Wings of a Dove (42 page)

    James responded in a low, controlled voice, "If I were you, Sarah, I would devote a little more thought to what you're going to do and a little less to Allie's plight. At least Allie has me. Who do you have?"

    "Stupid James! I have Bobbie, that's who! He's more of a fool for me than you are for Allie! It won't take much to convince him that Delaney took advantage of me. He'll be only too happy to save me from disgrace by marrying me and claiming the child as his, especially when I tell him I love him."

    "He'll never believe you, not after all this."

    Sarah's small laugh brought a heated color to James's face. "Oh, yes, he will."

    Finally regaining her voice, Allie shook her head in an unconscious effort to negate the horror of reality. "It isn't true, Sarah. You're lying. You're not pregnant. Delaney couldn't"

    "Look at me, damn you!" Pulling off her oversized apron, Sarah gave a low, disgusted snarl. "You've faded to skin and bones, but Delaney's seed is blooming full and well inside me. Damn you, I said look!"

    Allie's gaze fell to Sarah's waist. Her throat tightened convulsively, slowly choking the air from her lungs. It was there, obvious to the eye, the thickening of Sarah's waist, and the small, high protrusion of her stomach, previously hidden by her voluminous aprons. Oh, God, it was true!

    "I love you, Allie," Delaney had said. "I've never loved anyone but you. I'll always love you."

    Lies! Nothing but lies! The words had slipped so easily from Delaney's lips and taken root in her heart. But they had meant nothing! Only a few hours later he had taken Sarah in the same way and joined her body with his own. With that act, he had tarnished the beauty they had shared. Delaney had defiled her,     made her unclean, because he had never loved her the way she loved him.

    Everything he had said had been lies. Lies. Lies. Lies.

    The word drummed over and over in Allie's brain, a deadening litany of despair. Fragmented images deluged her mind, touching her with a new anguish. Their numbing assault was more than she could bear, supplanting time and space, removing the reality of the darkened house, the seething hatred of the woman standing before her, the truth her whirling mind could not accept. Darkness and oblivion hovered at the edges of fading reality. Abruptly they overwhelmed her, and Allie slipped into the merciful void of unconsciousness.

    Delaney adjusted the lamp on his desk, but the script on the sheets of paper in front of him was still blurred. Sitting back in his chair, he rubbed his tired eyes. Allowing himself a few minutes' respite, he gazed around the limited confines of his rented room, considering the faded wallpaper, the worn oilcloth on the floor, the sparse furnishings a bed, a dresser, a night table, and the desk at which he sat. It was a far cry from the home he hoped one day to own, but it was a beginning.

    Unwilling to allow his thoughts to stray further, Delaney turned back to the report with which he had struggled for the greater part of the night. Despite himself, the plight of the Confederates in Camp Douglas had touched a raw spot inside him. Destiny and circumstance had taken the course of their lives out of their hands, and they had suffered the consequences. Somehow, he could not help but relate their circumstances to his own.

    Fate had thrown Allie and him together. He had not wanted responsibility for anyone to enter his life. It had, and with it had come love. But fate had interfered once more, turning Allie from him. His shock, anger, and pain had been profound at that moment outside the Farmers' Meeting Hall when Allie had left his side. He had been certain that nothing and no one could accomplish that after the love they had shared. Why hadn't Allie been able to see that Mrs. Case would use any weapon at her disposal to keep her from leaving? Why hadn't she trusted him enough to consign the ailing woman to her family's care and take his hand?

    The answer was simple. She had not loved him enough.    But in the silence of the night, Delaney could not deny that he wanted Allie still, that the spot inside him that had been Allie's alone was now a cold, aching void that numbed him.

    Suddenly angry with himself for slipping into a familiar trap, Delaney gave the sheaves lying on the desk in front of him a last dismissive glance. Pushing back his chair, he drew himself to his feet. He was too tired to work now, and too tired to think. Tomorrow he would be contemptuous of this fleeting weakness. And then he would force himself to go on.

