Touching the Sky (3 page)

“And this is our daughter Laura.”

Brandon met Laura’s gaze and could see from the fix of her mouth that she was amused. She was all but smirking at him. He bowed and addressed them. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Goodness, Father, but are we being invaded by the army?” Laura asked, giving her fan a flick open.

Her father chuckled. “Daughter, Captain Reid is here on behalf of General Russell. He knows very well how faithful we’ve been to support the Union.”

Laura raised a brow and looked at Brandon with an expression that suggested she was enjoying every minute of his discomfort. “I’m not at all sure that the captain understands our faithfulness. Given the fact that so many in this city were Confederate supporters, perhaps Captain Reid believes none of us capable of loyalty to the Union.”

Her father looked at her oddly, but Laura only shrugged and continued. “I suppose, however, he wouldn’t be the type to jump to conclusions. After all, it’s not difficult to ask a person to state their loyalty. Why, there is even an oath being given. I believe you took that oath, did you not, Father?”

“I did indeed. I would take it a hundred times over.”

Brandon knew he deserved her words, but they stung nevertheless. “I have been known to jump to conclusions,” Brandon admitted. “It has usually landed me in a mud pit.”

Stanley Marquardt was momentarily distracted. “If you’ll excuse me, I must attend to another matter. Laura, do be a good friend to the captain and show him around.”

“I would be delighted,” she said, smiling. She waved her fan and batted her eyelashes. “Positively delighted.”

Once her father was out of earshot, Brandon leaned down and lowered his voice. “I suppose I deserved that.”

“You most certainly did,” she agreed. “I’ve done nothing but think about you all day.”

He couldn’t help but grin. “Why, Miss Marquardt, I’m honored.”

Her eyes widened. “Well, don’t be. My thoughts were of torment and torture for you, not pleasantries.”

He laughed. “I can well imagine. If looks could have killed, I believe I would have been felled in that alleyway.”

“Hardly,” she replied. “Perhaps a strong thrashing, but never murder. Especially not when one of our glorious war heroes is involved.”

“I can hardly claim that fame, but I yield to your mercy. I do apologize for my hasty judgment.” She smiled, and Brandon thought he’d never seen anyone quite so beautiful.

“I suppose it wouldn’t be Christian of me to refuse. Therefore, Captain Reid, I accept your apology.” She let her fan drop. “We shall be friends.”

“Why hello,” another female voice greeted from Brandon’s left.

He looked over to meet the young woman who approached. “Laura, darlin’, you simply must introduce us.”

Laura rolled her eyes and snapped her fan shut. “Captain Reid, may I present my sister Miss Carissa Marquardt.”

She extended her gloved hand and gave a teasing giggle behind her fan. “Why, Captain, I’m completely charmed.”

“As am I, Miss Marquardt.” Brandon barely took hold of her fingertips and bowed over her hand in a brief salute.

Carissa took hold of his arm, much to Brandon’s surprise. “Now, Captain, you simply must tell me all about yourself. I want to hear positively every little thing.”

Brandon caught Laura’s annoyed look just before she said, “If you two will excuse me.”

She slipped away before he could protest.

Carissa smiled. “She’s so very serious. I apologize if you thought her rude and unbecoming. I’m afraid the war has left her an old maid and she is quite bitter.”

For a moment Brandon was stunned into silence, and then without meaning to, he laughed. Carissa looked at him oddly.

“I am sorry, Miss Marquardt, but please forgive me. I would never call your statement into question, but I’m certain that if your sister wanted a husband, she’d have no difficulty in getting one.”

Y
ou are far too flirtatious for your own good, Carissa,” Laura chided her sister the next morning as they finished dressing. “You have a beau, and it’s most unseemly that you should fawn all over Captain Reid and others.”

“Oh bother. You have nothing to complain about. You were able to have a proper coming out party before the war stripped away all that was lovely. I turned sixteen during the war and there was no hope of a party or public announcement. Now I’m eighteen, and I intend for people to know me and to see what I have to offer.” She looked at Laura and shrugged. “Besides, I think you’re just jealous.”

“Think what you like,” Laura said, not wanting her sister to know how close she was to the truth. “Even so, you have a reputation to protect and acting out in such a manner will only serve to harm your social standing. War or no war, the ladies of Corpus Christi will not easily forgive impudent behavior.”

Carissa plopped down in a chair by the vanity and picked up a brush. Giving her gold-brown hair long, determined strokes, she looked over her shoulder at Laura. “He was quite handsome.”

Laura rolled her eyes and reached for the brush. With quick work, Laura plaited Carissa’s hair into a single braid. “And rather dashing. But then, the uniform can’t help but enhance a man’s appearance. Father even said so.”

Carissa giggled. “It wouldn’t help old Gaston.”

Her reference to the butler made Laura smile. “No, I suppose it wouldn’t.”

Mr. Gaston had been with the Marquardt family for as long as Laura could remember. He was already in his forties when he came to help at the Marquardt house, and that had been nearly twenty years earlier. He had once mentioned having been born in another century, so Laura figured him to be approaching seventy, if not already there.

