Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

E dmond hunched over the small table in the officers’ quarters at Fort Howe a little over a week after Julian set fire to the store and Edmond had almost beat him to death before the man slunk off into the night—to the wilds of Florida, according to Mr. Long. As he’d expected, the rangers’ belated attempts to mount and follow had come to naught.

Now, ’twas but a few days until the date set for the wedding. Only, he knew not whether it would happen. Unlikely, considering that each of the three times Edmond had called on Tabitha, she had refused to speak with him. Had she written to her family to cancel the nuptials? He had not had the heart to do so with his.

The Grants might beset him two days hence only to discover he was without a bride. Which was exactly what he deserved.

Only when he had faced Julian Jackson had he understood the depth of hatred he held for the man. No wonder Tabitha could not bear to look at him. What a monster he must have appeared—pummeling a man to within an inch of his life. Even one such as Julian.

The Testament he had borrowed from Dougal that lay open before him bore repeated admonitions to confess the sin of hatred.

Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamour, and evil speaking, be put away from you, with all malice.

Avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine: I will repay, saith the Lord.

The anger against Evangeline burned even stronger.

Why? Edmond tangled his fingers in his hair.

Because her betrayal had been magnified a hundred times by the realization that she had far more than considered Julian’s suit. He doubted not what Julian said about her pregnancy. Not only did it explain her taking off across country for Darien, but her sister had told Edmond how ill and listless she had been after he left. He had attributed it to melancholy. Was that why she had pled with Edmond to stay and marry her, even when he explained that after his father’s suicide, he had no choice but to sign up, as the militia was his only opportunity for an immediate income?

And yet…she had initially come to him and not to Julian, asking Edmond not to enlist. Had she done so because Julian had forced her affections? Or at the very least, because she regretted what had happened between them? Either way, Evangeline had been na?ve—an easy victim for Julian’s calculations. She might not have known how to fight like Tabitha. The possibility that Edmond had blamed his fiancée for unfaithfulness when her innocence might have been stolen made him drop his head into his hands. Whatever happened, he’d abandoned her. The weight of that was crushing. And he might never learn the truth.

Forgive me, Lord.

His fingers stretched open across the page. Mark 11:25 read, And when ye stand praying, forgive, if ye have ought against any: that your Father also which is in heaven may forgive you your trespasses.

Had he not done the best he could under impossible circumstances?

No. He had not stopped to ask what God would have him do. He had run from his grief and anger at the first opportunity.

I’m sorry, Lord.

Forgive, if ye have ought against any.

Edmond slid out of the chair and hit his knees. He had been running from what happened for two years, and it had only caught up with him when he once again had something he cared about losing. He had let the darkness wrought by Julian and Evangeline and his father take up residence inside himself, and now it had cost him everything. Even if it was too late with Tabitha, he had to get it out.

He leaned forward and cupped his hands behind his neck. God, help me forgive them. Julian for sabotaging me. Father for taking his own life. Evangeline for her betrayal. And now, will You forgive me for running from You?

He waited.

A weight settled over him—not like that of the burden he had been carrying. A sweet weight, like a blanket on a chilly day. Like the arm of one’s beloved about the shoulders. Peace. Edmond exhaled and rested a moment in it. Then…

If it is not too late, will You give me another chance with Tabitha?

In a flash, he could’ve sworn he pictured God chuckling.

And then came the cry, “Rider at the gate!”

Edmond dropped his hands, listening. Yes, God was omnipotent, but it could not be. Could it? He had jumped up every time that call had rang out for the past week. No, he wouldn’t go rushing out again only to have the men give him that pitying look. Only to risk disappointment.

Oh, ye of little faith.

Edmond stayed where he was, determined to finish his prayers, though he did raise up to a kneeling posture. That was how the man who cast the shadow crossing the door caught his eye.

“Oh, Lieu-ten-ant…” The young private’s singsong voice hinted there was something outside he might want to see.

“Yes?”

The boy’s smile faltered at finding Edmond on his knees. “Are you all right, sir?”

