A Plain Old Soldier (M&M, CC, AU, Teen) [COMPLETE]

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Winner Round 13



TITLE A plain old soldier
RATING Teen
PAIRING M&M for the main part, with a little CC thrown in.
DISCLAIMER I don't own Roswell, it belongs to Jason Katims et al.

SUMMARY This is for Sarah AKA Girl Afraid who won my services in the April Author Auction. She requested a fic based on a civil war challenge of mine. It was supposed to be delivered last May, but I suck and therefore it's only ready now.


Speaking of the author auction. Just in case you missed it, there's another one taking place this month and there's lots of awesome Roswell authors on the block. More info HERE


and here we go...

Chapter one

Boston, December 1851

Everybody in Boston knew the Evans.

They were old stock, well connected and rich. They were the cream of society.

After the death of Old Man Evans, as he was affectionately known, his eldest son Philip inherited the beautiful ancestral home of Roswell Hall and the many lucrative properties all around the city.

Shortly after his father died, Philip Evans set up a home for orphaned boys in his memory. In the busy port city of Boston it flourished and within five years Philip opened a school for girls. There was never a shortage of needy children to be housed, fed and educated. Later they moved the boy’s school to larger premises.

Philip and his wife Diane doted on their four children - Maxwell and three golden haired daughters, Isabel, Tess and Maria. However, they made sure not to spoil the children and made sure that they were aware of how lucky they were to be in their privileged position. From a young age they encouraged the children to do charity work. A couple of times a year the children would visit the schools and met the children less fortunate than them.

As the youngest, Maria had often been left behind as her brother and older sisters had gone visiting. At age eight, Maria was finally permitted to attend a Christmas party at the boy’s school. For little Maria, it was sign that she was a big girl now and she was very excited to attend.

Her mother had given her a special job which Maria fully intended to carry out to the best of her ability. She was to make sure that all the children were involved in the games and none of them were being left out. So Maria harassed and cajoled and bossed until all the children were involved.

Almost all. One boy, however, refused to participate in any of the games. He sat in a corner, a dark scowl in his eyes and paid no attention to Maria as she tried to entice him to play with the other children. When talking didn’t work, Maria tired to pull him onto the floor. Though the boy was small and painfully thin, he was too strong for Maria and swatted her away as though she was an annoying insect.

“You’re a bold boy,” Maria shouted at him and kicked his ankle.

Diane pulled her away. “Maria, you must never kick. It is naughty and hurtful. Leave the boy alone if he doesn’t want to play.”

“But Mama, you said that I was to make sure that all the children were playing. And he won’t play. Make him play Mama.”

“Pardon me Mrs. Evans,” a teacher interrupted. “May I?” she asked, gesturing to Maria.

Diane nodded and the teacher knelt down in front of Maria. “Sweetheart, that little boy is very sad. That’s why he doesn’t want to play.”

“Why is he sad?” Maria asked in a small voice.

“Well, he comes from a country far away. He came to America with his family on a boat but the voyage was very long and everybody on the boat got sick. His whole family died before they got to America and Michael was left all on his own. Your Papa brought him here and we have been taking care of him. But he’s still very sad and that is why he doesn’t want to play.”

Maria listened carefully to the teacher then turned her gaze on Michael. He had been watching them but quickly averted his eyes when Maria looked his way.

“Perhaps you could choose a toy for him and he might join in with everybody else in his own time,” The teacher suggested.

Maria nodded her head and wiped away her tears. Diane gave her an encouraging smile and brought her over to the toy box they had brought with them. Maria rooted through the contents, considering a number of toys before she selected a small wooden soldier. It was only a little taller than her hand and sported a bright red uniform.

Slowly, Maria walked back to Michael. He didn’t even look at her as she sat down beside him and pushed the little soldier into his hand. He didn’t push her away and so Maria sat with him for an hour.

Eventually it was time to go and Diane rounded up her children, three of whom now resembled street urchins, so dirty were they from playing with the other children. Diane laughed at their rumpled appearance and happy smiles. She gestured for Maria to join them.

Reluctantly, Maria rose to her feet and hovered over Michael. She didn’t want to leave him alone in this place where he was so sad and lonely. Her mama called again, more insistent this time.

Michael looked up at her, for the first time. Maria smiled at him and to her satisfaction, the corners of his lips lifted up in an attempt at a smile. Impulsively, Maria swooped down and kissed his cheek.

“Good bye Michael.”

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Thank you all, my wonderful readers. Glad you're enjoying this.

This part has been betaed by Michelle in Yonkers, thanks hun.



Boston, June 1859.

Michael Guerin rarely felt at home in any place.

He’d had a family once, long ago, but all he could remember from his childhood was the never-ending hunger that came with wretched poverty. He had lived for the past eight years in an orphanage. It had been a good place, where the children were cared for and educated but it had never been home.

Now, as a young man striking out on his own, he had a room at a lodging house in town. For the first time in his life, he could shut the door on the outside world and be completely alone. Even that didn’t feel like home. Partly because the landlady, Mrs. O’Leary, made sure that all her guests remembered that it was her house and they were merely passing through.

Sitting in Philip Evans’s library, Michael felt more out of place than ever. It was lined, floor to ceiling, with leather-bound books. They were scattered in piles on reading tables around the room, propped up against walls, squeezed between plush cushions on the chairs. Michael was an avid reader and he would have loved to peruse the titles but he sat without moving on the one hard chair in the room.

He was sitting by the window, and his gaze drifted to the panes and to the spectacular garden below. From his viewing point, he could see four men at work in various spots around the grounds and he wondered how many others were employed simply to tend the gardens.

From the room next door came the soft sounds of piano music. It was the most beautifully played piece he had ever heard. They had a piano at the orphanage and many of the more musically inclined boys had been given lessons. The sounds made by that old, abused piano paled in comparison to the music he was listening to now. He imagined that the quality of the piano had something to do with the difference in sound, but he knew, even with the limited musical knowledge that he possessed, that he was listening to a musician of great talent. One of the Evans girls, no doubt. He had heard of their beauty and many accomplishments.

He closed his eyes and imagined what it would be like to live this life. To own such a collection of books, to be able to look out at his own garden, to have music played to him by…. A wife? A mother? A sister?

Such thoughts were pointless. He was a poor Irish immigrant, an orphan, a junior office clerk. If he worked hard, perhaps one day he could have a place of his own, somewhere to call home. And maybe even a family of his own to share it with. He pushed those thoughts away. He didn’t like to dwell on these dreams of his.

The music stopped suddenly and moments later the door to the music room was thrown open. He rose to his feet as the youngest Miss Evans entered. She was indeed beautiful and dressed so finely that Michael felt even more ill at ease than before.

Maria jumped in surprise when she saw him. “Goodness, I hadn’t realized there was anybody in here.” She ran her eyes over him, and then glanced around the room to see who else was there.

“I apologize for startling you. I am waiting for your father, Miss Evans,” Michael explained.

“Are you here to propose marriage, too?” she asked.

Michael didn’t know how to respond. She must have been joking, surely she could tell by his clothes and his accent that he was in no position to be proposing marriage to anybody, let alone an Evans.

She laughed. “I’m joking, Mr. Guerin. I know why you’re here.”

He was surprised that she remembered who he was. It had been a couple of years since she had last visited the school. Diane Evans had stopped bringing her daughters there when they had reached a certain age. Before that however, Maria had always made a point of seeking him out on her visits. She had often brought him small presents; indeed, Michael still had a toy soldier she had given him during that first Christmas visit.

“Father mentioned that you are to start work for him as a clerk next week,” Maria continued. “He’s very proud.”

“He is?”

“Of course, he says that he can still remember the day they found you all alone on the port without a word of English and dressed in the most appalling rags he had ever seen. Now here you are, a few years later, one of the brightest graduates from his school and about to start working for him. There are many who believe that Father is wasting his time trying to educate the poor, so for him you are evidence that it is worth it.”

Michael shifted awkwardly in his seat. “I am glad to be of service.”

“I am sure that he will tell you all this himself, when he comes,” Maria smiled. “Does he know that you are here?”

“The servant, who brought me in here, told me that he would inform Mr. Evans that I was here.” Michael looked at the clock on the mantel. “That was twenty minutes ago.”

