Triumph (53 page)

On the fifth day of Taylor’s absence, she could no longer bear the idleness of sitting in the house. The Lutheran church had again been turned into a hospital, so with Shelby at her heels, she walked down to the hospital to offer her services. There were two women in the main body of the church. Pews had been stripped; beds had been brought in. Tia made her way to the side chapel, where the doctor in command was quickly looking through the papers that had come with some newly arrived men. As she passed, the women—Yankee wives, she was certain—paused from their duties to whisper.

About her.

She ignored them.

She walked to the doctor’s desk. “Excuse me, but I’m an experienced nurse and I’d like to work here if I may.”

The doctor looked up. He was a tall man of about fifty, sturdy, gray-haired, and with a calm, steady manner that inspired trust. His gaze fixed on her despite the confusion and noise around them as another load of injured men arrived.

“And you are ... ?”

“My name is Tia McKenzie.”

“McKenzie Douglas, isn’t it?” he inquired, smiling. He rose, offering her a hand. “Reginald Flowers, and I know who you are. You have dark eyes, and you’re much, much lovelier, but you do bear a resemblance to your brothers.”

“You know both my brothers?”

“Julian was with me after Gettysburg. I wish he were with me still. And Ian is legendary with the cavalry—as is your husband, Mrs. Douglas.”

“Of course,” she murmured.

The two women had followed her and were staring at her from the entrance to the small chapel. She turned, staring back.

“They think you’re a Rebel who will probably poison the injured men in the middle of the night!” Dr. Flowers said.

“And what do you think, sir?” Tia asked.

“I think they’re a pair of plump old biddies!” he said conspiratorially, and she had to smile. “What took you so long in coming?” he asked her.

“Pardon?”

“Colonel Douglas was by several days ago, said your sympathies were Southern but your inclination was to heal. If you’re Julian’s sister, I haven’t a doubt in the world that you’ll be a tremendous asset to me. If you’ll begin with the fellows who have just come in ...” he suggested.

And so she did. She bathed wounds, sewed them, bandaged them, and found herself quickly taken in as Dr. Flower’s surgical assistant.

The other wives, she was certain, continued to talk about her through the day. She didn’t care. Several of the orderlies with Dr. Flowers knew Ian as well—and Rhiannon. The admiration and warmth with which they regarded both her brother and her sister-in-law quickly made them her friends, and by the end of the day, she didn’t think at all about it being an enemy hospital.

She was back at the hospital at first light the next morning. Her routine became a twelve-hour day. Private Shelby remained her constant tail, and thereby found himself working at the hospital as well. He was a bit green at first, but was a pleasant enough young man, uncertain but ready to plunge in. Tia was surprised to find him quite bearable.

He seldom came in the house, though. He’d fashioned a hammock on the porch and slept there.

General Magee had set up his headquarters right across the street. Even though he was the enemy, he was Risa’s father, and twice, having seen him ride home late, Tia sent messages, asking him to dinner.

One evening, he came. He was polite, charming, and steady, and she knew why Risa was as assured and confident a young woman as she always managed to be, why she was full of warmth—and also, shrewdly intelligent. He had commanded her brother, Jesse Halston—and her husband. But he didn’t talk to her much about Taylor’s work in the cavalry, other than to say once that he was such a dead-on shot that it was chilling. Magee talked about the housing plans he had seen Taylor draw, how his real love was architecture—and his home. “He wants to build houses that catch summer breezes, that stand up to fierce storms, that capture the essence of the grass and trees, sea and sand.”

“Maybe one day,” she told him. And in turn, she talked about Jamie, his grandson, and how well Risa was doing—and that there would be a new baby.

“Ah, now, there’s hope, isn’t there? Thank God for the little ones. How would we endure the war if it weren’t for the hope of the children?”

She didn’t answer him. She would have told him that children all seemed to die too.

By the end of her first week at the hospital, she returned home to find that Ian was there before her, working on despatches at the parlor desk.

She watched him write for several minutes before she spoke.

“Ian, where is Taylor?”

He hesitated, watching her. “He was at the front at Petersburg for a while. He’s cavalry, but because of his engineering background, he was working with some coal miners planning ... planning some works at the line.”

