Box Set: The ArringtonTrilogy (16 page)

“Not now, Mrs. Arrington. Needs his rest. In
time, we learn who he is.” She reached out to touch Eugenia’s hand.
Eugenia snapped her arm back, and I thought she would reprimand
Mammy for speaking without permission. But Eugenia’s said nothing,
surprisingly, and she left the room.

Mammy stayed with the man most evenings as he
fought a terrible infection. The doctor came by and gave some
medicine for the pain, and said there was not much more he could
do. During the day, Eugenia assigned me to watch over the ill
man.

“Do as Abigail instructs. If anything changes
and he wakes, be sure to let me know right away.”

Each day, after a small breakfast, I relieved
Mammy of her watch. I did just as she said. I wiped his sweated
brow with a cool cloth, had him try and swallow warm chicken broth,
changed the oozing bandages, to my revulsion, and then just sat and
watched and waited for his heavy lids to open. The man must not
have been older than twenty-five. His hair, now washed, was a
bright platinum blond, thick and wavy. He initially appeared to be
at good weight and rather muscular. I couldn’t help but gaze at him
when I changed his bandages; it certainly took my mind off looking
at the gross wounds. While he slept in what the doctor called a
coma, his eyes fluttered madly underneath his lids. I imagined he
was dreaming of the dreadful attack, certainly from a Union
soldier. To ease his mind, if he could hear me at all, I read to
him every day. I read verses from the Bible and chapters from my
favorite novels. I found myself obsessed with entertaining the
sleeping man. I enjoyed getting up each day and wondering if that
was the day he might just open his eyes. Then we would finally
learn who he was and what happened.

As the weeks passed, the man fought off his
infection and color came to his cheeks. He had a thick beard now,
and I suggested to Mammy that she shave it off. She had been the
one to completely bathe him, and for that I was grateful. So when I
suggested shaving his beard, she had no qualms. After the thick
hair was off his face, I could see that he had a surprisingly
healthy glow. He was quite handsome, in fact.

The doctor gave us no medical reason why he
was still in a coma. The doctor came by once a week at first, and
then his visits dwindled to once a month.

“It’s unexplainable,” the good doctor
remarked, as he closed his bag and left.

“I won’t be paying for his services any
longer. There is nothing else he can do,” Eugenia informed me while
I sat next to him on the chair beside the bed.

I was nearly done for the day and prepared to
leave and retire to bed. Mammy no longer stayed with our patient
all night, but checked on him at first light of morning.

Eugenia had left, and as I stood and was
leaning in to blow the lamp out, I turned and glanced over at the
man, then sucked in my breath as his eyes fell upon me.

“You’re awake!” I cried.

He blinked several times and then rubbed his
eyes. I hurried next to him and took hold of his frail hands.

“Your name . . . what is your name?” I begged
to know.

The stranger, whom I had grown close to
without his even knowing, stared at me for the longest time, his
gaze bewildered. I could see he was trying to grasp where he was,
who I was.

“I’m Amelia Arrington. I found you wounded in
the woods nearly two months ago. Do you remember me finding
you?”

I waited on edge as he struggled to
speak.

“You mean you’re not an angel and I’m not in
heaven?”

I laughed, which made him smile.

“No, sir. You’re here in Savannah. This is
Sutton Hall, my daddy’s plantation. My daddy is serving in the
Confederate Army, too.”

He glanced around the room, and then his eyes
fell upon me once again.

“We have cared for you day and night,” I
said. “I’m so glad you’re all right.”

“Thank you for taking care of me, Amelia
Arrington,” he said between heavy breaths. He was already
exhausted.

“Please don’t go back to sleep without
telling me your name,” I cried and squeezed his hands tightly.

To my relief and delight he replied, “My name
is Warren. Warren Stone.”

* * *

The hot, steamy summer finally gave way to a
cool autumn, by Savannah standards, yet the entire country was
heating up. Battles and skirmishes took place throughout the entire
East Coast.