Maria rolled her eyes, “Joseph? It could be dinner time before he remembers to tell father.” She walked over to the bell by the fireplace and gave it a firm, sharp tug. “In the mean time, I was marking some music in here yesterday and I seem to have mislaid a page. Do you see any sheet music anywhere?”

They hunted around for a minute until Michael found the errant page beneath an armchair. As he stood up to return it to her, a female servant entered the room in response to the bell and Maria dispatched her to find Philip and inform him of Michael’s arrival.

Michael handed Maria the page. “Is this the tune you were playing just now? You play beautifully.”

Maria blushed, “Thank you. Well, Father will be along soon and I should get back to this. Good luck Mr. Guerin, try not to be so afraid of Father. He will treat you well.”

“Maria, Miss Evans I mean,” Michael called, before she could leave the room. He didn’t want her to leave just yet. “Uh… I wanted to thank you.”

“For what?” Maria asked in surprise.

“You, well, you and your family, have shown me many kindnesses over the years. Not just in paying for my education, but in many other respects. I owe you a great deal and I am forever indebted to each of you.”

“Think nothing of it,” Maria said, her cheeks flushing prettily. “They were very small kindnesses. In fact, I seem to remember kicking you on one occasion.”

Michael laughed. “I only remember that you kissed me afterwards.” He kicked himself internally, wondering why the hell he had said that.

Maria’s cheeks turned from pink to crimson and she gave an embarrassed laugh before she ducked into the music room.

Philip arrived moments later and, as Maria had forecast, expressed pride and satisfaction in Michael’s accomplishments.

In truth, Michael heard little of what Philip had to say as his ears were trained on the sound of Maria’s music coming from the room next door.

When Michael returned to his lodgings that night, he dug out the toy soldier she had given him once. It was remarkably unchanged from the day she had given it to him. The paint was a little faded but that was all. He had never treated it as a toy, never played with it. Michael had kept in wrapped in a handkerchief all these years, taking it out in quiet moments to simply hold. It was the first thing that he had ever owned that was just his. For a long time, it was the only thing he owned that was just his.

The toy’s survival was even more remarkable, considering that Michael had grown up in an orphanage surrounded by hundreds of other boys. That none of them had ever stolen the soldier spoke of the fearsome reputation that Michael had cultivated. He had learned to fight very early on and proved to be one of the toughest fighters in the school. Such was his reputation that he had used his skills on very few occasions. He grinned at the memory of how other boys would cower when he simply scowled.

It was a world away from where he was now. He had to put his fists away and be a polite and polished gentleman. For a long time, he had imagined that he would become a soldier when he left the orphanage, perhaps the toy had been his inspiration. When it had become clear to the teachers that he was intelligent and a quick learner, they had steered him towards an office career, knowing that there were more opportunities available for him. Philip Evans had been delighted to hear of Michael’s progress and was thrilled to be able to offer him a position in his own company. Somebody like Michael could flourish under Philip Evans’s tutelage, could rise from his impoverished beginnings and make something of himself. As long as he played by the rules and did nothing to anger the boss.

So Michael folded the toy soldier back into the handkerchief and returned it to the small box he kept it in.

***

Three months later…

Michael Guerin straightened his back and rolled his shoulders, trying vainly to relieve the tension in his back. His eyes flickered to the path leading to the building he was currently in, and seeing nobody of importance on the approach, he returned his attention to the ledgers on his desk.

He quickly realized that he had made a mistake in totaling a column of figures and went about correcting it. His eyes drifted to the window again and still seeing nobody he sighed.

He hated this job. Hated being cooped up indoors all day, hunched over a desk, staring at figures until they swam before his eyes. He would far prefer to be at work outside on some manual job. However the manual laborers earned less than the clerks and had less chance of promotion through the ranks. This is what he had to constantly remind himself of. Despite his intense dislike of his job, he was doing well and had impressed his superiors and, more importantly, Philip Evans. They dropped hints to him occasionally of increased responsibility and opportunities. He tried not to think of it has longer hours in the job he hated, but more money in his savings.

Michael’s eyes jumped to the window again and this time his patience was rewarded. He covertly straightened his coat and ran his fingers through his hair. He bent over the ledger, pretending to be hard at work but secretly listening for the sound of light footsteps on the stairs and the rustle of her skirts.

When Maria entered the room, he kept his head down and didn’t look her way as she greeted the other clerks. It was not until she was level with his desk that he looked up and pretended to notice her.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Guerin,” she smiled.

“It’s good to see you, Miss Evans.”

Philip Evans emerged from his office and approached his youngest daughter. “Do I smell lunch?”

Maria held up the wicker basket she was carrying. “Of course.” She took her father’s arm and allowed him to lead her to his office. Michael’s gaze followed her every movement. Before she stepped into her Father’s office, Maria glanced quickly at him and smiled again.

“I think that Thursday is my favorite day,” Philip announced before he shut his office door.

Michael let out the breath he was holding and silently agreed with his boss. On Thursday, Maria had singing lessons around the corner from her father’s business and she had fallen into the habit of bringing him lunch and eating with him after her lesson. Sometimes, Michael truly believed that the chance to see her once a week on Thursday was the only reason he kept this job.

It was over an hour later when Maria and her father finished lunch. Michael had grabbed a quick bite and hurried back to the office, not wanting to miss the chance to see her leave.

To his surprise, Philip Evans beckoned him over. “Michael, I have an urgent matter I must attend to now. Would you escort Maria out and see that she gets a cab home safely please?”

“Of course.”

Maria kissed her father goodbye and followed Michael down the stairs. Outside, he hesitated awkwardly. He could never remember if he was supposed to offer his arm or not. Eventually he just held it out and let Maria make the decision. She slipped her hand through and they walked, slowly, towards the street.

Michael asked after her family.

“They are all fine, thank you. At least, we hear that Maxwell is fine, not that we ever see him. He is consumed with his medical studies and apparently forgets to come home most weeks. Isabel and Tess and I keep ourselves busy, there is much to do.”

“Did I hear that Isabel was engaged?”

“You might have heard it, but it’s not true. Mother and father are very keen for her to marry Alexander Whitman, Charles Whitman’s son. I believe that his parents are anxious for the match also. As for Mr. Whitman and Isabel, neither of them seems interested in the other. I dare say that if our parents were to push, they would perform their duty, but until such time, Isabel remains very much unattached.”

“And what about Tess, and you?”

“Tess is happy to ‘shop around’ at present as she likes to say and as for me… well, I am not yet out in society and I have two older unmarried sisters so it is not a pressing concern for me just yet.” Maria sighed and looked at the ground. In a much quieter voice she added. “I do not think that I shall ever marry.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Michael admitted. “Surely the men of society will be lining up for you.”

Maria made a face at the image. “That is what I’m afraid of.” She looked up and met his eyes and for a moment, they locked gazes. Then Maria blushed and looked away.

It suddenly became clear to Michael. She felt the same way that he did. That knowledge sucked the breath from his body and froze him on the spot.

“Mr. Guerin?” Maria prompted softly.

Michael realized that she was trembling and that his own hands were shaking too. He looked around and noticed that they were in an alleyway between the yard and the street, surrounded by high windowless walls. Maria followed his look and smiled at the recognition that they were alone.

“Maria…” Michael trailed off, his voice shaking too. He didn’t have to voice his thoughts. Maria knew that there could be nothing between them, ever. And yet, when he slipped his arm around her slim waist and pulled her closer to him, she responded willingly.

He lowered his head to hers and captured her lips in a kiss that was gentle at first but grew more heated. Maria’s fingers curled in the lapel of his coat and urged him closer. His grip on her waist tightened and he pulled her flush against his body.

From somewhere close by, came the sound of a muffled shout. They sprang apart and looked around in alarm. Michael took a deep breath to calm his rapidly beating heart. “It came from the street…. I am so sorry Mar- Miss Evans.”

Maria blinked back tears. “Please, it was just a moment of foolishness on both our parts.”

The rest of her sentence went unspoken: It won’t happen again.

“I should….” Michael gestured to the street. Maria nodded and followed him out of the alleyway. He hailed a cab for her. They parted wordlessly but as Michael helped Maria into the cab, their hands lingered in each other’s a little longer than necessary.

***

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Thank you all, you beautiful people. Glad you're enjoying the fic.

