Edge of Time (Langston Brothers Series) (33 page)

“Your little girlfriend stopped by and told me to pass along a message for her.”
Her tone was
all pain and brittle
as
ice. “She’ll be back later, around five o’clock, to discuss your
child
.
Tell me,
darling husband,
why does she feel free to drop by any time if she hasn’t had any encouragement?”

“Whoa,” he held up his hands up to shield himself from her tirade.
Girlfriend?
“Kirsten Jamison was here?”

“Yes! Apparently she stopped by the hospital for her
ussuuaal
visit with you, and was disappointed not to find you there. Are you certain it’s for my safety you’ve kept me from going to work? Or is it your personal privacy you’re protecting?”

“Just because she comes to the hospital doesn’t mean I see or encourage her. We do not have ‘usual’ visits, or even unusual ones, not if I see her coming first.
” Craig stalked forward, defensive.
“
Don’t you see that she is trying her damndest to drive us apart? For Christ sake, Marissa isn’t it obvious that you are playing right into her hands and giving her what she wants? Kirsten knows goddamn well that I have never shown any interest in her much less touched her
—
”

“Never touched her? No, you were just found in her bed!”

He narrowed a p
iercing
gaze on her.
H
e would not be baited into
that
familiar argument aga
in.
“She wouldn’t be so brazen if she
wasn’t
completely desperate.” Throwing his arms up in defeat Craig turned away from his wife. “This is hopeless
.
Do you think so little of me, Marissa?”

After
storming righteously from the room
,
Craig realized he’d probably destroyed all ground gained that afternoon. Even now she was probably preparing to go back to Carolyn’s house. Drifting into his study, he sank heavily into the comfortable leather chair. Letting his head drop into his hands
,
he let out a long breath. He’d sworn to be patient with Marissa, to be understanding and help her through the hurt of her past because he loved her.

But he was sick and tired of being patient!

She was
…
w
hat
exactly
? The air? Heaven? His reason for breathing?

She was l
ightning
strike
.

She’d certainly struck him like lightening. One afternoon he’d blinked his eyes and in a flash she’d been there. Literally. His eyes had been open walking across a
wide open field and the next—
bam—
there she was bright, vivacious, and so goddamn beautiful he would never be sure if she knocked him over or he fell for her
—
literally and metaphorically
—
right then and there. He’d just returned from a miserable tour with the Army of Northern Virginia and he’d wanted,
needed,
the incredible ray of sunshine that seemed to follow her everywhere. He’d wanted to fall in love with her.

Willed it into being.

Leaning back in the chair his gaze fell to the photograph of himself and his brothers taken before the war. Marissa must have moved it in one of her cleaning frenzies. With a sad smile he lifted the picture and studied the faces. It had been months since he had received word from any of them. Curtis had been officially reported missing last November, which realistically was a notification of his death. While Craig knew he would never hear from Curtis again, the hope
that Davy and Jake hadn’t suffered a similar fate
dwindled
by the day. Marissa had helped him hold to some of that hope, but with her drifting away that last bit of hope
began to wane
.

Sensing a presence he raised troubled eyes to the doorway and gazed wearily at Marissa standing quietly just outside the room, her expression un
readable. Setting the tintype
on the desk he said, “Marissa?” Damn! He hadn’t meant for her name to sound like a question. “Are you staying?”

For a long moment her eyes, unreadable in the dim light of the study, caressed his face before she turned away from the door.

A balled fist slammed the desktop with such force that the picture of his brothers fell forward. She was going to leave. She didn’t believe him and he was losing her. Reaching out he lifted the photograph and held it for another long moment. God, but he’d already lost at least one brother, could he bear to lose his wife for a deed he’d not committed? Gazing at the youthful, happy faces of his brothers he felt heartsick and swallowed around a thick lump in his throat. Just as he was ready to break down and lose all semblance of composure the sound of music drifted from the parlor.

His breath caught. Marissa hadn’t left.

Rising, he followed the haunting notes. It was now or never and if he didn’t do something fast it was going to be over.
Over.
Recognizing that no words would ever prove his innocence or deny his actions, he decided to
show
her how he felt, how he needed her, and that he would never survive without her.

Standing mesmerized in the doorway, he watched her fingers dance over the piano keys. Long strands of hair hung loose from her upsweep, curling on her nape. She swayed gently in time to the music and he heard her softly singing the words of the tune. Craig didn’t recognize the song but he liked it and he would never be sure how long he stood suspended in time just watching her.

*
             
*
             
*

A gentle hand squeezed Marissa’s shoulder and she stopped playing long enough to glance over her shoulder. Craig stood watching her, his with eyes filled with warmth, and love, and something else… torment? Sorrow?

“
Craig,” she began hesitantly
.
“
I’m sorry for what I said. Sorry for blaming you
for that Kirsten came
here.”

He held out a hand. “Dance with me?”

“But there’s no music.” Even so
, she placed her fingers in his palm.

He pulled her to up. “We’ll make our own.”

She shivered.

One arm encircled her slender waist and the other warmly curled her hand within his. “What were you playing?”

“It’s called
Fly Me to the Moon
,” she whispered.

