The Journey Home

Two days had gone by since the evening of the celebration and the plantation was quiet, as people passed through the rooms of its interior with soft footsteps

So as not to disturb the master of the house. He was very ill and had been ever since his collapse. He lay in his upstairs bedroom, pale and weak, and

though the doctor had been to see him several times over the past two days, there wasn't much to be done for him. James leaned against the wall outside

his father's chamber, watching rain fall softly against the window opposite him.

He felt a light touch on his arm then and looked down to see Muriel looking up at him. She'd just emerged from one of the guest rooms down the hall and

she looked sleepy, her hair loose about her, her face flushed, and her eyes foggy. James had to smile. He thought she looked lovely the

way she was. He reached out and pulled her to him, feeling her warm frame curve into his arms. She burrowed against his chest and attempted to stifle a

rather undignified yawn. He couldn't help himself and he laughed, cupping her face in his hands and placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Sleep did not

come so easily last night?" he asked, keeping his voice low so as to keep the quiet of the house.

She yawned once more, covering her mouth with a hand and eliciting another laugh from James. "It's not that," she answered.

"What then?"

"I've been up at the same hour of the day for the past decade or so. I don't think I've ever slept this late into the morning before. I fear I'm not used

to it," she said.

James looked at the great clock, which stood, polished and gleaming on the wall behind Muriel. "It's only seven of the clock,"

She nodded, her gaze flicking towards the door behind which lay James's father. "How is he?"

James sighed. "We'll be better able to talk in the parlor I think, come," he said, guiding Muriel down the stairs and into the parlor.

They sat in the room, and James was just about to speak when a woman appeared at the parlor door. "Sir, breakfast is ready if you and the girl are wantin

any," she said.

James stood with Muriel on his arm. "Thank you very much Hanna," he said, walking with Muriel towards the large dining room where a table was set.

"Yes Sir, I'll go wake Libby and the Mrs.," Hanna said, ascending the stairs.

James led Muriel into the dining room, pulling out a chair for her and then seating himself. "How long has she been with your family?" she asked.

James smiled. "She was here before I was born,"

Muriel nodded, and then looked at the food around her. She saw plates of fruit, eggs, pitchers of milk and a pot of tea. There was a platter full of sliced

ham beside another plate full of biscuits, and then her eye fell on a pale blue bowl, which James held. The food in it looked much like rice, but it sat in

a pool of melted butter and pepper. He was spooning some of it on to his plate. "What is that?" she asked.

He looked up at her. "Would you care for some?" he asked, offering her the bowl. She took the hot dish in her hands and spooned some of the thick substance

onto her plate. James watched as she took a bite, and then laughed as she swallowed with a grimace and with obvious effort. "Am I to assume Ms. O'Shae,

that you have never tasted grits before?" he asked, smirking at her over the rim of his cup.

She scowled at him. "Do your duty to them James, they aren't my taste," she said, placing a slice of ham on to her plate.

James stood as his mother and sister came into the room and he moved to pull out chairs for both of them. "Did you sleep well Mother?" he asked, lifting

the teapot and pouring her a cup.

"Yes thank you Dear," she said, lifting her cup and taking a sip from it. Hanna entered the room then, carrying a bowl of sugar and a jar of honey. Another

girl followed her, and as Hanna set the items on the table, Muriel saw the girl struggling to carry a large pitcher of water. Without thinking, she rose

from her seat and went to the girl, lifting the pitcher and carrying it towards the table. She set it down and walked briskly after the girl towards the

back door, which led out to the kitchens. She only stopped when the clatter of dropped cutlery and a gasp caught her attention. She turned and saw the

family staring at her. Abigail and Elizabeth both looked shocked, but as she looked at James, she saw him standing beside his chair, watching her. He lifted

a hand to his mouth and let out a smothered cough. He met her gaze, and in it she saw laughter, pride, and a much warmer, deeper emotion, which made her

want to hold his gaze, but at that moment Abigail spoke and Muriel looked towards her. "Maggie, you may leave now," she said, and Muriel looked back at

the girl, who was still standing in the room, and gaping at Muriel with wide eyes,

"Yes Ma'am," the girl murmured, turning and hurrying from the room.

James walked over to Muriel, resting a hand against her back and guiding her back to her seat. She gave him an apprehensive look, realizing that she'd insulted

nearly everyone in the room. He smiled at her and let her take her seat before sitting down himself. The rest of the meal was eaten in silence, and as

Abigail rose from her seat, Muriel spoke up. "Mrs. Sinclair, if I did anything to offend you, I'm sorry," she said.

Abigail turned, her expression tense. "I will allow a display like that this once, because you are not of this place, but never again," she said, walking

from the room.

Muriel looked at James, her eyes wide and the look in them confused. James kissed her cheek and then strode after his mother. He caught up with her as she

ascended the stairs. "Mother, may I speak with you?"

She turned to him, and then walked down the stairs to meet him at the bottom. "Yes, what is it James?" she asked.

"Mother, why did you speak to Ms. O'Shae so harshly?"

She turned, walking quickly up the stairs and James followed her. She walked into her room and sat at her vanity, beginning to brush out her long dark hair. James hesitated at the threshold, watching his mother in the mirror.