Warren Stone, our temporary guest, gave
little information about the war and his part in it. According to
the doctor, Warren had amnesia. Though he remembered his own name,
he recalled nothing else. He couldn’t remember where he was from,
what infantry he was enlisted in, or how he came to the grounds of
Sutton Hall after someone brutally attacked him.

Warren was a charming, handsome man, with
fine manners and genuine gratitude. Eugenia wasn’t all that fond of
him - the lingering stranger who took our food and time. After he
was healed, she expected him to remember where he belonged and go
back to fighting the war. But the doctor insisted that with
amnesia, he should not go into battle.

“The man might not remember what side he is
fighting for and kill one of our own.”

Eugenia agreed to let him stay, under the
circumstances, though she repeatedly reminded Warren that when
Daddy returned he would find out just where he belonged. Eugenia
tried to pay little mind to Warren, though for me it was difficult
to ignore him. He followed me around all day, as if he didn’t know
what to do with himself.

“I’m here at your beck and call for anything
you need. I don’t mean to be a nuisance. Please believe me, I am in
debt to you for saving my life, and I will stop at nothing to repay
you,” he said with a sweet grin.

I had been helping Mammy with the linens,
since more and more of our slaves were gone. The ones that stayed
were either captured and whipped horrifically into submission or
too afraid to take the risk. We had neither a blacksmith nor anyone
running the spinning house. The livestock were being neglected, and
the farm was dying.

When I explained to Warren about Eugenia’s
iron fist, he appeared to be appalled.

“She has them whipped?” he mumbled as he
strolled beside me, carrying the laundry basket full of wet
linens.

“Do you remember if you came from a
plantation, Warren?” I asked, hoping to trigger his memory.

We got to the line and he dropped the basket
and said matter-of-factly, “I don’t recall.”

“How odd not to remember anything at all
about your past. Sometimes I wish I didn’t remember mine,” I
confessed.

I handed Warren the linens, and he hung them
up on the line.

“Why would you want to forget the past? You
must have had a nice life here. After all, look at that mansion,”
he said pointing back to the big house. “Your family is obviously
very wealthy.”

“Money doesn’t always buy happiness.”

“Sure would make me happy,” he said.

“Well, how do you know exactly? Since you
don’t remember what it’s like to have or not to have money,” I
asked.

Warren thought hard for a moment, his brows
narrowing, making several creases in his forehead.

“I suppose you’re correct on that point. Sure
are a smart woman,” he said with his usual easygoing smile.

“Don’t you wonder if you have a family, a
wife?” I inquired, staring up at him as I bent down to pick up the
empty basket.

“Thought about it for a moment, but I’m
assuming there is no wife to speak of. Family . . . well everyone
has family. My family believes I am off at war, and hopefully I
will regain my memory and be able to return to them,” he said in a
more sorrowful tone. “But for now, can I call the Arrington’s my
family?” he asked, as if I would be the one to give him permission
to use the family name.

“You would have to asked Eugenia, of course,
since Daddy isn’t here.”

“Then I shall ask Eugenia,” he declared.

We walked back to where Mammy was preparing a
modest lunch for all.

“I’ll get washed up,” Warren said, and he set
off to his room.

Eugenia gave him a slight scowl as he hurried
up the stairs. “Don’t know what it is about that man, but I don’t
trust him. Has he said anything to you I should be aware of,
anything that would indicate where he’s from?”

“No, nothing. He says he doesn’t even
remember his own family.”

“You be careful around him. Remember to stay
clear of men who have an obvious attraction toward you. I’ve told
you more than once what men are made of, what they think of nearly
all the time, haven’t I?” she quizzed, glaring down at me with
those stone-cold, eyes of hers.

“Yes, Eugenia.”

“And you know your own weaknesses. Don’t
forget, you are a product of your sinful mother. And no matter how
much praying you do to ask to forgive your mummy for seducing
Thomas, he may still punish you for your own conception.”

I gulped hard, frightened at the thought. “I
have been good. I have prayed hard for forgiveness.”

“Keep being good. Heed my warning. If he
touches you or even gazes lustfully at you, you come tell me right
away.”