Boston, December 1860

The Evans family always threw a lavish party to celebrate the New Year. It was attended by the best and brightest of society and was easily one of the most coveted invitations of the year.

Even with civil war looming inevitably on the horizon, Roswell was bursting at the seams for the annual ball. All around the house, men gathered in groups, loudly expressing their opinions and talking in urgent tones of what was to come. The ladies pasted bright smiles on their faces and tried to appear jovial and happy.

Among the guests filling the house, was a young lady from Georgia. She was Elizabeth Parker, the daughter of a close friend of Diane Evans. She had been born in Boston and knew the Evans girls as a child before her family had moved south when her father had inherited an estate close to Atlanta. Jeffrey Parker, worried about the approaching war, had sent his daughter to stay with the Evanses. Although it was another reminder of the approaching conflict, Maria and her sisters were thrilled to have Liz stay with them.

As the party kicked into full swing, Maria brought Liz on a tour to point out the various people of note. Maria noticed how Maxwell’s eyes followed their progress and concealed a happy smile, deliberately steering Liz in the opposite direction of her brother. Ever since she had arrived, shortly before Christmas, the family had seen three times as much of Max as they had all year and it was clear to everybody, except Liz, that he was smitten with the dark-haired beauty.

Maria pulled Liz close to a column and pointed discreetly to a tall man speaking to her father. “That man is Alexander Whitman.”

“Isabel’s beau?” Liz whispered, peering at the handsome young man.

“Possible, potential beau. Isabel scarcely gives him the time of day, although I think that Mr. Whitman is not as indifferent as he pretends to be. Observe how he pays attention to her.”

The girls watched as Alex spoke to Philip Evans, however, every so often he would spare a glance in Isabel’s direction. Despite the fact that she was flitting around, greeting and mingling, Alex seemed to know where she was at all times.

“Interesting,” Liz observed. “I cannot help but wonder if it is a coincidence that Isabel is always within his line of sight. She seems to enjoy his attention.”

“You may be right, my dear,” Maria giggled. “I think they make a very handsome couple. Alexander is a true gentleman and I believe he would make a wonderful husband but Isabel will not be told what to do.”

“Perhaps, in her own time she will come around to the idea.”

“I hope so,” Maria sighed. Then spotting her brother making his way to them, she grabbed Liz’s hand and pulled her to the next room. She glanced back at Maxwell and smiled mischievously at him. He blushed.

“There’s Tess,” Liz commented. “Who is that man she’s talking to?”

“That is Kyle Valenti. His father is Mayor Valenti.”

They watched as Tess flirted blatantly with the young Valenti who barely seemed to notice she was there, directing all his attention to another girl beside Tess.

“Oh dear,” Liz sighed sympathetically.

Maria laughed, “I wouldn’t worry about Tess. The only reason that she is so determined to get his attention is because Kyle is just about the only man in this entire city who does not pay attention to her. Trust me, if he was interested in Tess, she would not pay him the slightest bit of attention. Perhaps it is a deliberate ploy of Mr. Valenti’s.”

Tess finally gave up trying to attract Kyle’s undivided attention and went off in a huff to find some other unsuspecting fool to flirt with. To Liz and Maria’s amusement, as Tess walked away, Kyle watched her go with a smile on his face.

“I think you may be right,” Liz observed.

“But of course,” Maria grinned with fake pride. She glanced at her friend and decided that she had made Max wait long enough. “Come, let’s go and see what else is happening.”

Taking Liz’s hand, Maria led her back into the ballroom where the first person she saw was Max. Her brother was keeping a steady eye on the door and he almost tripped over his own feet in his haste to approach them as soon as they entered. He was trying to move quickly so that Maria couldn’t evade him again.

However, Maria was rooted in place. Max had been speaking to somebody when they came in, and the other man had turned around to follow Max. It was Michael Guerin.

She hadn’t seen him very much since the day they had shared a kiss outside her father’s office. After it had occurred, Maria had changed the time of her lessons so she would not have time to call in to see her father at work. On the few occasions she had ventured down to see her father, she was in the company of her sisters or her mother and had only seen Michael from a distance.

Now he was less than ten feet from her and closing in. She felt her heart rate speed up. He was so handsome. He had grown taller since, and filled out. He was one of the tallest men in the room and though clearly less affluent than almost everybody, he had a commanding presence.

He hesitated when he saw Maria but walked up to join them.

“May I present Miss Parker,” Max said breathlessly, his eyes riveted on Liz’s face. Liz blushed and simpered and barely glanced at Michael when Max introduced him.

“What are you doing here?” Maria blurted out suddenly.

“Maria,” Max chided, misunderstanding Maria’s surprise. “Mr. Guerin is here as my guest.”

“Of course, I am just surprised to see him here. I was not aware that you and Mr. Guerin were friends.” There was an awkward pause, the band finished playing a song and dancers moved past them off the floor. “How are you Mr. Guerin?” Maria asked.

“Very well, thank you. And you?”

“Very well, also. Thank you.” Maria turned to Max and noticed that he was nervously shifting from one foot to another, trying to work up the courage to ask Liz to dance. “Maxwell, I have not seen you on the dance floor yet. Liz, perhaps you would be so kind as to dance with Max to at least show people here that he has manners.”

“I’d be delighted… if you’re willing, Mr. Evans.”

Max gave her his arm and led her onto the dance floor.

Michael shifted uncomfortably beside Maria, watching the dancers on the floor.

“They look wonderful together, don’t they?” Maria sighed. She paused and spoke in a lower voice. “I did not mean to imply that I wasn’t happy to see you here or that you are not welcome. I was simply surprised.”

“I know.”

“I was not aware that you and Maxwell were such friends.”

Michael shrugged. “His lodgings in town are close to where I live and he calls upon his father regularly. It grew from there.” He paused and scratched his eyebrow, before continuing nervously. “I… we do not see you at your father’s office very much anymore. I hope that is not because of me.”

“No, no, of course not,” Maria replied hastily. “My music tutor rearranged the times of my lessons, so I… I don’t get the time to visit father anymore.”

“Of course, I understand.”

“Oh,” Maria exclaimed with a surprised smile. When Michael looked at her questioningly, she gestured to where Alexander Whitman was leading Isabel onto the dance floor. “I hope they give each other a chance.”

Michael took the chance to drink her in as she watched the dancers. How is it possible that she has grown even more beautiful since the last time I stood this close to her? he asked himself.

“Would you care to dance with me?” he blurted out, without even thinking.

Maria was surprised by his question but a smile lit her face. “Yes, thank you.” She offered him her hand, which he took in his own larger one and led her onto the floor.

“I… we had lessons at school but I’m afraid that I was declared unteachable. You may be risking life and limb.”

“Well, we’re here now,” Maria laughed lightly. She stepped into the hold and guided his hand into position. “I can lead, if you wish.”

Michael smiled and they began to dance. He was stiff and self conscious to begin with, stepping on Maria’s feet more than once. Gradually, however, he found his rhythm and soon he and Maria were whirling around the room amongst all the other couples. As he relaxed, and was able to stop counting steps, Michael became more and more aware of Maria. She was so close her could smell her perfume, feel her skin beneath the thin material of her dress. She was warm and soft and smelled so sweet. He could have danced with her all night.

Maria looked up at him and smiled sadly. The time and distance she had hoped would lessen her feelings for Michael were all undone the instant he had placed his hand in the small of her back. It was such a bittersweet feeling to be in his arms, to be so close to him and to know that this was a hopeless cause.

She wished so much that things were different.

The music came to an end. Slowly and reluctantly, Michael and Maria made their way back to the edge of the floor.

“You dance wonderfully, Maxwell,” Liz commented as Maria and Michael joined them.

“Thank you,” Max smiled bashfully. “I have three sisters and they needed somebody to practice with.”

“Is the dancing over?” Liz asked, aware that the band had not started playing another tune.

“I think they are taking a break,” Max guessed. “Maria, do you know what is happening now? Maria?”

Maria snapped out of her Michael induced daze and stared at her brother. “Pardon?”

As Max asked again, his voice was drowned up by a swell of voices who all seemed to be calling Maria’s name.

Tess materialized at Maria’s side and tugged on her arm. “They band is taking a break and we have had a number of requests to hear you play. Come.”

Although Maria didn’t want to leave Michael just yet, she had no choice but to go with Tess. Liz and Max followed in their wake.

