Authors: Wendy Lindstrom
o0o
“You could have said no,” Evelyn told Radford on the ride home with him and his sleepy daughter. “You’re the eldest. Kyle would have had to respect that.”
Radford turned toward her, his eyes dark and unfathomable in the twilight as they met hers. “It would have been wrong to say no to Kyle after he’s worked so hard to build the business.”
It unnerved Evelyn to see Radford study her as though trying to remember an old acquaintance. They didn’t know each other. They may have been neighbors once, but too many years had passed for her to feel any neighborly connection with him. It didn’t matter that they would become related upon her marriage to Kyle. Radford didn’t feel like a brother-in-law, either. He was a stranger. The fact that his smile now reached his eyes didn’t lessen the sense of mystery surrounding him or the panicky feeling in Evelyn’s body when he looked at her.
Ashamed of her disheveled appearance, Evelyn ducked her head. Heat crawled up her neck and burned her cheeks. Why couldn’t Radford have arrived on a Sunday morning when she’d be wearing a dress for church instead of her father’s old work clothes?
Radford shifted beside her and settled Rebecca on his lap. “Why am I sensing that you don’t want me in your livery?”
His astute question added to her discomfort and Evelyn clenched her fingers around the reins, wishing Radford would quit talking to her in that private voice that caressed her ears. “I’d rather work alone, that’s all. You might have made some sort of compromise with Kyle if you’d been more insistent,” she said, striving to calm her erratic heartbeat as she maneuvered her wagon down the dark road.
“Do you really believe that?” he asked softly.
She didn’t. Not after seeing the fire in Kyle's eyes when Boyd had challenged him. But brothers could forgive each other anything, couldn’t they?
“I don’t blame him for being protective of the mill,” Radford said.
“You shouldn’t. Kyle has worked hard to build up the business and support your family.”
“I know that. I guess I just didn’t expect him to change so much these past few years.”
Neither had she, but Evelyn had seen for herself what responsibility and obligation had done to a boy who’d once embraced life with passion. Kyle had been crushed by his burdens until pieces of his laughter broke away and he became weathered and hardened by the weight.
Rebecca lifted her arms and Radford moved her to his shoulder. She snuggled against him and hooked her small fingers in his hair. “I can’t believe Kyle has had time to court you,” he said, turning back to Evelyn. “When are you planning to marry?”
Evelyn shied from Radford’s gaze. Kyle hadn’t needed to court her. She’d committed herself to him four years ago when his father died. At the time, she’d been Kyle’s friend for years, but it was the only occasion she’d ever seen him cry. Knowing he needed someone to lean on, Evelyn had promised she’d always be there for him. Their recent engagement was simply a natural extension of their joint promise to never leave each other.
“Was I prying?” he asked, breaking into her memories.
She glanced at him, then turned her face to the breeze. “Of course not. Kyle and I plan to marry in November if he can finish the house that soon. I thought your mother would have written you about the wedding.”
“I told her not to reply to my last letter because I’d be coming home shortly.” He gave Evelyn a sheepish grin. “That was almost four weeks ago.”
“What took you so long to get here?”
His eyes darkened and he turned away. “Rebecca wasn’t ready for the trip.”
Wondering if Radford sensed her father’s worship, Evelyn observed them as they talked. Radford’s eyes reflected her father’s joy and he appeared as happy with their reunion as her father seemed to be. Evelyn didn’t know what had happened during the war to bond Radford and her father so closely, but there was no denying the special connection between them.
While he talked, Radford stroked Rebecca’s back. She lay on his shoulder with her finger tucked in her mouth and her eyes drifting closed. Evelyn recalled the numerous times in her childhood she’d fallen asleep on her own father’s shoulder. He’d been everything to her, especially after her mother died. He’d kept her close while he worked the livery and ultimately taught her their business. Until today, Evelyn would have never believed her father would overlook her feelings because of his respect for Kyle and his love for Radford, but he had.
As though Radford felt Evelyn’s assessing stare, he shifted his attention to her, his eyes questioning her reason for studying him.
Evelyn nodded at his daughter. “Rebecca’s asleep. You can put her in the nursery. It connects to your room, which is at the top of the stairs, first door on the left,” she said, wishing the nursery didn’t also connect with her room on the other side.
He pushed his chair back and stood. “Thank you, Evelyn.” He turned to her father. “Thank you both for the hospitality.”
Her father waved away Radford’s appreciation. “It’s your home as long as you want to stay. Now go on up.” He watched Radford carry Rebecca upstairs, then he turned to Evelyn, perusing her with that same loving, but probing, expression he’d used on Radford.
Thinking he’d seen her studying Radford, Evelyn dropped her gaze and fiddled with her cup. She wet a corner of her shirt cuff in her water mug and rubbed at an old coffee stain.
“You’re
gonna
scrub a hole right through that mug if you keep at it,” he said, clapping a hand over hers. Her braid had fallen forward onto her lap and her father lifted the tail, brushing the curled end across her cheek as if to tickle a smile into existence. The playful gesture was one he’d performed a million times since she was old enough to remember, but for the first time in her life it made Evelyn’s eyes mist.
Why hadn’t he told her about his plans to have Radford run the livery?
“I didn’t do this to hurt you,” he said quietly.
From years of confiding in him, Evelyn spoke from her heart, without reservation, trying not to place blame, but feeling too upset to keep it to herself. “I know, Papa, but it does hurt. You’ve never kept things from me before. Don’t you trust me anymore?”
“This
ain’t
about trust, pixie. It’s not about you or me at all. It’s about keeping Radford at home this time.”
Evelyn raised her eyes, noting how tired and frail her father had become, how thin his white hair had grown in the last year. She didn’t want to upset him, but after working the livery with him for so many years, and managing it alone for months, she deserved to be included in his discussion with Kyle. “I know you own the livery, Papa, but it’s home to me. It’s all I’ve got.”
