When You Love a Scotsman Read online

  “She and that boy sitting in the parlor?” asked Maude as she came and sat down next to Abigail.

  “Yes. No walk today.”

  “Those two have walked one time too many, I am thinking.”

  It was hard, but Abigail bit back the urge to laugh at Maude’s pointed statement. “They have a few serious things to discuss.”

  “Oh, they most certainly do. Reckless children that they are.”

  “Maude, you can’t be much older than either of them.”

  “You are sweet. I am nearly forty, child. None of these boys running around here in their uniforms interest me. Got my eye on the major. Man has some time under his belt but is still a fine-looking fellow. A widower.”

  Maude was a strong, pleasant-looking woman with thick black hair and bright hazel-green eyes. “He sounds perfect.”

  “No man is perfect, love, not even that Scotsman who brought you here despite how much I love how he talks, but the major is a good man, a strong man, and that is worth a lot.”

  “Yes, yes, it is.”

  “My boy is still living although he is back East, out of the war, which I am very glad about. He was in for a short time but when he left it he went to train to be a doctor. He had worked in the infirmary and got a taste for fixing people. My girl got wed three years back just as all this nonsense was winding up. So, I am a free bird and I feel like making a new nest.”

  She couldn’t help it; Abigail laughed and Maude joined her. They then began to talk about the lack of so many things. Soon Julia dashed into the room but came to a fast halt when she saw Maude.

  “Spit it out, child. What is it you are so excited to say?” asked Maude.

  “Robert is going to fetch a preacher.” Julia clutched her hands together and pressed them to her breast. “I hope the man hasn’t left town yet.”

  “The minister was leaving?”

  “Coward,” snarled Maude. “He says the war is too close. Seems to me it is the perfect time for a man of God to minister to his flock, but he is bolting.”

  “That is shameful,” said Julia, truly shocked.

  “He can get out of the war and he is doing it, as fast as his chicken legs will let him. I think he will find that, depending which way he heads, he might have chosen dangerously, however.” Abigail shook her head.

  “That is a fact. Traveling anywhere is a risky business at the moment. I think the war is soon to be mostly south of us though,” said Maude. “The army is gathering on both sides down that way or our way. You know what I mean. Virginia, Georgia, and all that.”

  “Okay. Let it all go there. Fine with me,” said Abigail.

  “But my major will go.” Maude sighed.

  “Then we will pray that he gets sent somewhere safe.”

  Maude patted Abigail’s hand. “Thank you, child. And I will make sure he knows where to find me after it is all over.” Maude glanced at Julia. “And time for us to listen to this girl who looks about to jump out of her own skin.”

  “I am going to marry Robert. I need to find a nicer dress.”

  Abigail stood and took Julia by the hand. At times, it was hard to remember that Julia was the same age as she was. Too often the woman acted so much younger than her twenty-three years.

  “Then we shall go find something.”

  Maude stood up. “As soon as we know the lad found the preacher we will get some food together to have in celebration.”

  “Thank you, Maude,” Julia said, and skipped over to kiss the woman on the cheek.

  By the time Julia had decided on what dress to wear, Abigail was tired. The girl who had been weak with a sick belly was a bouncing bundle of energy at the moment. They finally returned to the sitting room and found it changed. The women had festooned the room with bits of bright cloth, some spring wildflowers that had bravely come early, and bows. They had also arranged the chairs to face a small table where the preacher stood.

  Robert stood up quickly and beamed at Julia. He took her by the hand and walked her toward the preacher. Julia looked so happy, Abigail felt her eyes sting with happiness for her friend. She added a prayer that nothing would happen to Robert. One just had to look at Julia’s expression to know if this war took her Robert she would be crushed.

  The ceremony was quick as it was obvious the preacher was anxious to leave. He stayed long enough to get money from Robert though and Abigail had to bite her tongue. The man looked at his position as just a job and had no real calling, she decided. They all gathered to wave good-bye to the couple as Robert took his new bride to the hotel. Abigail looked for Maude and found her next to the major who had come to stand with Robert. Laughing softly, Abbie went up to the bedroom.

  It was going to be strange to spend a night alone but Julia would be back in a few days as Robert had to return to the war that disrupted and shattered so many lives. Abbie got a book from the shelf near the fireplace and sprawled on her bed. It was rather nice to be on her own. It had been a very long time she had enjoyed such quiet.

  She was lost in the story when the bed suddenly jiggled and she looked around to find Noah sitting next to her. “What do you want?” she asked as she put a piece of paper in the book to mark her place.

  “Is Julia gone now?”

  “For a little while. She will be back when Robert has to go back to soldiering.”

  “Oh. I hope he doesn’t get hurt like your friend Boyd.”

  “I hope so, too. It would break Julia’s heart.”

  “Wanna play a game?”

  Her quiet time was done, Abbie thought as she sat up. “What game?”

  “I have jacks.” He held up a small cloth bag.

  “I am good at jacks.”

  “So am I,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her. “Really, really good.”

  “Well, we best get on the floor then.”