Chapter Fourteen

    So much had happened in the last month.

    Allie was trembling, but not from the cold. She glanced briefly out the window of her room, her mind registering the fact that a fresh snowfall the night before had refreshed the white blanket that had covered the ground since the beginning of the year. Not a single track marred the rolling field of white that met the horizon. It was breathtakingly beautiful.

    A sound in the hallway below drew Allie's mind from its wanderings, and she was suddenly grateful there was no witness to her shaken state. She was grateful Sarah was gone, even though the circumstances of her departure could have been more pleasant.

    A frown creased Allie's fair brow. Within three days of the confrontation between Sarah, James, and herself a month before, Sarah had run off and married Bobbie Clark. Neither family had been present at the wedding, which had taken place in the next county, and since Sarah's condition was obvious, it was the general opinion around town that Bobbie had done the right thing in taking responsibility for his actions.

    James had commented that Bobbie had accepted with grace the few ribald comments around town about his hasty marriage, and she was certain Bobbie had told no one, not even his family, that the child Sarah carried was not his. She did not think Bobbie realized how Sarah had manipulated him, and, in truth, she hoped he never would. He had appeared happy when Sarah and he had stopped by shortly after their marriage, and Allie was grateful that Sarah had made her peace with her mother, even if they had seen her seldom since.

    The sound of male voices raised in hearty conversation drew Allie from her meandering thoughts, and she turned to the mirror to check the new blue gown that James had insisted she buy. It fit smoothly against the slender lines of her body, minimizing her weight loss of the last few months. The shade softened her stark lack of color, and the blue ribbons secured in her upswept hair lent an air of festivity to her appearance. She was glad that her waist was still slender, and that except for the slight increase in the size of her breasts, there was no outward sign of her pregnancy.

    She was exceedingly grateful for James's sake, because today was their wedding day.

    The male voices below drew closer. They were coming upstairs, and Allie's heart began an accelerated beating.

    As she had many times during the past month, she told herself she should be grateful for Sarah's malicious revelation of her pregnancy. The shock had forced her to face some important facts.

    The first was that Delaney would never come back. Whatever course their lives might have taken if she had remained at his side that night outside the Farmers' Meeting Hall, the pattern for the future had been set by the events that followed.

    The second harsh reality was that Delaney was guilty of the true betrayal. He had made love to Sarah only hours after declaring his love for Allie, only hours after they had consummated the beautiful emotion they shared with an act of love more binding for her than a spoken vow. In doing so, he had reduced that emotion to the level of physical lust and had forced her to face the reality that their views of love and fidelity were so diverse that although she loved him still, the disparity separated them more effectively than the miles between them ever could. It was a disparity that would keep them apart forever.

    The third reality, and the one that had brought her to this day, was that her own feelings were no longer of paramount importance. Her first responsibility was to her child. She could not make her child suffer the insecurities of her own childhood simply because of her pride. James would make an excellent husband and father. And she was determined she would make him a good wife.

    An unexpected flutter of movement inside her momentarily took Allie's breath. Her hand moved to her stomach in the realization that the child within her had made itself felt for the first time. She wanted to share her incredulity and joy with someone. Tears filled her eyes, for she knew that person would not be Delaney.

    The voices in the hallway drew closer, and she felt a moment of panic. There was one thing left to do. One final cord to sever.

    Reaching inside the high neckline of her dress with trembling fingers, Allie touched the chain hanging around her neck. Every nerve in her body screaming in protest, she slipped it off. For a few seconds, she held the medal in her hand. It was warm, comforting, against her palm, and she clutched it tight with regret.

    With great determination, Allie turned and walked to the dresser behind her. Pulling open the top drawer, she placed the medal on top of the neatly arranged undergarments folded there and pushed the drawer closed.

