Kary, Elizabeth (55 page)

"I
know that, Nathan," she replied. "In my head I know why he took the
risk, I even appreciate his daring. It's just that I can't seem to make myself
accept what he did and understand his reasons."

Without
another word Leigh slipped out of Nathan's cabin, seeking refuge in the night.
She needed time to take in what she had learned from Nathan Travis, time to
consider all the things Hayes had never shared, time to shed the tears that
were swelling in her chest.

In
brooding silence she climbed the stairs to the Texas deck and slipped into
their stateroom to look in on her husband. He was sleeping deeply, and Leigh
was glad of that on more than one account. Snatching up a shawl, she returned
to the deck and leaned heavily against the balustrade, staring out across the
water.

Leigh
had never been a woman who gave free rein to strong emotion, but for the first
time in her life, she understood the strength and scope of enmity. She was
threatened by what this woman Monica had once been to her husband, jealous of
the hold she had on Hayes still. He had risked his life to see Monica and her
child to safety, and the loyalty he felt for them seemed to malign all he
claimed to feel for Leigh. Monica, whatever her role in Hayes's life, was a
threat to all Leigh held dear, and she was frightened by how close she had come
to losing everything that mattered.

But
even as she rejoiced in the fact that Hayes was finally out of danger, she was
hurt and disappointed that her husband had never shared his secrets. At a time
when Leigh was letting down her last defenses, Hayes had shut her out. He had
denied her a part of himself when she was struggling to give him her all. It
had never been easy for Leigh to express and share her feelings, but as
difficult as it was, she had done her best to let Hayes know she loved him. It
was the knowledge that he had held back, that he had kept his secrets that tore
at her insides. As much as she wanted to understand her husband's motives, what
he had done felt very much like betrayal.

With
that realization her pain intensified and tears began to fall. They welled in
her eyes and spilled down her cheeks, caught in her lashes and dripped unheeded
off her chin. In the wind-washed silence of the night, Leigh sought to muffle
the sound of her weeping. Yet there was wondrous liberation in expressing her
grief and frustration, in giving vent to her jealousy and fear. Leigh wept
freely, caught in a maelstrom of disillusionment, until all the tears were
gone.

But
even when she had quieted, the painful questions still remained. Why hadn't
Hayes told her that he was going into Vicksburg? Hadn't he trusted her enough
to share his fears and problems? Hadn't he thought her able to understand?

Perhaps
there had been reasons for his silence: that the memories were painful for him
or that Monica and her son were part of a past he was trying to forget. Yet the
strength of their hold on her husband was very clear. Hayes had taken responsibility
for their safety and fruitlessly risked his life on their behalf. Why did a man
do that if not for love?

Again
tears rose in Leigh's eyes, but now she fought them back. Would she have been
able to accept the fact that her husband had other loyalties and
responsibilities, that he'd had other loves, other lives in the past? It was
not an easy thing for any woman to acknowledge, but if Hayes had given her the
opportunity, she would have tried to understand.

His
lapse of trust in her was the most damning thing in what she had discovered.
Perhaps she could understand his loyalty, accept his past, forgive his actions.
But in keeping his secrets from her, in betraying the trust she had worked so
hard to give, he had altered something fundamental in their marriage, something
that had made their love unique.

She
still loved Hayes, would love him for all her days. Her love had its roots deep
in all that had gone before: in the bond that had begun that first day at Camp
Jackson; in the rich, warm days of friendship they had shared the previous
winter; and even in the difficult time of their estrangement when each had
ached for what was lost. Love not easily given was love not readily destroyed.
Yet she wondered if love tempered by pain and disappointment could ever be as
strong as love had been when it was new.

It
would take time, time for Hayes to heal and regain his strength, time for Leigh
to come to terms with her disillusionment. It would take weeks or months to
reestablish what they had once shared. It was time that fate had decreed they
take.

Leigh
shivered as predawn chill wrapped itself around her, and she began to realize
how long she had been standing lost in thought. Far away on the horizon she
could see the slight filmy veil of gray that heralded the approach of dawn, and
she knew she must prepare for the new day. Hayes's wound would need cleansing
and dressing, and she had to see that there was broth, custard, and tea ready
to feed him when he awoke. Hayes was going to live, and for all her misgivings
about what had happened at Vicksburg, that was what mattered most. But as she
turned back to the cabin where her husband slept, she no longer faced the
future with the joyous wonder, the untarnished optimism she had felt only hours
before.

June 2, 1863—St. Louis, Missouri

Hayes
stopped in the doorway of the room Leigh had occupied since their return to St.
Louis nearly six weeks earlier. He frowned as his eyes swept over the worn
carpetbag on the bed and the several dresses lying beside it, waiting to be
packed. A cable had arrived from Mary Ann Bickerdyke only that morning telling
Leigh of the shortage of trained nurses in the hospitals at Vicksburg and
asking her to come. Without consulting him, without even considering his
wishes, Leigh had wired back that she would be on the next transport going
south.

It
was hardly surprising that such a need existed, Hayes reflected as he stepped
into the room, since the summer of 1863 promised to be rife with military
activity. It was rumored that in the East General Robert E. Lee was preparing
for a campaign, while General Rosecrans, in control of the Army of the
Cumberland, was being urged by Union Secretary of War Stanton to move toward
Chattanooga. Down along the Mississippi, Grant had Vicksburg under siege after
a series of bloody battles and two attempts to storm the city. It was not hard
to surmise that once Vicksburg fell, Grant's army would turn east to further
divide the Confederacy. And like as not, any nurses at Vicksburg would be
expected to accompany them.