As they pushed through the crowd, Tess whispered in Maria’s ear. “Perhaps I ought to do what you just did.”

“What?”

“Dance with the help, it would certainly attract Mr. Valenti’s attention. Though I am not sure it gives off the right impression.” She gave Maria a meaningful look. “You must be careful, Maria. It is fine for Maxwell to be his friend but it is a different thing entirely to dance with him.”

Maria felt her cheeks burning and it took everything in her not to cry. She looked down at the ground, unable to meet her sister’s or anybody else’s eye.

A large crowd was already gathered around the pianoforte and as Maria approached, they began to clap in anticipation and an excited murmur ran through the crowd.

Normally Maria enjoyed the attention she attracted when she played. Ever since she had made her debut into society, her reputation had grown immensely and she was often asked to play whenever she attended a ball or a party. For Maria, who often felt in the shadow of her two older sisters, it was a chance to shine that she usually relished. After dancing with Michael, and then Tess’s advice, Maria felt as though her feelings were being broadcast for all to see and she felt too vulnerable and raw. But she could think of no excuse that would work.

So she took her seat and the pianoforte and leafed through her music, trying to buy some time to regain control of her emotions. When she looked up, she realized that the room was packed, with every available spot taken. All eyes were on her. She searched the crowd but could see no sign of Michael. [i[It’s probably for the best,[/i] she reflected. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate if he were here.

She beckoned Liz to come forward and asked her to turn the pages of her sheet music for her.

“Of course,” Liz smiled and moved to stand in position. She leaned down and whispered in Maria’s ear. “Maria, you seem out of sorts, is something troubling you?”

Maria forced a smile. “No, I am fine.”

She ran her fingers over the keys and hush descended in the room. She played a couple of familiar tunes to begin with, they were jaunty and cheerful and the crowd smiled and clapped along. It lifted her spirits and she even began to enjoy herself.

After playing a number of songs Maria, aware that it was approaching midnight, turned to Liz. “I think we have time for one more, any requests?”

Liz stepped back to consider the question and her movement drew Maria’s attention to the window behind her. Michael Guerin was on the other side of the glass watching her.

Almost of their own volition, her fingers found the keys and began to play a tune. Maria tore her eyes away from the window.

The crowd in the room sobered, recognizing the tune at once. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Maria was aware that it probably wasn’t the most appropriate tune for the occasion, but it was the one in her heart.

The cruel war is raging, Johnny has to fight.
I long to be with him from morning 'till night.
I want to be with him, it grieves my heart so
Won't you let me come with you? No, my love, no.

Liz, realizing that her services were no longer required, moved away from Maria and without meaning to, came to stand beside Max. They shared a smile. Max turned back to watch his sister, Liz continued to look at Max. Was it possible that one day soon he would be facing the guns of an enemy?

Tomorrow is Sunday, Monday is the day
That your captain will call you, and you must obey
Your captain will call you, it grieves my heart so
Won't you let me come with you? No, my love, no.

Across the room, Isabel and Alex were also standing beside each other. Despite the dance they had shared, and the stilted conversation, there remained an awkwardness between them. As her sister’s music and voice washed over Isabel, she began to listen to the words of the song, she couldn’t help but wonder if soon Alex would be going off to war. She couldn’t imagine him fighting. He was too sweet, too cheerful, too youthful to picture on some battle field. She slipped her hand through his arm and squeezed it gently. He looked at her and smiled, gratefully.

I'll tie back my hair, men's clothing I'll put on.
I'll pass for your comrade as we march along.
I'll pass for your comrade, no one will ever know
Won't you let me come with you? No, my love, no.

Although she tried her hardest not to look out at Michael, Maria’s eyes drifted once again to the window and as she sung, she felt as though she was singing for Michael alone.

Your waist is too slender, your fingers are too small,
Your face is too slender to face the cannonball;
Your face is too slender, it grieves my heart so,
O, let me go with you: no, my love, no.

Oh Johnny, oh Johnny, I feel you are unkind
I love you far better than all of mankind
I love you far better than words can e'er express
Won't you let me come with you? Yes, my love, yes.

As Maria finished her song, there was a moment of silence and then the room erupted into loud, heartfelt applause. It might not have been the most appropriate one for a ball, but the song, and the emotion with which Maria had sung it had touched everyone there. They all knew war was coming.

Philip Evans put his arm around his wife’s waist and called attention to the time. Everybody began to count down to midnight and to the New Year. As the clock began to chime the midnight hour, people embraced their young ones tighter than usual as everybody wondered what eighteen sixty one held in store for them.

Unnoticed by everyone, Maria stood up from the pianoforte and walked quietly out of the ballroom. She used a side door to slip out onto the veranda. Michael was leaning against the railing, staring out into the garden. It had started to snow again and Maria shivered as the freezing cold night air enveloped her.

Michael looked up at her in surprise. “Maria… you’ll catch your death of cold.”

In her haste to find Michael, Maria had forgotten that she was wearing only her thin silk ballroom gown.

“I don’t care,” she insisted. Then before Michael could say anything else, she rushed towards him and threw her arms around his neck and crushed her mouth to his. He was shocked but he quickly wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer.

Then common sense pervaded his brain and he pushed her away abruptly. “Maria, what are you doing? You know that we cannot allow this to happen.”

Maria covered her face with her hands. “I know. I know,… but if things were different, would you….?”

Michael came closer to her and took her hand in his. “There is no point in speculating Maria. It simply can never be.”

Maria pulled away and nodded. “Happy New Year, Michael.”

She pulled the door open to go back inside when Michael’s voice stopped her and she looked back at him.

He didn’t look at her as he spoke. “If my situation were different, I would be with you in a heartbeat. But I am never going to be anything more than a poor, Irish orphan, no matter what I do. And that will never be acceptable to your parents. They will want you to marry somebody like them, wealthy and connected and from a good family. You must forget about me.”

“I do not think I can,” Maria said in a voice that was little more than a whisper before she went back inside.

***

[nibbles2]

Thank you to

Sarammlover
chanks_girl
Rowedog
RhondaAnn
Alien_Friend
spacegirl23
Eva
Girl afraid
Tequathisy
Killjoy
April
DeDe PR

And Michelle in Yonkers

Boston, April 1861

“You may kiss your bride.”

To the sound of applause from his family, Maxwell Evans leaned over and kissed his wife for the first time. Liz was smiling against his lips but when he pulled away he could see he sadness in her eyes. He squeezed her hand in his, drawing as much comfort from her as he hoped he gave back.

His sisters swarmed around them, hugging and kissing and squealing in joy. The smile on Liz’s face grew and the sadness disappeared. He turned to shake his father’s hand but to his surprise, Philip pulled him close for a tight embrace. Max clung tightly, remembering how as a young boy he used to savor the security of being held by his father. But he was a man now, a married man. Max let go of his father and was immediately engulfed by his tearful mother. Over her shoulder he watched as Nancy Parker crushed Liz in a hug of her own. After extricating himself from his mother, Max took Liz’s hand and led her down the aisle out to the waiting carriage outside.

They assembled at the house to have dinner together. The atmosphere was one of forced joviality. Everybody tried their best to be happy and to enjoy the occasion but it was necessarily tinged with sadness and fear. There were too many reminders of what was to come. Jeffrey Parker had not travelled north with his wife, choosing instead to remain in Atlanta to protect their property their. Nancy would remain in Boston with the Evanses until it was safe to go home again.

The newlyweds would have two nights together before Max joined his company. He had enlisted as a doctor. Although his family and Liz had been saddened and frightened at his decision, they were all grateful that he would be in the relative safety of a field hospital and not out fighting on the battle field.

Alexander Whitman and Kyle Valenti were the only other guests who had joined them from dinner.

Kyle had shown up wearing his new military uniform. Tess, who had been pretending indifference to Kyle since the New Year’s ball had been glued to his side since he had arrived.

Unlike Kyle and Max, Alex had not enlisted. He would be joining his father in Washington where they hoped to broker a deal. Isabel had been strangely elated to hear that.

Maria had taken a seat at the piano and played soft music. Her thoughts, as always, drifted to Michael Guerin. She knew that he too had enlisted. Her father had mentioned it at the dinner table just a few nights earlier. She didn’t know what company he was in or when he was leaving. There was every chance he had already gone. She just wished that she’d had the chance to say goodbye to him. He could die in the war and she might never know. That thought horrified her.

