The Memory House

“I know what you’re saying, but I can’t. And how you can gives question to your loyalty. These horrible, smelly men have taken over our home, raided our smokehouse, and still you shower them with compassion—you wash their fevered faces and wrap their bloody wounds. I don’t understand you.”

Of that, Charlotte was quite aware and full of remorse that she had not become what the Portlands needed. Not Edgar. Not Josie. Only sweet and simple Patience seemed to genuinely care for her. Yet, she would not give up trying. They were her family now.

“Did you not sleep well?” she asked, hoping to mollify her stormy sister-in-law. Josie had suffered insomnia from childhood, a malady that worsened after her fiancé marched away with the Confederacy two years ago.

“I wonder if I’ll ever sleep again. I miss him until I think my heart will burst. I want him to come home.”

“Soon, this war will be over and Tom will return. Then, we’ll have a grand wedding and invite everyone in Honey Ridge.”

“Oh, Charlotte, I dream of that day—” Josie clasped a fist to her chest “—when I glide down the staircase in Mama’s wedding gown and Tom is waiting in the parlor to marry me.”

“We’ll get your mother’s gown from the attic this very evening and check the fitting.” After the work. After the patients were tended, the bandages changed, the bloody floors scrubbed and food put on the table.

“Really? Could we?”

“Of course we can.” Though Charlotte was bone weary and would rather collapse on her bed, they needed distractions during these long, trying months of war. No matter how petulant Josie could be. “Tonight, I’ll ask Lizzy to prepare a tea for you. You’ll sleep like a baby and dream of your wedding day.”

Josie made a face. “Her potions taste horrid.”

Lizzy was Charlotte’s friend more than her maid, though Charlotte had been chastised by Edgar for saying as much. Slaves, he insisted, were property, not friends. Yet, he did not prevent her from tending their sick or teaching the slave children to read scripture. He was a strange man, her husband, and she despaired of ever fully knowing him.

“We’ll add a spoon of honey.” She moved to the window and glanced out. Soldiers raided the orchard, though peach season had waned and few fruit remained. She prayed they didn’t discover the storage in the cellar or the silver and heirlooms Hob and Lizzy had buried below the carriage house. “Have you seen Benjamin this morning?”

“He’s probably off fishing with Tandy somewhere. Or lurking with those horrible men. You really should speak to him, Charlotte.”

Another soft tap sounded at her door and Charlotte was grateful for the interruption. Short of locking Ben in his room, keeping him away from the soldiers was impossible. They were everywhere, and both he and Tandy were agog with interest.

When she opened the door, the small love of her life threw his sturdy body against her skirts. With him came the ever-present Tandy, Lizzy’s son and Benjamin’s playmate. “Mama!”

Charlotte’s dress pooled around her feet as she dipped low to embrace him. She thanked God every day that this baby had been spared the fate of the others. Though she longed for more, Edgar had turned away from her bed after the last tiny soul was laid to rest. Because she’d failed in that most fundamental of wifely duties, Ben was likely the only living child she’d ever have. So, she loved him all the more. Desperately, she loved him.

“You smell like horse,” she said, relishing the scent because it came from Benjamin. With deep affection, she smoothed his cowlick, a stubborn column of wheat-colored hair poking up from his crown.

“Captain Will let us pet Smokey. That’s his horse. He’s named Smokey because he’s gray but his mane and tail are black.”

Josie drew back like a rattlesnake. “You stay away from that Yankee. Why, your daddy will have your hide.”

Ben turned worried eyes to Charlotte. “Will he, Mama?”

“Of course not.” Though Edgar was not an affectionate or attentive father, he was not cruel to his son. He was, however, full of hatred toward the Federals. “But you be good boys and don’t bother the captain. He is a busy man.”

“Captain Will is nice. He said boys are no bother at all.” Tandy shared a nod with Ben. “’Cause he used to be one back in Ohio.”

Ohio. The good captain was a long way from home. She wondered what he’d done before the war and if a wife or a sweetheart longed for his return.

“I like him,” Ben declared, and his innocent goodness stirred both fear and pride in his mother. The captain was kind and had given the boy attention, something he often lacked from Edgar, though she felt disloyal for thinking so. “Mama, he wants to talk to you in the parlor.”

A sudden anticipation fluttered in Charlotte’s belly as unwelcome and disturbing as the onslaught of Yankees. These daily conversations with Captain Will Gadsden troubled her, for she enjoyed them.

Perhaps too much.

Edgar needed to come home.

8 (#ulink_a7264030-f2aa-5491-8fef-76fced30aa4d)

Honey Ridge

Present Day

Eli glanced at the gas gauge as he pulled slowly through Honey Ridge. He was running low and had no idea where he was going. Right now, his head pounded and he couldn’t think straight. Remembering a park he’d passed on the way in, he headed there. Parks had been his friends and sometimes his bedrooms since his release. Saving enough money to rent an apartment wasn’t easy to do when all a man could find were odd jobs. The minute he filled out application forms and admitted he was a convicted felon, employment offers disappeared.

He pulled into the graveled parking space, got out of the Dodge and walked to a shady concrete table. Birds had been there first, leaving behind their calling cards. Glad to be outside in the fresh air with the deep green leaves hanging overhead, Eli propped his elbows on the hard concrete and watched red birds peck the ground for the remains of someone’s Cheetos.

Life was a dilemma. As much as he hated prison, he’d understood it. The boring routine, the men to avoid, the unspoken rules about keeping his mouth shut and his head down. But out here in the real world was different. He wondered if he’d ever adjust.

He had a son. That one fact hammered away at him like the woodpecker in the live oak next to the merry-go-round. He wondered if his son played here. Had Mindy brought him? Had she pushed him on the swings or had she been too sick and weak to play anymore? Opal certainly couldn’t. What kind of childhood would his son have with a sick old woman who could barely walk?

He tugged his wallet from his back pocket and counted his money. Thirty-seven dollars. A man couldn’t take care of a child on that amount.

When a black-and-white car pulled up next to his Eli tensed, watching a uniformed policeman exit the cruiser and walk around the Dodge. The cop would call in the out-of-town plates. Find them clean. No use getting in a panic.

But Eli’s palms sweated.

The officer saw him and stepped over the low cable fence. Eli drew a breath, releasing the air in a slow, calming exhale. He had nothing to hide. A stranger in a small-town park would naturally arouse curiosity. He shouldn’t have stopped here.

“’Morning.”

“’Morning.”

“I’m Trey Riley, Honey Ridge Police Department. Don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

“Eli Donovan. I’m down from Nashville. Visiting family.” That much was true. He had a son in Honey Ridge. Poor kid.

“Is that your Dodge?”

Eli offered a wry expression. “Such as it is. I had a little car trouble this morning.”

“Yeah?” Officer Riley turned to look at the old clunker. “Anything I can help with?”

“Bad battery. It’s running now.” He chuffed. “Or it was when I stopped. A man at the inn gave me a jump.”

“Peach Orchard Inn?”

“Yes.”

“Nice place. Julia and Valery have done a great job restoring it. When I was a kid we thought the house was haunted.” Trey Riley chuckled, a nice easy sound as though he laughed often. “Mostly wild stories about Civil War ghosts to keep kids out, I think, but I’m glad to see the place inhabited by the living for a change.”

Eli didn’t know what to say. His conversation skills had taken a hit in the past seven years. “She makes good coffee.”