  “Okay.” He scrambled off the bed and sat down on the hardwood floor.

  “How about we sit on the carpet? It is a little softer than the floor.”

  Abigail sat cross-legged on the carpet. Noah settled opposite and emptied his bag. It was a nice set with a wooden ball and iron pieces. She wondered how he had saved this from his past life since she doubted Mrs. Beaton had children’s toys scattered around her house. It was such a small thing but she was pleased he had something from the past. Then she settled into a serious game. For only a moment did she consider allowing him to win. When he revealed he did indeed play the game well, she stopped and got serious. When he still won, he leapt to his feet and danced around waving his fists in the air.

  “You are right,” she said when he sat back down and grinned at her. “You are a good player.”

  “I saved this.” He frowned. “I would rather have saved my puppy.”

  “Did you take care of your puppy?”

  “I did. I even got him to pee outside.”

  “Very good.”

  Abigail thought about the tiny puppy she had impulsively claimed and was relieved. It might be that there would not be too much trouble about bringing him to the house. She was going to have to get up the courage to talk to Mrs. Beaton about it for the animal would soon be ready to leave its mother. The woman holding the pup for her would be anxious for her to take it. It was going to be a battle to get Mrs. Beaton to agree but Abigail decided the boy’s happiness was worth it.

  “Wanna play again or go back reading your big book?”

  “I can play again. Have to gain back my honor, don’t I?”

  He giggled and set out the pieces again. Abigail resigned herself to an afternoon of playing jacks with a boy of four. She guessed that there would be another game and another until he accepted her claim that she was done.

  By the time he accepted her claim that she was done, Abigail had only won two of six games. The boy did have an admirable skill and it was a little odd for such a small boy. His coordination was good. The way he could concentrate on the game was also impressive. She stood up and rubbed his hair when he stood up beside her.


  The boy finally went back to his own room and Abigail returned to her reading. She would have to remember to read to the children tonight, she decided. It was a good thing to do, for their minds and, she suspected, to ease their fears and sadness with something normal. She had noticed several of the women took some time now and then to talk or play with the children and Abigail could see the difference in them. There was a little less sadness in their eyes.

  The problem was, too many of the women still clung to their own sadness. It made it difficult for them to deal with the children’s as well. She could understand for it was not just the loss of their husbands. It was the loss of the whole life they had: their homes and the possibility of children. As hard as Abigail thought, she could not come up with a way to ease all that.

  Picking up her book she started to read and quickly lost herself in the story again.

  Chapter Five

  Matthew took his hat off, finger-combed his hair, and waited patiently for Mrs. Beaton to fetch Abigail. After a long meeting with the other officers and planning for a possible assault he had decided he wanted to see her. He had wasted the bath he had taken the other day when the major had called for him and he did not want to waste the one he had taken today. He had a need to see and speak with her that he decided he could no longer ignore. What he did not understand was why he felt so nervous.

  Looking around the parlor, he finally moved to one of the empty chairs and sat down. He hoped Mrs. Beaton would not take long to bring in Abigail. Matthew had the sinking feeling that it would not take long for his nervousness to turn into cowardice and he would run.

  * * *

  Abigail helped Julia back to bed then hurried to empty the basin the girl had been sick in. Either her few days away with her new husband had been too rowdy or it was the pregnancy. She decided she would ask the doctor why Julia was still having sickness when she was so far along in her pregnancy. At least the girl was now married, but there was still a chance people who knew she had carried the child before she wed could cut her.

  “Is Julia still getting sick?”

  Looking at the woman standing in the doorway, Abigail felt sure the woman was already suspicious about what really ailed Julia. “Illness rarely disappears in a day or two.”

  “Well, do something for her before she spreads the disease.”

  “I am doing all I can. Feeling better, Julia?” Abigail met Julia’s gaze and prayed her friend could read her demand for a positive answer.

  “It passes. You always know what to do.”

  “Thank you. Now stay here and rest until Robert comes for you. You may have some water and a few bites of this sandwich if you wish.” She stood up and stroked Julia’s hair from her face. “Just rest. It is what you need. I will see you later.”

  Mrs. Beaton crossed her arms. “You have a gentleman waiting to see you, Abigail.”

  “I do? Is it Boyd?”

  “No. It is Lieutenant MacEnroy.”

  “Matthew is here?”

  “Lieutenant MacEnroy is waiting downstairs to speak with you.”

  “I will be fine, Abbie,” said Julia. “Go see what he wants.”

  Abigail took a moment to fix her hair then brush down her skirts before following Mrs. Beaton out of the room. She was surprised at the tumultuous mixture of anticipation and nervousness she felt. The man might have a simple question he needed answered.

  Going down the hall and then the stairs with Mrs. Beaton made the knot in Abigail’s stomach grow even tighter. Did the woman always move so slowly? Abigail lectured herself about patience, then tried to convince herself that she did not care if Matthew had come just to ask a question or because he actually wanted see her.

  When they reached the parlor Abigail tensed as she saw Matthew stand up. She noticed he looked nervous and, for some strange reason, that made her feel calm. As she left Mrs. Beaton’s side, Abigail smiled at him.