He shook his head. “You’ve got Kyle. He’s honest, dependable, and proud, all the qualities a woman would want in a husband. Radford has
nothin
’. Without that sawmill or his brothers, he don’t have a reason to stay. That’s why I’m
askin
’ him to run the livery.”
“What if he doesn’t want to do it?”
“There’ll be trouble if Radford goes back to the mill right now. Kyle’s a good man, but he’s young and blinded by ambition. Without the livery, Radford has no choice but to force his way back into the mill.” He met her eyes with tired certainty in his own. “We both know Kyle won’t stand for that.”
She didn’t want to admit it, but her father was right. That mill was Kyle’s life. “Maybe you could talk to Kyle. He would listen to you.”
Her father shook his head and leaned back in the chair with a long sigh. “Kyle’s his own man now. He don’t need my advice anymore and wouldn’t appreciate it if I gave it. He’s taken his lumps and fought hard to drag that mill out of the muck. Radford will have to earn his way back, too. This is their fight. I’m just
offerin
’ those boys a little
breathin
’ space and a chance to work things out.”
Breathing space? What about her? Evelyn hadn’t drawn a full breath from the moment she laid eyes on Radford. After enduring his probing gaze and inquisitive questions on the ride home, Evelyn was certain she didn’t want Radford in her livery.
“Why doesn’t Radford just find other work if he thinks he can’t settle things with Kyle?” she asked, fishing for a way to suggest bringing in a different man to help in the livery.
“He’s got his pride. Radford won’t stay where he’s not welcome. That boy’s still strung with tension. It’s like a volcano stirring inside him that
ain’t
gonna
die until it spews its poisons. He’s
gonna
keep
runnin
’ and
fightin
’, carrying all that baggage until he finds a way to make peace in his life.
Challengin
’ Kyle for the mill won’t give anybody peace. It’s just
gonna
drive Radford away again.” Her father reached out and patted her cheek. “Trust me on this, pixie.”
Knowing she had no other choice, Evelyn swallowed her apprehension. “How long do you think this will take?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a week. Maybe a year.”
Dear God
, Evelyn thought as she stood and helped her father to his feet.
Be merciful and make it a day
.
After helping her father to his bedroom, Evelyn went to her own. The creak of floorboards and deep murmur of a man’s voice in the adjoining nursery captured her attention as she changed into her
nightrail
and crawled into bed.
The slow, methodical rumble of wood rolling over wood told her Radford was sitting in the rocking chair with Rebecca, perhaps reading her a story or trying to calm her fears. Evelyn lay in the dark listening...imagining...envisioning Radford sprawled in the rocker, shirt unbuttoned, feet bare, his tanned hands resting on Rebecca’s back, or brushing the curls away from her sleepy eyes. He was too tall to rest his head against the back of the chair. Instead, he would close his eyes and press his lips to his daughter’s dark head as the motion of the chair lulled her to sleep.
The image came so vividly, Evelyn was embarrassed at how intimately she had studied Radford that evening. She tossed off the sheet and rolled over, trying to chase thoughts of Radford and Rebecca from her mind. She didn’t want to think about them, didn’t want to know about the poison-filled volcano inside Radford, didn’t want to know his secret pain. She didn’t want to know why Rebecca shied away from everyone except her father’s tender touch. She wanted sleep. Not this powerful curiosity that was consuming her.
o0o
In the predawn hours, Radford finally surrendered to sleep, his mind slipping from his rigid control as it unfurled toward the world he tried to keep at bay. He dreamed he was in Georgia in the middle of a slow-moving river, swimming through the darkness toward the enemy.
At the sight of
Thorndyke
McCutcheon, Radford’s heart lightened and he met him a few rods from shore. Lowering his feet, he searched with his toes until they touched the muddy bottom of Peach Tree Creek. He removed the packet clenched between his teeth and held it above the brown Georgia water that slapped against his neck. “This better be worth the bloodsuckers attached to my ass.”
Thorn laughed quietly. “Well, if it
ain't
Rad
the Radical. I thought that was the 149th making camp over yonder. Haven't seen you New York boys since last winter in Alabama. I'm glad you're well.”
“And you, my friend. Anything worthwhile in that bag?”
“Ya'll know us Southern boys got the best damned tobacco ever grown.”
“Then hand it over so I can get my feet out of this muck.”
Thorn glanced at the water. “
Disgustin
' shit,
ain't
it?”
Radford grinned at his Confederate friend. “My smoke better be worth it or I'll swim back over here and plant you in it.”
Thorn chuckled. “Ya'll keep
makin
' me laugh and we'll get our asses blown
outta
this river. Now tell me you got coffee in that sack.”
He swapped bags with Thorn, who immediately opened it and stuck his nose inside. “Damn, that smells better than a Southern girl's bloomers.”
Radford smiled, but it faded fast. “How many men did you lose today?”
“Too many,” Thorn said. “I
cain't
do this much longer.” Water splashed his face and he wiped it with the back of his hand. “Sometimes I'm not even sure I can make myself do it again tomorrow.”
“I know, Thorn, but the fact is, we will. I hope the hell you're nowhere near my brigade when it starts.” Their regiments had fought each other on the same battlefield before Radford and Thorn had become friends. Now they dreaded the possibility that it could happen again.
They hated the fighting, but if not for the war they wouldn’t have met at Gettysburg and become friends. They’d met again at Stevenson, Alabama, when Thorn was posted as picket on the opposite bank of the river from where Radford’s brigade was camped. Thorn had spent his days hollering across to Radford’s regiment, sharing jokes, news, and his sweet tobacco, then meeting Radford after dark to play cards and share their homesickness.