Camellia (14 page)

Camellia shrugged. “Nothing much. Just trying to stay awake.”

Jane shot a look at her. “I didn’t have much trouble.”

Ignoring her friend’s censure, Camellia raised her voice so the Thorntons could hear her question. “Do you think we’re on the right path?”

She could see Jonah’s shoulder tighten.

It was all the encouragement she needed to continue. “I’m not sure this is the right way. It may be the path that leads to destruction.”

Mrs. Thornton looked over her shoulder at them. “I’m so glad you took the sermon to heart, Camellia. I was afraid you might find the message troubling.”

“No, of course not.” Camellia silenced the voice inside her head. “I may not agree with his whole message, but I know he believes what he says.”

Jonah stopped walking for a minute then seemed to recover himself. He continued on until they reached his family’s home. But she could almost feel the storm brewing in him.

“I need to speak to you for a moment, Camellia.” He practically dragged her from the foyer, his fingers making certain she didn’t escape.

Camellia refused to be intimidated. Jonah held no power over her. She took a stance in the center of the room, shoulders back, head high. Aunt Dahlia would be proud of her. “What is wrong?”

“You may not…. No, let me start again. You obviously do not value the message you heard today.”

“I don’t see why the path to God has to be narrow and strewn with briars.” She pulled off her gloves and held them in one hand. “And if it is, who is to say the South is not following the right path? After all, we are the smaller group. Does that make us the ones with the right answer?”

He sighed. “Is that really what you believe? That God smiles on the South and the Southern way of life?”

“If you’re so sure we’re wrong, why do you stay?”

His mouth closed in a straight line.

Camellia could sense she was about to win. She let her mouth relax into a smile. “Are you going to answer me?”

“You wouldn’t understand if I did. Your ears have been closed. Your eyes can’t see.” He turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

The victory she had sensed felt hollow, empty. She slapped her gloves against her empty palm and blew out a breath of disgust. How like a man. He would never admit she might be right.

On the Mississippi River near St. Louis

J
ohn Champion tossed another piece of wood into the boiler and slammed the door shut. “Do you want me to add more?”

The engineer pushed back his black cap and scratched his head. “No, that’ll do her fer now.”

Nodding, John pushed his sleeves back down and fastened them.

“Don’t see why ya bother with that.” The shorter man shook his head. “Ya gonna have to roll ’em up again or replace that shirt soon.”

It was a habit born of his earlier years, but one John seemed unable to break. Even though it had been two years since he had last seen his home, it was hard to forgo some routines. “I’ll roll them up when I have to.”

The engineer’s puzzled look made John laugh as he left the engine room and wound his way through hogsheads of sugar from southern Louisiana. Captain Pecanty should make a good profit this voyage. Sugar was worth its weight in gold since supply had been cut off by the Union blockade in the Gulf of Mexico. That meant John would also earn more.

Not that he had much need for money these days. Working on the
Catfish
ensured him a serviceable bunk and plenty of food. He usually stayed on the boat with the Pecantys instead of visiting the gambling dens that lined many of the towns along the river. Keeping to himself had grown easier and easier the longer he remained on the steamship. A warm breeze pushed his hair down into his eyes. He reached up and brushed it back with an impatient gesture.

“If you didn’t wear it so long, it wouldn’t bother you.” The feminine voice brought his head around. Almost as wide as she was tall, Naomi Pecanty had twinkling green eyes, a smile as wide as the river they rode upon, and a caring heart as steady and strong as the paddle wheel steering them northward.

She never came up on his right side, the side that bore the reminder of past sins. It was an indication of her thoughtfulness. Mrs. Naomi never asked him about the disfiguring scars that marred one side of his face. She and her husband were not the kind to ask many questions about a man’s past, a fact that suited John to a T. But that hadn’t stopped the kindly woman from presenting him a scarf last Christmas to serve the dual purpose of keeping his head and neck warm while covering a goodly portion of the rough, purplish-red skin left by the explosion.

“I like it long.” He leaned against the wooden rail and looked out at the green hills. Of course the lock fell down into his eyes again, but this time John ignored it. He could almost feel her disapproving look. The silence lengthened until he finally gave up, sighed, and pushed back the hair once more. “Did you come up front to advise me on fashion?”

“No.” The gentle tone of her voice made him feel guilty for his gruff tone. “I need to ask a favor of you.”

“A favor?” He glanced sideways and met her gaze.

Something swirled in those eyes, something that made his shoulders tense. John wanted to walk away, but he couldn’t. The woman next to him had practically adopted him the moment she joined the crew as the cook.

Yankees had raided her home, taking the livestock, looting the garden, and burning down the house she and Captain Pecanty had built. They decided she would be safer on the boat, so Mrs. Naomi took over the kitchen duties. John had gained at least ten pounds since she’d come on board.

“I need some supplies from Devore’s in Cape Girardeau.”

Their next stop would be at the small town in southern Missouri—a regular destination on their voyages. He fumbled for an excuse. “I don’t know. I doubt I would come back with the right supplies.”

“I made out a list for you.” She pulled a folded slip of paper from her sleeve.

Tommy Bender, a short man with dirty blond hair and light blue eyes, came down the stairs and moved past them with a toothy grin. “Is dinner about ready?”

“Not yet.” Mrs. Naomi returned his smile. “Biscuits will be ready at sunset.”

“Don’t let John eat all of ’em before the rest of us get to the dinner table.”

John frowned. He should be used to the ribbing from the rest of the crew, but he wished they would simply leave him alone.

“I won’t.” Mrs. Naomi pushed the list toward him.

John took it and stuffed it into a pocket. It seemed the time to object had passed. He supposed he could do as his employer’s wife wished. As he walked away from the rail, his shoulders twitched. Why did it feel like he had a target painted on his back?