“I like it,” he murmured into her hair, tightening his arm until they pressed intimately together, gliding in slow circles about the room. Beginning to hum the tune he’d listened to her play, he leaned his head down to press his lips lightly to her hair.

Closing her eyes Marissa, scarcely dared to breath. The sway of their bodies left her weak, and they were pressed so closely she the steady thud of his heart
resonated beneath her hand
. The warmth of his arms, of his body, left her flushed and tingling to the tips of her toes. Frank Sinatra had nothing on Craig Langston, not even blue eyes. No voice could ever hold a candle to the soothing sound of her husband humming the tune
,
even without words
,
and the moment was pure magic.

Could he feel it too? The magic?

Suddenly she needed for him to feel what she did. If he didn’t feel
it as deeply as she did,
then
it
would somehow be far less special, less meaningful for her, less healing to her battered heart. Opening her eyes she turned up to him, “Craig,” she whispered and he bent to brush her lips with his. The touch left her insides fluttering and she knew in that moment, he felt the magic, too, the magic of
them
.

“Marissa,” he murmured leaning down to claim her lips in a far more turbulent kiss. Lost in him, dizziness overcame her and it was as though she
truly were
flying with him to the moon. Surely her feet were no longer on the ground. She clung to him, her only anchor. And then she was on the settee and he was on top of her, whispering words and promises of love against her lips.

“Stay with me. Don’t leave tonight.”

Edge of Time
230

Seventeen

Stretching aching muscles after yet another long, frustrating morning of surgery, with grievously wounded men dying even as he worked over them, Craig’s mood was at its lowest ebb, or so he thought, until he found Major Bernstein  waiting for him by the entrance of the operating room. “Could I have a word with you, Captain?”

Grudgingly, Craig followed his superior into his office where another man, a colonel, sat waiting. “This is Colonel Omar Briggs,” Bernstein said. “He has new orders for you.”

Craig waited, his heart beating slow and heavy. The Colonel stood and said, “In light of the speculation of your wife’s involvement with the Union Army, we have decided it best to formally restrict
you
from duty until this matter has been settled.”

“What!” Craig was incredulous. “This isn’t true, sir, none of it!” He stalked angrily to the older man, fury roughening his voice. “Am
I
being charged with anything?”

“Not at this time, Captain. You have your orders.” The colonel remained rigid and with apparent reluctance, returned the two crisp salutes before he did a perfect right about face and marched out the door.

Major Bernstein put a compassionate hand Craig’s shoulder. “Craig
,
I don’t like this either. I don’t believe you or Mrs. Langston to be Union sympathizers
,
but until this matter is sorted out you’re being restricted from duty. I have managed to keep you from being arre
sted for the time being, but lay
low and be wary, son. I don’t know where this is headed.”

In lower tones he added.
“Take advantage of this time to get your life back on track. I realize your foremost concern
s
are the allegations made against your wife, but you also have the mess with that Jamison girl to clean up.”

Craig slammed an outraged palm upon the table. “You’re making a huge mistake,” he declared, storming from the building. Blowing through the blustery autumn streets he took careful note of the stares from those around him. He cringed when Kirsten Jamison stepped from a store to confront him.

“Hello, Craig. I still want an opportunity to speak with you.”

“You have a lot of nerve,” he growled at her.

Expertly, her pale eyes watered and she sniffed indignantly. “Craig, how can you say that? Do you have any idea how hard this is for me? I will be cast from society and my child shall have no name.”

Stepping back Craig threw his arms out and said loudly, “That is no fault of mine, Miss Jamison, and I have no doubt the blame for the mess that is my life falls entirely on your shoulders.” The temptation to make a deal with her flickered in the back of his mind. He wanted the whole of his problems to just go away. Stepping forward he ground out
,
“What is it you want?”

A small smile stretched across her lips. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“No, Kirsten, it is not obvious. I have absolutely no idea what would possess a woman to falsely accuse a married man of fathering her child.” He wanted to shove her away from him, step over her and continue, but this had to be brought to an end
.
“What do you want?” he repeated.

“I have told you what I want, sir. Give it to me and all of your problems will go away. All of them. You can send word when you’re ready to hammer out the specifics.”

Suddenly Kirsten burst into tears and Craig turning to see several people had gathered behind him. Kirsten wept loudly. “I only want what every mother wants, a stable home and a good name for her child. How could you do this to me, Craig? How?”

“Jesus
Christ. You were meant for the stage.
” Craig
backed away. W
atching her wail on the street corner it was no wonder the whole of Charleston, including his wife, didn’t believe him. He found it difficult to dismiss the accusations and he was her accused! Uneasily, he broke into a run for home. That
feeling
was back. The sensation of hairs prickling on the back of his neck. The sensation of being watched.

He’d just started to turn when a blow to the back of his head sent him staggering to his knees. Rough hands shoved and dragged him into an alleyway. The world exploded in white light and his head swirled sickeningly. Craig was barely conscious enough to k
now there were three—maybe four—
men surrounding him. He heard the ominous click of a pistol being cocked through the black tunnel surroundi
ng him.
“What do you know boys, seems we’ve caught ourselves a Yankee right here in Charleston.”

