Westward the Dream (13 page)

Brenton tried to force himself to breathe normally. “What condition is that, sir?”

“You must sign this agreement. It simply states you will not bear arms against the Confederacy at this time—or anytime in the future.” A slow smile crept across the man's face. “I believe it will relieve you of this entire complicated matter. It's an honorable way out, because believe me, if you do not sign, I'll be forced to send you south with the men who are camped just beyond this ridge. You may not know it, but there are over three hundred men out there, and I don't think they'd treat you quite as kindly as your cousin has—or for that matter, as I have. There's fighting going on all over Virginia, and these men are itching for a fight. To many of them this is just a big adventure.”

Brenton looked at the man and realized what was happening. By signing, he would pledge his good name and honor to uphold the conditions of the arrangement. No one could question his bravery or his politics then. He would have signed a gentleman's agreement, and as a gentleman he would be expected—although reluctantly by some—to uphold it.

“I'll sign it,” Brenton said, reaching out to take the paper. Gone were all illusions of becoming some great mediator for God and man.

“I thought you might,” the major replied. He handed him a pen. As Brenton signed a copy for each party, the major added, “Captain Cabot will escort you to safety. I wish you the very best.”

Brenton handed him the paper, keeping the additional copy for himself. “I wish the best for all of us. I pray this war might be resolved before any more men die.”

The major's expression grew solemn. “It is my prayer as well.”

Back in Baltimore, Brenton tried hard not to think of the regretful look on Nathan's face as he had turned to rejoin his regiment. There was something in his expression that made Brenton believe he would just as soon have joined him on the journey back to Baltimore and north.

Brenton said nothing of his escapades to Andrew Marcum. He picked up a letter from his mother and father and advised his solicitor that he was returning to New York. The man seemed pleased with this news.

The letter, in his mother's handwriting, could not have been more timely. How he missed his parents' guidance. His mother had always kept herself aware of the most current world affairs and now was no different. Her comments on the war made Brenton more sure than ever that he had done the right thing in signing the paper. His mother was understandably worried over a war in America. Especially a war that hit so close to the heart of issues within their own family.

It is hard enough to be away from you and your sister, but knowing there is a threat to your well-being causes me great worry. I have prayed and asked God to strengthen you as you face this crisis. Your father and I are unable to leave at this point. Amelia has taken ill, and though she is out of danger now, she must have an extensive time of recuperation before we can even think of traveling. But please know that you are never far from our prayers. York and Virginia will no doubt ally themselves to the cause of the South, but it is my desire that you refrain from engaging in this conflict. Should York be unavailable to you, remember Mr. Marcum is highly regarded by your father and me. He will help you make the best decisions. Nick and Amelia send their love, as does your father. I love you both so very much. Please remain safe.

There was a postscript added by their father, confirming his approval of their mother's message. He added that the war would most likely be resolved soon, but regardless, he was counting on Brenton to oversee Jordana's welfare.

Brenton refolded the letter and felt a confidence in returning to New York. His only sorrow came in having felt certain that God was leading him to great things. Now it seemed he would spend the war hidden away in a photography studio in New York, useful only to his sister and Caitlan.

Caitlan. The name made him reflect on all he'd just come through. He'd thought of her briefly when certain he was facing his death. The feelings in that thought had been of regret. Regret that he'd not had a chance to know her better. That he'd not found a way to help her see God as good and loving—or really caring what happened to His children.

Perhaps now he would have a chance to speak with her about her anger toward God. Maybe going back to New York would settle a bigger, more spiritual war.

14

Jordana was awakened by a strange tapping sound. At first she thought she'd only dreamed the noise, but as it became more persistent, she opened her eyes and sat up in bed. Meg was back on Staten Island for the summer, and her bed was very obviously empty. So where was the noise coming from?

Tap. Tap. Tap.

There it was again! Jordana got up from the bed and went to the window. Pulling back the drapes, she nearly screamed aloud at the sight of Caitlan O'Connor hanging on to the ledge.

Opening the window quickly, Jordana took a firm grip on Caitlan's arm. “What are you doing?” she hissed in a frantic whisper.

“Breakin' me neck if ya don't pull me in!” Caitlan's voice quavered fearfully.

Jordana could see that she'd climbed up the narrow trellis that barely came to the bottom of the second-story windows. She anchored her feet against the wall and pulled with all of her strength while Caitlan got a good tight hold on the windowsill and began to hoist herself upward.

