Harrigan's Bride. Cheryl Reavis
sergeant is going to perish at the door,” he interrupted. “Can we not get on with this and save him—before it’s too late?”
“Can you make me one promise?” she asked.
“What is it?”
“Can you promise not to forget that I gave you the opportunity to escape?”
“And may every other Rebel I meet from here on out do the same,” he said elaborately.
She gave a sharp sigh. “And I was worried about me not being in my right mind.”
He laughed and leaned closer.
“Now, Abby?” he whispered, teasing her again. “Will you give me leave to open the door?”
She didn’t answer him.
“It’s going to be all right,” he said, serious suddenly. “I give you my word on that.”
His word meant a great deal to her. “All right,” she said finally. “Go open the door. Save La Broie and me both.”
Thomas left her to fling the door open. A number of people stood gathered in the hallway and kitchen beyond, most of whom were straining to catch a glimpse inside the room. There would have been a great rush to gain admittance were it not for Sergeant La Broie. He allowed Gertie to enter, and then Mrs. Wilson, the dour lady of the house, who had clearly come out of duty rather than desire. It was the first time Abiah had seen her in person. Heretofore, the woman had only existed in the form of the verbal admonishments constantly repeated by Gertie and the household staff. Mrs. Wilson was full of don’ts. There was no doubt that she ran a tight ship; she was making an inspection even now to see if Abiah and Gertie had done any injury to her domain.
Not one but three army chaplains followed Mrs. Wilson into the room. All three came to stand around the bed. Abiah glanced at Thomas, who winked.
Ah, well, she thought. Given the apparent magnitude of the scandal precipitated by Thomas’s rescue, they had best have the matrimonial knot firmly tied. The chaplains introduced themselves—Brothers, Hearst and Holmes. It was clear that they had already decided among themselves who exactly would do what when. The Reverend Brothers began the proceedings with a lengthy prayer. Abiah was grateful for the opportunity to close her eyes. She was very tired suddenly, and had to concentrate hard not to show it.
Someone knocked on the door. The Reverend Brothers prayed on. Finally, after the third knock, La Broie went to open it, and after a brief, whispered conference with whoever waited on the other side, he accepted an envelope of some sort and closed the door.
The prayer continued. Abiah opened her eyes enough to watch with interest as La Broie discreetly passed the envelope to Thomas, who glanced at it and put it into his pocket.
“If you would join hands, please,” the second chaplain—Hearst—said as soon as the prayer ended. He opened the small leather book he carried and adjusted his spectacles, looking around sharply at another outburst of raucous laughter from out in the hall.
Thomas moved the chair closer to the bed and sat down, so that he could take Abiah’s hand more easily. Hers was trembling, and he looked at her sharply when he realized it.
“I think they would both approve, Abiah,” he said quietly.
“What?”
“Miss Emma,” he said. “And Guire.”
She looked at him a long moment, then nodded.
The Reverend Hearst cleared his throat. “May we continue?”
“Yes,” Thomas said, without looking at him. His eyes still held Abiah’s, and whatever indecision remained suddenly left her.
For better or worse till death do us part, she thought.
The ceremony began in earnest, but it was an obviously shortened version, to accommodate Thomas’s lack of time and her illness. Because of their proximity to the kitchen, Abiah could smell bread baking. She wondered idly if many weddings took place with the aroma of baking bread wafting through. She glanced briefly at the people who stood witness. Gertie, who looked sad enough to cry, and La Broie, who stood ramrod straight next to Gertie and watched her intently. Hardened soldier or not, the man was clearly smitten.
Interesting, Abiah thought. La Broie so enamored, and Gertie so oblivious to it.
Abiah glanced at Mrs. Wilson, with her longsuffering countenance, and made a mental note. Should she and Thomas ever actually live together as man and wife, she would not go around looking like that. She wondered idly if Mr. Wilson was somewhere at hand, too. She hadn’t met him, either, though Gertie had assured her when they first came to the house to stay that she wouldn’t want to.
Abiah turned her attention to the second chaplain.
How determined he is, she thought.
He had offered no call to the ceremony, no “Dearly Beloved…” He had asked for no declaration of consent, no “Wilt thou have this woman…” He had gone straight to the marriage pledge.
Repeat after me.
“I, Thomas, take thee, Abiah…”
Thomas’s voice was strong, unwavering. Whatever happened in the future, she would always remember that he’d said the words with a surety that belied the true situation.
Then it was her turn, and she hesitated too long—long enough to alarm Thomas and everyone else in the room. She abruptly squeezed his hand.
“I, Abiah, take thee, Thomas…”
The last chaplain, Holmes, concluded the ritual with a prayer, and suddenly it was over and done. Abiah immediately looked at Thomas, searching for some indication as to whether or not he was now filled with regret.
But he only smiled and shook everyone’s hand. Then he signed the marriage record and held the book for her to do the same.
“Are you all right, Abby?”
“Tired,” she said, trying to smile. She wanted to say something to Mrs. Wilson, to thank her for her charity and hospitality, but the woman had already opened the door and stepped into the hall. Abiah’s attention was taken then by Sergeant La Broie, who solemnly clasped her hand.
“I’m wishing you health and happiness, ma’am,” he said.
“You’ll watch over Thomas?” she whispered. “Keep him safe?”
“I’ll do my best, Mrs. Harrigan, darling,” he assured her. “I ask the same favor of you. You watch over our Gertie.”
Abiah smiled. The man was completely smitten, she thought again, and she certainly had a profound empathy for anyone in that state. “I will,” she said.
“Pete,” Gertie said. “Don’t let all those people come in here. Miss Abiah needs to rest now.”
He immediately went to stop any uninvited wedding guests from pushing their way inside.
“I forgot, Mrs. Harrigan,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “There’s a wedding present out here for you.”
“A wedding present?”
She looked at Thomas, who was reading the letter La Broie had given him earlier.
“It’s from Johnny Miller,” Thomas said.
La Broie was already bringing the gift in. She recognized it immediately. It was her own cedar hope chest, the one made for her fourteenth birthday by her grandfather Calder. Like most girls that age, she had immediately begun filling it with linens and quilts for that time in the seemingly distant future when she would marry. Seeing it again, when she’d thought everything in the abandoned house had likely been plundered by both armies, brought her close to crying.
“Johnny went to the house and got it,” Thomas said. “Then he bribed a civilian from Fredericksburg