“Are you to sit by and watch your friends and neighbors take up arms, fight for you and me?”
“I’ve taken up arms before.”
“You were a boy. Defending your family.” Aunt Mary floured her work table and reached for the sourdough jar, her voice growing stronger, passionate. “Now you are a man, and you must defend all families. You must defend your nation. The war is no longer only in Massachusetts and Virginia. It’s here, in our backyard, in our fields.”
“I fear I’ll only kill for revenge.”
“Seek the Almighty. He will teach you about humility and honor. Even in war.”
“And let God judge between me and the men slain by my bullets?” He left the kitchen and crossed to the parlor.
“Then you’re going?” she said, wiping her hands on her apron. “I’ll fetch you a clean shirt.”
At the gun rack, Hamilton took down his pa’s pistol and Uncle Laurence’s Brown Bess, along with his own pistol and rifle. Collecting his pouch of powder and box of bullets, he addressed Aunt Mary one final time.
“What will you do if I get myself killed?”
“Do what we all must do every day. Trust in the Almighty.”
He found Captain Irwin in the tavern owner’s private room, huddled together with old and new recruits.
Ben Quincey stood when Hamilton entered. “At last.”
One by one, each man stood, greeting him with applause. Captain Irwin welcomed him with a somber handshake. “Come, meet the men of the Upper Ninety Six Militia.”
10
JESSE
The kiss lingered. Saying good-bye to a friend never tasted so good. Breaking away, Jesse studied Chloe’s expression, the emotion in her eyes and on her cheeks.
Did she feel what he felt? Something old. Something new. Already he wanted more. Not just a kiss, though he’d invite her lips to his any time, but he wanted the woman beneath the kiss.
Her thoughts, her feelings, her likes and dislikes. He wanted to know the reason for the quizzical glint in her green eyes. And the source of the smirk on her lips.
He turned toward the deck doors. “It’s getting late.”
She nodded, shoving a lock of hair from her face, a slight breathless heave in her breasts. “Yes, right. I feel like I’ve been trying to leave forever.”
“I’ll drive you.” Jesse reached for her clutch on the glass end table.
“You don’t need to drive me.” She pulled her phone from the small, beaded bag. “I’ll call for a car.”
“Car? No, Chloe, I’ll drive you.”
“Dad has a service. It’s not a problem. Hello, Chloe Daschle, number 413. Jesse, what’s the address?”
He repeated the house number, waiting for her to hang up. A chivalrous man would drive her. He wanted to be chivalrous. Perhaps needed to be. And he must start somewhere. With someone.
“It’ll be here in a few minutes.” She stepped around him towardthe door, and it took every ounce of Jesse’s restraint not to scoop her in his arms and carry her inside.
“Thank you,” she said. “For everything. For rescuing this crazy bridesmaid. For making tonight fun. For the pizza and washing the pie from my face.”
“You didn’t have pie on your face.” He took her hand, leading her to the deck railing. “We can watch for the car from up here. Until then, we gaze at the stars. At least the ones we can see between the lights.”
“My first role ever was as a star.” Chloe propped her arms on the railing, leaning into the breeze. “Ironic, huh? I was the shining light over Bethlehem in my kindergarten play. Let me tell you, I rehearsed and rehearsed. Asked my mother about method acting, and on opening night I beamed with all my might.”
“A star was born.”
