The Vacant Chair (18 page)

He covered a flinch. “I don’t remember much.”

Her dark gaze held his, daring him to deny it. “Justin, you said her name when I kissed you. Twice. I couldn’t stay, knowing you were pretending I was her.”

The misery in her expression magnified before he closed his eyes and pressed his palms to his temples. “God,” he said, aware of how inadequate the apology was, “I’m so sorry.”

She bit her lip. “You must love her very much.”

He owed her the truth. Pushing away from the table, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Laurel, don’t make me hurt you any more than I already have.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” she answered, raising her chin.

He took a deep breath, knowing he deserved her anger and disgust.

“I need to know. Please.”

He regarded her for a moment, hoping his self-loathing didn’t show. “Yes, I love her. More than anything.”

Laurel leaped up with a sob and headed for the stairs, but he caught her and gathered her close. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “So damned sorry.”

She only nodded, trying to hold back the sobs as they ripped through her. He held her until she calmed a little then allowed her to step away, putting distance between them.

He toyed with the brim of his hat. “I think it would be best for everyone if I didn’t come home for a while.”
Or at all.
“I don’t want to make things any harder for my mother. Or you.” When she didn’t argue, he headed for the door.

“Wait,” she cried, grabbing his arm. “Just…wait.” Laurel gazed up at him, her heartbreak clear on her face. “I couldn’t bear to lose you entirely. Please say I still have your friendship.”

Justin gave her a sad smile. “You’ll always have it.”

“And don’t say you’re not coming back. Don’t talk that way.” She wiped at her eyes and saw him to the door, anxiety etched into her expression. “You
will
be careful, won’t you?"

“Of course.” He paused, feeling strangely hollow. “Take care, Laurel.”

Chapter Eighteen

Richmond, VA

December 25, 1864

Stepping into her bedchamber after delivering a small cake to Morgan—in spite of his continued protests about her visits to Libby—Brianna found a battered letter on her nightstand. She picked it up and studied the unfamiliar handwriting. Had Nan put it there? She poked her head into the hallway and saw the band of light coming from beneath the housekeeper’s closed door. She knocked. “Nan?”

When it opened, the old housekeeper eyed her with concern, her gray curls tucked under a nightcap. “Jenny lamb. You all right?”

“Yes. Did you put this in my room?” She held up the letter.

“I did. A man came about an hour ago, said to give it to you.”

Someone had delivered it to her? “Thank you, Nan. Good night.” She tiptoed back to her room. Had an operative in Elizabeth Van Lew’s secret network brought it? She’d passed a few letters for Justin to her, hoping they would reach him faster than if she sent them back to Lexington for Gavin to forward. She had no idea if they’d gotten through the lines or if Justin had ever received them.

Brianna lit the lamp and curled up on her bed to open the envelope. Inside, she found another one. The familiar handwriting on it made her heart leap.

Justin.

He’d addressed it as Major Thompson. When had he been promoted? Eyes filling, she tore it open and held it up to the flame with trembling fingers. Was he all right?

My dearest Brianna,

I don’t know if this letter will ever reach you, yet I have to write it. It is with deepest sorrow that I inform you my brother was killed at Cedar Creek on October 19th…

She sucked in a breath, a hand flying to her mouth.
Oh, Mitch.

I was with him when he died.

She closed her eyes, a crushing ache in her chest. How Justin must be suffering. She hated not being there to comfort him.

I have returned home to see him buried and will then be rejoining my regiment. You may reach me there at the address given. I can only hope you are well, as I have not had word from you in weeks. I think of you often and pray for word from you soon.

Stay safe and warm.

Yours,

Justin

She read the letter a second time before setting it down and covering her face with her hands. The stark loneliness in his words cut her like a knife. He must not have received any of her letters, but how could that be? Either Miss Van Lew hadn’t been able to get them through the lines, or someone had intercepted them. And he must not have received the letter she’d left with Gavin the night she’d departed for Richmond.

It didn’t matter now. She had to go to him, even if it was risky to try and cross through the lines. If she half froze getting to him, it would be worth it just to hold him in her arms again.
Stay safe and warm.
The words were like an arrow in her heart. Was he out in the field, shivering from the cold right now? The thought brought a hot wash of tears to her eyes.

Resolved to find him no matter how long it took, she packed a bag, wrote a note to the others saying she had to leave due to a family emergency and would be back as soon as possible. She borrowed one of Cassidy’s heavy winter coats and a muff then let herself out the back door and headed for the one place she knew she’d find help: Libby prison.

