Touching the Sky (18 page)

She looked at him for a moment, then finally relented. “Very well. But I am not happy about it.”

He moved a little closer to where she sat and threw her a look that left Laura trembling. “Perhaps I can get your mind off the matter. At least for a few minutes.”

Shaking her head, Laura laughed nervously. “Brandon Reid, what are your intentions?”

He laughed. “Well, that’s something that I think we definitely need to figure out.”

“You don’t know what your own intentions are?”

“Oh, I know very well what I have in mind,” he replied. “I’m just not sure you would approve of them.”

He had her full attention. “Perhaps you should explain.”

He leaned ever closer and reached up to caress her face. Without giving her a chance to protest, Brandon very gently kissed her lips. Laura felt a wave of warmth spread throughout her body. She had never been kissed by a man—had fully intended to never be kissed by anyone other than her husband. When Brandon pulled away, Laura’s fingers immediately touched her lips.

The sound of the other men coming from her father’s study caused Laura to stand rather quickly. Brandon chuckled and did likewise. Unable to look away, Laura peered into his blue eyes and marveled at the feelings he’d evoked. If he had asked her in that moment to leave with him—to go north never to see her family again—Laura was certain she would say yes.

What a very dangerous state of mind
, she thought.
Dangerous and wonderful all at the same time.

A
s planned, Father visited Malcolm the following day. And while the man had been cordial, he firmly suggested that as newlyweds, they needed their privacy. Determined to keep the peace, her father relented and remained silent about Malcolm’s nonexistent job.

Though frustrated by Malcolm’s control over Carissa, Laura felt a measure of relief as the colored troops were mustered out of Corpus Christi without any major problems. Laura had no way of knowing if the additional surveillance Brandon put on Malcolm had thwarted his plans, but she didn’t care. There were no explosions of powder and no large number of soldiers killed. So long as Malcolm’s devious and deadly schemes were set aside, Laura felt they’d gained a victory. What did not set well was the fact that they were still unable to see Carissa.

Finally one morning she simply announced to her mother, “We’re going to see Carissa,” and pulled on her gloves. “One way or another.”

They had the driver take them over in the carriage, just in case Carissa answered the door and wanted to return home with them. Approaching the dwelling, Laura could see that all of the curtains and shades had been pulled tight. She hardly gave the driver time to set the brake before she jumped from the carriage in a most unladylike fashion. Leaving the driver to assist her mother, Laura all but ran up the walk to the door.

She pounded the heavy wood with her fists, then reached for the knocker. “Carissa, it’s Laura and Mother. Let us in.” She continued to call and to pound for what seemed an eternity.

“Where could she be?” Mother asked, wringing her gloved hands. “She surely must be here.”

Laura peered into the house, but it was impossible to see through the drawn drapes. “I’m going to try the door.” She turned the knob easily enough, but something held the door in place. “It seems to be blocked with something,” she said, looking to her mother. “Help me.”

Both women put their bodies against the door and pushed, but nothing happened. Mother began to weep and Laura felt guilty for forcing her to come.

“Let me take you to the carriage. I’ll get you settled, then I’ll go around back and try that door.”

Mother reluctantly agreed, but once they were halfway down the walk she stopped. “No, I want to come with you.”

“Of course.” As Laura turned them back toward the house, she saw the fluttering movement of the upstairs curtains.

“Look!” she said, pointing upward. “Someone is up there. I’m certain of it. I saw the curtains fall back into place just now.”

The two women hurried around the side of the house and made their way through the tiny yard to the back entrance. Laura tried the door and was relieved when it gave freely. She pushed it back and stepped into the house.

“Carissa Elaine Marquardt Lowe!” she called loudly. “We know you’re up there. Please come down here!”

Laura pulled Mother with her through the tiny kitchen and into the short narrow hall. When they reached the stairs, Laura cried out again. “Carissa, Mother and I are coming up to see you.”

“No.” Carissa’s voice was flat. “I’ll come down.”

The house was dark, so Laura went to the front drapes and pulled them back to let in some light. In doing so, they were better able to see Carissa as she made her way to the bottom of the stairs. Both Laura and their mother gasped at the sight.

“What in the world has happened to you?” Mother asked, rushing to her daughter.

Bruises covered most of Carissa’s face. Forcing her focus downward, Laura also saw discoloration around Carissa’s neck and shoulders.