She quickly pinned Carissa’s braid in place. “There. You are as pretty as a picture.”

Carissa jumped up and pressed a kiss on Laura’s cheek. “Thank you, sister.” She all but danced to the door.

“Don’t forget that after breakfast Mother is hosting a gathering of church women to discuss the needs of the less fortunate.”

“Oh bother,” Carissa said, turning at the door. “I don’t have to attend, do I?”

“I know Mother would be greatly disappointed if you didn’t. She wants to show us supporting the cause as one.”

“Well, I haven’t any desire to support her cause. I care about the less fortunate, but in my own way.”

Laura narrowed her gaze. “And what way would that be? By flirting with them? By parading around in your finery?”

“What finery?” Carissa countered with a harsh laugh. “I haven’t had a new dress in well over a year, and even then it was only a gown remade from one of Mrs. Sonderson’s. I hardly call that finery.” She puckered her lips. “What I wouldn’t give for a wardrobe full of Worth gowns.”

“Oh, cease with your pouting.” Laura checked her hair in the mirror. Their maid Carlita had done a good job in sweeping it all into a manageable bun atop Laura’s head before hurrying off to help their mother. Carissa had been more than a little miffed to be neglected, but she knew better than to say anything.

“Mother will expect us both to be there, so don’t be late. The meeting starts at ten.”

Carissa shook her head. “I shall just speak to Mother about it. Malcolm plans to come calling today, and I think that much more important. She will, too. I’m certain.” She flounced out of the room.

Laura sighed. She knew the war years had been hard on her sister. Carissa wanted big things out of life: a wealthy husband, a palatial house with plenty of servants, and at least a half-dozen carriages at her disposal. Laura was never really sure why the numerous carriages were important. As she had once pointed out to Carissa, a person could only ride in one at a time—to which her sister had countered, “You can only wear one gown at a time, but a responsible woman of means will have several.”

At breakfast Carissa picked at her fruit and complained that the tea was too strong. Laura could see her mother and father’s displeasure at their younger daughter’s complaints, but still they said nothing. She supposed they felt guilty for all that Carissa had missed out on because of the war. Never mind what Laura had lost. Some of the same men whom Carissa pined for were the very ones Laura had eyed with matrimony in mind. Not only that, but there were concerts, plays, and other wonderful entertainments Laura never had the chance to enjoy. She could still remember lectures she’d attended with her friends . . . friends whose families had quickly evacuated when the Union attacked in 1862. No one knew the deep loss she felt.

She supposed it was her own fault for not complaining. Carissa made sure everyone knew of her displeasures, where Laura remained silent in her grief. When the war came and she was forced to sell off some of her gowns, cloaks, shoes, and jewelry in order to help the family purchase much-needed food, she said nothing. She was proud to be able to help. But the fact that Carissa was treated like a princess and given gifts—while the others went without—irritated Laura. Carissa had become spoiled and opinionated over the years. If she thought everything would go back to the way it was before the war, Laura figured her to be mistaken. Leaders in Washington weren’t sympathetic to the Southern states, and fears and rumor of punishments persisted.

Of course, they hadn’t suffered as much as others had. Father had been wise and his provision and plans had helped the Marquardt family endure the worst of the hardships. Even now, they were faring far better than their friends.

“I do hope that your Mr. Lowe is doing well,” Mother said, turning to Carissa. “Do you suppose he will be coming to call today?”

“I believe so. He did ask to do just that,” Carissa replied. “But Laura tells me that we’re to be in attendance at your ladies’ meeting.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary for you,” Mother countered. She smiled at Carissa, then turned her attention back to her plate. “After all, you are close to becoming engaged, and I would not want to interfere with that.”

“Mother, how can you encourage such a thing? She hardly knows Mr. Lowe,” Laura interjected. “Not only that, he fought for the Confederacy. Besides,” she said, turning to her father, “has he even asked for her hand?”

Carissa didn’t wait for her father’s reply. “A great many young men in Texas fought for the Confederacy. But as you keep saying, the war is over. We must put aside our differences.”

“And you think to accomplish this new diplomacy by marrying a Union girl to a Confederate boy?” Laura asked.

“Laura! You needn’t speak in such a manner to your father,” Mother stated.

Carissa didn’t let this stop her. “He’s no boy, and I’m no girl. We are adults and quite capable of knowing our own hearts.” Carissa picked up her fork and stabbed at a piece of melon. “Besides, I’m neither a Unionist nor a Confederate. I have no politics—it simply isn’t fitting for a woman. Just ask Mother.”

Laura knew her mother had clearly avoided concerning herself with such matters. Asking her would be akin to asking the cat. Even the black and Mexican servants had more of an opinion on the affairs of state.

“Girls, there is no need to become agitated,” their father declared, replacing his empty coffee cup on its saucer. “Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I am already late for an appointment.” He got to his feet, leaned over to kiss their mother on the head, then threw a smile at the girls. “Be useful to your mother.”

