Ruth Langan - Dulcie's Gift

Forcing herself out of her musings, Dulcie smiled at the children as they feasted on thick slabs of roasted pork and corn bread smothered in hot gravy. She would take comfort in the fact that the food was good and plentiful. Given enough time here, they would all regain much-needed strength for the task ahead.

“This is truly a fine meal, Aunt Bessie. And a rare treat for all of us.” Across the table she saw sunny little Emily cram an entire roll into her mouth and wash it down with lemonade. From the stern look on Aunt Bessie’s face, she knew the older woman had seen it, too.

“I must apologize for the dullness of our meals,” Aunt Bessie said. “There was a time when we would roast several geese, a wild deer and perhaps a whole pig for one evening’s feast.” She sighed, a deep sigh of remembrance or regret. “And we would drink champagne from France and wear gowns from Paris and London. Now, thanks to the war,” she said wistfully, “it all seems like just a lovely dream. Who knows when we will be able to restore our poor little island to its former beauty.” She fell silent for a long moment. “Once again it seems, I have forgotten my vow. I promised myself that if my beloved nephews were returned safely, I would never complain about another thing. And here we are, all together at last. For that I am most humbly grateful.”

“You were all in the war?” Nathaniel asked. “Where?”

Cal swung his gaze to the boy. There was something in Nathaniel’s tone. Something anguished, something… seeking.

For a moment no one responded to the question. At last Barc said, “I spent half the war in Richmond, then joined General Lee himself. Dar was with Pickett’s forces at Gettysburg. Cal was with the Seventh under Stonewall Jackson until he…stayed a little too long at Chancellorsville.”

Cal saw the boy lower his gaze to the table. Whatever he was seeking, he had not found it in Barc’s words.

Although the children did not understand the importance of the places Barc had mentioned, the names were not lost on Dulcie. She felt saddened and shocked to think that all three brothers had faced such danger.

Aunt Bessie touched a napkin to her lips and spoke to Robert. “We will take our coffee and dessert in the main parlor, Robert.”

“Yes, Miss Bessie.”

She pushed away from the table and waited until Cal approached and offered his arm.

Dulcie had to rouse Starlight from the dark cloud that enveloped her, brought about by the talk of the war.

Her hand on Cal’s sleeve, Aunt’Bessie led the way along the hallway to a set of ornate double doors. Sliding the doors open, Cal stood aside and waited for the others to enter. Inside, candles had been lit in sconces along the walls and in an ornate candelabra atop a table. The floor and ta- bletops gleamed in the candle glow, and everything smelled of beeswax and lye soap.

“What happened to this room?” Barc lifted a brow in surprise.

“We cleaned it,” Nathaniel said proudly. “I did the fireplace.”

“I’ve never seen it so clean,” Barc said.

“I did the tabletops and little glass animals,” Emily said excitedly, her blond curls bobbing up and down.

“And a fine job you did,” Barc assured her.

“I counted them,” the little girl went on. “Starlight is teaching me to count. There were twenty-eleven of them,” she declared.

Dar winced, but Barc smiled and prodded gently, “And can you name all of them?”

“There’s a bunny and a turtle and a deer and…” Her voice faded for a moment, then she announced, “But the bunny is my favorite, even though I can’t ever touch it.”

“And why is that?” Barc asked.

“Mr. Robert said they belong to Aunt Bessie, and I must never, ever touch them.”

“Quite right,” Aunt Bessie said in her regal tones. She crossed the room and took a seat beside the table.

After everyone else was seated, Robert moved among them, offering coffee for the adults, glasses of milk for the children and cookies for everyone.

When Aunt Bessie saw Nathaniel reaching for a second cookie before he’d eaten his first, she admonished, “Nathaniel, it is polite to take only what you can eat.”

“Yes’m. But I know I can eat two.”

He glanced at Dulcie for permission. She gently shook her head. With reluctance he replaced the second cookie.

Beside him, Barc helped himself to two cookies and slipped one into the boy’s hand. The look on Nathaniel’s face spoke volumes.

Across the room, Cal stood alone, a cup in his hand, his left arm hanging stiffly at his side. When Dulcie glanced at him, she found him staring at her. A shiver passed through her and she looked away. But against her will she shot another glance in his direction. Cal bowed his head ever so slightly and lifted his cup in a salute. Her cheeks reddened, and she stiffened her back defiantly before turning away from him.

Across the room, Aunt Bessie watched, intrigued by what she saw. Her flinty nephew and that mysterious young woman struck sparks off each other every time they came close. They had best beware, she thought with a tightly clenched jaw. Sometimes, a single spark was all it took to ignite a forest fire.

“I will say good-night now.” Aunt Bessie handed her cup to Robert and made her way to the door. “Calhoun, will you see me to my room?”

“Of course.” Her nephew put down his coffee and offered his arm.

As the two swept from the room and up the wide, curved staircase, Dulcie stifled a yawn. “Come, children,” she said. “It’s time for bed.”

Lulled by the food, exhausted by their day’s work, Starlight and the children offered no protest as they followed Dulcie out of the room and up the stairs. Dulcie tucked the two little girls in bed, kissed them, then proceeded to Nathaniel’s room.

“Barc is nice, isn’t he?” the child murmured as Dulcie smoothed the covers over him.

“Yes.”

“He gave me one of his cookies.”

“That was kind of him.”

“You don’t mind?”

Dulcie laughed. “No, Nathaniel, I don’t mind. I just want you to remember your manners. These people are kind enough to offer us shelter, and in return we owe them some courtesy.”

“I’ll work hard, Dulcie.”

She tousled his hair and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “I know you will. I’m very proud of you, Nathaniel. Good night.”

“Good night, Dulcie.”

She closed his door and made her way to the room where Clara lay sleeping. A touch to the child’s forehead assured her that there was no fever. For long moments she stood beside the bed, listening to the slow, easy breathing, relieved that her young charge seemed to be mending.

Next she checked on Fiona. The room was in darkness except for a pale sliver of light, and she clasped her friend’s hand as she stood by the bed. “Oh, Fiona, I’m frightened for you.”

“Don’t be.” Cal’s deep voice, directly behind her, made her gasp and spin around.

At her reaction he said, “Forgive me, Miss Trenton. I thought you’d seen me when you came in. I just thought I’d look in on your friend.”

Cal studied Dulcie in the spill of moonlight. Though she resembled so many of the other refugees he’d seen clogging the roads in the South, there was a stubborn strength in her, a fierceness that said she would survive at any cost.

He had a wild impulse to plunge his hand into the silken waves of her dark hair, to feel its smooth texture against his skin. His gaze skimmed her mouth, and he felt his throat go dry at the thought of the kiss he had stolen earlier.

An awkward silence settled between them.

Dulcie studied the man who stood scant inches from her, half his face moonlit, half in shadow. That was how she saw him. A part of him solid and steady, another part dark and dangerous. What was most alarming was that she couldn’t decide which side was most attractive to her.