once, she understood his discomfort with the courtship arrangement she’d suggested.
Miss Ophelia’s pointed stare snatched Ellie from her thoughts, and she realized the room had gone silent. She nudged Graham in the side. “They’re waiting for you to speak.”
He cleared his throat as if summoning his colonel attitude. “Thank you, Aunt Ophelia, for the kind words. It’s good to get home to Natchez, where the Spanish moss sways in the breeze, the catfish wait for us in the Mississippi River, the grits are always hot and the punch cold. I pray none of us will ever leave her again.”
The men murmured their agreement, and Graham paused a moment. “As I told my troops in my mustering-out speech only months ago, ‘May we all discharge the obligations of good and peaceful citizens at home as well as we have performed the duties of thorough soldiers in the field.’ Always take comfort in the knowledge that, although we lost the war, your courageous men in gray did perform their duties well.”
Miss Ophelia began another long round of applause, seemingly understanding his discomfort and distracting the crowd from the huskiness of his voice and the pain in his eyes. He turned aside for a moment, but his mouth quirked a bit as if he were trying for a more cheerful expression.
“That was a beautiful speech,” Ellie said, sensing his pain. “It must have been hard, saying goodbye to the men who served under you for four years.”
“I worry about them, how they’ll fare now, what will happen to them.” He swallowed hard as if pushing back his tears.
This man had been through enough, even without her courtship idea. “We could go home now, if you like.”
“No, Noreen was right. Aunt Ophelia spared no expense for this party, from the roast beef and smoked ham on biscuits to the pecan and sweet potato pies,” he whispered to Ellie. “If nothing else, I need to show her some appreciation. Even though all I want right now is to get home and have some quiet time to rest and think—”
“Colonel Talbot, I haven’t danced with you all evening.” Like a machete through a cotton stalk, Susanna’s shrill voice cut through the murmur of the crowd as she drew near Graham. “We have much to talk about after your long absence.”
Six other neighborhood girls gathered in a semicircle behind their leader as if waiting in line for their turn to snatch up the handsome soldier.
Miss Ophelia’s gray-green eyes, a mirror image of Graham’s, turned a shade darker as always when she disapproved of the way someone treated her only nephew. “Let’s all dance to ‘Aura Lea’ again, in honor of Colonel Talbot’s own maid with hair as golden as Aura Lea’s. Graham, Ellie, please start this dance.”
“Dance? In front of all these people?” Graham’s low voice sounded less like a colonel’s than Miss Ophelia’s had. “Aunt Ophelia, I’ve lived the military life for eight years, with no frivolity to speak of. Not tonight—”
“We’d love to.” Ellie could hear the hint of challenge in her own voice.
“Ellie, you’ve gone too far.”
The poor man. He’d commanded the entire room’s attention with his wonderful speech, looked like the beau of Natchez in his uniform and had the bearing of a warrior. Yet the prospect of a dance clearly frightened him more than a line of cannons.
And it was up to Ellie to put him at his ease.
She swayed toward him and lifted her hand, then let it rest on his shoulder as she gave a tiny nod to her right.
He looked in the direction she indicated. Susanna stood a mere three yards from them, a knowing smile on her face.
Ellie knew Graham hated this charade and, in a way, so did she, but letting Susanna destroy it seemed even worse. He took Ellie’s other hand and stepped out with one foot, sweat dripping down his brow as if the room was lit with blazing fires instead of mere crystal gasoliers.
Ellie moved with him. Seeing that he had forgotten even the most basic steps, she guided him with a gentle touch on his shoulder, pressing this way and that to help him remember which way to step. “Act as if you know what you’re doing, and nobody will know the difference.”
His grip on her relaxed a fraction. “At least other people are dancing now too.”
“Including Susanna. Miss Ophelia and I saved you from her, you know.”
“Not to mention the rest of her mob.” Graham executed a graceful turn, and Ellie smiled her approval. “How many more parties did you say I have to endure?”
“Plenty. And all those girls will be at every one of them.” Not to mention dozens of former soldiers. She lowered her voice. “That’s why we both need our arrangement.”
He wrinkled his nose as if Sugar had trotted right by him, soaking wet. “I’m still not convinced about that.”
Ellie was, and not only because Susanna and her friends seemed ready to pounce on Graham, waiting for the moment Ellie would leave his arms. And not because of all her would-be suitors, either. From Graham’s more natural steps and more relaxed hold on her, she knew she was helping him through more than a mere awkward moment. No, he needed her. And since she had caused many of the problems he now faced, she would help him all she could. That was what friends did.
For that reason alone, Ellie smiled her sweetest at him as she came into Susanna’s line of sight, her mind grasping for a new plan that would solidify this faux courtship.
An hour later, having seen Ellie home, Graham sank into one of the deep fireside wing chairs in the parlor, his thoughts racing as they always had before a battle. With Noreen at his side, rocking and singing softly to little Betsy, he sipped his tea and gave thanks for this peaceful home. Although common sense told him the baby would likely disturb that peace before morning.
Noreen paused in her humming. “You have a lot on your mind tonight. Your silence gives you away.”
“You’d think with the war over, a soldier could simply come home and pick up his life where it had left off.” Graham shifted in his chair, its plushness not sufficient to keep him as comfortable as it used to. But that probably had less to do with the chair’s quality than it did his own melancholy mood. “Life never turns out the way we’d planned, does it?”
She pulled the baby closer. “Not in the least.”
“I’m going to stay in Natchez with you and Betsy until Father gets home. But this afternoon, after I sent my request for amnesty to the Yankee president, I wrote to Major James White, superintendent of the Citadel. I inquired about teaching there, maybe starting this fall. Federal troops still occupy the school, but that surely won’t go on much longer.” He gulped the last half of his tea and set the cup on the cloth-covered walnut table at his side. “If I’d gone to the Citadel instead of West Point, I wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“Nobody should fault you for choosing the school your father attended.” The dimmed lighting couldn’t hide Noreen’s smile of encouragement. “And I’m sure he will be home soon.”
Graham wasn’t so certain. It was probably time for him to tell his stepmother all he knew of Father.