“He was?”

“He’s also been running despatches between Grant, Sherman, and Sheridan.”

“Is he coming back here?”

“Yes.”

“Is he in danger?”

Ian hesitated. “Tia, it’s a war. Everyone is in danger.” He sighed. “Tia, he’s an extraordinary horseman and a crack shot.”

She sighed. “So I’ve been told.”

“How was the hospital?”

“Filled with bleeding and dying men.”

“But you’ll be working there.”

“Until I can go home.”

“And what you want is to go home?” Ian said, then he smiled. “You don’t actually mean
home
, do you? You want to go back and work in the woods with Julian.”

“It’s where I belong,” she agreed.

“Has it occurred to you that you
belong
with your husband?”

“But he isn’t here, is he?” Tia asked.

“He will be soon. You know, Tia, I only want what’s best for you. I am your brother, and I love you.”

She smiled. “And I love you, Ian—even if you are a sadly misguided individual.”

“Ah. That means a Yank, doesn’t it?”

“Like I said, big brother, I love you dearly, but you’re not a doctor. And this isn’t my state. Excuse me, Ian, Molly said that she’d fix me some bath water before dinner.”

Thank God for Molly, and thank God for baths. Tia wanted to work with the soldiers; she needed to work with the soldiers. But when she came home, she couldn’t get over the feeling of being drenched not just in sweat and blood, but in the anguish of the men. She could stay on her feet forever, help in the direst situation, deal with sick soldiers, gangrene, gut wounds, and the most horrible amputations—but she did dearly love to lie in a hot bath when the day was over. It was July, the summer heat could be stifling, and she loved to sit in the water until it turned cooler than the night air.

That night, she lay in the tub for a very long time. She was especially tired. Molly was a wonderful cook, but Tia hadn’t been hungry. Though Ian was there with her that night, and she was glad of her brother’s company, she went to bed early. However, she lay there awake, unable to calm her mind.

Around midnight, she heard the door to her room open. By the moonlight trickling through the thin curtains, she saw a tall figure there, heard the door close quietly.
Taylor
. Her heart began to thunder.

He moved about the room like a wraith, discarding his clothing then walking to the window. He stared out at the night for a very long time. Then he came to bed.

He didn’t say a word to her, but lay on his back. She thought that his eyes remained open, that he stared up at the ceiling. She tried to keep her own eyes closed, to pretend that she hadn’t heard him, that she lay asleep. But he knew, he always knew, when she really lay awake. And suddenly he turned on her. “What was that you said, Mrs. Douglas? How am I? Yes, alive, certainly. Well? I believe so, physically, I’m in excellent shape—no bullets lodged in me anywhere. I mean, that is the least you’d ask out of a man you don’t actually
dislike
, isn’t it?”

“Taylor, I—”

“Never mind, Tia. Never mind.”

Startled by the tears his deep, sarcastic words brought to her eyes, she started to turn away. He drew her back. “I’m sorry, Tia. I don’t want you to turn away.”

He made love to her that night as if a demon rode his soul. He was still drinking coffee in the kitchen when she woke the next morning, but the way his gold eyes touched hers over his cup, she thought that he had never disliked her more intensely. Her eyes downcast, she strode past him, thanking Molly as she accepted coffee from her. The coffee churned in her stomach. She sipped it anyway.

“Find any good Rebels to save yet at the hospital?”

“No.”

“Well, you may today. Goodbye, my dear,” he told her. “Molly, thank you!” he called to their servant, then he started out of the house.

“Taylor!” she shouted, startled to find that she was following him. He stopped out on the lawn, turning to wait for her question. Friar, she noted, was at the gate. Good old Friar. He had his horse back. That had to make him happy—if having her didn’t.

Private Shelby was leaning against one of the porch columns, waiting for her. She felt awkward, smiling a good morning to him but not wanting an audience at this moment.

“Are you leaving again for ... for a long time? Or will you be back soon?”

She felt the sweep of his distant, gold gaze. A slight smile curved his lips. “Did you want me back?” he inquired politely.

Shelby was behind them. She felt her cheeks burn. “Of ... of course.”

