Her Hesitant Heart (16 page)

She was sitting in her portion of the commissary
storehouse classroom when Joe came. Without a word, he sat beside her and took her hand, pressing it to his lips. He looked so tired, and she suspected he hadn’t slept much longer after she left.

“Tell me first—no bad news for Emily or Katie?”

“No, thank God. The captains are fine. Apparently General Crook even complimented James O’Leary on his coolness in battle.” His arm went around her then. “There are four dead and six wounded, but here’s the tough part—Colonel Reynolds withdrew and left two of the dead on the field. One of those was Corporal Hanrahan.”

Susanna leaned her head against Joe’s shoulder. “Eddie Hanrahan organized us to write little notes and draw pictures for Maddie.”

“At times like this, the army doesn’t pay me enough.”

They sat together in silence for a few minutes more, then Joe pulled her to her feet. “We have to do this now, before word gets there before we do.”

“I’m afraid.”

“No, you’re not, just hesitant. You’ll know precisely what to do when Mrs. Hanrahan opens her door and sees me standing there, Major Grim Reaper. I’m counting on you to make
me
look good.” He gave her a slight smile. “Did you ever meet a more selfish man?”

“Actually, yes,” she told him, which made Joe give her a squeeze.

It was unnerving to walk with the post surgeon down Suds Row, and see women look out of windows and follow their progress with terrified eyes. Some crossed themselves, others turned away. Joe walked calmly, his face serious. She wondered how many times he had done this death walk.

When they turned in at Hanrahan’s quarters, Susanna heard a wail inside before Joe even raised his hand to knock.

Joe was right, she decided later as she still sat in the Hanrahans’ parlor, holding Eddie on her lap. When Mrs. Hanrahan collapsed, Susanna’s arms just naturally opened for Eddie, and there was room for his little brother and sister, too. She held the children on her lap and cried with them as Joe revived Mrs. Hanrahan, and gave her the additional bad news that there would be no body to bury. Soon the room was full of other army wives, many of them Irish, keening. In a few minutes they had shut the door on the post surgeon, death’s messenger unwanted.

Susanna stayed where she was, humming to the bereft children now, then talking to Eddie about books, and summer coming. She told him about her son, Tommy, and climbing trees, anything to distract him from the sorrow all around. She knew she was not successful, but she tried anyway.

The stars were out when she finally left the Hanrahans’ quarters. Her back ached and she crossed the footbridge slowly. The river was free
of ice now, and she thought she heard small birds. It would be April soon.

Emily was waiting for her with warmed-up dinner. “Major Randolph told me you’d be late,” she said. Her face grew more solemn and there was suddenly nothing frivolous about Emily Reese. “Dearest, why do I feel guilty because my darling survived?”

“I don’t understand, either, Emily,” she replied. “Bless you, do you go through this every time he rides out of the fort?”

“Every time. No one talks about this before marriage. Then, it’s all gilt buttons and swords.”

Susanna gave her a brief smile. “Men are such deceivers.”

Emily looked shyly at her cousin. “Major Randolph said he hoped you’d stop by his quarters.” She blushed. “He told me thanks for the dried apricots.”

Susanna knocked on his door, then opened it when no one answered. Joe Randolph sat in his armchair, staring at nothing. His eyes flickered to hers. Without a word, he held out his arms and she sat on his lap with no hesitation. His heartbeat was regular and reassuring; she closed her eyes.

“You realize that when Louis Pasteur accepts you as an intern—I’m promoting you beyond mere student—you won’t have to make a death walk ever again. Emily told me the other deaths were single men, and the company commanders will write those family letters. No more death walk today.”

He was a long time speaking. “The death walk isn’t over, Suzie. Take a deep breath.”

She gasped and leaped off his lap, backing away and staring at him. “Please, no. Not Tommy!”

Joe hesitated, and she felt her legs suddenly give out as though some cosmic hand had swept away her knees. For the second time in her life, she fainted.

When she woke up, she was lying on the post surgeon’s bed, her shirtwaist unbuttoned and her corset stings loosened. Joe sat in a chair beside his bed, looking at her with an expression so tender she had to close her eyes.

“Please. You’re too far away.”

His shoes were already off. In another moment she was in his arms.

“Now you can tell me,” she whispered, her face turned into his chest.

“I’m not quite sure what to tell you, Suzie,” he began, “because there’s an unknown here. Take a deep breath. I mean it. Keep breathing regularly, because there is more here than I understand.”

The post surgeon took his own deep breath. “Along with the dispatch from Fort Fetterman, there were letters from Cheyenne. One came addressed to the commanding officer, but with your name under it. Colonel Bradley read it, then gave it to me.” Joe kissed her cheek. “Your former husband, in a drunken stupor, tipped over a lamp and set fire to your house.”

