shut again briefly and then grimaced.

“Don’t try to move, sir. You appear to have
been shot. My father is coming to help. If you would just lie
still.” He groaned and moved his hand away from his side. Amelia
pushed it back. “You need to keep pressure there. Can you tell me
your name?”

He licked his lips and frowned. “James.”

“What’s your last name?”

“Uh…” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Amelia raised her head at the sound of her
father’s heavy footsteps. “Meely, run and get David and John. We’re
gonna need to get him into the barn.”

“The barn, Daddy? He’s a Union soldier. I
think we should offer him refuge in the house.”

Her father knelt beside James and studied him
briefly. “All right, Meely. We’ll take him into the house. Now, go
fetch David and John.”

“Yes, sir.” Amelia picked up her skirts and
ran for the fields.

There weren’t many men left to work their
dairy farm. Anyone healthy and willing was fighting, but the
Powell’s had been lucky enough to gain loyalty from a few of the
slaves that Amelia’s father had freed years ago.

Many wealthy landowners had begun to free
their slaves, but it took a while for her father to agree—truth be
told, it took a while for her mother to agree, which in turn,
influenced her father’s decision. But her brother, Samuel, had been
right and her father finally saw the wisdom in his suggestion.

Two of the men chose to stay and work the
farm, even after many of the others had joined the Union. Amelia
had suspected her brother may have offered them a financial
incentive to stay on, but she doubted she would ever know for
sure.

She caught sight of them moving the herd from
the lower pasture. David was larger than life with an easy manor
and quick sense of humor. He stood at least a foot taller than
Amelia and had scared her when he’d first come to the farm. That
all changed after he’d risked his life to save her from a nasty
run-in with an angry bull when she was nine, and now she viewed him
as her own personal protector.

John had been raised on the Powell farm, and
he and Amelia had played as children. He was two years her senior
and as Amelia blossomed into a beautiful young woman, her mother
forced him to keep his distance. Amelia had defied her at every
chance. She considered John one of her very closest friends, and
she’d been his shoulder to cry on when the girl he’d loved had been
forced to follow her family after they were freed. Amelia had
secretly taught him to read and write, something her mother would
have surely stopped if she’d ever found out.

“David, John, come quick. There’s a wounded
soldier up near the house. Daddy needs him brought inside.”

John waved back and the two men came running.
David removed his hat and gave Amelia a warm smile. “Where’s he at,
missus?”

“In the back paddock, just past the
garden.”

Amelia led them to where her father knelt
over James. It appeared he was speaking to him, but Amelia couldn’t
figure out if the soldier was answering.

Mr. Powell raised his head. “Oh, good. Move
him into the south guestroom upstairs, and then one of you go for
the doctor.”

“Yessuh,” David responded. He and John picked
him up and did as they were instructed.

Amelia followed them inside and heard the
sputtering of her mother from behind David. “What do you think
you’re doing with that man?”

“Mama, he’s a wounded soldier. Daddy told
them to take him up to the south room.”

“Oh, for goodness sake.” Her mother waved her
hands towards the stairs. “Make it quick, then.”

“Yes’m,” they mumbled and hurried up the
stairs.

When Amelia tried to follow, her mother
grabbed her arm. “You will not be alone with them.”

“Mama, he needs help.”

“Young lady, you’re barely sixteen. You may
not go into a room alone with a man and two Negroes. What would
people think?”

Amelia wanted to scream. “That I’m a good
Samaritan, and willing to help a soldier who has obviously put his
life on the line for our Union.”

Her mother huffed. “Well, you’ll wait until
the doctor has seen him and then you’ll let Della tend to him. John
may assist…he is her son after all.”

Amelia lowered her head. “Yes, mama.”

CHAPTER SIX

Christine was a willing hostage for well over
two hours as Sophie regaled her with stories of the future. “Do you
think you could help me find my way back?”

“I have no idea where to begin,” Christine
said.

“Perhaps where Nona found me?” Sophie widened
her eyes in hope. “By the stables?”

A knock at the door
interrupted their conversation and brought Nona, followed by Betty
and another servant, laden with trays.

“
Hi, Nona.”

Sophie and Christine
moved to help with the food.

“
You both missed dinner.”

“
Thank you.”

Nona ushered the
servants from the room and then turned to Sophie. “I’ll leave the
tray. You should eat and then rest. You’ve had a very emotional
day.”

Sophie nodded and
then Nona left the girls alone again. Christine prepared two plates
and, with a sigh, Sophie forced herself to choke down a few bites
of chicken and fruit.

“
Tell me more about Jamie.” Christine wiped her mouth with her
napkin.

Sophie’s heart warmed
as her thoughts wandered to her husband, and she couldn’t help but
smile. “He’s the most amazing man.”

“
How did you meet?”

“
We
met at a college function. He was singing, and I was instantly
lost.”

“He sings?” Christine asked.

“Yes, incredibly. We used to sing together,
actually.”

“I’d love to accompany you on the piano
sometime.”

Sophie grinned. “I would like that.”

“Sorry, I’ve veered from our topic. Please,
continue.” Christine sipped her drink.

“Well, Jamie took me bowling on our first
date.”

“
What is first date?”

“
A
first date.” Sophie chuckled. “I suppose it would be similar to a
ride in the park, or a private dinner, once courtship has been
offered.”

Christine
nodded, so Sophie continued,
“It was
the
perfect
date. Especially when we said good night.”

Christine raised an eyebrow in question.

“I was beyond excited because he’d asked me
out again, and we had plans to see a local band the next
night.”

“What is a band?”

“Right. Um, a performance with musicians.
People pay to see musicians perform, but we don’t dance to the
music—well, not the way you do in this century.”

“You can explain that another time.”

“Thank you.” Sophie smiled.

“So, after you said good night, what
happened?”

Sophie’s hand found its way to her chest. “I
had just closed and locked my apartment door when I heard a knock.”
Sophie blinked back tears as the moment came rushing back. “I
opened the door and suddenly he was there, arm around my waist, and
a hand stroking my cheek as he kissed me.”