He walked back to her. Kissed her cheek. Whispered “Liar!” in her ear. And without giving her an answer, he strode to Friar, mounted up, and rode away.

At the hospital, she learned what demons tormented him. The soldiers, doctors, patients, wives, nurses—everyone—talked about the horrible events at the crater. Union engineers had dug a tunnel to reach Confederate lines. Black troops had been trained to go in—but at the last minute they’d been pulled out. The generals were afraid that it would look as if they were willing to sacrifice their black soldiers.

As it happened, explosives that had been set didn’t fire properly. Then the replacement men, too hastily trained, faltered. The Rebels counterattacked. It had been a disaster. One of the injured men, learning that Tia was Taylor’s wife, talked to her about what happened.

“Colonel Douglas kept trying to tell them there could be a fault with men being trapped, but somebody said he was cavalry, and even if he’d had training in engineering and architecture, he wanted to build mansions, not military works.

“Colonel Douglas was angry then, saying they shouldn’t ask him for information if they didn’t want his opinion. He was angry that they changed the troops at the last minute, and angrier still, I think, when so many men were blown to bits. He didn’t want to be right. But he was there, ma’am, right there, racing into the action, trying to get men out when it all blew up in our faces. He later asked to be sent back to General Magee and left alone as cavalry, since that was what he was.

“They say about twenty thousand men were involved and that we flat out lost a full four thousand of them. It was one of the most horrible things I’ve seen in the war, and I’ve been in the Army of the Potomac since the beginning. You’ll see ... when the fellows start coming in today. Some of them are in pretty bad shape.”

They were. Men came in from the siege line throughout the day.

Rebel soldiers came as well, many of them dying, bodies maimed, limbs blown to bits in the explosion that had rocked the crater.

Tia stayed at the hospital through the night. The next day, she almost passed out at one point; she was nearly sick at another. She ignored her weariness. At dusk, Dr. Flowers made her go home, telling her that she was suffering from exhaustion.

When she reached the house, Taylor was there. She had been bone tired, but the news that he had preceded her home seemed like a stimulant. She was immediately awake and wary. Molly told her he was in her room—in the bathtub. She entered quietly, saw that he was indeed there, leaning back, a washcloth over his face. She started to walk back out. He didn’t move the washcloth, but he had heard her, and he knew it was her. “Don’t leave on my account.”

Awkwardly, she moved into the room. She hesitated near the wooden hip tub. “I heard how many men were lost at the crater. I’m very sorry.”

He pulled the washcloth from his face, studying her. “Well, I don’t know how many, but I’m afraid a number of Rebs were blown to bits as well. Unfortunately, that’s the idea with war. We kill one another. The last man standing wins.”

“I heard that you had argued against it.”

“I did, but I wish I’d been wrong.”

“You were resting. I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Tia said.

“You disturb me, my love, on a daily basis.”

She turned around, determined to leave the room. But before she could reach the door, he was up and out of the tub, water sluicing from his naked body. And when he caught her and swung her around, she was amazed at the way that just the touch of his sleek, bare flesh aroused her, at how she wanted him. “I have just come from the hospital,” she told him, feeling that she was obliged to offer some manner of protest.

“Then you should share my bath.” He spun her around, working on buttons and ties and closures. Her shoes flew, stockings followed, cloth lay on the ground in a pool of pastel color. He picked her up, plunked her into the tub with him, and when they tried to sit, their knees knocked. They stood again, facing one another in the water, and to her amazement, she found herself laughing. “We don’t fit at all ...”

“We don’t, do we?” he inquired, but he cupped her chin, kissed her, and then she felt the soap in his hands against her flesh, and the sleek feel of it moving against her, over her breasts, between her thighs ... she was shaking, still feeling his kiss. The soap was suddenly in her hands. She bathed his shoulders, his chest, back ... buttocks, sex. The soap slipped from her hands, splashed into the water. Droplets cascaded around them. They both ducked for more water to rinse out, crashed together, laughed. Then her eyes met his, and she saw the fire, felt as if it touched her inside. He lifted her from the tub, fell instantly upon the bed, and within seconds he was inside her. Tia wondered how she had ever lived without him.