“Malcolm did this,” Laura said in a hush.

Mother looked at Laura as if she’d lost her mind. “What did you say?”

Carissa gently pushed Mother’s hands from her face. “No,” she said, almost sounding frantic. “I fell. I fell down the stairs. My heel caught the hem of my gown. It was just an accident.” She looked to her mother and smiled. “See, I am fine. You know how easily I bruise. It’s nothing, really.” She waved her arms and took several steps. “See, nothing broken.”

“When did this happen?” Laura asked.

“Oh, a few days ago. I could hardly go out in public like this,” she said. “And of course, I didn’t want you to see me this way. I know I look frightful. Why, the shock on your faces even now is enough to make me regret even receiving you.”

“But you didn’t receive us,” Laura said, not buying a word of her sister’s story. “You left us to break into your house. Speaking of which . . .” Laura turned to check the front door. There was a metal bar in place that had been affixed there to keep the door from being pushed open. “What is this?”

Carissa shrugged. “Malcolm worries about everything. It’s just his way of keeping me safe. Honestly, you mustn’t go on so. Shall I make tea?”

Laura shook her head. “No. You will go upstairs and get what things you need. You’re coming home with us.”

“Yes,” Mother agreed. “You will do exactly that. You need my care.”

“I am a married woman.” Carissa’s stance seemed a little less certain. “I can’t just leave. Besides, Malcolm is away on business. He won’t know what’s become of me.”

Laura stepped forward and took hold of her sister’s shoulders. A cry of pain slipped from Carissa’s lips and she immediately put her hand over her mouth. Laura stood up straighter. “I’ll go pack your things. Mother, help Carissa to the carriage.”

Laura went to the front door and threw off the metal bar. It was heavy, but she found that anger gave her unexpected strength. “Go this way.”

She hurried up the stairs before Carissa could offer a word of protest. Laura found her sister’s bedroom and quickly moved about the room, grabbing things she thought most necessary. She didn’t worry about hats or gloves or hairbrushes. Carissa could borrow all of those things from Laura. Instead, Laura collected a couple of gowns that had been draped across the end of the bed. It looked as if Carissa had been mending them.

“Probably because he tore them,” Laura muttered. Her rage drove her to kick a pair of Malcolm’s trousers clear across the room. “Monster! What kind of man beats his wife like that?”

Laura headed for the stairs and very nearly lost her balance. Shifting the clothes, she took a better hold on the rail and for a moment doubt crossed her mind. What if Carissa was telling the truth? Maybe she had only fallen down the stairs. Maybe her embarrassment had caused her to plead with Malcolm to say nothing. It was possible.

“But not likely,” Laura muttered and continued down. The man was violent. He’d committed murder, hadn’t he? Brandon was certain he was responsible, and she had overheard Malcolm talk about blowing up Yankees.

Laura paused for a moment at the front door. She needed to calm her spirit and get control of her anger. She was allowing emotions to cloud her good judgment.

“Oh, Father God,” she prayed aloud, “please let the truth be known.”

With Carissa safely installed in her old bedroom and their mother busy seeing to a tray of food, Laura questioned her sister.

“You have to be honest with me about this. I want to help you,” Laura began. “I know you didn’t fall down the stairs.”

Carissa opened her mouth and then closed it again. Tears welled in her eyes. “I can’t tell you.”

“Yes you can. We’re sisters, and you can tell me anything. I already know that Malcolm did this to you, so why not tell me why?” Laura gave an exasperated sigh. “Not that there is any good reason for beating your wife.”

Carissa remained very quiet for several minutes. Laura waited, knowing that sooner or later Carissa would tell her the truth.

“I wanted to surprise Malcolm at work one day,” Carissa began. She sounded very much like a little girl telling of a horrible fright. Her voice trembled and her hands shook as she continued. “I went . . . to the mill. I went there to . . . just . . . just see him and . . . walk home with him. I got there and . . . and the men were leaving so I asked them about Malcolm. And . . . and . . .”

“And they’d never heard of him?” Laura asked, reaching for her sister’s hands.

Lifting her surprised face to meet Laura’s, Carissa nodded. “He doesn’t work at the flour mill.”

“I know. Father just learned the same thing.”

Carissa shook her head. “I was so shocked—hurt that he wouldn’t just tell me about his job. You see, I’d asked him many times about his work. He always got mad and told me to mind my own business.”