Over dinner the conversation, as all conversations these days, had turned to war. They were discussing friends and acquaintances who had enlisted. Philip was naming the men from his office who were leaving and mentioned Michael amongst them.

“He came to see me today Maxwell, he asked me to pass his best wishes along to you.”

Max nodded. “I asked him to come today, but he said that he had to get ready to depart. He’s leaving first thing on Monday morning.”

For the rest of the meal, Maria couldn’t eat a bite. The food felt like sawdust in her mouth.

After the meal was over, Liz and Max left to spend the remainder of the weekend in the countryside. As soon as their carriage pulled away, Maria excused herself under the pretense of a headache and fled to her room where she cried herself to sleep.

The following morning she rose early and skipped breakfast; she avoided her family and chose instead the seclusion of the music room. Generally when she was practicing the rest of her family left her alone which was something she appreciated now more than ever.

Maria was surprised therefore when Tess drifted listlessly into the music room and flopped wearily into an armchair.

“Is something troubling you?” Maria asked her sister.

Tess shook her head. “I wanted to listen to you play. The piece you’re playing is so sad and it matched my mood.”

Maria ran her fingers over the keys before letting her hands fall into her lap. “Is it Maxwell?”

“Yes… but not just Max. I… last night, I kissed Mr. Valenti.”

“Oh. You kissed him?”

“Yes.” Tess hung her head. “Oh, it’s very unladylike, you don’t need to tell me, but he was saying goodbye and I thought to myself, ‘What if this is the last time that I ever see him?’ and I could not bear it. So I kissed him. God only knows what will happen to him. There are times when you just have to cast propriety aside and simply throw caution to the wind.”

“I understand that,” Maria said softly. She had, after all, kissed Michael Guerin twice in the past.

“It seems to me that Mr. Valenti and I have been very foolish,” Tess said sadly. “We wasted all this time playing this silly game instead of seizing our chance when we had it. Max and Liz didn’t play stupid games. They knew they were in love with each other and they decided not to let anything stand in their way. If I had been more foresighted, I would not have waited until it was too late. Even last night I almost let him walk out the door before I decided to kiss him! Imagine if I had let him leave without saying goodbye?”

Maria shook her head and resumed playing a haunting, slow melody on the piano. Her mind raced with Tess’s words.

***

Michael sat alone in his room in Mrs. O’Leary’s boarding house, counting down the hours until it was time to leave.

His few meager belongings were packed into a small trunk which his landlady would store for him until he came back. If…

His haversack lay open at his feet. In his hand he held a small wooden soldier. It was the one reminder he carried of Maria. It was the only connection he had with anybody else in the world now. Once he donned the uniform he would simply be a plain old soldier, one of thousands. He had no kin to pray for him, no sweetheart to miss him, nobody to see him off or hope for his return.

He wished, for possibly the millionth time, that he had gone to Maxwell Evans’s wedding the day before. He had thought staying away and not seeing Maria would make it easier to leave. It seemed the opposite was true. As the clock ticked ever closer to his departure time, his thoughts were consumed less and less with the war, and more and more with Maria. He wished that he could have had the chance to say goodbye to her because who knew if he would ever see her again? Now Maxwell was on his honeymoon and he had already said goodbye and thank you to Philip Evans. He could think of no other pretext to go to their home.

Michael was contemplating going by their house and standing outside in the dark and perhaps seeing Maria through a window when his thoughts were interrupted by a sharp knock on his door. He recognized it as his landlady’s.

“You have a visitor in the parlor,” she informed him when he opened the door.

He followed her down the narrow stairs and was surprised when she directed him, not to the boarder’s parlor, but her own private one.

He was stunned to find Maria waiting there for him.

She stood up when he entered and it took all his willpower not to rush up to her and take her in his arms. It seemed to him that she too had to restrain herself.

“Miss Evans,” he said in a hoarse voice and cursed himself for sounding so weak.

“Mr. Guerin, good afternoon,” Maria responded nervously.

“Shall I ring for tea?” Mrs. O’Leary interjected loudly. She owed a great deal to Philip Evans. He had helped her buy this house after the death of her dear husband Ernie, who had been a loyal employee of Old Man Evans and then his son. There was no way she was going to leave his daughter in the company of any man unchaperoned, and especially not one who was looking at her the way Mr. Guerin was looking at Maria.

“No, thank you,” Maria answered. Michael shook his head.

They sat in a semi-circle around the fireplace, with Mrs. O’Leary making sure she was in the middle of the two young people.

“Father mentioned that you were leaving tomorrow,” Maria explained. “I wanted to wish you well.”

“Thank you.”

“I brought you some things. It’s not very much,” Maria lifted a basket from the floor and passed it across to Michael. “We made so much for Maxwell that he will need a pack mule just to carry it all.”

Michael lifted the lid and glanced inside at the knitted socks and baked goods and his heart thumped at the gesture.

“Thank you, I appreciate this.”

Maria wanted to tell him that she had knitted the socks and baked the goods for him, but she was conscious of Mrs. O’Leary and so said nothing.

They lapsed into an awkward silence broken only by the clicking of Mrs. O’Leary’s knitting needles.

At last Maria spoke. “I hope that you will write to us, Mr. Guerin, to let us know how you are faring.”

“Of course,” Michael nodded. He had not intended to but now that she had asked, he promised himself that he would.

Maria asked the question that had been bothering her most. “Mr. Guerin, who is your next of kin? I mean, who will be informed if… if anything should happen to you?”

“I do not think I have listed anybody.”

“So how will I know if something happens to you?” Maria asked. Her eyes watered but she somehow managed not to cry.

“I…,” Michael had no answer for her.

Mrs. O’Leary spoke suddenly. “You must put me down as your next of kin. I will be taking care of your belongings. If anything happens and you won’t be returning for them, I’d like to know.” Then she added in a kinder voice. “If I hear anything then I will be sure to let you know, Miss Evans.”

“Thank you,” Maria whispered in gratitude. “Oh, I hope it’s not necessary, Michael, you must promise to take good care of yourself and to return safely and in one piece.”

“I will do my best,” he joked lightly.

“Promise me,” Maria urged seriously.

Michael nodded. “I promise.”

Mrs. O’Leary stood suddenly. “I must see the girl about a small matter. Please excuse me for just a minute.” She cast Michael a warning glance and left the room.

As soon as the door was closed, Maria was out of her seat. Michael rose and caught her in his arms.

“Oh, Michael, please don’t go,” Maria pleaded.

“I have to.”

“No, you do not. This is not your war. You can stay here and be safe.”

“Maria, I have to go,” Michael insisted gently.

Maria clung tightly to his coat. “I wish that you could stay here. I will think of you all the time, Michael.”

He pushed her back slightly. “Maria, you mean the world to me and your concern touches me greatly. But you must not think of me, you must not dwell on thoughts of me. Put me out of your mind. Find somebody else to think of and take care of, somebody who is better suited for you.”

“There is no one else.” She stepped back into his embrace and wrapped her arms around him. “I love you Michael, and I always will.”

A single tear trickled down her cheek and Michael brushed it away gently. He leaned down and brushed his lips gently against hers, Maria’s hands slid around his neck, pulling him closer, demanding more from his kiss. As his tongue teased her, they heard footsteps approaching.

They tore themselves apart as the door opened and Mrs. O’Leary came back in. Michael turned to face the fire to compose himself as Maria gathered her cloak.

“Thank you for your hospitality Mrs. O’Leary. You will be sure to let me know if you hear anything.”

“I will.”

Michael turned back to Maria and she offered him her hand.

“Goodbye Michael, may God keep you safe.”

He squeezed her hand gently and let it drop, turning once more to the fire so that neither of the women could see that he was crying.

He heard the sound of the parlor door open and close and then Maria was gone.

***

[nibbles2]

You are all so awesome and I am so grateful for your wonderful fb, but I'm going to be lazy and just give a general thanks instead of going through you all individually. So, thanks. Love you all.

(I will single out Michelle in Yonkers - thanks for being my beta.)

January 1862

Jeffrey Evans was not happy and wanted everybody to know about it. His exhausted mother was at her wit’s end, she had barely slept in the three days since he was born and right now she was hanging onto her sanity by just the thinnest of threads.