Abigail caught her son’s eye. “You may come in James,” she said, her tone more gentle than it had been earlier. He entered the room and stood, his eyes still on his mother. Her lovely face was drawn and her eyes were tired, the delicate skin beneath them dark from lack of sleep. The two stared at one another in the glass for a few moments before she spoke again. "I am sorry James. I know she is young, and not of this place, but you could have at least told her of our ways, although I doubt she would've listened

even if you had spoken. I realize now she is wild, and it's not a wonder, she mixes so unabashedly with slaves," she said, brushing her hair in harsher,

quicker strokes.

James sighed. "She comes from a family in which work is started well before first light,

and ended well after sunset. Every person in that family is vital to the lives of the others. They work all day to survive, and almost never make profit

from their labors. She was only doing what came naturally to her, and what she has been doing for years in her own home. She knows nothing about slave keeping,

and never meant to insult anyone. She has taught me more about family, and true loyalty than anyone I've ever met before," he said.

She set her brush down and began pulling her hair up and away from her face. "You talk of loyalty, and yet you sit and do nothing while your father

lies helpless, breathing his last," she said, her voice breaking on the last word.

"Mother you can't be certain he is."

She turned to face him, tears glistening in her eyes. "I know he is difficult, and I know the past between you, but James, please. He is your father, and he is slipping

away. Please go and talk to him," she said, her voice hushed and thick with emotion.

He lifted a white handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed her eyes and cheeks with it. "I will go talk to him Mother. Please, don't grieve so," he said,

kissing her cheek.

She nodded. "Thank you James, and do forgive me for speaking of Muriel in that way. She is a lovely girl," she said.

He kissed her cheek once more. "All is forgiven Mother. You needn't worry any longer," he said, rising and heading for his father's room. His mother was

right. He ought to try and mend things as well as he could before it was too late. He entered the darkened room, hearing immediately the harsh sounds of

his father's labored breathing. He went to the bed and looked down at the man. The person lying in the bed hardly resembled his father. The pale, thin

man looked utterly exhausted and very old.

Mathew had always been a kind father, distant and rare in his show of affection, but never violent, until James had stood against him.

James sighed, trying desperately to find something to say and not knowing the words. "Father?" he asked softly. Mathew turned to him and looked at his son

through sunken eyes. "Father I.""

Mathew motioned to the water pitcher beside the bed and James poured him a cup. He held the cup to his father's lips and the man sipped, staring at his

son the entire time. When James had set the glass aside Mathew drew in a breath and spoke. "Leave this place. I do not need you to come, and mock me at

my most vulnerable," he rasped, falling back against the pillows.

James felt the frail hope inside him shatter, and sadness slid heavily over him, like stone. He stared at his father for a moment, and then stood, turning and walking from the room. He moved down the hallway and saw his mother walking towards

him. "Did you speak with him?"

James stood before her. "Yes, we spoke,"

"Did it go well?" she asked, her eyes alight with hope.

James stared at her, unsure of what to say, and then he spoke. "It went as well as it could have. You had better go and see him however; I fear he does not have

much longer to live," he said.

She lowered her head, closing her eyes for a moment, and then she nodded. "Please tell Libby to come up when you see her," she said, hurrying off towards Mathew's room.

James walked down to where Muriel and Elizabeth sat, sipping tea and talking. "Libby, Mother is asking for you," he said.

Elizabeth rose, quietly excusing herself from Muriel's company and moving for the stairs. James went to Muriel and pulled her to her feet. "I am sorry James,"

she said.

He shook his head, leading her out and on to the front steps. The rain of earlier hadn't stopped but the air held a clean, fresh scent, which Muriel breathed

in as they walked to a bench beneath a sprawling tree in the front gardens. They sat, feeling the cool mist from the falling rain flow around them. "My mother

asked me to apologize for her behavior," he said.

Muriel nodded. "She is forgiven. How is your father?"

James sighed. "Mother asked me to speak to him, but he would not hear of it. I sat with him for a time, not knowing what to say, and when I at last found

something worth saying to him, he sent me away. When she asked how it had all gone I told her things had gone as well as was possible. I didn’t want to see her suffer anymore

because of him, but I couldn’t lie to her either. I hope she understood," he said.

She slid her small hand into his and squeezed it gently. "It was no fault of your

own. You did all you could and the rest was his choice. I admire you for trying to mend things. Clearly he wasn’t willing to do so, but you tried nevertheless,"

she said.

He smiled, but the smile was a sad one. He lifted her hand and kissed it. "I realize that, and I only wish that it were more of a comfort to me now. I wanted to mend things between us. For the first time in years I sincerely wanted to do that, not simply because my mother wished for it, but because, regardless of anything else, he is my father; and not long for this world. I had to try," he

Said. He gave a heavy sigh, his eyes settling closed.

Muriel had never seen him look so sad, so lost and somehow small. She put her arms about him and held him to her, swallowing back the lump in her throat.

She gave him a brief, but gentle kiss, resting a hand against his warm cheek. “All you can do now is pray for him. When people cause us to lose our hope and faith in them, we can always turn to God, because our hope is always in him and our faith will always be renewed,” she said, her hand stroking his cheek. She kissed him gently once more. “Place your cares in God’s hands James, for he will never abandon you.”

He pulled her to him, thinking only of holding her as tightly as he could. She would never know how deeply her words had touched him. He had felt his faith slipping away as the war had dragged on, as he had seen more and more horrors committed on both sides and then he had met her. He knew with certainty that God had placed her in his life to call him back. Through this woman, he felt his soul refreshed, and a Christian faith which he had doubted in the past few years renewed. “I love you Muriel,” he whispered, wishing he could better convey the depth of emotion he felt at that moment.