The night was bitterly cold, but Brianna moved with renewed purpose on her walk across the river. Sam, the guard she’d come to be on friendly terms with, saw her approach and rushed outside to meet her.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded, looking her over as though concerned she might be hurt, sandy brows lowered over his dark eyes.

“I just received a disturbing letter and had to come speak to my brother again.” She tucked her hands deeper into the muff to warm them. “May I see him?”

Sam took her elbow. “Get inside before you freeze to death. Lord, woman, you trying to catch your death walking back and forth in the snow like this?”

“It’s urgent, Sam.”

“I can see that.” He took her to the stairs. “Mind telling me what’s got you so upset?”

She hesitated then decided it couldn’t do any harm to tell him. “My…” What was Justin? Not technically her fiancé. “A dear friend of mine sent word he lost his only brother at Cedar Creek. He needs me, and I intend to go to him.”

Sam stopped, throwing her  an incredulous look. “In this weather? By yourself?” Shaking his head, he helped her up the remaining steps. “Hey, Douglas! Got your sister here again, with some fool notion in her head to track someone down in…” He frowned. “Where did you say he was?”

“Actually I don’t really know. That’s why I wanted to talk to my brother.”

Sam’s lips pursed as though he’d just eaten something sour. “This friend of yours. He’s a Yankee, isn’t he.”

“Yes.”

“That’s who you’ve been passing letters to Miss Van Lew for?”

Her mouth opened in shock. “How did you—”

“I notice things,” he said with a shrug. “Why else would you need to give them to her? Only reason I know of is that you couldn’t get ‘em through the lines yourself.”

And yet these past months he’d said nothing to anyone about it?

He shrugged. “Figured if you were a spy, you wouldn’t have much to pass on from these boys anyhow.”

She laughed in surprise.

“Bree?”

She heard Morgan before she saw him and, rounding the corner, found him already against the bars of his cell.

“What’s the matter? Why are you back?”

“She wants to find some Yankee on the other end of the state,” Sam informed him.

Morgan grabbed her hands, rubbing to warm them. “Who? Your Wolverine?”

“Yes. He’s a major now. They promoted him. I don’t know where he is though. Will he have gone into winter quarters yet?”

“Possibly. Somewhere in the Shenandoah, I’d imagine. Shouldn’t be too hard to find out where. They’ve ruffled a lot of folks’ feathers around those parts. Someone’s got to know where they are.”

Sam crossed his arms and gave her a flat look. “When you say a dear ‘friend’, what do you mean exactly?”

“Her fiancé,” Morgan said.

She fidgeted. “We’re not engaged yet. Not officially.”

Sam’s eyebrows went up. “Then why are you so dead set on finding him?”

“He needs me. I’m going. That’s the end of it.”

Morgan rubbed her hands between his some more, though his fingers were every bit as cold as hers. She’d never get used to seeing him locked up like this. “Be tough going, getting through the lines,” he warned her. “And even if you found out where the winter quarters were, he might be out on campaign somewhere.”

She realized all of that. “I have to try. Will you help me?”

He expelled a weary sigh. “Sweetheart, you know I would, but what the hell can I do from in here?”

She swung hopeful eyes on Sam, who scowled harder. “Please, Sam? Consider it the best Christmas gift you’ve ever given anyone.”

He grunted, paced and grumbled a bit before stopping in front of Morgan and rubbed a hand over his beard. “You’re really gonna allow this?”

Her brother chuckled. “How am I going to stop her? And trust me, sergeant. You don’t
allow
my sister to do anything. I’d feel a whole lot better knowing you were taking care of her, though.”

Sam pondered it for a moment, holding Morgan’s gaze. Then he huffed out an irritated breath. “Fine, I’ll take her. I got leave starting in the morning anyhow and I’d planned to surprise my mama with a short visit.”

Brianna threw her arms around his wiry shoulders. Oh thank God, she was going to find Justin.

Sam gave her back an awkward pat. “Don’t know if we’ll get far, but I’m not gonna let you do this on your own. Wouldn’t sleep a wink until I saw you again.” He set her firmly away from him, pinned her with his dark stare. “Even with the right papers, they might not let us through, and it’s gonna be a damn cold trip as it is.”

“I understand.” Her heart knocked against her ribs. “When can we leave?”

