La Broie walked away, and Thomas gave Miss Emma one last look before he followed him down the hall.
“Mind how you go, son,” La Broie said as Thomas started up the stairs. Under less-pressing circumstances, they might have had yet another one of their discussions about familiarity and La Broie’s penchant for always having the last word, but there was no time for that now. Thomas could say with certainty that La Broie was no hypocrite. He thought his duly elected captain was about as useful as a teat on a bull, and he took no pains to hide it.
Thomas made the search of the second floor quickly, room by room, trying to convince himself as he went that Abiah wasn’t here, that she must have gone with the other women and children and the elderly who had had to flee the army’s advance into the town by taking refuge in the surrounding woods. But he found her in the last room he looked. She was lying facedown on the floor, half in a patch of sunlight. She, too, was wrapped in a quilt.
“Abiah?” he said, kneeling down by her and expecting the worst. “Abby?” He gently turned her over.
Incredibly, she opened her eyes. They were bright with fever.
“Abby, it’s me,” he said, when she closed them again. “It’s me—Thomas. Look at me. It’s Thomas—”
“Thomas?” she said weakly, trying to lift her head. “Thomas, I…couldn’t get…the fire to…burn…”
“I’ll take care of it,” he said, moving to grab another quilt off the bed and covering her.
She closed her eyes, and he moved her slightly so that she was in the warmth of sunlight again.
“Everybody’s…gone, Thomas. Mother is…is…”
“I know, honey,” he said.
“I got sick…first. Mother was…looking after…me. But then…” Tears ran out of the corners of her eyes and down her face.
“Don’t talk. It’s going to be all right.”
He moved away from her to try to get a fire going in the fireplace. There were still some embers burning beneath the ashes, and it took him only a moment to coax them into flames. “Let’s get you back to bed,” he said.
“No, just leave me here. I hurt so…”
“Come on now,” he said, rolling her to him so he could lift her. She made a small sound when he stood up.
“I’m sorry about Miss Emma,” he said as he carried her to the bed. Abiah was so pale and thin. He had always thought her a pretty little thing, but now he hardly recognized her. And it wasn’t just the illness. It had been nearly two years to the day since he’d seen her last. During that time she seemed to have made a remarkable transformation from a gangly girl to a young woman.
“You shouldn’t be here, Thomas,” she said as he laid her on the high feather bed, but she clutched the front of his coat when he tried to straighten up again. “You’re…in the wrong army.”
“Well, that’s a matter of opinion,” he said.
She tried to smile. “You’ll have to…forgive me…if I don’t care to discuss that right now.”
He gently removed her hand from his coat front and covered it with the quilt.
“I could…hear the guns,” she whispered. “It was a…terrible battle, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Guire’s dead,” she said. “Did you…know that?”
“No. No, I didn’t know. When—?” He stopped because he didn’t trust his voice.
“It was at Malvern Hill. He…” She began to shiver. “I’m so…cold…”
He waited, but she didn’t say anything else.
“Abby?” he said after a moment. He needed to get more wood. He needed to see if he could find something in the house to feed her. And then he needed to decide what he was going to do with her. He couldn’t leave her here. She’d die here alone in the cold if he did.
“Are you…married, Thomas?” she asked abruptly.
“What?” he said, because the question caught him completely off guard.
“Guire wrote us you were engaged. Did you marry her?”
“No, I didn’t marry her,” he said, surprised that the letter he had written to Guire advising him of his matrimonial intent must have actually reached him.
“Good,” she said. “I wouldn’t want to die…coveting someone else’s husband.”
He frowned, thinking that he had misunderstood, and she suddenly smiled. “Poor Thomas. I’ve scandalized you…haven’t I? I know you always thought…I was a child. Do you…mind very much?”
“Mind?”
“That I love you.”
“Abby—”
“Don’t look so worried, Thomas. Nothing…is required of you. I’m only confessing because I’m dying…”
“You’re not dying, so you’d better watch what you say.”
She smiled slightly. “I used to hide and listen to you and Guire discuss…philosophy. ‘I think, therefore I am.’ Isn’t that the way it goes? Whoever said it is right, you know…” She said something else he didn’t understand.
“What?” he said again. He sat down on the edge of the bed, with no thought as to the propriety of such a gesture. She turned her head to look at him.
“I said, God is…good.”
“I don’t understand,” he said, because he was sure now that she was delirious.
“I don’t mind…dying so much…now.”
“Abby—”
“It’s a…gift, you see? It gives me such…joy…to see you one last…time. I—” She broke off and gave a sharp sigh. “I’m going to cry…and I don’t want to. I don’t want you to…think I’m sad.” Her dark eyes searched his. “I wanted to marry you, Thomas, did you…know that? I told Guire. He said you were…too…wild for…me.”
Wild? Thomas thought. If he remembered correctly, that word was synonymous with the name Guire.
“He told me about…those places…the two of you went to…in New Orleans. Those ‘houses’ with the red velvet…draperies and the crystal…chandeliers and those strangely colored birds in golden…cages all along the verandas. He said all the fancy women there…adored you.”
“Now, why in God’s name would he tell you something like that?” Thomas asked, more than a little annoyed at the direction this conversation had taken.
She smiled. “Did he…lie?’
Thomas didn’t answer her.
“That’s what I…thought,” she said.
“Sometimes the truth is not required, Abiah.”
“And sometimes it is. He said if I had my…heart set on you…then…I should know these, things. I should know the real…man is not the same as a schoolgirl’s…idea of him. But I didn’t…care about the fancy women. Or about the trouble with your father and grandfather…or anything else. I only cared about you. I was going to trap you the next time you came here to visit…so you’d have to marry me. I was going to wait until everyone had gone to sleep…and I was going to…come into your bed—”
“Abiah!” he said, because he was indeed shocked now.
“You needed me, Thomas…even if you didn’t know it.