Hayes's
frown darkened as Leigh emerged from the dressing room carrying a pair of
sturdy shoes and a plain cotton nightdress.

"I
didn't
realize you were back," Leigh greeted him. "How did things go at the
doctor's?"

Hayes
shrugged. "He says I'm making a miraculous recovery, that by the end of
the month I'll be good as new."

Leigh
set the shoes on the bed and began to fold the dresses. "You were very
lucky," she observed, intent on her packing. "If that ball had hit an
inch or two in any direction...."

"I
prefer to think my miraculous recovery had a great deal to do with the superb
nursing I received," Hayes interjected, grinning in hopes of garnering a
response from his wife.

"I
suppose it could have made some difference," she conceded without a glance
in his direction.

There
had been a time only months before when Leigh would have teased him back. Then
she might have bragged about her prowess as a nurse or complained about his
shortcomings as a patient. It was symptomatic of the change in their
relationship that Leigh would not think to do that now.

During
his convalescence, his wife had been the soul of consideration, anticipating
his needs and diligently seeing to his welfare. She had made sure he was clean
and comfortable, tended to his wound and his diet, stayed close at hand in case
he wanted her, sent Brandon Hale to entertain him when she had to be away.
Leigh had read to him by the hour, brought him books, newspapers, games, and
puzzles to alleviate his boredom once he was feeling better. But as solicitous
as she was, as tender as her care of him had been, he was aware that his visit
to Vicksburg had changed many things between them.

They
had not spoken of the events surrounding his injury until one evening a week or
two before when Leigh had come to his room after supper to keep him company.
She had opened a checkerboard at the edge of the mattress and was preparing it
for play when Hayes broached the subject.

"Leigh,"
he had begun, feeling more than a tinge of apprehension, "I want to explain
why I went into Vicksburg to rescue Monica and her son."

Her
fingers had hung poised above the checkers she was aligning before she gave him
a reply. "We needn't speak of it, Hayes," she informed him crisply.
"Nathan told me what happened."

"I
think I owe you more of an explanation than Nathan would have been able to
give," he persisted. "Leigh, please, I know how you must feel about
this, but hear me out and try to understand."

"I
understand perfectly, Hayes," she had insisted. "You have a love child
by a woman in Vicksburg, and you had to go into the city to see to their
welfare."

He
had studied his wife for a long moment, trying to gauge her feelings. She
seemed calm and reasonable, but since their return to St. Louis her actions had
left no doubt that there was a barrier between them, a barrier Hayes had to
find a way to breach.

"Leigh,"
he had begun, drawing a long breath. "Leigh, I no longer love Monica
Bennett; I want you to believe that. And the child in Vicksburg was not
mine."

Her
head had come up abruptly, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief. "He
wasn't yours?"

"Ironic,
isn't it? I risked everything to be sure that child was safe, and it turned out
that Charles was Jacob Bennett's son, not mine."

He
watched a sequence of strong emotions cross her face, but when she spoke at
last, her response was not one he had anticipated. "Oh, Hayes," she
whispered feelingly, "I'm so sorry."

Her
sympathy was foreign and unexpected. It heartened him, yet it made him wary.
She was offering him compassion as a balm for his hurt and disillusionment; she
was giving far more than he had asked. But she was also treating him as if she
had no stake in his revelations.

"Leigh,"
he tried again, "I want you to understand, I went into Vicksburg because I
thought the boy was mine, not for any other reason."

"Yes,
Hayes. I know that now."

Her
calm voice frustrated him. "If you understand, then why do I feel as if
you are holding me at arm's length? Why have things changed between us?"

For
a long moment Leigh seemed to consider his words, then drew a long sigh and set
the checkers aside.

"It
isn't easy for me to talk about my feelings," she had begun, and Hayes
recognized that there was a time when she could not have made even that simple
declaration. Heartened, he had settled down to listen.

"When
Nathan brought you back to the ship," Leigh continued, "nothing
mattered except that you get well. But once you began to improve, I needed to
know why you had gone into Vicksburg. I badgered Nathan to tell me. And
afterward I felt, I don't know, threatened or jealous. It was hard for me to
accept that you had ties to another woman and her child, ties so strong that
you were willing to risk your life to see to their safety."

"Leigh,
it was something I had to do. I couldn't be that close to the city, realize
what was inevitably going to happen, and not do my best to make sure they were
safe."

"Yes,
I know, and I can imagine how you felt."

"But?"

Leigh
hesitated. "What bothered me, even more than learning about Monica and
Charles, was that you never told me about them or confided what you were going
to do."

"What
would you have done if I had told you?" he challenged.

She
shook her head. "I'm not sure I know. I was trying so hard to share
everything in my life with you that when I found that you were keeping secrets,
I felt"—she groped for the word—"disillusioned—disillusioned and
betrayed."

His
fingers had slipped around her wrist, tightening compellingly. "I didn't
mean to shut you out, and I'm willing to tell you everything now."

"It's
not the same. Can't you see that?" There were tears clustered on her
lashes. "I love you, Hayes," she had continued as the wetness spilled
down her cheeks. "I think I always will. But trusting has never been easy
for me, and it's even harder to trust you now."

Seeing
her distress, he had let the subject drop, taking refuge in the assurance that
time and patience could reestablish what he and Leigh had shared. Only now
there was no more time, and his patience had worn thin: Leigh was going away
tomorrow, and nothing was resolved between them.

He
watched her put the last of her possessions into the carpetbag, then move it to
the floor. As she rose, he came to stand behind her, running his palms along
her arms. "Leigh," he murmured wistfully. "Oh, sweet, sweet
Leigh. What must I do to show how much I love you?"