“And he’d hit you if you didn’t stop pestering him,” Laura offered matter-of-factly.

Her sister was still unable to admit the truth. She lowered her bruised face and continued. “I went home, and he still wasn’t there. I waited and it was very late before he finally showed up. I asked him where he’d been. He said he had to work late at the mill. I called him a liar.”

Laura winced, imagining the man’s anger at his wife’s accusation. She gave Carissa’s hands a gentle squeeze. “Go on.”

“He flew into a rage like I’ve never seen. He wasn’t even the same man. He threw things. He told me I was . . . was . . . a traitor to the South—that my family were traitors. He said he wished he’d never . . . married me.” She sniffed. “I told him I felt the same way. I told him . . . I said. . . .” She pulled her hands from Laura’s hold and covered her face. A muffled sob escaped.

Laura waited for what seemed an eternity for Carissa to continue. She didn’t know what else to do. The very idea of someone hurting her was breaking Laura’s heart.

Finally Carissa seemed to regain control. She straightened and drew a deep breath. “I told him I wished I were dead, and he said . . . he said that was one wish he could give me.”

“Oh, Rissa,” Laura said, using her sister’s long-forsaken nickname. She tried to take Carissa into her arms, but her sister wouldn’t have it.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you.” She met Laura’s eyes. “I can’t tell Mother. She mustn’t ever know.”

“Keeping it from her doesn’t change that it happened.”

“No, but it will keep her from the nightmares you may well have once I tell you exactly what he did to me.”

Laura felt her blood go cold. For a moment she wasn’t sure that she wanted to hear any more. It was obvious that Malcolm had beat Carissa within an inch of her life.

Without warning her sister began to give the horrendous details of that night and of a beating that should have claimed her life. As Carissa spoke, it was as if the entire scene played out in Laura’s mind. She could almost feel the blows—see the man’s rage.

“I begged for mercy,” Carissa said, finally coming to the end of her story. “I told him I would never question him again. I begged him, Laura.”

“I’m so sorry.” Laura realized there was nothing else she could say. No amount of comforting words would change what Malcolm Lowe had done. Nothing she could do would restore Carissa’s innocence. For a moment Laura just sat shaking her head. One thing was for certain: Their mother could never know. The abuses heaped upon her sister that night were not the kind of thing you could repeat—especially not to one’s mother.

“I guess you were right, Laura. I really didn’t know Malcolm well enough to marry him,” Carissa admitted. “I thought only with my heart and not with my head, and now it’s too late.”

“It’s never too late,” Laura replied. “You can just stay here. Father needs to know what has happened. He won’t allow Malcolm to even set foot in this house.”

Carissa shook her head vehemently. “No. Please. I do not want either one of them to know. You cannot tell them. You must keep this secret for me.”

Laura didn’t know what to say. How could she agree to keep such a secret? If she said nothing and Carissa returned to Malcolm, the next beating could very well claim her life.

For several minutes the two women just sat, staring at nothing. It wasn’t until their mother returned with a tray of food for Carissa that Laura could even pull her thoughts from the tortures her sister had described.

“I brought you soup. Cook had some left from lunch.” Mother placed the tray on Carissa’s lap. “It’s fish chowder—your favorite. I’ve brought you some of Cook’s hush puppies too. They’re cold, but the soup is hot. That’s what took so long.”

“Thank you,” Carissa said, smiling at their mother. “I will eat it and then I believe I’ll sleep. Honestly, you mustn’t worry. I’m fine. Just tired.”

Mother seems to want to believe this more than anything,
Laura thought. She returned Carissa’s smile and patted her on the head as though she were a small child.

“Very good. I believe I will take a nap myself.” Mother smoothed the front of her gown. “Laura, a rest would do you good, as well.”

“I’m sure it would, Mother,” Laura said, unwilling to argue. But she seriously wondered if she would ever be able to rest easy again.

“Very good,” Mother said. “I will see you both at supper.”

Laura would have laughed at the absurdity of it all had the situation not been so grave. Once their mother had exited the room, however, she looked at Carissa.

“I will keep your secret on one condition. You must never . . . ever . . . go back to him.”

Carissa toyed with a hush puppy, turning it over and over in her delicate fingers. “That could be a problem,” she said in barely a whisper.