“Good God,” she whispered.

“Frederick Hopkins died in the blaze, according to your uncle. He wrote that there were bottles all over the house. Hopkins was a drunkard and dangerous, just as you tried to tell everyone at the trial. As for Tommy, there was no sign of him. None at all. He simply disappeared. I’m sure he’s alive, but no one knows where he is.”

She cried into his chest, partly from relief and partly from sorrow at Frederick’s wasted life. Joe’s hands were warm inside her shirtwaist now, loosening her corset strings more, and then just massaging her bare back.

“That’s all your uncle knows. The local constables searched and found nothing. If Tommy were dead, they would have found his body, the same as they found Frederick’s. They didn’t.”

“Where is he?” she asked when she could speak.

She knew Joe couldn’t answer that question. He pulled her even closer. “Tell me, is your son resourceful?”

She thought a moment. “I rather think he is,” she said. “After all, he and I lived for years in the same house with Frederick and his mercurial moods. Tommy knows how to lie low.” She burrowed her head into Joe’s chest. “But he’s barely twelve!”

“And resourceful,” he reminded her. “All I ask you to do is hang on a little longer. Al’s on duty tonight, and tomorrow we’re going to get a raft of frostbite cases from Fort Fetterman as the men return. You won’t see me for days. Stay with me tonight, Suzie. I’ll hang on with you.”

J
oe helped her into one of his nightshirts in such a matter-of-fact way that she couldn’t feel embarrassed. Worn out with worry, she was asleep before he even joined her.

Susanna woke up once in the middle of the night. She had thrown one leg over the post surgeon. She tried to slide away, but he pulled her back, kissing her neck.

“I’m not ready for any more than a kiss,” she whispered.

“Good thing,” he replied, surprisingly alert for the middle of the night. “Neither am I.” He sighed and pulled her close again. “I did not want to sleep alone, either. I’ve been a long time without a woman, Suzie, but it doesn’t follow that I’d ever do anything to you against your will. I couldn’t.”

“Frederick never minded, especially when he
was drunk,” she said in a small voice. “What could I do? I was his wife and that was my duty.”

“Suzie, I’m sorry for that,” Joe answered, his voice equally soft. “I don’t care if the marriage ceremony says ‘obey.’ No wife should be forced against her will. It’s not something I could ever do, and I suspect most men feel the same way. Frederick was an aberration.”

She nodded, and returned to sleep in his arms. When reveille roused her, Joe was sitting in the chair he had vacated last night, observing her.

“You are such a pretty woman.”

“Best seen in low light,” she teased.

“Any light. I confess I never was partial to blondes until …”

“You saw me? How romantic.”
Keep it light, Susanna
, she told herself.

He looked handsome in a nightshirt; maybe it was the stripes. She watched him sitting so close to her now, and held back from touching his leg, even though she found herself moved by the capable solidity of him. She took a chance then, and rested her head against his leg. His hand seemed to go automatically to her hair, his fingers twining her curls.

“There’s no time, as usual, but I was sitting here, debating whether to tell you a thought I have,” he said finally. “It might get your hopes up, but remember, it’s only a supposition.”

“As long as it doesn’t break my heart,” she said.

“Your heart’s been broken enough,” he told
her. “Mine, too.” He looked at his hand. “I wore my wedding ring a long time. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I used to hope I would turn a corner, and there M’liss would be.” He shook his head. “Barmy, eh? I’ll tell you how she died. Sit up, Suzie. It’s probably better.”

She did as he said. He put his arm around her. “I think you know what happened to her. After a day of seeing her suffer in horrific pain—my God, this was the woman I loved!—I administered a huge dose of morphine and killed her. She didn’t live ten more seconds.”

Susanna felt the breath go out of her. Her arm went around his back, until she had encircled him with both arms.

“Theodore Brown watched the whole thing. He just nodded and covered her face, because I couldn’t. Is it any wonder that he is still my hospital steward? Ted told me years later that if I hadn’t done that, he would have the next time I left her side. I know what a broken heart feels like.” Joe looked at her, as if gauging her heart. “No one knows that except you now, and Ted. Am I a monster?”

“A monster to save your wife one more second of excruciating agony?” she whispered to him. “Oh, no.”

He seemed to relax in her arms. “I wanted to tell you.”

“It must pain you to even speak of such tragedy.”

“It does,” he admitted. “Doctors can get inured to suffering. Husbands? Never.”