Her smile lit her entire face, making her look lovelier than he ever could have imagined. “I love you James. I’ve wanted to tell you for so long now, but I…”

“Couldn’t find an appropriate moment?” he asked, chuckling softly.

She laughed. “Yes,” she answered, still laughing as she thought of many perfectly appropriate moments which had been interrupted. They kissed, the previous sadness fading in their joy. She leaned against him, wrapping her arms about him, and wanting only to lose herself in that moment. His hands pressed against the small of her back, and he pulled her strongly against him, letting out a deep, contented sigh. Abruptly, he released her from his arms, at the same time, breaking the mesmerizing kiss.

She blinked up at him, looking slightly dazed. “Is something the matter?”

He stood suddenly, moving away from the bench and into the rain, which fell lightly around them. Muriel rose from her seat, walking after him. “James, are you all right? Have… have I done something wrong?” she asked, reaching for his hand.

He turned to her, taking her hand in both of his. “No Muriel, you have done nothing wrong,” he said, squeezing her hand.

“What is it then?”

He looked away from her, slight color coming into his face. “Nothing is the matter. I simply wish to continue to respect you in the way you and I have always agreed upon. I love you for many reasons, not the least of which is that you are a Lady, in every sense of the word and on occasion, I don’t,”

She stopped his speech with a gentle, chaste kiss. “I thank you so much for that my Love, and I can only hope that I have been as respectful of you as you have been of me,” she said.

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “You dear woman, of course you hav,” he said, kissing her fingers once more.

She let him pull her into his arms, molding herself to the curves of his chest. “You are so wonderful,” she whispered, lifting her face for a kiss. He obliged her willingly as the rain fell softly upon them, and when he pulled back from her, she smiled. “I love you so much,” she said, her hands resting against his face.

He smiled. “Never have I loved another more, but we’ll soon be soaked if we don’t get out of this rain,”

He led her back towards the bench and once there, he took off his coat and draped it about her shoulders. “There’s no need for that. I’m not cold,” she said.

He waved a hand, motioning for her to sit. “I insist.”

She smiled and settled herself once again beside him, taking his hand in hers. They sat together, their hands entwined, talking softly as the rain gradually reduced in intensity to a gentle sprinkle. He told her he'd loved her from the moment she'd first looked at him. "I had never seen someone as brave as you were at that moment,"

He said, smiling down at her.

She gave a soft giggle and moved further into the curve of his arm. "I knew the moment I found your coat covering me. Not many men would’ve done that. I knew I loved you then," she said. He kissed her warmly, letting the moment linger before pulling back and looking down at her.

She rested her hand against his face once more, smiling when she felt him lean into the curve of her palm. "Are you all right?" she asked, her gaze flicking

towards the house before returning back to him.

"You told me once that my father's failings were none of my own. Thanks to you, and to God, I believe that now. I am more content at this very moment, than I have ever

been in my entire life," he said.

Suddenly, the two looked up as the front door banged open and Elizabeth ran out, never minding the rain wetting her dress. "James, bring the doctor!"

The day of Mathew Thomas Sinclair's burial was warm and sunny, with the sky perfectly clear and blue. The gathered people stood about his grave, the women

crying into their handkerchiefs as the men stood beside them, staring at the flowered grave, feeling much too warm in their black suits and jackets. Muriel

stood beside James, wearing a dress of dark material, which Elizabeth had lent her. Her eyes were dry, and though she knew it should be, her mind was not

on the graveside prayer being said. She stared at the grave and her father's face floated to the surface of her mind once more. The last time she'd seen

him, he had been too pale, much too thin and she knew she had to get home. What if she was too late? What if he was gone, then the farm would be gone too.

"Muriel?" James asked from beside her, his voice low, and soft, and at her ear. She couldn't help smiling when she heard him. "Are you all right?" he asked, turning her to face him.

She looked behind his shoulder at the sound of sobbing and saw his mother and sister standing there, holding one another with no one else to comfort them.

"I'll tell you another time," she answered, still watching the women.

James followed her gaze and walked towards the pair. He reached his mother and sister and spoke softly to them both. Muriel came and stood beside him, gently

taking Elizabeth's trembling arm. She led the girl away, keeping a respectful distance from James and his mother. "What are we going to do now?" Elizabeth

asked.

"You needn't worry about that now. You and your mother will be all right," Muriel said, slipping a comforting arm about the girl's waist.

"But with Father gone, how will we live properly?" she asked, another sob shaking her.

"Libby, I promise that you will be taken care of. I lost my Ma when I was younger than you are now, and I managed. Nothing will happen to you or your mother,"

Muriel said, lightly squeezing Elizabeth's hand.

"I just feel, so lost and, I can't explain it any better. I'm so sorry," she wept, covering her face with both hands.

Muriel put her arms about the girl, holding her and remembering her mother's death with a fresh stab of grief. She had been like this, had sobbed inconsolably

at some points, only able to rest in the arms of her brother's wife, asking the older woman why, and receiving only soft, but sincere words in return.

The words had been the only comfort Christina could've given, and now, they came back to Muriel, easing the pain she felt in her heart. She began to speak,

stroking the girl's silky blond hair. "Hush now Darlin, hush. This won't swallow you, even if that's how you feel now. Your Papa is home with God, in a

better place than this one, and he'll be there to greet you when the lord calls you home. You'll be all right Libby, things will be all right." She gently

rocked the girl, feeling Elizabeth's sobs subside. Libby rested her head against Muriel's shoulder, her eyes closed.