  “Hello, Abbie,” he said quietly.

  “Good to see you, Lieutenant. Would you like some coffee? Maybe a little cake?”

  “Both would be most welcome.” He glanced toward Mrs. Beaton who appeared to be standing guard at the door. “If it would be no trouble.”

  “None at all.” Abigail looked at Mrs. Beaton. “I can do it, Mrs. Beaton. There is no need for you to linger. I am sure you must have a great deal you would rather do. Perhaps visit the children?” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing when the woman briefly looked horrified, then nodded and left.

  Smiling faintly, Abigail looked back at Matthew. He was watching her warily, a hint of confusion in his eyes. “Why did she look as if ye were about to hand her a dead rat when ye spoke of her going to see the children?”

  “To her it is apparently much the same. I fear Mrs. Beaton does not like children. She considers them disruptive and destructive. They are kept in a room upstairs. I will be right back with the coffee and cake.”

  Matthew watched her leave. She had a strong, brisk way of walking with no hint of coquettishness. Then he looked at the doorway where Mrs. Beaton had stood. He had had no idea that the children were being kept regulated to a room upstairs. They had been put here because the major had believed the women would care for them. Being treated like unwanted guests could not be good for them. They had all lost their families and homes, were frightened and alone. It had never occurred to him or the other men that the women would not care for them. That had probably been foolish of them, and someone should have come around now and then to check on them. Matthew made a promise that he would keep a much closer watch now.

  He settled back into the chair and thought about all he and James had discovered yesterday. There was an attack being planned. The only thing they could not be sure of was where and when it would happen. Plans were being made to further secure the town and the people in it. He realized he would need a better place for the women than this house with all its windows and doors, and began to think on an answer to that problem. He was just deciding the jailhouse would serve well when he heard the clink of china, looked up, and saw Abigail returning with a tray.

  Abigail held the heavy tray as steady as she could. Mrs. Beaton’s coffeepot was heavy and she suspected it was made of actual silver. When Matthew walked toward her she just smiled as he took the tray from her. She subtly rubbed her arms when he turned to walk over to the small settee. Seeing that he obviously thought they would sit together, she took a deep breath and went over to sit at one end of the settee.

  She tried not to flinch when he sat close to her. A soldier would see a flinch as a sign of fear, and that was certainly not what she felt. There was a tickle of nerves and it was curiously mixed with anticipation. She wished she had had more dealings with men for she suspected there was a good explanation for what she felt.

  She poured them each some coffee and served pieces of the cake. She idly noticed that Mrs. Beaton had left the door wide open with the doors to the main sitting room also wide open. She could see straight through to the other women. Maude even sent her a jaunty wave. Privacy was apparently not allowed. Watching Matthew from the corner of her eyes, she hid a smile behind the drinking of her coffee as he ate his cake. It was clear that even the officers did not get such treats often. He was eating that bit of cake as if he had been starved for days.

  Matthew put his empty plate down and drank some coffee before looking at Abigail. “Is living here working well for ye?”

  “I suppose. It is not perfect, that is certain, but most of the ladies are nice and the children are dears.”

  “Let me guess. Mrs. Beaton is not one of those ‘most of the ladies.’”

  Abigail sighed. “No. She still thinks and acts as if she is the lady of the manor. It appears I upset the proper order of things much too often.”

  “When we finish our coffee we could go for a walk and you can tell me how disruptive ye are.”

  She nodded even as she laughed. Once they were done, she put everything back on the tray and took it back
to the kitchen. By the time she returned, Matthew was standing in the hall holding her coat.

  “Is it cold enough for this?” she asked even as she slid it on and buttoned it up.

  “There is still a bite in the air when it gets late in the day.”

  “Ah, of course. I missed much of winter hiding in this house huddled before a fireplace.”

  “Lucky you. Most of the misery should be over soon.”

  “I hope so.” She hooked her arm through his and they headed out the door.

  “Most of the snow is gone. That has been hard on the soldiers, seeing as so much of our time is spent lying on the ground shooting at the other side. But I can feel the change of season.”

  “Aye, so can I. Glad we are not stationed in Maine or some state like that.” He smiled when she laughed. “Here we see the warming faster.”

  It was a pretty small town, Abigail decided. Even with the trees stripped by the cold, it was nice. It made her sad to think of all that was happening around it. The field behind the general store was filling up with the dead, chosen as the burial spot when the Union arrived and started holding it for the Union. The cemetery held both sides, gray and blue. The whole thing seemed like such a senseless tragedy to her.

  Deciding an evening spent arm in arm with a handsome man was not a time to consider such serious thoughts. She glanced at Matthew and noticed he kept a close watch for any threat. Even a walk was dangerous, she thought, and shook her head.

  “So where are we going?”

  “No idea,” said Matthew, and he grinned at her. “Not many places to walk in this town and probably not verra safe outside it. So it is up one side of the street and down the other.”

  “How adventurous of us.”

  “Verra. Or”—his smile grew wider—“we could duck down an alley.”