“I used to think no one could hurt worse than I do. How foolish I’ve been,” she told him. “I look at the Rattigans, and now Mrs. Hanrahan …”

“But now the Rattigans are happy.” Joe kissed her hair. “M’liss was carrying our child. Oh, damn … it’s still almost too much to talk about.” He collected himself. “I know you wanted to keep Maddie. In fact, Fifi told me that before Claudine died, she made her promise that the schoolteacher would have her daughter.”

“Joe, I wanted her with every fiber of my heart!” Susanna cried, unable to stop her tears at this news. They just held each other until her tears stopped.

“Every step I took toward the Rattigans with Maddie broke my heart,” Susanna said when she could speak.

“I thought it must have.” He kissed her hand. “I’m not sure I’m that brave.”

“But I did the right thing with Maddie,” she said finally.

“I know you did, but I have some idea what it cost you.” He shifted a little and she found herself on his lap. “Here’s what I am thinking. Whether it’s wise to tell you, I don’t know.”

“Let me judge.”

“Very well. I looked everywhere for Nick Martin after he went missing. Finally I went to his cubbyhole off the storage room again and took another
look. He had obviously cleared out, but under his cot was one of the letters you wrote to Tommy.”

She considered the implication. “He has Tommy’s address!”

“Precisely. I didn’t say anything to you sooner, because it just seemed to be one more oddity about Nick. Now I’m wondering if he went back to Pennsylvania to retrieve your son, or maybe protect him.” He smiled at her. “Nick always was your champion.”

“You think Nick can even
find
Pennsylvania?”

“Hard to say.” Joe shrugged. “We know so little about Nick Martin.” He loosened his grip on her. “We’ll just have to wait and see. Up you get now. You’re going to dress and take that discreet route through the backyards.”

She had to know. “Do you think Nick set fire to my house?”

Another shrug. “We’ll have to wait and see.”

That was no answer to reassure a woman who had lost everything, and Joe knew it. His own heart drooped lower when he told Susanna she had probably better not risk returning to his quarters again. “You know the gossips here,” he reminded her.

The light went out of her eyes, but she nodded. “Emily and I had this discussion earlier,” she said. “She understands, but we can’t expect others to.” She dressed quietly and let herself out the back door.

He missed sick call that morning, but it hardly
mattered, because Al was there. Guard mount came and went, and still he sat on the end of his barren bed, staring down at the photograph of Melissa that he had tucked away with his wedding ring. He put his ring on again, looked at it, then removed it and replaced it next to the photograph. He lay down again and stared at the ceiling, trying to fathom how a man in love with his wife reconciles taking another wife.

That he was lonely, he had no doubt, but he had been lonely before. He had been a young man when he’d courted and won Melissa in the middle of a war, when he had even less time than now. He had yearned for Melissa Rhoades with a passion that surprised him, but there she was, lovely in her wide-hooped dresses that swayed so sensually when she walked. There was no more guile in her than in him, and she’d showed her heart on her sleeve, the same as he did.

After her death, his work had ferried him through a tidal wave of grief. The medical department mercifully reassigned him to reconstruction duty in Louisiana, away from Texas, where she had met her death. He took more risks there than he should have, not hesitating to volunteer for yellow fever duty. Truth to tell, it wouldn’t have bothered him to have contracted the disease that seasonally roved up and down the Mississippi. He was almost relieved when he caught it, but damn, he survived. What was worse, he was now immune. Where was the justice?

He hadn’t been eager to transfer to the Department of the Platte, but the transfer came with an overdue promotion to major. He had bowed to duty, as he always did, mainly because it didn’t matter to him where he served or what his rank. His assignments took him to several forts, where friends tried to pair him with sisters or other relatives from back East who had come West specifically to find husbands among the officer corps. After a few years, no one tried anymore.

Joe dressed and walked slowly toward the hospital. For a change, the wind wasn’t blowing. The small bird sounds he had imagined yesterday were real now. There was still the bite of winter in the air, but he had already walked past the post trader’s store before he realized he had left his overcoat behind.

The sound of children reached him so he glanced toward the commissary storehouse, smiling to see Suzie outside with her class. He watched as she jumped rope, her skirts flying and her blond hair quickly loosed from its moorings. There would probably never be enough hairpins to anchor those curls. He knew how soft they felt, twined around his fingers. He had the strongest impulse—and he was not impulsive—to walk over there and turn one end of the rope, or jump with her.

He swallowed once and then again, and knew he loved Susanna Hopkins, the bravest woman he had probably ever met. He had tentatively suggested it earlier, then backed away from the idea.
Only this morning he had watched the hope in her eyes dim when he’d said it wasn’t wise of them to help each other through another night. It may have been proper, but all he wanted to do was discard duty and jump rope with his darling.

