Cheryl Reavis Read Online Free

stolen. She’d been…
    She didn’t know what she’d been. She opened her eyes again as one particular memory suddenly came to her.
    “Oh…”
    “What is it, Miss Abiah?” the man said kindly.
    He knows my name, she thought. He must have something to do with Thomas. She gave a wavering sigh.
    “What is it?” he asked again.
    “Where is…my mother…?”
    “The captain said I should tell you everything straightaway, if you asked, because you’re not a person who likes the truth hid from them no matter how bad it is.”
    “She’s dead…isn’t she?”
    “Yes, ma’am. Your mother—Miss Emma—died. You’re remembering that now, I guess.”
    Abiah nodded, wiping furtively at the tears that ran down her face.
    “We buried her in that little herb garden near the house—where the ground was soft enough. And words was said over her, so you don’t have to fret yourself on that account. Cap says to tell you he did the best he could by her.”
    Abiah believed that without question, but the tears came anyway, tears and then finally the welcome refuge of sleep. She woke from time to time, wondering if the sergeant would be there. He never was, and she began to wonder if he’d actually sat in the chair byher bed or if she’d been dreaming. There was only Gertie, who seemed to know exactly what to do to make her more comfortable and who, more often than not, insisted that Abiah drink a hot, salty chicken broth and then take some bitter tasting medicine, after which she fell into yet another dream-ridden sleep. It was so hard to think clearly, to know what was real and what wasn’t. But conversation took far too much effort, regardless of Abiah’s growing curiosity.
    “Miss Abiah, look who’s here,” Gertie said one afternoon, and Abiah opened her eyes to see another enemy soldier, who after a moment turned into a very awkward Thomas, standing at the foot of the bed. She stared at him, not at all sure if he really was here or not. There had always been a sadness in Thomas Harrigan; it was one of the things that had drawn her to him from the very first time Guire brought him home. But at this particular moment, he looked so lost.
    “What’s wrong?” she asked him, and he looked at Gertie instead of answering.
    “Tell me,” Abiah said. “What’s wrong with you?”
    “That is my question, I believe, Abby,” he said, and she smiled.
    “Oh, well, then. If that’s the case, the answer is ‘nothing’—if you don’t count the fever…and being out of my head most of the time.”
    “So how is your head at the moment?”
    “I don’t know,” she said truthfully. “Sometimes I think Gertie is Mother. Sometimes I think Guire’s here—or you. You are here, aren’t you, Thomas? I’m not talking to the bedpost, am I?”
    “Most definitely I am here,” he said.
    “Say ‘heart,’ then. So I’ll know.”
    “Heart?” he asked, clearly puzzled.
    She immediately gave a soft laugh. “Yes, it’s you. H-a-t —‘heart.’”
    He smiled in return. “You are so very bad for my masculine certitude, Abiah. You are the only female I know who always makes fun of me.”
    “I have to. You’d be insufferable if I didn’t.”
    Gertie laughed in the background.
    “I see you agree with her, Gertie,” Thomas said.
    “I can’t help it, Captain,” Gertie said.
    “Well,” he said, still forcing himself to be cheerful. This was a Thomas Abiah had never met before. “The doctor tells me you’re doing better.”
    “Does he? He doesn’t tell me anything.”
    “He says you mustn’t get overly confident. You must continue to play the invalid even if you feel like dancing.”
    “Dancing? I’m having trouble knowing the day of the week.”
    He smiled again, but this smile quickly faded. He stood there with his hands behind his back, tall and handsome, once her brother’s greatest friend and then his sworn enemy—and hers.
    “I need to ask you something, Abiah,” he said.
    She waited while he looked