“I’ve tried everything,” she wailed. “He’s clean, he’s fed, and he’s winded. Why won’t he stop crying?”

“Liz, darling, you have to calm down,” her mother urged. “The baby is picking up on your emotions. He can sense that you are upset. Why don’t you put him down and get some rest. We’ll take care of him while you sleep.”

“No,” Liz said adamantly and clung to her son tighter. “I will take care of him.” She stood up and began to pace the room, rocking her weeping infant as she walked.

Nancy sighed and left the room. Outside in the corridor she met Diane and Maria. “Could you try?” she asked Maria.

When Maria was inside Liz’s room, Nancy turned to Diane. “Perhaps we should call a doctor. He might be able to give her something to calm down. I think she’s verging on hysteria now.”

“Oh, if only we would hear from Max,” Diane sighed, her own brow creased with worry. It had been over two weeks since they had last heard from Max. Mail from the front was erratic and it wasn’t unusual not to hear from Max for a few days. Christmas and New Year’s had passed without a word from Max. More alarmingly, there had been no response when they telegrammed him about the birth of his son, either, and this had given rise to a deep sense of worry and fear.

Liz, in particular, was distraught and grief stricken. She seemed to have convinced herself that Maxwell was dead; this coupled with the emotional fallout of a difficult pregnancy and labor had resulted in her becoming increasingly hysterical. There was nothing anybody could say to her to set her mind at ease and they all knew that the only thing that would help would be to hear something about Max, one way or the other.

Diane summoned a servant and arranged for somebody to bring the doctor to the house.

“Listen,” Nancy exclaimed in a whisper.

“I don’t hear anything,” Diane answered. Then her eyes widened in surprise. There was silence. Jeffrey had stopped crying.

They crept to the door of Liz’s bedroom and peered inside. Liz had her head on Maria’s lap and was fast asleep with Jeffrey in her arms. Maria was stroking Liz’s hair. She glanced up at the two grandmothers and smiled at them.

Liz slept for the rest of the night and most of the following morning. She woke only to feed Jeffrey. The following afternoon, while Jeffrey slept, she took a walk around the garden with Maria. Though still deeply concerned for Max’s well being, she was calmer now.

“I feel much better now,” Liz assured her friend. “But I’ll never be complete until Max is here with me again. Jeffrey is wonderful and he is my life now, but even he cannot fill the void that Max has left. He is on my mind constantly and I feel his absence. It’s as though my arm has been amputated. I feel off balance without Max.”

Maria nodded, thinking of Michael and wishing she could tell Liz how much she missed him. He had written occasionally, short notes that said little but meant the world to Maria. Without saying it, they told her that Michael was thinking of her, too, and that he was alive. The last letter had been a brief note to the entire family to wish them a Merry Christmas. There had been no word from Mrs. O’Leary yet, which Maria was thankful for.

That night as the family were drinking tea in the drawing room, they heard the sound of the doorbell chiming through the house. They froze, one thought on their minds.

Telegram.

They listened carefully as the butler opened the door and then the rapid sound of footsteps to the drawing room.

Liz reached for Maria’s hand and the two girls braced themselves for the news that was coming their way.

The door burst open and through it came, not the butler as they expected, but Maxwell Evans, alive and well.

There was a scream of delight and shock, as everybody rose to greet him. After embracing everybody, Max sat by the fire with his wife on one side of him and his mother on the other.

“I had been given leave for the end of January, but when I got your telegram, I just had to leave at once. One of the other surgeons agreed to swap his leave with me and I left right away,” Max explained.

Nancy brought down a sleeping Jeffrey and deposited him in his father’s arms. Max’s eyes were moist as he gazed upon his son for the first time. He marveled over the boy’s tiny hands and his delicate skin and the mop of dark hair on his head.

Over breakfast the next morning, Max told them about his work in the field hospital. It was hard and they were tremendously busy, but they were doing good work and they were safe. He was full of praise for the soldiers who were fighting and mentioned several people they knew. He did not mention Michael Guerin, much to Maria’s disappointment.

“Oh, I almost forgot, I also saw Kyle Valenti. He asked me to pass along his best wishes to you all.”

Tess pounced, asking questions about Kyle that Max had no way of answering. He teased her for a while before discreetly producing a letter for her, which she promptly rushed off to read in private.

It was late in the afternoon when Max came to find Maria in the music room.

“I missed hearing you play,” he told her as he took as seat close to the piano.

Maria smiled and finished the piece of music she had been practicing, all the while wondering about the best way of asking about Michael.

When she was finished, Max took her hand and turned her to look at him. “Maria, I need to ask you a favor. Liz is closer to you than anybody else, and she told me that you have really helped her during the last few months. If anything should happen to me, please look after her and Jeffrey for me.”

“You don’t even have to ask,” Maria assured him. “I love Liz as a sister, and I will be there for her always. But nothing will happen to you. You will come home when this is over and be a wonderful father to Jeffrey and a loving husband to Liz.”

Max buried his face in his hands. “I hope so Maria. Sometimes however, I wonder if any of us will come home when this is over. Sometimes I think that the war will continue until every single one of us is dead and there is nobody left to do the fighting. All I see every day is death; for every man we save, twenty die. And those who survive are maimed and crippled for life. I did not think it was possible for man to do such inhumane things to other men, let alone their own brothers. It is evil and cruel and…” Max broke down sobbing and Maria engulfed him in her arms, rubbing his back and soothing him until he calmed down.

“Promise me you will not say a word of this to Liz or mother,” Max pleaded. “I know how worried they are for me and I don’t want to add to it.”

“I promise.”

Max kissed her cheek gratefully. “I think I will go and watch my son sleep. After tomorrow who knows when I will see him again?”

“Max,” Maria caught his arm and held him in place. She decided to just ask the question that was most on her mind and damn the consequences. “Have you seen Mr. Guerin at all?”

“Mr. Guerin?” Max looked at her curiously for a moment. He shook his head. “I have not seen him since we left Boston. I have heard of him though. He has earned himself a good reputation as a soldier and has been made a captain.”

“If you do see him, will you tell him that I asked for him? Please Max?”

He nodded his head. “Of course.”

***

May 1862

Alexander Whitman stood for a few moments in the shadow of a large oak tree so that he could drink in the sight that lay before him.

The three Evanss girls and their sister-in-law were sitting on a blanket on the lawn, the splendid colors of their dresses blending in with the flowers around them. They were smiling and laughing; Tess was painting, Maria was writing a letter and Isabel was reading. Elizabeth’s five month old son was asleep on his mother’s lap and she was content to simply stroke his hair and watch him sleep. It was images like this that he wanted to keep in his head, so that he would remember why he had made his decision.

Isabel spotted him first and rose to greet him. Her warm welcome was caught in her throat however when she realized he was wearing a union uniform. All the girls were dismayed. In the absence of Max, Alex had become a brother figure to them and they loved him dearly.

“Oh Alex,” Isabel sighed sadly.

Please don’t ask me not to go, Alex thought to himself, averting his gaze from her expressive brown eyes.

“You have enlisted,” Liz said; neither a statement nor a question.

“Yes. I had to,” he explained simply.

“But you are needed here, you have such an important job,” Tess protested. “We got a letter from Maxwell just this morning describing how much of a difference it made to receive all the supplies you sent. He said it means the difference between life and death for hundreds of wounded men.”

“There are other men who can do that job, older men, less able men. I am young and strong and in full health. I cannot in good conscience remain in Boston.”

“When do you leave?” Maria asked.

Alex looked away guiltily. “Tonight.”

“What?!” They exclaimed in shock. “No!”

“I came to see if you would like me to take letters to anybody. There is no guarantee that I will see Max or Mr. Valenti or anybody else I know, but with the mail being the way it is…”

He was cut off as Isabel suddenly threw her arms around his shoulders and began to weep loudly. Alex wrapped his arms around her, holding her close and burying his face in her neck.

Discreetly, Maria, Tess and Liz stood up and gathered their belongings and made their way inside the house.

Liz put Jeffrey down and the three girls began to write their letters. They were joined by their parents and Nancy.

An hour later Isabel and Alex came inside to find them. They were holding hands tightly and Isabel’s face was beaming.

“Father, Alex has something to ask you,” Isabel announced.

“Indeed?”