There she was, lovely and brave and funny. He thought about his feelings when they were together, and realized Suzie made him brave and funny, too. M’liss was gone now and not coming back in this life, at least. He was still alive, a healthy man. As he watched his newest darling, he knew in his heart that his first darling would be terribly disappointed in him if he wasted his life mourning her.

Joe stood there a moment longer, enjoying the sun finally warm on his neck. He counted Suzie’s little class, picking out Maddie in her pretty red coat, probably cut down from something of Claudine’s. He wasn’t surprised to see Eddie Hanrahan. No doubt he had insisted he not miss school, because his mother had women to comfort her, and Eddie knew Mrs. Hopkins loved him.

Joe looked down. Soon there would be dandelions everywhere. For the first time since Texas, he knew that spring had truly come, because he felt it inside.

Claudine Wilby was buried in the military cemetery a half mile north of the fort. Susanna walked with the Rattigans, Maddie between Maeve and James. To her surprise, she felt a little hand in
hers halfway there, and looked down to see Eddie Hanrahan.

“My dear, you were sweet to come,” she said, kneeling by him and tucking his muffler into his coat. “Does your mama know?”

“She said I should be here,” he said. “Maddie’s my friend.”

Before they reached the post trader’s store, all of her pupils walked with her, some with a parent, and others alone. She thought none of the residents of Officers Row would join their little procession, but there was Katie O’Leary with Rooney.

“I left Mary Rose with Emily,” Katie said. “Rooney insisted we come.”

Susanna knew Joe would be there, and he did not disappoint, coming to stand beside her. She didn’t think she moved, but soon they were touching. She glanced at Maddie in Sergeant Rattigan’s arms, her face turned into his uniform coat, her shoulders shaking.

Susanna hadn’t meant to cry, but Joe had a handkerchief ready. “Believe me, Claudine is better off. And so is Maddie, although she might not know it yet.”

“What about you, Joe?”

The question came out before she even realized it, and she knew she had startled him. Startled herself, too; she had never called him Joe except in private, and her question was impertinent. Or maybe it wasn’t; she wanted to know.

He thought a moment before he answered, but
she knew Joe was a deliberate man not given to impulse. A smile started to play around his lips, and she felt the rest of the callus around her heart dissolve. All the slights and vitriol, the humiliation and sorrow paled in significance as she watched his dear face relax, even though they stood in a military cemetery.

“I’m better off, too. Unlike Maddie, I already know it.”

He said it so simply. He turned his attention to a corporal from Company H, Ninth Infantry, an ordained minister, who recited the Twenty-third Psalm, and the passage from Job about “men born unto trouble as the sparks fly upward.”

“That would be Claudine,” Joe whispered. “Come to think of it, none of us are wholly good or completely bad.”

“I think you’re wholly good,” Suzanna said, discarding every fear that had ever controlled her. She made herself vulnerable.

Such a light came into the post surgeon’s eyes that she stepped back, wondering at her own temerity. He came closer again, such a small distance to move, but one that made her heart beat faster. She knew her cheeks were red, but it was cold out. No one would notice.

“Wholly good? Not so, Suzie. Before you arrived with Eddie, I was admiring Fifi’s assets.” He looked straight ahead then, the very image of military deportment, as she struggled not to laugh at a funeral.

Only by bowing her head and cramming her fingers against the bridge of her nose could she control herself. Susanna looked up when she was firmly in charge again, this time to observe the four women who stood between Jules Ecoffey and a man who must be Adolf Cuny, his partner in commerce and vice. Fifi was easy to spot.

“Someone should take out your eyeballs and wash them with pine tar soap,” she murmured out of the side of her mouth, and it was his turn not to laugh at a burial.

By the time the brief service ended, the wind had picked up, tossing around dead cottonwood leaves from last fall. She looked around for Eddie, but Katie O’Leary had his hand now, and Rooney’s. They walked away, leaving her to stroll down the hill toward the hospital with the post surgeon only. He held out his elbow a little and her arm went naturally into the crook of his arm.

“I’m supposed to read tomorrow night at the hospital, but I don’t have a book. We finished
Little Men
last week.”

He shook his head. “Not this week, Suzie. We’re expecting the wounded from the battlefield any hour now, and I know there will be frostbite cases, too. Al picked up a telegram from Fetterman’s post surgeon to warn us what’s coming. Looks like we will be performing at least one amputation, maybe two. Better you stay away for a few days. I’ll be sleeping at the hospital.” He sighed. “It was easy
enough during the late war. Maybe I’m getting old.”