"Thank you," she murmured, her blue eyes opening and staring into Muriel's.

Muriel nodded. "You're welcome Libby," she said.

Elizabeth dried her eyes on her handkerchief and looked in the direction James and Abigail had gone. "I suppose I had better find Mother," she said, and

with a warm smile at Muriel, she turned and walked away.

James watched as his sister and mother embraced. Both women still looked very sad and troubled, but they looked better than they had, Libby in particular.

He had seen Muriel comforting her a few moments before, and he wondered idly what she had said. He looked about for her, but saw another woman walking

towards him, dressed in skirts and a bonnet of black. He sighed, and went to meet her, feeling it was better to have it over and done with as soon as he

could. "Ms. Spenser, how thoughtful of you to come," he said, bowing to her and lifting his hat.

"Oh James this must be simply terrible for you," she said, sliding her arm through his and gripping his hand.

He fixed his gaze on the soft blue of the sky and nodded. "It is more difficult than you can imagine."

She made a sympathetic noise and rested her head against his shoulder. "You poor thing. What will your family do now that your father is gone?" she asked,

squeezing his hand once more.

"You shouldn't concern yourself with such matters Ms. Spenser. My family will be well provided for," he said.

She gave a rueful sigh. "I suppose you're right. I only wish there was more I could do," she said, her face close to his and her eyes large and mournful.

He pulled out of her grasp and looked down at her. "I thank you for your kindness in coming to honor my father, but there is nothing more you can do for

me, or for my family. I must be going now, but thank you once again, and please, give your condolences to my mother and sister when you see them, they

grieve more deeply than I," he said, turning from her and walking away across the grass. He had seen Muriel, and the sight of her was touching to say the

least.

She knelt alone before his father's grave, her head lowered and her hands clasped in prayer. He approached her, watching the breeze stir the rich spill

of red hair, which fell down her back. The only thing holding her hair in place was a dark blue scarf, which she had sewn herself to keep her head protected

against sun and rain. He watched the ends of the scarf twirl in the breeze, brushing against her cheeks. Her face held a look of peace he had never seen

before, and her eyes were closed, the dark lashes brushing against her fair skin. He heard her speaking in a soft, reverent tone, her hands clasped together.

"Lord, bless him and keep him, for his faith is something only you can know. Forgive him his sins, and bring him into your kingdom. Dear Mother, watch over

him, and intercede for him if he is not lost to darkness. Amen,”

"Muriel?" he asked softly, not wanting to disturb her.

She rose, whirling to face him, and he saw something clutched in her hands that he at first took to be a necklace. Upon a closer look he saw it was a rosary,

fashioned from carved wood. He had only seen one once before, in a town his company had come across a priest had blessed the men before they'd gone on

their way, and he had been holding a rosary in his hand. James had asked what it was and the priest had told him, saying it was a great source of strength

for the faithful. The rosary Muriel held was smaller than the priest's had been, and made of wood and yarn, but there was no mistaking it. He looked up

at her as she began to speak, and was startled to see she looked frightened. "I'm sorry James, I was only."

He stepped towards her, resting a hand against her cheek. "My father despised you. He questioned your virtue directly to me, and thought you were one

of the lowest creatures on this earth. I'm certain you know that, and yet here you are, praying for him. I have not had a kind thought towards him in years,

and you sit, saying a prayer for his soul. I love you more than you will ever know for that," he said, moving closer to her. He wrapped her in his arms,

holding her to him and letting out a long, heavy sigh.

"It is what the lord would've done. He told us we ought to do the same," she said, returning his embrace.

"Why were you frightened when I spoke to you?" he asked, stroking her hair.

"Because I don't know the faith of your family, and I was unsure how you or anyone else would react. Sometimes, it is dangerous for a person to show their

faith openly, but everyone deserves a prayer and this is the only way I know how," she said.

James took her face in his hands and kissed her, lingering there for a moment before pulling back and gazing at her, his eyes soft. "Will you stand with

me as I pay my respects?" he asked.

She slid her hand into his, smiling up at him. "Of course I will,"

They walked to his father's grave and stood, the warm mid-morning breeze blowing around them both. James was silent for a few moments, but as he began to

speak, he felt something heavy at last slide from his mind and heart. He doffed his hat and drew in a breath. "I will never agree with your beliefs, or

your choices in the life you led, but you made sure your family was well cared for. You never raised a hand to my mother and sister, and you were never

unkind to either of them. For that at least, I am grateful. I don’t have the words at this moment, but whatever your judgment from God maybe, I can only believe it was deserved.”

Muriel squeezed his hand, standing on tiptoe and kissing his cheek. He turned, slipping an arm about her waist. "That was wonderful," she said as they walked

away to find his mother and sister.

He smiled down at her, smoothing a loose strand of her hair back into place. "It wasn’t all I wished to say, but it is enough. Thank you for your help," he said, placing a kiss on her cheek. She leaned into

the curve of his side, and they began to talk softly as they went in search of Libby and Abigail.

Some weeks passed, and James completed the work of settling his father's affairs. Mathew had not had time enough to properly name another man as heir of

the plantation, and so the estate went to James. He accepted it, but made certain that when Elizabeth married, he would pass it on to her husband. His

mother and sister had been fairing well over the passed weeks, but he knew that they would not have done as well if he had not been home. His mother had

told him time and time again after his father's death that it was truly a blessing to have him home. He knew that she depended on him now, and that had

made the letter which he'd sent off weeks ago a little easier to write, but not much. Now he sat in the sunlit study his father had once occupied, holding

a thick envelope in his hands.