    Disturbingly numb, Allie turned at the knock at the door. Moving forward unsteadily, she opened the door to meet James with a shaky smile. She stared in silence at his fair, freshly shaven face, the pale dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose. His light hair was carefully slicked into neatness, and he wore a dark jacket and trousers purchased for the occasion. He looked very handsome, and she knew she was exceedingly fortunate to have this man love her. She hoped to be worthy of him.

    "You look beautiful, Allie."

    "Oh, James." Allie shook her head. "I don't."

    "You do." His voice emphatic, James hesitated only a moment before touching his lips to hers. "Even if you don't believe me, it's true." Raising his hand, James cupped her cheek, a world of love flowing from his eyes as his voice dropped to a whisper. "You'll never regret this day, Allie."

    Allie covered his hand with hers. "It's your regrets I worry about, James."

    "Never, Allie. This is the happiest day of my life." Slipping his hand around hers, James drew it down to his side as he urged her into the hallway toward the slender gentleman awaiting them by Mother Case's bedroom door.

    Allie swallowed past the lump in her throat and forced a smile.

    "Hello, Reverend Whittier."

    "My dear, you are a beautiful bride. The Lord will bless your generosity in consenting to this hasty marriage in order that dear Margaret might still be with us to witness it."

    Unable to respond, Allie followed James as he entered his mother's room. Leaning over the bed to kiss her gray cheek, Allie was struck by the joy in her dim eyes.

    Mother Case raised her hand, and Allie held it tightly, realizing the silent woman was too debilitated to speak. James's arm circled her waist. She turned to him, hardly able to control her quaking at his low whisper.

    "I love you, Allie."

    Unable to risk words, Allie nodded in response.

    "Are you ready, children?" the minister asked.

    "We are."

    His voice deep and resonant, the Reverend Mr. Whittier started the ceremony, but Allie did not hear the words. Echoes of countless tears resounding in her mind, she was too busy saying goodbye.

Chapter Fifteen

    The bright sun warm on his bare head, Delaney walked rapidly along Clark Street. It had been a long, cold winter, and spring was extremely welcome. That was as obvious on the smiling faces of pedestrians passing by as it had been in the
Tribune
office yesterday, where the lighthearted atmosphere had not quite fit the news from the front.

    Spring had brought about no improvement in the Union's efforts in the war. General Hooker had replaced Burnside at the head of the Army of the Potomac in April and had set off confidently in another Union attempt to take Richmond. Hooker's confidence had suffered a blow when his army was put to flight by Lee's much smaller forces at Chancellorsville. As things now stood, Richmond looked as far away as ever.

    The outlook to the west was just as bleak. There, Grant appeared to be making little headway in the swamps and wilderness areas near the Mississippi as he applied pressure to Vicksburg.

    In the city, the news since the turn of the year had been both good and bad. Chicago had replaced Cincinnati as the pork-packing center of the United States, and residents were jubilant     at the growth of the economy. The city had received a new charter granting the municipality additional powers. Earlier in the year, Wilbur Storey, the editor of the
Chicago Times
who had become the Union's most vehement opponent, was censured by the federal government. The order to shut down the presses caused a riot, and President Lincoln revoked the order, but the bad feelings had not yet come to rest.

    Delaney's face softened into a smile. He was grateful his own bad feelings had finally been laid to rest. He was well aware that his decision of the night before, arrived at after months of fighting a long-standing inner battle, was the reason behind the feeling of peace with which he had awakened.

    A new enthusiasm quickened Delaney's step as he approached the Clark Street post office and the offices of the
Tribune
directly overhead. He glanced up toward the window facing the street, wondering if Pete Mulrooney's bloodshot eyes had followed his approach. He would not be surprised if they had. Mulrooney was a hard taskmaster and had overseen Delaney's work with unrelenting diligence. Of late, he was certain something was brewing behind that scowl. He supposed Mulrooney would let him know what it was when he was good and ready.