Laura nodded, but Carissa ignored him and appeared completely captivated by a basket of croissants. Esther, a former slave who had come to them from a plantation north of Austin, entered the room and began to clear away Father’s dishes.

“Esther, please ask Cook to meet with me for a few minutes in the library.” Mother got to her feet. “I must go over the menu and see that we have everything ready for the ladies.”

“Yes’m.” Esther’s dark eyes met Laura’s gaze. “Miss Laura, ya gonna want mo’ tea?”

“No, thank you, Esther. I’m completely satisfied with this.” Laura pushed her plate back a fraction of an inch.

“How ’bout mo’ tea, Miss Carissa?”

“No. It’s much too strong.”

Esther nodded and returned to the kitchen. Carissa sighed and began to butter the croissant she’d chosen. “I hope that when I marry I can move far from here. This town is dreadful. I think I’d like to live in New Orleans. I hear it’s positively wonderful there. The ladies never lack for the latest fashions and the houses are much grander.” She put down the knife and bit into the bread.

“The grass always looks greener over in someone else’s yard,” Laura said. “Honestly, Carissa, I don’t know why you worry about such things.”

“A woman should concern herself with the future, Laura. Just because you’re content to sit here as an old maid and care for our aged parents doesn’t mean I am.”

“Our parents are hardly aged.”

Carissa put down the croissant. “They are in their fifties. That’s old.”

“They are both quite healthy,” Laura corrected. “And as far as I can tell, do not require my care.”

“So does that mean you will marry?” Carissa asked. “Have you a beau?”

Laura felt more than a little exasperation with her sibling. “You know very well that I do not. If God should have a mate for me, I am confident He will send Him along.”

“Oh goodness, you are such a goose. God doesn’t do things like that,” Carissa said, shaking her head. “He’s much too busy. God only handles important things.”

“Such as knowing the number of hairs on our heads?” Laura asked with a questioning expression.

Carissa jerked her chin upward. “Of course He knows that. God knows everything. But there is an entire world out there for Him to watch over. Do you truly suppose He cares about whether or not you find a beau?”

Laura nodded. “I do. I believe God cares about all the details of our lives. Look at the Bible. There are many stories of God bringing people together for marriage.”

“But those were important people,” Carissa countered. “Goodness, Laura, one would think you were the Queen of Sheba the way you talk.”

The clock in the hall chimed eight, and Carissa gently dabbed her mouth. “I simply must go. I have to make myself ready in case Malcolm arrives early.” She got to her feet. “And if you are seriously thinking about getting a beau, sister, I would suggest you start dressing in brighter colors. That brown doesn’t suit you at all.”

Laura glanced down at her well-worn gown. The yellow lace trimming and gold buttons added very little in the way of decoration, but still Laura thought the gown suitable. Besides, she really didn’t care what Carissa thought about her fashion sense.

Three hours later, Laura found herself enduring the final discussions of the church ladies her mother had invited over. Mother had surprised her by suggesting that as women married to Unionists, they should reach out to embrace their sisters of the Confederacy. Her mother never dabbled in politics, but apparently someone had put the notion in her mind.

“The sooner we are all of one accord again, the sooner life will return to normal,” Mother stated. The women nodded in silent agreement.

“We’ve all lost loved ones, and even though this war was their fault,” Mrs. Brighton announced, “I am the forgiving sort. I do believe, however, that we should perhaps limit our involvement to those whose husbands have taken the ironclad oath.” The women around them nodded. Apparently grace only extended so far.

“Enough about that subject. I do believe Mrs. May has received word from a cousin in France that they are to receive a shipment of fabric for the store. I, for one, am very excited about this,” Mother told the group as the conversation became less serious. “I wonder if we might consider a formal occasion—perhaps a ball or other party—where we can bring everyone together. Nothing does a lady’s heart quite so much good as a ball.”

“I think that idea is perfect,” Mrs. Cole replied. She nibbled at a piece of pastry and sighed. “A wedding party would be even better. You know how it uplifts the spirit to share in the blessing of a new couple’s nuptials.”

The other dozen or so women murmured their agreement. Laura tried to smile when their gazes fell upon her. Mother quickly turned their attention elsewhere, however. “My Carissa may well be announcing an engagement any day. In fact, her beau came to call just before our meeting. A wedding in the near future would be quite possible.”

“But you wouldn’t want to rush it too much. People are given to talk,” Mrs. Brighton said, leaning forward. “A lengthy engagement is always appropriate.”

“Pshaw!” Laura’s mother declared. “We have just survived a war. I believe etiquette can be imposed upon in such a case. Besides, my Carissa has never been one for waiting. I believe I could have her married by summer’s end.”

“It would help if the beau in mind would propose first, don’t you think?” Laura asked.

Her mother threw her a glare, then continued. “I feel confident that a proposal is coming soon. My Carissa has said as much.”

Laura sighed. The conversation was draining her of her last bits of energy. The heat was so intense she felt positively soaked from perspiring, and the humidity only served to add to her discomfort. She longed for a nice tepid bath or a swim.