“I'm glad ya showed me yar room last time. I might not have known where to find ya,” Caitlan said just as Jordana fell backward, with Caitlan plunging hard onto the wood floor right beside her.

“Are you all right?” Jordana was still unable to think clearly.

“Aye. I am now,” Caitlan said, easing into a sitting position. “Sorry to give ya such a fright, but I'm in trouble and ya were the only one I could turn to.”

Jordana sat up. “You're in trouble? Why?”

“The housekeeper thinks me a thief and threatened to call the police. 'Tis the commodore hisself who could be explainin' it all, but I'm doubtin' he will.”

Jordana was completely confused. “Wait a minute. Back up. Why did the housekeeper accuse you of being a thief?”

“Because the commodore lost his watch, and she found it under me bed. For sure she thinks I stole it, but the truth is the old man came to me room and we had a bit of a wrestlin' match.”

Jordana's mouth dropped open in shock. “That old man is incorrigible.”

“I had to leave,” Caitlan said, and her voice sounded sad. “I couldn't explain why the watch was there without havin' the commodore agree with me story.”

“But surely he would have,” Jordana replied. “After all, everyone already knows how he is with the ladies. Why, he even told Meg that he keeps you there because he likes your spirit. He thought your cheekiness was refreshing compared to those other cowering ninnies.”

“My ‘cheekiness'! Why, the nerve of the man after the way he behaved!”

“Well, I think he meant it as a compliment.” Jordana jumped up from the floor and gave Caitlan a hand up. When they had plopped more comfortably onto the bed, Jordana added, “So what happened?”

“I managed to slip away; then when the watch was found I tried to talk to him. I asked him to clear me name, but he knew all along where they'd find the watch, and he figured it'd give him leverage with me. He offered to keep me out of trouble if I'd be a bit more friendly with him.”

“You don't mean—”

“Don't even say it,” Caitlan replied, putting her finger to Jordana's lips. “It's foreign ya are to such things. I wouldn't ask ya to help me, but yar the only one who can.”

“Besides, you made me a promise,” Jordana said, taking hold of Caitlan's hand. “We're friends, and friends look out for each other. I'll hide you here until morning, and then we'll decide what is to be done.”

“Are ya sure?”

“Positive,” Jordana replied. “Come on. You can sleep the rest of the night in Meg's bed. Things will look better in the morning.”

But in the morning, Jordana had no better idea of what to do for Caitlan than she had had in the middle of the night. Dressing for morning devotions, Jordana bit her lip and pondered the problem with grave concern.

A loud knocking on the door startled both girls. Jordana and Caitlan exchanged looks of sheer panic before Jordana motioned Caitlan to get under the bed.

Opening the door, Jordana beamed an innocent smile at one of her classmates. “Good morning, Sylvia.”

“Good morning, Jordana. Mistress Deighton has sent me to collect you. She says you are to come straightaway to her office.”

Jordana felt the blood drain from her head. Somehow, the headmistress must have found out about Caitlan. No doubt she would severely punish Jordana for her indiscretion. Maybe even expel her.

“I'll be right there,” Jordana said, swallowing hard. She closed the door and whispered to her stowaway, “I don't know if Mistress Deighton knows about you or not, but stay here and keep out of sight. I'll be back as soon as I can.” She finished tying back her hair and hurried downstairs.

Bolstering her courage, Jordana lifted her hand to the headmistress's door and knocked. The door opened, but instead of finding Mistress Deighton, Jordana was astonished by the sight of her brother.

“Brenton!” she cried and ran across the room to throw herself into her brother's arms. “Oh, Brenton, you are a godsend. I was so worried about you, and you only wrote the one time, and I thought I might never see you again.”

Brenton laughed at her enthusiasm and set her away from him. “That might well have been true, but everything has changed. I'll save that story for later. For now, you'll be happy to know I've come back for good. I had a letter from Mother and Father, and they want us to stay as far from the war as possible. I knew you'd want to read it, so I brought it with me.”

Jordana took the letter and tucked it into her pocket. “Brenton, you can't know how pleased that makes me! And the timing of your return couldn't be more perfect. I have a rather pressing problem to solve,” she said, suddenly remembering Caitlan.

“Oh? I thought you were going to stay out of trouble while I was gone.”

“I did,” she said with a coy grin. “But this isn't really my problem. Well, it is, but . . .” She glanced around the room and pulled Brenton to the window. “Caitlan's hiding in my room upstairs.”