The package had arrived that morning, but he still hadn't opened it. He sighed, knowing he had better get it over and done with. He couldn't put things

off any longer than he already had.

He looked up as a step sounded in the door and saw Muriel peeking at him from around the doorframe. Her smiling face was framed by a fall of glossy hair,

and he thought that she had never looked lovelier. Pain lanced through his chest at seeing her, her smiling face so happy and loving as she looked at him.

Doing what he knew he needed to would break her heart as well as his. "Dinner is ready James," she said.

He stood, dropping the unopened letter on to the desk, it could wait. He walked up to her and pulled her into a gentle, warm kiss, finding immediately that

he did not want to let go of her. He pulled her into a tight hug, not breaking the kiss and not caring if anyone came upon them. She returned the kiss,

letting one hand linger on his cheek even after she'd pulled back from him. Her eyes were soft, but they shown with something he couldn't decipher. He

smiled, unable to do anything else at seeing the look on her face. She was happy about something, and this lightened his mood. "What have you been doing

all morning?" he asked, taking her arm and walking with her towards the dining room.

She smiled. "I've been thinking on many things. Are you free to come out with me after dinner?"

He smiled. "Of course," he answered, and they sat to eat.

Throughout the meal she was bright and funny, talking and laughing with Libby. James was content to sit and watch her, marveling at how lucky he was to have such a woman in his life. At last, the meal was over and he walked with her out and into the front gardens. They sat on the bench they had rested on the

day his father had died and the shade of the tree branches above them cooled the warm afternoon air. Muriel sat beside him, her small hands folded in her

lap, but he could tell she was apprehensive about something. She would not meet his gaze, but instead looked off across the fields. He reached over and

cupped her chin in one hand, turning her head towards him. "You had something to tell me?" he asked.

Her gaze at last met his, the look in her eyes determined. "Yes, I have something to ask you," she said.

He nodded. "Go on,"

She swallowed, but never released his gaze. "James, each time we have come across other people, we have said many things to them about what we are to each

other. I have been your wife to some, and you’re intended to your family, but when we reach my home what will we become then? I want to tell my father the

truth about you and me, but I don't know what I ought to tell him. I love you James, and I know you feel the same about me. I will never doubt your feelings

for me again, and I was hoping. I." She blushed and lowered her gaze, giving a shy smile.

He saw she meant to speak again, and stopped her words with a soft kiss. "Muriel I love you, and for as long as I'm alive I will never doubt that you feel

the same. You are my dearest friend, and you are truly a gift from God. I have learned so much from you, more than anyone else could've ever

taught me. I see more of who you are each day, and each day I am more in love with you than ever before. If you'll have me, I would consider it the greatest

honor, to marry you," he said, holding both her trembling hands in his. He knew there was no possible way to stop the course of action he had set them

on, but he knew too, that he could not let her go.

A smile spread across her face, one as bright and warm as the sun above them. She began to speak, as tears glistened in her eyes. "I love you so much. You

are such a good man, and why no one else manages to see you for who you really are is beyond me. Every moment I am with you I am shown again and again

that you are the most wonderful person I have ever known. God blessed my life when I met you, and with all that I am, I will marry you," she said.

They held each other as close as they could, sharing kiss after kiss, and words only meant for one another. He thought again of the letter he'd received,

and thought to tell her of what it might contain, but he squelched the urge. He would not let something like that darken the moments passing between them.

Later, he would speak to his mother of the letter and hear what she had to say about it. For now, he was simply content to rest in the arms of the woman

he loved. Suddenly, realization shot through his mind like a blast of cold air and he pulled back from her. "Muriel, I haven't anything to give you for

a proper."

He stopped speaking as he watched her take something from her dress pocket. In her hand she held a lovely ring that sparkled as it caught the light. She

offered it to him and he gripped it between his thumb and forefinger, staring at the engraving where a stone normally sat. Hands clasped a heart, and above

this rested a crown and cross. All four shapes wove together, and he looked from the ring to Muriel, his eyebrows raised

in a silent question. She began to speak, smiling, but blinking back tears at the same time.

"This was my mothers. She would've given it to me on the day I married, but that can't happen now. My father gave it to me instead, saying that when I chose

to marry a man I ought to wear it, that way, he would know and he said my Ma would too," she said. She took the hand he held the ring in and began pointing

to each shape in turn, her hand entwining with his. "Love, loyalty, friendship, and faith, she said, smiling up at him. He slid the ring on to the third

finger of her left hand, the heart pointing towards her. "Now I am spoken for, and everyone will know it," she said.

He smiled and wrapped her in a tight hug. "I love you," he whispered, stroking her hair.

She kissed his cheek, hugging him tighter. "And I love you." They sat for a long time beneath the shade of the tree, talking about her home, the farm, and

what their life would be like there. They talked, for the first time about the war, about battles they'd been in, finding that they had been in more than

one together. "All of it was so senseless, but I never really saw that until the shooting was over, then. all of those wounded men." she said, shuddering

in his arms.

He nodded, pulling her tighter against him. "Did you find it difficult to maintain your disguise at those times?”