New Orleans

Camellia tucked a bit of hair under her nightcap and leaned back against her pillow. “What do you think of Jonah Thornton?”

Jane blew out their candle and shrugged. “He seems like a nice man.”

Tilting her head, Camellia tried to decide if Jane was hiding her feelings. Her tone of voice was calm and matter-of-fact. But she must have been impressed with Jonah. He was quite handsome, after all. And he had been nothing but kind and courteous to Jane. He had never called her an impolite child, laughed at her faux pas, or castigated her for the number of trunks she needed for her clothing. If Jonah had been half as nice to Camellia as he had been to her roommate …

Camellia shook her head before the thought could complete itself. She needed to concentrate on Jane’s needs. “He’s well connected, you know. His family is quite popular. Sarah, his sister, hosts the grandest parties.”

The bed sagged as Jane settled next to her.

A faint glow from the fireplace on the far wall was the only illumination in the room. Camellia pulled the cover up to her chin and waited for an answer.

“Yes, I’m sure you’re right.” Jane stopped speaking.

“But?” The word echoed in the room, but no answer came.

After several moments, Jane cleared her throat. “Nothing really. It’s just that Mr. Thornton seems so … so serious.”

“Is that all?” Camellia let out the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. “What he needs is a pretty young lady to help lighten that serious nature.”

Her mind went back to the night when Lily and Blake had taken them to the theater. How young she had been back then. And how debonair Jonah Thornton had seemed. He’d been dashing and mysterious—grave one moment and carefree the next. He had been exactly the type of beau she wanted to snag. Camellia could feel her cheeks growing warm as she considered how he must have perceived her back then—the gauche younger sister of an unconventional family. She had made little secret of her admiration, but Jonah Thornton hadn’t been interested in her. He’d never been interested in her. And he never would be. Not that she wanted him to be … although it would have been satisfying for him to pursue her, if only so she could ignore his advances.

She could feel Jane’s gaze in the shadowy room. Camellia sniffed. “I think you should encourage him. The two of you would make a wonderful couple.”

“I’d much rather spend time with someone who makes me laugh.”

“Jonah is quite clever. You’ve only seen him at his worst.” The thick down mattress made it difficult to turn over, but after a moment Camellia managed to face her friend. “It’s the war, don’t you see? It’s made everyone too serious. As soon as our brave Confederate soldiers whip those meddlesome Yankees, everything will go back to the way it was before.”

“Sometimes I don’t think anything will ever be like it was before the war. Sometimes I’m afraid the South will lose and—”

“Don’t say that,” Camellia said, interrupting her friend’s words. “Don’t even think it. What would your brother think to hear you say such things?”

“I know, but that’s why I don’t want to spend my time with someone so … so intense.”

The break in Jane’s words made Camellia wonder if the other girl was about to start crying. She could feel her own throat tightening. If she didn’t redirect their conversation right away, they would both end up bawling like a couple of hungry babies. “That’s why I think Jonah would be perfect for you. I could understand your hesitation if he was a soldier like your brother. Sending them both away to fight would be difficult for anyone. But Jonah Thornton is not a soldier. He’s not even interested in the war.” She stopped and reached for Jane’s hand under the cover. “Do you think he doesn’t want to fight because he’s a—a coward? I hadn’t thought of that.”

Jane’s cold fingers gripped her warmer hand. “I don’t know Jonah like you do, but from the limited amount of time I’ve been around him, he doesn’t strike me as the sort of man who would be afraid to fight.”

Camellia breathed a sigh of relief to have the idea dispelled. She nodded even though she wasn’t sure if Jane could see the motion.

“I think you may be misled by appearances.” Jane’s voice no longer sounded as choked with emotion. “Sometimes it can take more courage to go against popular opinion than to don a uniform.”

Camellia pushed up onto one elbow. “Can you see now why I think you and Jonah would make a perfect couple? You have seen something about him that I never have.”

“I don’t know.” Jane giggled. “From the sparks that always seem to fly between the two of you, I wonder if you’re not more interested in Mr. Thornton than you are my brother.”

“Don’t be silly.” Camellia collapsed against her pillow, her low-pitched giggle harmonizing with Jane’s. “Captain Watkins is wonderful. He’s exactly the kind of man I hope to marry someday.”

“That’s good. I would much rather have you for a sister than a friend.”

“I hope to be both.”

A knock on the door quieted both girls. They had no desire to be chastised by either Mrs. Dabbs or her assistant.

As Camellia drifted toward sleep, she considered Jane’s words. Was Jonah as brave as Captain Thaddeus Watkins? The idea seemed ludicrous. How could a man who had never fought a day in his life compare well against someone who braved danger and death in the quest for freedom for his home? The answer was simple. He couldn’t.

J
onah dented and tethered his horse before entering La Belle Demoiselle. He wondered how Camellia would respond to his visit. Just when he thought he had figured her out, she surprised him. She was as tantalizing as the first hint of spring after a long, cold winter. As refreshing as a cool breeze in the hottest part of the summer. But she wasn’t the girl for him. If he ever decided to settle down and raise a family, he would not choose a young woman like Camellia. He wanted a wife who shared his faith, his ideals, and his values. Not someone as vain and shallow as she.

His heartbeat picked up with each step he took toward the house, probably because of his errand. What would Camellia think when she found out he was paying yet another visit to her school? Would she think he was pursuing her? If so, she was going to be disappointed. He had a totally different goal in mind—one that would dispel all of her pretensions.

Jonah gave his hat to the assistant who answered the door, happy to remember her name today. “Hello, Miss Laurent. I’m here to see Miss Watkins.”