“What!”

She put her hand to his mouth. “Shh. The headmistress will hear you.” She glanced around the room. “By the way, where is she?”

“She went to get your records.”

“Why?”

“I told her we'd changed our minds about your being here this summer.”

Jordana stared at him in wonder. “Truly? You're going to let me out of here?”

“Don't make it sound like I've locked you in a prison.”

“Well, that's how it feels,” Jordana replied but quickly moved on. “Look, Caitlan's in trouble. I'll explain it all later, but for now we have to make a plan. We need to get her out of New York, so I thought maybe we could all go to Baltimore and—”

“No, we can't go there,” Brenton replied.

“Why not?”

“You wouldn't believe what's going on there just now. I think we'd be much better off to stick it out here.”

“But Caitlan is being accused of stealing from the Vanderbilts. She didn't do it, of course,” Jordana added quickly at the look of shock on Brenton's face. “The old commodore was being too fresh with her, and apparently his watch came off and rolled under her bed.”

“What was the commodore doing in her bedroom?”

“You
know
what he was doing,” Jordana countered, continuing to glance around suspiciously. “Anyway, the housekeeper threatened to turn her over to the police, and the commodore will only help if Caitlan is more cooperative with him—the scoundrel! So she ran away, and now we have to help her get out of New York.”

“I see what you mean,” Brenton said thoughtfully.

“Since we can't go back to Baltimore, maybe we should go to Oakbridge,” Jordana suggested.

Brenton shook his head sadly. “That wouldn't work either. No one is there, except the Union army. Many of the homes around the Potomac have been confiscated for the army's use. Uncle York has joined the Confederate army, and his family has gone—I don't know where. Probably to stay with relatives in the deep South. So have Aunt Virginia and the girls. I saw Nathan—in fact, he saved my life.”

“What!”

“I'll explain it all to you later. Look, I'm not sure what we can do at present. Perhaps Mrs. Clairmont has space at the boardinghouse, though I gave up my own room when I left. I've gotten us rooms in a hotel temporarily. Caitlan could stay in your room until we figure out what to do and find more permanent lodgings.”

“Do we have money?” Jordana asked.

“Some. Why?”

“Why don't we take her to Kiernan? I mean, it's summer and you are pulling me from school. You want to go west and photograph the country, and Caitlan must get out of New York and away from the commodore.”

“We don't have that much money at our disposal.”

“Then why don't we at least go as far as we can?”

“It wouldn't be reasonable. Mother and Father would never approve of it.”

“They are very obviously not here,” Jordana countered. “Caitlan needs us, Brenton. We can't let her down.”

“I don't intend to let her down. What about Meg? Maybe we could take Caitlan to their farm. The commodore would never dream of going there, and Caitlan would be safe until we could figure out what to do. In fact, if I know Meg's father, he'd probably be open to hearing the whole story and still offer his protection.”

“Yes,” Jordana nodded. “Yes, I didn't think of that.” It was such a logical solution that Jordana realized more than ever how much she needed her brother. However, she was just a little disappointed that the adventure of a desperate flight from the city had been nixed. Trying to be more practical, she added, “Meg has extended an open invitation to me. I'll send a message to her right away and let her know what has happened.”

“Then the matter seems under control for the moment at least,” Brenton said with a smile. “It's so good to see you again. I feel like I've been gone for years instead of just weeks.”

Jordana chuckled joyfully. “Mother always said we were more like inseparable twins.”

Brenton laughed, then sobered rather suddenly. “You know, we still have the matter of sneaking Caitlan out of your room. How do you propose we accomplish that?”

Jordana shrugged. “She could go back out the way she came in, but I think she'd probably protest. I know—why don't you keep the headmistress busy, and I'll get her downstairs and outside? I'll tell her to meet us in the garden by the big fountain. There's plenty of places to hide out there, and I'm sure she'll be just fine until we can get to her.”

“All right. You go along, then, and I'll keep the warden busy,” he teased with a smile that lit up his eyes.

“What fun we shall have now that you're home!” Jordana exclaimed. “Without you, I might have perished from boredom.”

Brenton shook his head. “Never. You make excitement wherever you go. Father always said you were a one-woman circus, and now I know why.”

Jordana smiled smugly and tilted her chin in the air. God had answered her prayers and suddenly everything seemed perfect. Her life was her own again and Brenton was back. Nothing bad could happen to them now.