She nodded. “Yes I did. I remember one boy… he was hurt so badly and I could only sit with him and give him water. He was so young. He was Irish too and I kept thinking about my brothers as we sat there. He could see who I really was, but he didn’t say a word. All he wanted was to go home… not to die in that place…” Tears burned her eyes and spilled down her cheeks as a sob shuttered through her. He held her tightly, letting her press her face against his chest as she began to weep softly. “Oh… I miss Brian so much,”

He held her, remaining silent as she grieved. She rested in his arms, letting the tears wash the pain out of her once more. She grew limp against him as her grief left her, but her sobs ended in a sigh so heavy and sad that it made his heart clench. He gently kissed first one cheek, then the other and then he kissed her lips, tenderly wiping the tears from her face. “I’m so sorry Darling. I wish I had reached you sooner,” he whispered, kissing her softly once more.

She shook her head, leaning in for another kiss. “No Love, there was nothing to be done,” she said, sighing once more and pillowing her head against his chest.

“I used to sit and listen to the men calling out, lying wounded in the fields, and I would always wonder why

we were doing these things to ourselves," he said.

She nodded. “War is necessary at times. I will always believe that, but it doesn’t seem worth the effort when you’re out in the thick of things,”

He nodded his agreement. “Do you think this war is necessary?” he asked, holding her gaze with his own.

She thought a moment and then nodded. “Yes I do,”

He smiled sadly. “As do I, but for reason’s no one in my family could even understand,”

She rested a warm hand against his face, her thumb stroking his cheek. “I understand your reasons and so does God. Remember that he sees the good that you do even if no one else does,”

He hugged her to him, smiling and kissing the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair. “My angel,” he murmured, smiling down at her.

She laughed softly, kissing his nose. “Oh away with you,” she said, still laughing.

They talked about anything that came to their minds, simply content to be with each other on a warm, dreamy afternoon, and when they were called away for

supper, both were reluctant to leave. The wind had picked up as evening approached and the air around them was much cooler than before. James took off

his coat and put it about Muriel's shoulders, causing her to smile. He drew an arm about her waist as they walked for the house. The wind seemed to blow

through him, dulling the warm joy which had so, recently flowed inside him. He knew he would have to speak to his mother soon, and that thought made the

breeze blowing about him seem even colder. He held open the door for Muriel, and then followed after, dreading what he knew must be done.

After supper, James left Muriel talking with Libby and went again into his father's study. He lit the lamps and sat in the chair at his father's desk. The

package he'd held that morning still rested on the desk where he'd left it. He picked up the letter and slit it open with a heavy, silver letter opener

his father had owned. He pulled out the sheets of paper, and found the response from his Commanding Officer among them. He read the few lines writ upon

the paper and sighed, feeling a mixture of relief and sadness wash over him. He looked over the other papers, seeing that they were all in order and then

he set them aside, rising from the chair and leaving the room. He would wait until the next morning to tell his mother. He couldn't bring himself to speak

of it tonight, not after what he and Muriel had so recently decided. He would not darken this day for either of them.

Muriel watched Elizabeth go from the room, smiling after her retreating figure. She was a sweet girl. She heard James speaking to his sister outside the

door, wishing her a goodnight, and then he entered the room. She smiled when she saw him, and he returned it, walking over and sitting down beside her.

He drew an arm about her, one hand stroking her hair. "I love you so much," he whispered, pulling her closer.

She looked up at him, sensing something different about him. "I love you James," she said, one hand cupping his cheek. He leaned in and kissed her then,

a slow, lingering kiss, which seemed to wrap around her. She kissed back, feeling as if she could simply melt into the moment and never come out again. He broke

the kiss then, but as he pulled away from her she saw a shimmer in his eyes. "James, Love what's wrong?"

He pulled her tight against his chest. "Nothing I want to speak of at this moment. I just want you here with me," he said.

She hugged him to her, pillowing her head on his chest. "I'm here," she whispered, lifting his hand and kissing it. "I'm here."

His mother’s smile as he told her of his plan did nothing to make him happy about it, but he smiled back and nodded as if he was. "James, this is so wonderful of

you," Abigail said, going to her son and hugging him close, her face seeming to glow with the morning light spilling in from outside.

He returned the embrace. "I had hoped you would be pleased,"

She kissed his cheek. "I know now, I won't lose you to this terrible war," she said. He nodded, and had just turned to go when she spoke again. "James.

have you told Muriel of your plans?"

He turned back. "That is what I intend to do now,"

Abigail sighed. "Oh dear, the poor thing will be heartbroken."

He nodded, lowering his gaze from her. "Yes," he said, his voice hushed.

His mother rested a hand on his arm. "Things will turn out well in the end Darling, and in time she will understand all of it. I am glad you at last realized

this life wouldn't suit her," she said.

James looked at her, his gaze sharp. "What are you implying Mother?" he asked, struggling to keep an even tone.

Abigail arched a dark eyebrow. "You aren't still intent upon marrying her are you?"

"Mother I have asked Muriel to marry me and she has accepted. I will not break that promise to her, or to myself," he said.

Abigail gripped his hand in both of hers, her eyes pleading. "James with your father gone a good match is all that will sustain us now!" she said, her tone bordering on panic.

James shook his head. "I will stay until I am assured that you and Libby will be provided for, but then I will leave. Mother I promise no harm will come

to you or Libby," he said, covering her trembling hands with his.

"Why must you say and do these things? Do you wish to see our family in ruin?" she asked, her voice quavering.

He let out a heavy, exhausted sigh and closed his eyes for a moment before speaking. "I cannot live in this life any longer. Mother my own brother

was killed for obeying a careless request of mine. I lost my best friend. My father, your husband murdered his own son and never felt even a moment of

shame," he said, feeling his body tremble from head to foot.