I nodded in agreement, sickened to my stomach
at the thought of being chased after by a grown man again. Though
Warren was undoubtedly attractive, I had no interest in being with
him. He wasn’t the man sent to whisk me away, of that I was
certain. My heart didn’t flutter in my chest, and I didn’t feel
weak in the knees or lose my breath when he was around, like the
women did in the romance novels I frequently read without Eugenia
knowing, or like I had felt when I was around Perry Montgomery
months and months ago. I didn’t dream of Warren or write about
becoming his wife in my journal. The man I was waiting for would
come into my life and steal my heart instantly. We would meet and
lock eyes and fall madly in love in that very moment.

~ ~ ~

True to my word once again, I stayed distant
from a man who couldn’t be trusted in my presence. Warren attempted
to capture my attention regularly, following me around like a lost
puppy dog. I managed to stay clear of his eager eyes, which often
looked me over when he believed I wasn’t watching. Except when
attending church services with us or eating inadequate suppers,
Eugenia kept him occupied helping Hamilton take care of daily
chores. Warren helped chop wood, milk cows, and butcher what little
livestock we had left for meals. Luckily, we still had enough
chickens for eggs and milk to churn butter; but we had little red
meats and not much sugar, coffee, and such. The local mercantile
supply, from foods to simple store-bought goods, was scarce.

Daddy sent regular letters describing the
horrific battles he had participated in. Men were not only dying in
battle but from disease as well. Infrequent letters came all the
way from England. Beatrice and Violet wouldn’t return for
Christmas, as passenger vessels traveling across the seas were not
safe.

Along the ride home, Eugenia read over
letters addressed to only her. I wondered if Daddy had asked about
me, but if he did, she didn’t reveal such news to me.

The days were slipping by; one day just
rolled into the next for me. After the excitement of Warren’s
arrival had worn off, life seemed rather bleak, especially with
nearly all the slaves having left Sutton Hall, despite Eugenia’s
threats of whippings and hangings.

As we rode back to the plantation, I closed
my eyes and drank in the warm sun that beamed against my face,
remembering years back when Hattie and I would sunbathe by the
river, forsaking school, just to stay away from John Mason. Then I
thought back to my earlier years and how Daddy used to sail us down
the sparkling river, just the two of us. We would have private
picnic lunches prepared by Mammy for our special father and
daughter outings. We would find a cozy spot by the river and set up
a blanket under the shade of a weeping willow and spend the day
together. There was no other woman to steal him away, not even
Mammy. Back then, Daddy always put me first and swore I would be
the only love of his life.

“You resemble your mother so much,” Daddy
said, gazing at me. He could easily replace my face with his
beloved Charlotte’s, it seemed. “Now that she is gone, far up in
heaven, you are my best girl, Amelia. I thank God for sending me
you in her place. I know that was his plan - to have you fix my
broken heart, to heal my wounds, and fill my life with
unconditional love all over again.”

I must have been only five at the time, but I
remember the day vividly. I recalled how his eyes shined so
lovingly on me, and how he doted on me, wanting to fulfill my every
want and need.

“Seems so long ago,” I mumbled to myself in
the midst of my daydreaming.

“What was long ago?” Eugenia asked as the
buggy abruptly stopped at the mansion. “Never mind,” she added
sharply.

A saddled Appaloosa horse tied to the post of
the gallery caught her attention. Hamilton assisted Eugenia down,
then me. I watched as Eugenia sauntered up the gallery stairs and
went inside to see who had arrived unannounced at Sutton Hall.
Warren came from the stables to unhitch the horse.

“Whose horse is that?” I asked.

“Don’t know. I was in the stables all
afternoon fixing loose boards in the stalls.”

“We have a modest amount of supplies. Please
bring them inside,” I instructed.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a smile and tipped
his hat to me. “With pleasure.”

His insistent flirting annoyed me, and I
chose to ignore it so as not to lead him on. Warren trailed behind
me as we entered the foyer. I wasn’t intentionally looking to see
who our mystery visitor was, but the moment I stepped out of the
light and my eyes refocused, I saw the handsome officer.