“Yes, sir,” Alex stammered nervously. “Isabel and I would like your blessing to become engaged.”

Philip shook his hand firmly. “Alexander, I could not ask for a finer nor a braver man than you as a son in law. You have my blessing.”

Isabel and Alex smiled in happiness as the girls hugged them happily.

“I thought you would never ask her,” Diane admitted as she hugged Alex.

He laughed and blushed. “Actually…”

“Actually, I asked him,” Isabel revealed with a haughty glare in case any of them would dare to protest. “He needed an incentive to come back alive and so I gave him one. We will be married when the war is over.”

“Oh, Isabel,” Diane scolded, but she was smiling and blinking back tears.

“Mother, please do not cry, because I will too,” Isabel pleaded, she smiled brightly and her mother mirrored her.

Alex looked emotional too, but he quickly got himself under control. “I hate to do this but I have to go now, I have to say goodbye to my parents.”

Isabel gripped his arm tightly, not wanting to let him go.

“Perhaps you could come home with me,” Alex suggested. “We have to tell my parents of our engagement.”

Arrangements were made for Isabel to leave with Alex as the others finished up their letters.

Just before he left, Maria had a moment alone with Alex and slipped him a letter for Michael. He took it without comment, too distracted with thoughts of leaving his parents and Isabel to wonder why Maria was writing to Michael.

It was late when Isabel returned to the house alone. Her father was reading in the library and she bade him goodnight before climbing the stairs. She made it to the privacy of the room before her smile dropped and she dissolved into tears. Leaning against the door, her body heaved with sobs and she pressed her hand to her mouth to muffle her sobs. Saying goodbye to Alex, knowing she might never see him again, had been the hardest moment of her life.

She wandered over to her bed and sat down, feeling more miserable than she ever had before. Alex was gone to face his death and might never return and she had to sit idly by and wait for him.

Isabel felt so alone in that moment but she knew she wasn’t. Liz and Tess were both waiting for their own men to come home, her mother was worried out of her mind about Max, even Nancy was frantic with concern for her husband left behind in Atlanta. She didn’t want to burden them with her own grief and worry so instead, she slipped across the corridor into her youngest sister’s room.

Maria was asleep but she woke up as soon as Isabel crept into the room.

“I’m sorry,” Isabel whispered before bursting into tears again. Maria threw back her covers and Isabel climbed into the bed.

“There, there,” Maria soothed, rubbing her sisters back. “Alex will be fine. He’ll come back soon.”

“What if he doesn’t?” Isabel wailed. “I didn’t think it would be this hard. I didn’t know how much it would hurt.”

“I know,” Maria sympathetized.

Isabel pulled back and shook her head. “You don’t Maria. I thought I knew how hard it was, because of Max. But until the man you love has put on that uniform and set off to war, you cannot comprehend how difficult it is. You are lucky you have nobody like that to worry about.”

Maria pulled her sister close and said nothing.

***

January 1863

Philip Evans hadn’t come home in time for dinner. His absence had cast a shadow over the ladies of the house.

They gathered quietly in the drawing room, each lost in their own thoughts. Usually when Philip was late home, it was because there had been a significant development. They hoped that when he came home, Philip would have good news, but they braced themselves for bad news.

Liz was writing a letter to Max and Tess and Maria were playing with baby Jeffrey on the floor when they finally heard the sound of Philip’s footsteps on the floor.

When he entered, it was immediately clear by his ashen face that Philip had heard bad news. There was an intake of breath as Philip joined his wife by the fireside.

“Max?” was all that Diane could say.

Philip shook his head. “Max is fine.” He looked across the room to where Tess was holding a squirming Jeffrey. She swallowed anxiously, her eyes large.
Liz’s body slumped in relief that Max was fine, then she immediately felt guilty and hurried to take Jeffrey who was now starting to fuss. She held her hand out to Tess and helped her up.

“Is it Kyle?” Tess choked as she took a seat in an armchair.

Philip nodded. “He was involved in fighting last week and… he is missing. They sustained heavy losses. Many of the bodies were washed away in the river. It seems that Kyle was amongst them.

“Oh,” Tess said calmly.

“I was with James Valenti when he received the telegram. He was all set to travel down there and look for Kyle himself. He is distraught.”

“The poor man,” Diane sighed. “All alone in that big house.”

“I telegrammed his sister and they are on the way. Charles Whitman is staying with him until they arrive.”

“Have you any other news?” Isabel asked.

“Nothing significant,” Philip said with a shake of his head. He glanced at Tess again. She was staring at the fire, as white as a ghost and trembling like a leaf. “Tessie?”

Tess buried her face in her hands and began to cry. At once, her sisters were at her side, comforting her.

February 1863

Since the war had begun, everybody in the Evans home had tried their very best to remain cheerful and upbeat. They all had private moments of despair and sought comfort from each other when needed, but the prevailing atmosphere in the house was one of optimism. Much of that was focused on little Jeffrey who was doted on by his mother, grandparents and aunts.

As time had passed, they had learned of the deaths of many young men they knew but Kyle Valenti was the first true loss they had felt. He had been a lifelong friend of Max’s and a regular visitor to the house. Since leaving, Kyle had maintained regular correspondence with Tess and it was generally assumed that when he returned he would propose to Tess.

Since the news of Kyle’s death, a pall had been cast over the household. It was harder to appear cheerful and optimistic. Everybody jumped at the sound of the bell in case it brought news of Max or Alex Whitman, in Maria’s case, Michael or anybody else they knew.

They began to go into town less, preferring to stay at home in case they missed any news.

Maria still practiced her music religiously every morning and the others had developed the habit of sitting in the music room as she played. They found that listening to Maria play gave them time to mull over their own thoughts.

Maria had been a little resentful of their presence at first, as their presence distracted her from thinking of Michael. But she grew grateful for the reprieve from wondering what he was doing and where he was and the hundred other ‘Michael thoughts’ she had hourly.

Twice a week Maria went to music lessons in the city and on the way home she would take the long route around to call into Mrs. O’Leary’s. The old woman had become a friend in the last two years. Although she had no sons fighting in the war, she had a long list of former lodgers that she still considered part of her family. Since the war had begun, six had been killed and another eleven badly injured. She and Maria had developed a friendship and each eagerly looked forward to their weekly visits. Sometimes Maria would go with Mrs. O’Leary as she visited her wounded boys, or simply play music for the older woman to listen to. Sometimes she would sit and listen as Mrs. O’Leary reminisced about the old country or her husband. It was a strange friendship but one that they both had come to cherish.

At times Alex or Max or one of Mrs. O’Leary’s boys would mention that they had seen Michael or heard about him and so the two women were able to know how he was doing even when he hadn’t written.

Maria had not heard from Michael since Christmas, Mrs. O’Leary had received one letter in mid-January. They were hoping that he would write soon, just to let them know he was alive. However, once again there was no word, and no new updates from the network of former lodgers so after a short visit, Maria headed for home.

She had travelled a couple of blocks when she heard her name being called by a familiar voice. She was almost afraid to turn around in case it wasn’t who she thought it was.

But when she turned, Michael was standing in front of her. The world seemed to stop for Maria. They stood on the busy street, facing each other.

Then Maria, throwing all caution and thought of propriety to the wind, rushed towards Michael and threw her arms around his neck and crushed her body to his. Michael pulled her close and soaked up the feeling of having her in his arms again.

It was several moments before they released each other enough to allow them to see each other’s face. Maria gently cupped his face with her hands and smiled at him. “I am so happy to see you.”

Michael stroked her face with his thumb, then remembering where he was, he pulled away. He looked around guiltily and stepped back from her. Maria immediately stepped into his space and slipped her arm through his. “When did you get back to Boston?”

“Just now, I am on my way to Mrs. O’Leary’s and then I was going to go and see your father. I have letters for him and your sisters.

“From Max? Have you seen him recently?”

“The day before I left, and I saw Alexander Whitman last week. They are both doing well and send their best wishes.”

“Did you hear about Kyle Valenti?” Maria asked sadly, thinking of Tess.

Michael nodded. “Yes. I actually saw him a few days before he died. He gave me letters for his father and your sister. I would have sent them on but I was afraid they would not be delivered.”

“You will go and see his father before you leave. He would so appreciate it?” Maria urged. “When do you have to go back?”

