Linda Castle - The Return Of Chase Cordell

“I’ll be taking some food over to Doralee’s sporting house,” Captain Cordell said suddenly. He never looked at Linese. He just continued to stare up at the twinkling array of stars overhead.

She turned to him in amazement. It had never occurred to her that the Captain went to the local bordello. She knew that almost every other able-bodied man left in Mainfield did, but she had never even thought of the Captain that way. In truth she had never given much thought to the fact he was still a healthy man who probably had physical desires. She caught herself blushing with the thought.

When she first arrived at Cordellane, in the first lonely weeks, she had wondered if he was as out of touch as people believed. Slowly she had come to realize his condition was changeable. His mind seemed to ebb and flow like the tides. There were times, like now, when he blurted out the most outlandish statements, for instance, about going to Doralee’s house of ill repute.

“Now why would you do a thing like that, Captain?” If it had been anyone else but the dotty old Captain she was speaking to, she couldn’t have continued this conversation. The very notion was so improper her cheeks burned with embarrassment. But he was not right in the head and had no way of knowing it, poor dear, so she smiled pleasantly and waited for his answer as if they were talking about the crops or the weather.

“Melissa, one of the girls, is going to have a baby in a few weeks.” The old man squirmed a bit but he continued speaking without hesitation. “She can’t work. I never could abide seeing someone go hungry if I could prevent it.”

Linese blinked back her amazement. Only someone like Captain Cordell, who was so far removed from the re-straints of proper behavior, could get away with such an opinion. For a moment she almost envied him the freedom his mental infirmity allowed him. He could say things, do things other people would never be allowed to do.

“You’re a kind and generous man, Captain. We have a bit to spare. Is there anything else she might need?” Linese knew there were many worse off than she and the old Captain—and Chase, she reminded herself.

Captain Cordell’s face pinched into a series of wrinkles. It seemed he was putting a considerable effort into his answer. “There is some old furniture stored in the attic. might take some of it over.”

Linese’s breath froze in her chest. She stared out into the dappled shadows of the thicket and tried to blink back the hot sting behind her eyes. Chase’s cradle and his old baby clothes were in that attic. She had hoped her own children would use the treasured Cordell heirlooms.

She sat in stunned silence and argued with herself. It was selfish to deny anyone the use of anything when so many had so little. It was small and petty of her to repudiate any kindness the Captain wanted to give the unfortunate woman.

Linese swallowed hard. It hurt, but she made herself face the real reason for her distress. Linese finally formed the idea that had been taking shape in her mind for days. It was likely she was in a loveless marriage, one that would never provide her with the children she wanted so much. She feared she would never have need of the baby furniture.

She told herself it was as much her fault as it was Chase’s. She should find a way to bridge the rift between them, but when she thought about it, she felt ill-equipped to win her husband’s affection. She had been a green girl when he had married her, and even though she had grown and matured in every other aspect, when it came to matters of the heart she was still hopelessly out of her depth.

The Captain cleared his throat beside her and Linese was wrenched from her thoughts. Part of her rankled at the self-pity she was wallowing in. She leaned over and planted a kiss on the side of the Captain’s face. His long silver mustache, his only vanity, tickled her chin.

“My mama once told me a pretty girl could get anything she wanted from a man with a kiss or two.” He winked and patted Linese’s hand.

For a sobering moment Linese wondered if he were as addled as everyone believed. Then she wiped the notion from her mind. Why on earth would any man want people to think he was crazy. Still, his easily offered words made her think. Perhaps there was a way to win her husband back. Perhaps Providence had dropped the solution into her lap like a fat, ripe plum.

“If you need any help gathering up the food and such, just let me know.” She rose from the rocker and entered the house. A glimmer of hope sparked inside her chest while she walked across the entryway.

A shaft of light shone from under the library door and drew her like a moth to a candle. Linese itched to know what Chase was doing in the room all alone. She stepped up to the door and listened.

It was quiet as a tomb on the other side. She nearly knocked on the closed door, but a flare of stubborn pride prevented her from doing so. Cordellane had been her home for two years. She resented suddenly being made to feel as if certain rooms were no longer open to her. First her bedroom and now the library had been shuttered and locked in her face. She felt a small spark of emotion—not anger, but perhaps resolve. Linese opened the door and walked in without warning.

Chase was sprawled in a chair with the litter of Gazette pages scattered all around him. His long legs and booted feet were stretched out in front of him on the old hooked wool rug. He was rubbing his temples with his fingers. A half-full glass of amber liquid sat on the table beside him and the brandy decanter was three-quarters empty.

“Chase?” Linese wondered if he was too drunk to move from the chair. Could it be he had returned to her so shattered by war that he was trying to drown his memories in drink?

“Mmm.” He never looked up. He just continued to rub his fingertips against his temples in small circles.

“You’ve been in here for hours. Are you hungry?” Linese approached his chair warily, half-expecting a sharp rebuff for invading his territory.

He looked up and fastened a remarkably sober gaze on her. A single dark strand of hair rested across his thick eyebrows. His eyes were hooded and languorous, but the rough-etched contours of his face were still distant and hard.

He reminded her of a wolf—ravenous and feral. The narrowed gaze he fastened on her was a mixture of suspicion and distrust. It pulled at her heart.

“No. I am not hungry.” His speech was softly slurred from the brandy.

“Is there anything you require?”

“No.” He sighed heavily and looked away. “There is nothing that I require. ” His sardonic reply held a measure of poignancy.

It intrigued her, drove her onward. She took a halting step toward him. “Chase? What is it? What is wrong?” she whispered.

“My head hurts from reading so much.” His deep, throaty explanation stopped her only inches from his leg.

She looked down at him again. Suddenly the hard lines of his face didn’t seem so harsh. In her eyes, as she wanted so desperately to believe it, he wore only the lines of strain and fatigue. He had seemed so aloof and independent before. He now displayed a vulnerability she had never seen.

A wave of compassion and love swept over Linese. She bent down and grasped his boot top at the ankle. She lifted his leg with both hands.

His head came up with a start. “What are you doing?” His eyes narrowed down to gray slits. The sole source of Linese’s courage to persist in the face of his scowling expression was her deep love for Chase.

“I’m taking off your boots.” She grabbed her skirt with one hand and shoved it out of the way, while she knelt in front of Chase to take hold of his heel and pull off the tight-fitting boot.