Abigail let out a sob, raising a hand to her eyes. "James, please."

"No Mother. I can't sit one more moment beside some aristocrat who speaks about the Confederacy as if it is something worth fighting for. I can't court a lady who

sees me only for the money my family possesses. I can't be a part of the life which killed Sammy," he said. Abigail stood, trembling and wiping tears from

her eyes. James went to her, offering her a white handkerchief and drawing an arm about her waist. "I love you Mother, and I want to care for this family,

but I can't stay here. If I don't leave, this life will take all that is left in me.”

Abigail pulled her son into a tight hug, kissing his cheek. "I know how much it hurt you to lose your friend, and if this will make you happy, and if it

will make amends for some of what your father has put you through, you may leave when the time comes," she said, still holding him close to her.

He kissed her cheek, hugging her back and smiling at her. "Thank you Mother. Whatever happens, I will not leave until I have made certain you are taken care of," he promised.

She smiled. "I love you James," she said.

He returned her smile. "I love you Mother, and I never meant to cause you pain with what I said. I simply wanted you to understand.”

She nodded. "It would cause me pain if you were miserable for the rest of your days. I don't wish that for either of my children,"

He smiled. "I know," he said. He pulled back from her then, and with a last look at her, he turned and then left the room. He found Muriel seated in the

parlor with Libby, the two of them sewing and talking easily.

Over the past weeks Libby and Muriel had spent many an hour sitting and talking over needle work. Libby had praised Muriel on her skill and had gladly shown

her some of the delicate embroidery which she'd added to a gown or two. James had smiled to see that Muriel had done more mending of clothes than anything

else and her need to be of some use, even in such a light chore endeared her even more to him. For a moment he thought of asking her to stay at the plantation,

but dismissed that notion quickly. She needed to go back to her family. She belonged there, and she couldn't stay here any longer.

"If you'll pardon my interruption Ladies, Muriel I must speak with you in private," he said.

Muriel nodded and rose from her seat, taking the hand James offered her and letting him lead her out and onto the front porch. The day was another glorious

one, warm and clear. "Shall we walk?" he asked, offering her his arm.

She smiled. "Of course," she answered, slipping her arm through his and walking with him across the grass.

They walked some distance from the house, and beneath the shade of a tree, he stopped and turned to her, clasping both her hands in his. "After my father

died, I realized that there was no one else who was left to care for my mother and sister. They can't keep up the house and they haven't the first idea

of how to protect themselves. I sent a letter to Colonel Williams, requesting leave due to hardship and he has granted my request. I have to stay behind

Muriel, my mother and sister have no one else now," he said, holding her gaze.

She pulled out of his grasp and turned from him, covering her face with her hands. She let out a soft sob, and he felt his heart shatter. "I thought it

might come to this. As soon as your father died I knew," she said, turning back to him.

He reached for her, feeling tears burn his eyes. She clung to him, her face buried in the folds of his shirt, crying and trembling. "I'm so sorry. Muriel,

my love I am so sorry," he said, his words tremulous with the emotion he was trying to control.

She lifted her head to look at him, and cupped his face between her shaking hands. She pulled him into a brief, but intense kiss, feeling him tremble as

he held her. "I promised you, that you would be free of this place. I promised you that you would not stay here, and if I couldn't do that I promised that

you wouldn't be here alone. I won't leave you here," she said through her tears.

He pulled her to him and kissed her, feeling something inside him give. She did not want him to suffer

any longer under his father's shadow. He held her as she wept, struggling to keep his own emotions in check. Everything they wanted stood against what they knew they must do and he could only hope that God might choose to later reward them. He kissed her once more, trying to show her both the love and gratitude he felt. She responded willingly, but he could taste the salt of the tears on her face and he broke the kiss, blinking away his own tears and looking down at her. "I love you. Never have I loved anyone

more, but Muriel… you must go," he said, his own voice breaking on the last word.

She gave a gusty sigh, laying her head against his shoulder and hugging him close. "I know," she said. He held her there as her sobs turned slowly to sniffles,

feeling the warm wind dry his own wet face. He had been right. The news had broken them both, but he promised himself and her that if he could find a way

back to her he would do so. "For how long?" she asked, her cheek resting on his chest above his heart.

"I don't know,"

She pulled back and looked up at him. "How ever long it is, I'll wait for you," She covered his hands with hers, and he could feel the cool metal of the

ring against his skin, "I'm spoken for, and no one can break that," she said.

He touched her face, letting the hand linger against her smooth cheek. "Muriel I will come for you. However long it takes I promise you,” he whispered, kissing her gently. They embraced, holding each other close, not

knowing when, or even, if they would see each other again.

The next morning dawned warm, and with an equally warm, persistent breeze, but white clouds blotted out the strongest of the sun's light and the day

was covered in shadow. Muriel, James, Libby and Abigail all stood outside of the manor next to the carriage which James would use to take Muriel into

town. Muriel said goodbye to each woman in turn, receiving a warm hug from Libby as she said fair well. "Please be safe," Libby whispered, holding Muriel

tight.

Muriel nodded, smiling. "I'll do my best Darlin," she said, giving Libby a kiss on the cheek.

"Write me?" the girl asked.

Muriel grinned, giving her friend's hands a squeeze. "You have to promise to do the same,"

Libby smiled back. "Done.”

Muriel pushed a stray strand of gold hair back behind Libby's ear. "God bless you Libby, and keep you safe," she said.

Elizabeth nodded. "May he do the same for you Muriel," she said, and then stepped back beside her brother.

