“We already have that,” she said, looking up at him, her sweet face full of gratitude. “A home is more than four walls and a roof.”
Jackson’s throat tightened. He pulled her into a gentle embrace.
As he held her, his mind drifted to another woman, miles away in Greenvale, and his throat tightened more. “I'll do right by you, Amanda,” he whispered, renewing the commitment he’d made. “No matter what.”
Caroline sat across the table from her mother, trying to summon an appetite, and trying to decide if a quiet house was better for her frame of mind than a bustling one. Her father had gone to an early meeting with his banker, and the few remaining soldiers in the makeshift hospital had been relocated, so her brothers had resumed attending school.
“Your eggs are getting cold,” her mother remarked.
Caroline forced herself to take a bite. Life required energy, which, unfortunately, required sustenance.
Her mother spread a generous layer of apple butter on her toast. “May God forgive me, but I covet breakfast without menfolk at the table.”
The corner of Caroline’s mouth lifted with the first spark of amusement she’d felt in weeks. “You covet meals that don’t include scrapple, you mean.”
Her mom wrinkled her nose. “Nelson would eat that dross every day if I let him. Simon, too. I don’t understand the appeal.”
Caroline didn’t either, but it was satisfying, so long as one didn’t contemplate its ingredients.
Her mother took a sip of tea and cradled the cup in her hands. “Mrs. Abernathy is having a luncheon next Tuesday, to collect donations and organize aid for the soldiers’ home in Lonhill. I know how important that cause is to you, so I accepted for both of us.”
A sharp retort railed against Caroline’s lips, but she clamped her jaw tight and held it in. She was going to have to reenter society at some point. A shadow had been cast on her reputation. But, since she and Jackson were never betrothed, his rejection carried little weight.
“I added some pleated ruffling to my green plaid dress,” her mother went on. “I thought I’d go to town this morning and shop for a matching hat. We could find one for you, too. Please say you’ll come.”
Caroline got control of herself and aimed for a pleasant tone. “All right.”
Her mother leaned forward and laid a hand on her arm. “I know you’d rather hide from all the prying eyes and thoughtless questions, but it’s better done in early days. Trust me, Caroline. The sooner you show your face and get on with life, the sooner the gossips will move on to their next target.” She sat backand took a sip of her tea. “I chose Mrs. Abernathy’s luncheon because it won’t devolve into some unbridled social orgy. It has an agenda, and it’s something we can attend together. I’ll be by your side to deflect the worst of it.”
Tears threatened, but not because of Jackson. “Thank you,” she said with a watery smile.
They finished their tea, and her mother pulled the napkin from her lap. “I can manage the dishes on my own. Be ready to leave in an hour.”
Caroline nodded. “I’ll put away the laundry.” She set down her spoon with a sigh and rose. This was going to be a difficult day, but nothing compared to attending the luncheon.
She carried a basket of folded undergarments upstairs and deposited her brothers’ things in their respective rooms, then opened the drawer of her bureau. Her gaze lingered on the stack of letters tied with a blue ribbon. Jackson’s letters.
Caroline’s fingers twitched, longing to untie the bow and lose herself in his words once more.
Don’t.
She closed the drawer and walked away. Reading them wouldn’t change her situation. It would only flay her heart afresh and intensify the pain that plagued her every waking moment.
Caroline sifted through the dresses in her wardrobe. They were a good three years out of date, but that was true for almost everyone. After such a long, brutal war, stylish garments were the least of people’s worries.
She set aside a brown dress she could alter for the luncheon, then donned her favorite green day dress and joined her mother downstairs.
“The weather is fair,” her mother said, pulling on a pair of short gloves. “I thought we’d walk instead of taking the carriage. Nelson would approve,” she added with a grin, “as it will limit how many parcels we can carry.”
“Perhaps we should take the carriage, after all.”
An unladylike bark of laughter erupted. “You appear honest and sensible, dear daughter, but beneath it hides a wicked streak.”
They fastened on their bonnets and left for town, giggling.
Caroline tilted her face up to the warm, bright sunlight as she turned down Greenvale's main street. Her mother was right. She needed to go out.
“Vernetta!” a female voice called. Eula Abernathy was hurrying toward them on the boardwalk—as quickly as a plump, buxom, sexagenarian could—waving cheerfully. “Vernetta, dear, how lovely to see you. And you, too, Caroline.”