“Never seen a man at his prayers, Private?” Edmond had endured a little too much humbling over the past week. His response came out a bit testy.

“Uh, no, sir. I mean, yes, sir.” He snapped off an errant salute. “There is someone here to see you, sir.”

“Why did you not say so?” Edmond struggled to his feet, almost upending the lightweight chair in the process. Plopping his hat on his head, he stomped past the private and through the door. And there he stopped.

Walking toward him was Tabitha. When she saw him, she came to a halt and pushed back the edges of the hood of her green wool cloak.

His mouth fell open. God really had answered his prayers that fast.

“Edmond?” His name quavered on her lips, almost as if she were not certain it was him. But with such hope. And she had come to him .

He wouldn’t make her wait another moment without knowing how much he had longed for her. He jogged down the steps and, in a few strides, he had her in his arms. Sliding his hand beneath her hood, he cupped her neck and lowered his mouth to hers. Edmond barely heard the hoots from the sentries on the wall. He arched his lips over hers with all the angst he had endured, that she must have endured?—

“Mmpf. Mmm?” Tabitha staggered back a step, disengaging the kiss. Putting her hand to her mouth. Her brown eyes bulged at him…only, they weren’t her eyes.

They looked like hers, but something was wrong.

Something was very wrong.

“You’re—you’re not…”

With a swipe of the back of her hand across her lips, the woman before him gave an apologetic grimace. “I’m not Tabitha. I am Temperance, her sister.” When Edmond could do no more than gape, she added, “Her twin .” She pulled a pair of spectacles from her pocket and slid them on. “I am forever getting myself in trouble for not wearing these. And…well…there is also this little difference…” She parted her cloak to reveal an unmistakably pregnant shape.

He sucked in perhaps the longest breath of life. And thought he might pass out backward. He had kissed Tabitha’s sister? A married woman…the wife of that…that scowling captain from the ball…whose child she was carrying. Oh, God help him.

The fort was the most silent Edmond had ever heard it. Then from the nearest bastion, one of his fellow rangers made a sound like a squeaky door, painfully drawn out.

Heat consumed Edmond’s face—his whole body. He managed to meet Temperance’s gaze and whisper, “I’m… so …sorry.”

“’Tis all right. That settled one question, at least.” She kept her voice low.

“What question?”

“The extent of your…er… enthusiasm for my sister.” Now she was blushing, too, as she hurried on. “’Tis partly my fault. I should have remembered how alike my sister and I seem to others, but I had been apart from her for so long, I suppose I had forgotten. And of course, you had no reason to expect me rather than her.”

Yes. He’d been so sure. And so elated to think she’d come. Which she hadn’t. His joy leached away, replaced by an emptiness that left him feeling hollower than before. “Why are you here?”

Temperance cast a glance at the wall, where the young private who had fetched Edmond was doing his level best to pretend great interest in the river on the other side of the stockade. “Perhaps we could go inside?”

“Of course.” He held his arm out toward the officers’ quarters. Edmond allowed Mrs... He couldn’t remember her husband’s name. He allowed Temperance to proceed him, but before he followed her inside, he shot a scowl at that peering private. He kept the door open for propriety’s sake. He could afford no more transgressions on that score. After he settled her at the table and offered her refreshment, which was refused, Edmond took the seat beside her. “Forgive me…” He stared at her a moment before slapping his hand on his knee. “What should I call you?”

Her shamefully rosy lips—his fault—turned up in a gracious smile. “My name is Mrs. Anderson, but you may call me Temperance, as I shall soon be your sister.”

“About that…” Had she come straight here from the coast, and he had missed sighting her horse or conveyance? “The wedding…it…”

“Is to take place in three days.” She bobbed her head without her smile faltering. Then she sobered. “Though I suppose that depends on you.”

“I’m sorry.” This might be the third time Edmond had apologized since Temperance arrived. He scrubbed his hand over his eyes. “I’m not sure you understand.”