Abigail stepped forward and the two women clasped hands. "Thank you for all your kindness Mrs. Sinclair. I was truly blessed to be here," she said, dropping

a quick curtsy.

Abigail smiled, squeezing Muriel's hand. "Not at all my dear. It was our pleasure to have you, and we are very sad to see you go," she said. Abigail squeezed

her hand once more. "Good luck to you Muriel, and God's speed on your journey home."

Muriel nodded. "Thank you Ma'am. I wish you the same luck, and hope that you remain as safe as you are now," she said. Abigail thanked Muriel once more,

and then James helped Muriel into the carriage. He climbed in beside her and pulled the door closed. He lifted a hand in a wave to his mother and sister,

then clucked at the horses and the carriage rolled out of the yard and on to the road.

James felt Muriel take his hand as the carriage moved along and he gave it a gentle squeeze. "Do you have enough provisions?" he asked.

"Yes, what you gave me is enough. I'll not have you thinking it isn't and handing out more," she said.

He gave a soft smile and nodded, his eyes still serious. "I can purchase you more ammunition if…"

She squeezed his hand. "I'll be all right James," she said, holding his gaze. He looked back for a long moment, seeing a look in her eyes he'd only seen on the faces of men who'd breathed the smoke of the guns, who'd lain in the

frozen mud as shots thundered on around them. She had been a soldier, had seen the same horrors as he had, and she hadn't forgotten how to behave like

one.

The rest of the ride was quiet, for both feared if too much was said their resolve would crumble like loose earth and duty to both their families would

be swept away without a glance. Neither could let that happen, and so they sat as the carriage drew closer to the train station, their hands entwined tightly together.

When they reached the station James bought her a ticket. The two made their way towards the train, seeing white steam billow up into the sky as the engine

worked. James turned her towards him, seeing tears brimming in her eyes. She tried to speak, and his name fell from her lips in a choked whimper.

He swept her up in an embrace so tight and strong that, for a moment, neither of them could breathe. He kissed her, banishing all from his mind except the feel of her, the warmth

of her breath, the silken hair which fell down her back, the strength in her small hands as they cupped his face. He pulled her closer still, feeling her heart race against his own. He wanted her to feel if she could, how much he loved her. He wanted to fill his senses with her, to capture and hold all which made her

the one he would love forever, and he never wanted to let her go.

She held him there, feeling him pull her closer as a sob shook him. She had become lost in his kisses, his touch, the feel

of his arms wrapped strongly around her, but now she knew that pain threatened to claim him, and she would not let it. She pulled back from him, her breath

shallow in her lungs. "It'll be all right Love. Don't be sad now, it'll be all right," she whispered even as tears poured from her eyes.

He pulled her into another kiss, this one much gentler than before, but with just as much feeling behind it. Her words had only comforted him for a moment,

and though he tried, he could not push the pain at their separation aside. She broke the kiss and met his gaze, her hands resting against his cheeks. "I love you James Sinclair. I

will always love you, and if you find one day that you have nothing else to hold to, hold to that. Whatever comes hold to that," she said, the tears spilling from her eyes once more.

He pulled her to him, clutching her against him as tightly as he could. "I promise my Love… I promise," he whispered, covering her wet face with kisses. They clung to each other, both trying to find purchase in the mixed flood of emotions threatening to drown them.

. The train whistle blew, a long, shrill cry,

which sounded to the two of them like a wail of grief. They looked towards the train and saw the doors open, passengers climbing aboard and the conductor

signaling for others to follow suit. Muriel turned back to James and on impulse undid the dark blue scarf, which had been holding her hair back from the

day's breeze. She handed the silken piece to him, her hair blowing about her like flame itself. "Take it, please," she said. He took the scarf and slipped

it into a pocket.

They gazed at each other, and the breeze suddenly chilled her. “Never forget that I love you, and I swear to God I will come back to you,” he said, taking both of her hands in his.

She pulled him into an intense, grateful kiss. “I’m promised to you, and I promise to wait forever,”

He gathered her in his arms then, and for what he feared would be the last time, he kissed her as her hair blew about them both.

They stood, clasping one another there as life went on around them. Passing people reacted to the pair, some with sympathy, some with bitterness, but Muriel

and James ignored them all, losing themselves in each other for the time they had left. Time seemed to slip through their fingers like water, and before

long, the conductor's final hail could be heard. They pulled back from each other, their eyes meeting. "I love you Muriel.”

She nodded. "I love you James.”

He felt her pull back from him and head towards the train. He saw the steam from the engines swirl about her, watched her blue skirts twirl in the breeze, and he knew she was leaving, and suddenly, he hadn't the

will to let her go. He stepped forward, stretching out a hand to catch her. "Muriel," he said, his words a strangled plea.

She turned back to him, meeting his gaze. She ran the last few steps, flinging herself into his arms and clinging to him as sobs overtook

her. "James I love you," she said, her voice unable to rise above a soft whimper.

"Please don’t go," he whispered.

She took his face in her hands and kissed him, pulling back and staring up at him through shimmering eyes. "I must," she said, and though her words were

heartbroken, he heard truth in them as well.

He nodded, letting her pull gently from his arms once more, and hurry for the train. Through some force, some will not of his own, he stood back. He watched

her board, watched her find a seat with a window that faced him. He saw her face, so brave and sad, framed by her brilliant hair. She raised a hand and

waved as the train began to move. He returned her wave, but a moment later, steam once again billowed up into the sky, and she was gone.