“Best I can do is tomorrow afternoon. I’ll come by with a wagon and pick you up on my way outta town.”

****

Near Winchester, VA

December 29, 1864

“Just another few miles, ma’am, on the other side of yonder ridge.” Sam pointed to the row of trees outlined in moonlight on the slope before them, where he would hand her over to the Yankee pickets. From there she would have to find another escort for the remainder of the journey.

Brianna pulled the blanket tighter around herself, huddling into its woolen folds to ward off the bite of the wind. The wagon rocked and creaked its way down the winding road, jarring her stiff joints and sore muscles.

“Can’t say I’ll miss this wagon, Sam. I’ll be bruised for a whole week after this trip.”

He grunted. “Well, the army ain’t exactly much for fancy travelin’, ma’am.”

“We should have ridden those thoroughbreds I saw back in Fredericksburg instead.”

“Yes, ma’am. You surely do have an eye for horseflesh, I’ll say that for you.”

“Why, Sam, a compliment? I’m flattered.”

He grunted, didn’t look at her. His jaw flexed beneath his sandy beard, his bushy brows lowered over his eyes in disapproval. “Do you have somewhere to stay when you get there?”

“I’m sure I’ll find something.”

“Mm-hm. And what if he’s not even there?”

She cast an annoyed glance at her reluctant companion. “Then I’ll find out where he went and ride out in the morning.”

“All by your lonesome, I suppose,” he grumbled, disdain dripping from the words.

“If I have to.”

“Lord save me, woman—”

“Halt!”

Sam jerked the horse to a stop at the harsh command. Two rebel pickets emerged from the woods at the sides of the road, rifles in hand. Sam handed them their papers and tapped his boot on the wagon floor impatiently while he waited to be waved through. The younger of the pickets handed the documents up to him and stared at Brianna, doffing his hat quickly as an afterthought.

Sam snatched the papers back and glared at him. “Quit your gawkin’, boy. What’s the matter with you? Ain’t you ever seen a woman before?”

“Yessir.” He stepped back, tipping his kepi at her again. “Just not one so pretty.”

Sam glared, picked up the reins and set the wagon in motion once more. “You’d best blink, boy, before your eyeballs freeze up,” he barked over his shoulder, then shot her an irritated glance. “And
that
is why females like you have no business being in an army camp at all, let alone without a chaperone.”

“Because he looked at me?” She rolled her eyes. “Sam, I’m a widow, and I nursed for a long time. I know how to take care of myself around soldiers.”

“That’s not the issue,” he spluttered, hands twitching on the reins. “Damn fool woman.” 

“If I need chaperoning so badly, then why don’t you stay with me?”

His eyebrows shot up and disappeared under the lank hair falling over his forehead. He stared between the horse’s ears, mouth set in a grim line. “I got things to do,” he muttered.

“That’s too bad,” she teased, resting her head against his lean shoulder with a yawn. “You would have been an excellent chaperone. Why, no man in his right mind would dare come within a hundred yards of me when you have that look on your face.”

****

HQ Fifth Michigan Cavalry, Winchester, VA

December 30, 1864

Justin’s pen halted in the middle of a sentence when someone knocked on the door. “Come in,” he called without looking up from the latest dispatch.

“You have a visitor, sir.”

Justin frowned and checked the clock on the wall. It was after midnight. He looked back at the lieutenant, standing half-asleep in the doorway.

“Yessir, I know it’s late, but…”

“But what, Lieutenant? You know I’m busy.” He gestured to the piles of papers spread out on the desk. “Couldn’t this wait until morning?”

“No sir, it’s a lady.”

“A lady? At this hour?” A terrible suspicion formed. “Tell me it’s not Mrs. Blythe.” She was the latest to seek out his attentions and was somewhat…tenacious in her efforts.

“No, not her. Not any other woman from the area. She seems to know you, sir. Damn, I’ve forgotten her name. She must have traveled all week, because she came in on a wagon that left Fredericksburg on Tuesday.”

A woman had come all the way from Fredericksburg by wagon to see him? In this weather? Justin couldn’t fathom who she might be. Surely God wouldn’t be so cruel as to place Laurel on his doorstep, would he? “Is she downstairs right now?”

“Yessir. Did you want me to send her away until tomorrow?”

He sighed, rubbed his tired, burning eyes and shook his head. “No, I’ll see her.” He stood and reached for his frock coat. What kind of woman came calling at this hour?