She put back her hood all the way, adjusting her mob cap and spectacles. “Oh, I know about the fire. About Julian Jackson. In fact, ’tis all I have heard about for the past couple of days, ever since I arrived early expecting to bake and stitch and arrange flowers. And a good thing I did, for Dulcie was beside herself, unable to coax Tabitha from her room. And it made me feel I was still some good as a sister that I probably do understand Tabitha better than anyone. So I am here in her stead. First, I would hear your perspective of what happened last week.”

Edmond blew out a breath. Little as he wanted to remember—much less, recount—that terrible night, he told Tabitha’s sister about riding upon Julian minutes after he had set the blaze, tackling him, and the ensuing fight. “He baited me with a very painful truth, and in my anger and pride, I fell for it.”

Temperance’s gaze remained steady. “That your fiancée was expecting his child.”

“Yes.” Edmond had to avert his. “It reopened old wounds. Had your sister not intervened…” He passed his hand over his mouth. “She was right to recoil from me. Even to refuse to see me after. I had turned just as dark as those who had wronged me, though I did not realize it. Only today did I face the sin I carried inside.”

“You faced it?” Temperance sat forward. “How?”

He met her eyes again. “Conviction and repentance, Mrs. Anderson. Temperance. The same way all sinners get rid of sin.”

She exhaled a soft breath. “Oh, I am glad to hear you say it. I thought from what Tabitha and Dulcie said of you that you must be a believer.”

“I am, though I admit, I also believed the lie that God had abandoned me. But thank God for His grace and that He always gives us a second chance. I am not so certain Tabitha will.”

Temperance leaned closer to pat his hand. “Do not despair. I have a plan.”

“Oh, please tell me.” Edmond sagged against the back of his chair. He would grab hold of any lifeline at this point. “Tabitha thinks I concealed the fact that my fiancée had a relationship with Julian to somehow finagle Tabitha into this engagement with me—to get back at Julian. She couldn’t be more wrong. I wanted to protect her, not use her.”

A crease tucked in between Temperance’s dark brows. “But do you understand why that was so hurtful to her?”

“Is she doubting that I truly love her?” Here he had been thinking Tabitha’s reticence to see him stemmed from disgust. Perhaps fear. Instead, she was wrestling with her own hurt?

“I think it is more than that. I think the key is in what you just said.” She tapped the table. “She needs to know you did not use her. She has told you of the conditional love of our father? Then her husband. Correct?” She waited until Edmond nodded. “Both used her for their own purposes. When she did not fulfill them, she was cast aside. Deemed worthless. They only loved her for what she could give them.”

“Oh no.” Edmond flattened his hand on the table and sat up straight. “I must talk to her.”

Temperance’s mouth pressed into a sneaky smile. “I happen to know she was taking the noontime meal to the workers where they are piling the logs near the river today.” Edmond knew the place. “If you hurry, you will catch her there, and she will not find it easy to run away from you in front of them.”

Edmond stood up and grabbed his hat. “Then what are we waiting for?”

With a light touch to his arm, Temperance stopped him before he could rush out the door. “Er…um…Edmond?”

He subdued his impatience. “What is it?”

“Perhaps it would be best not to mention your…uh… greeting to my sister. Or my husband.” Her face went scarlet.

“On that we can agree.” He grimaced, imagining the ire of both. “We shall not speak of it. To anyone. Ever.” And if he had his way, from here on out, Tabitha would be the only woman he kissed forever.

T abitha sat on a massive cypress stump about a hundred yards from where Jack McMullan’s crew stockpiled the logs they had cut farther inland. She ran her fingers over the rough surface, her forehead puckering. Even though the men had been careful to leave stands of the biggest giants of the forest, now that she had seen some come down, she balked at the idea of more logging. After this season, she would do no more if she could help it. The primeval beauty of this place, its ancientness, was what made it magical. The idea of a store had been ingenuous—Edmond’s idea. Tabitha bit her lip.

When she had first arrived, the men had been driving the steers, and it had been fascinating to watch them work. They directed the bulls to drag the timbers into separate piles of cypress and yellow pine at the top of the bank. There they would be stored out of sight until the water level rose to its mid-December height. Then the logs would be rolled down the bank one by one and floated with a man atop each to the Darien mill.