“I’m not...” Craig tried say, lurching unsteadily to his feet. The world reeled so wildly he wasn’t sure how he managed to remain upright.

“We’ve caught a Yankee who likes to bed our daughters and deny it even when he’s caught with his pants around his ankles.” The butt of a pistol cracked across his jaw while a rifle jabbed him brutally between the shoulder blades. He reeled and slumped against a rough brick wall.

“No...” The word was little more than a weak groan. Again Craig tried to stand erect, holding his head and straining to see through a thick fog to identify his attackers. One face came into focus and he lunged, but iron fists seized him at the same moment a gun exploded.

The bullet caught him low in the abdomen.

“You shot him, Christenson!” a panicked voiced shrieked. “You shot Doc Langston!”

“Christ almighty, we’ve got to get out of here!” a second, urgent voice said. “Do you think he saw us?”

“It doesn’t matter,” claimed a much more controlled voice as Craig fought to remain conscious. “He’ll be dead before anyone finds him.”

“But you shot him!” the first voice squealed again.

Fire and ice swept up his left side. Craig tried to move. Tried to open his eyes. Willed them to open. To see those who would leave him to bleed to death in an alleyway.
Christenson? Would he try to hurt Marissa next? Marissa…

B
lackness overwhelmed him and he was aware of nothing but drifting, totally weightless, away.

*     *     *

Marissa paced the house for the better part of the morning, fighting off the terrible sensation that something was...
wrong
. She tried to eat the lunch Mrs. Potts prepared for her and served in the big, lonely dining room, but could scarcely swallow a bite. She had just shoved her plate away when a tremendous clattering at the front of her house caused her to leap up.

“You need to come, ma’am,” a man’s voice called. “The doc’s been shot!”

The doc’s been what? Shot?

“Oh, my God!” Marissa flew into the hall. “What happened?” A cluster of three men half carried, half dragged her limp husband into the hall. Very little of him was visible behind the brute of a man hauling him by the shoulders but a dark liquid splattered onto the polished wood flooring. Blood. “No!” she clasped a hand to her breast. “Craig!” The left side of his gray coat was thick with a darkening pool of blood.

“Take him upstairs,” she instructed, close on the men’s heels. Hodges and Mrs. Potts both assiste
d
. When Craig had been settled upon the bed she turned to one of the men. “
You
,
go
to the hospital
and fetch Dr. Rowe.
” The man lingered, staring uneasily at the blood soaking the bed.
“Now!” she snapped.

“Yes, ma’am.”

When the man
finally left
she imm
ediately set to work removing Craig’
s clothes with a
large pair of sewing scissors.
“What happened?” she inquired of the remaining two. Craig was gravely still and her hands shook as she cut the uniform from his upper body.

“Don’t know, missus, we found him in an all
ey not for from your house.” One
man shifted uncomfortably. “I figure all the talk about him bein’ a Yankee finally caught up with him.”

Sheer cold settled over her at the thought of his being shot because of her. Focusing all of her energies on Craig, she examined the wound. The shot had obviously been fired at close range, though it was remarkably low and to the outside of his abdomen. As far as she could tell, the bullet had passed through but…
she forced herself to be calm and focus.

“Mrs. Potts,” Marissa
said to the hovering cook, who stood by the door, wringing her hands. “
Bring clean towels. Lots of them.”

“Right away, Mrs. Langston.”

Marissa
applied direct pressure to both the entry and exit wound, watching Craig’s color fade away. O
h, God! Where was James? How long would it take? The doctors at the hospital had little time to spare as it was. Craig’s
breathing grew painfully shallow and his color even more ashen. He’d not moved or made a sound since arrival home and…

“Marissa!”

She choked on a sob
as a harried James Rowe crashed
through the bedroom door.

“What the hell happened?”

She held her hands out to him but pulled back realizing they were covered in blood.
Craig’s
blood. She grabbed the towels again and continued to put pressure on
the
wounds. “I don’t know. These men carried him home about twenty minutes ago.” It had felt like twenty hours. “I did what I could without help or instruments, but
—
”

The door opened again and an equally agitated Major Bernstein huffed into the room followed by a man, a colonel, Marissa had never met.

“Dr. Bernstein,” James said officiously. “I’m going to need your assistance.” The young physician was already pulling supplies from his bag.

“Of course,” the older man replied. “Colonel Briggs would you please see to Mrs. Langston.”

The Colonel stepped forward to take her arm.

“No,” she pulled away. “I won’t leave him.”

“Marissa, I know you’ve seen a lot, but I’m not sure you should see
this.”

“Damn it, James, I’m not
leaving
him.” Her jaw set stubbornly and her eyebrow quirked ever so slightly.

“Leave her be
,” Bernstein said.

“Very well.
” James
pulled her away and removed
the towels. “Colonel
Briggs
, keep an eye on her
,
please, and keep her out of our way.”

“Of course, Doctor.” Colonel Briggs turned to Marissa with a comforting smile that reminded her suddenly of her own father. “Mrs. Langston, it may be best if we give these men a little room.”