She had not watched long, for as soon as the workers noticed the basket of food on her arm, they had congregated around her, eager for salted ham, Johnny cakes, and muscadines. Now they sat eating in little groups on the logs while the cattle grazed nearby.

Tabitha had already tossed away the core of her apple, but she did not mind waiting for them to finish and return the napkins that had wrapped their portions. Temperance had been right to push her out of her room. The autumn sun warmed her spirits as well as her body.

Temperance had also been right that she was focusing on none but herself. At first, she could not see past her assumption that Edmond’s rage showed that he was not over Evangeline—and had played Tabitha as a pawn in his scheme for revenge. But he had never taunted Julian with their relationship. In fact, he had gone to great lengths to conceal it from him. He had warned her to stay away from the man. She had been the one who had not listened.

As for his rage, Temperance had pointed out that it could have been a result of Julian coming after a second woman Edmond loved.

How betrayed Edmond must have felt when he realized Evangeline had not been faithful to him. Not only had Julian’s cruel comments insulted Edmond’s pride, but they had tarnished his intended’s memory. The same way Julian had sought to tarnish Tabitha—a fact which Edmond had not forgotten.

That was for Tabitha.

She had heard him say it. Why had she thought he had not truly chosen her? Why would she not want a man who would focus all his honor and passion and loyalty to protect and defend her?

Tabitha leapt to her feet, no longer caring about her basket or linens. She would go straightaway to Fort Howe and find him. But what if he had called off the wedding with the minister and his kin? Would he even agree to see her now? Or had she sent him away too many times, selfish and petulant vixen that she was? What other man could put up with her without ever feeling the need to belittle her? To push her back into her place.

Edmond was exactly the man she needed.

She started running along the river, the quickest way to the fort, dodging yellow-leaved tulip trees, brilliant sweetgums, and swamp tupelos with their ripening blue fruit. Her petticoats skimmed pepperbushes and snagged on palmettos.

And then she stopped, for something was coming toward her. Something huffing and crashing that sounded big.

Tabitha’s heart pounded. In her haste, she had forgotten about foraging wild boars and alligators soaking up the last of the season’s sun.

But when an arm pushed aside a low-hanging spruce pine branch and a man came into view, she let out her breath, all in a rush.

Edmond stopped about twenty yards upriver and stared at her, his eyes going wide. “Tabitha?”

“Edmond!” She bounded forward. At the last moment, he opened his arms, and she ran straight into them. “I was coming to see you.”

“And I you.” Oh, thank heavens, he bent over her and wrapped her in his embrace without hesitation, closing the lid on the gaping hole in her heart. “Can you forgive me? I am so ashamed of what you saw.” He lifted his head, drawing back to look at her. “But it showed me what was inside, and I have set it straight with God.”

Tabitha shook her head. “I cannot imagine the pain the revelations about Evangeline caused you.”

“Pain, yes, but more than anything, shame. I did not speak of her because I thought I had been too late to help her, just as I had Father. When I enlisted, I knew I ran the risk of her choosing Julian. I just did not realize she already had.” He tucked a strand of Tabitha’s hair behind her ear. “But she was not strong like you. And she was not the woman God intended for me. You are. I have to know, am I too late for you as well?”

The timbre of Tabitha’s laugh matched the golden sunshine highlighting them on the bank. “You can hardly be too late if I was running toward you rather than away from you. And I can promise, I will never run away from you again. Just as long as you promise I will not be too much for you. I know I can be a lot to handle.”

“Never.” The word was spoken on a vehement breath as Edmond dipped his forehead to hers. “I love every strength that others have deemed weaknesses. I do not want you for what you can do for me. I do not ask you to be a certain way, only that you be yourself. For that is who I choose…today…and forever.”

A whimper rose in her throat, and she framed his face with her hands. “Then can we please still have a wedding?”

“Without a doubt.” He lowered his head, and his parted lips slipped over hers and sealed the promise.