Michael looked away from her, “Tomorrow night,” he said softly.

“Oh, so soon.” Maria’s heart plummeted. And she moved closer to him. “You should come home with me now. Father is at the house today and everybody will be eager to hear about Maxwell and Alex. I was just with Mrs. O’Leary and she was headed down to the hospital to visit with Gregory. Do you know Gregory?” As Maria rambled on, she pulled Michael in the direction of home. She talked most of the way, telling him all about Jeffrey and Mrs. O’Leary and a hundred other little inane things that popped into her head. It was a balm for Michael to listen to her, to soak her up as much as he could. He tried to remember every tiny detail about her so that he would have these memories when he went back.

When they reached the house, Maria quickly dispatched a servant to summon her father and sisters to the drawing room where her mother and Nancy were sewing.

Michael was greeted warmly by everybody. He told them all he could about Max and Alex and gave them the letters he had brought. To Tess he gave the letter Kyle had entrusted to him. She accepted it with trembling hands before fleeing to the privacy of her own room to read it. When she emerged, an hour letter, red eyed and hoarse, she revealed that Kyle had made an offer of marriage in the letter.

They all sat down to a solemn dinner that night before Michael departed for Mrs. O’Leary’s. He promised to return the next day to say goodbye before he left and to take any letters and packages they wished to send to Max and Alex.

There was no further chance for Michael and Maria to be alone or even converse privately before he left, and once he left, Maria retired to her own room to cry. She thought that nobody would notice, especially as everybody was so focused on Tess.

But she was wrong.

Diane had known that something was amiss with Maria for quiet some time now. Although she kept up a face of cheerfulness, a mother can always tell when a child is faking it. Initially she had put it down to worry and concern for her brother and empathy for her sisters and Liz. Though as time had passed and Maria’s melancholy hadn’t lifted, Diane had begun to wonder what else was causing Maria’s depressed state, so she watched her daughter closely.

Now for the first time she understood what it was that kept Maria so sad and quiet. She was in love with Michael Guerin. And judging by the covert looks that Michael had kept throwing Maria all night, the feeling was mutual.

The following morning, Philip went to meet Michael and James Valenti. Maria positioned herself at the window of the music room waiting for them to come back, not wanting to miss one second of her very limited time with Michael. Diane spent time with a grieving Tess before seeing to household matters.

In the late morning, a servant brought her a note from a friend. She read it with a sinking heart before going to find her youngest daughter.

Maria looked up in surprise when Diane entered the music room. She quickly brushed away her tears and smiled at her mother. “I was just thinking of Tess and Kyle,” she explained.

“And Michael?” Diane asked kindly.

Confused, Maria nodded.

Diane sat down on the window seat beside Maria. “How long have you been in love with him?”

Maria opened her mouth to deny, to protest, but one look from her mother and suddenly she found herself telling the whole story.

Diane listened silently to Maria’s story, though inside her heart was breaking for her daughter. When Maria was finished, Diane wrapped her arms around her to comfort her as she cried. There was no point telling Maria what could not be, she already knew. Nor could she condemn Maria for falling in love with an unsuitable man. It seemed pointless to make an issue now when Michael was about to return to a war that had already claimed so many lives.

They sat like that for a long time, until they heard the sound of a carriage pull up outside. Diane kissed her daughter’s forehead. “I will send Michael to you so that you can say goodbye in private,” she promised.

Maria waited for thirty minutes before she heard Michael approaching. He opened the door tentatively and was immediately engulfed in Maria’s arms.

“My mother knows,” she revealed, her voice muffled against his chest.

Michael was surprised but he quickly forgot about that and concentrated instead on Maria. They only had a brief time before he had to leave for the train station and head down south again.

Unlike the previous day when Maria had chattered almost incessantly, this time they sat in silence, their arms around each other. In the hallway outside the grandfather clocked ticked down the hour and Michael waited for the chime that would tell him he had to go.

Suddenly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bundle. Maria watched as he unwrapped it. She recognized the wrapping as a handkerchief of hers and wondered at Michael being so sentimental as to carry one about with him. Then he revealed the contents of the package.

“Do you remember this?” Michael asked, holding out a small wooden soldier for her to inspect.

It took her a moment but then the memory came back to her. “You have it still?”

“I carry it with me everywhere,” Michael admitted. “It is my talisman.”

Maria smiled sadly as he wrapped it up and again and restored it to his pocket. “Promise me that you will take care of yourself and return home safely.”

“I will do my very best.”

Michael cupped her face gently and kissed her, one last time. When he pulled away, Maria could see the sheen of tears in his eyes.

“Will you do me one favor?” he asked.

“Anything.”

He nodded his head towards the piano. “Play for me.”

Maria nodded and took a seat at the piano. Her fingers hesitated over the keys as she tried to decide what to play. Then inspired by the small toy in Michael’s pocket, she began to sing.

I'm nothing but a plain old soldier,
An old revolutionary soldier,
But I've handled a gun
Where noble deeds were done,
For the name of my commander was George Washington.
My home and my country to me were dear,
And I fought for both when the foe came near,
But now I will meet with a slight or sneer,
For I'm nothing but a plain old soldier.
Nothing but a plain old soldier,
An old revolutionary soldier,
But I've handled a gun
Where noble deeds were done,
For the name of my commander was General Washington.
The friends I have loved the best have departed,
The days of my early joys have gone,
And the voices once dear
And familiar to my ear,
Have faded from the scenes of the earth one by one
The tomb and the battle have laid them low,
And they roam no more where the bright streams flow,
I'm longing to join them and soon must go,
For I'm nothing but a plain old soldier.
Nothing but a plain old soldier,
An old revolutionary soldier,
But I've handled a gun
Where noble deeds were done,
For the name of my commander was General Washington.

Michael stood behind her, ran his fingers through her hair and leaned down to kiss the top of her head. Maria’s voice faltered briefly as she felt him leave the room.

Again the battle song is resounding,
And who'll bring the trouble to an end?
The Union will pout, and Secession ever shout,
But none can tell us now which will yield or bend.
You've had many Generals from over the land,
You've tried one by one and you're still at a stand,
But when I took the field we had one in command,
Yet I'm nothing but a plain old soldier.
Nothing but a plain old soldier,
An old revolutionary soldier,
But I've handled a gun
Where noble deeds were done,
For the name of my commander was General Washington.

As the last notes of the piano faded away, Maria buried her face in her hands and wept.

***

Plain Old Soldier by Stephen C. Foster

[nibbles2]

So we reach the end of the road. It's the last part of this fic and I want to thank you all for following this fic and leaving such wonderful feedback. I had a lot of trouble writing this fic so it's very gratifying to see that people actually like it.

And now that I've finished this fic, I will be turning my attention to my other fics. I am writing two new fics for the September author auction winners - A Dreamer fic called Maxevanssucks.com and a candy fic called The frog prince. Lookfor them before the end of the year. In the mean time, I will have a new chapter of Gold Diggers up soon and I will complete Crush.

Once again, thank you all for reading.

Alien_friend
April
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Girl_afraid I hope you liked it.

My evil wonderful beta wanted me to split this chapter up to torture you all but I've decided to post it all in one go. Enjoy.

April 1863

“Very nice, Maria,” Mr. Guido said with a smile.

Maria glowed with satisfaction, it was rare to receive praise from the music teacher and a smile was rarer still. She had just completed a difficult piece of music which she had been practicing for a number of weeks and was enjoying the sense of accomplishment that came with a successful performance.

Never one to allow students to rest on their laurels, Mr. Guido produced new sheet music with a flourish. “Now I have something a little different for you. It’s a new piece by Mr. William Darden.”

“Oh, wonderful,” Maria enthused. She was a great admirer of the young composer’s work and was excited to have a new piece of his to learn. She accepted the sheet music and looked it over.

“I have some news for you,” Guido said to her, as she half listened. “Mr. Darden, as you may know, is the son of a family friend. He will be in Boston next week and I have invited him to stay here, which he has gratefully accepted. I have spoken to him about you and he looks forward to hearing you play.”

“Me? What?” Maria’s heart thumped loudly, thrilled at the prospect of meeting the composer and hearing him play and terrified at the thought of him listening to her play. “No, oh no, Mr. Guido, I could not play for him.”

“Nonsense! You are my star pupil and you must. I will not hear another word about it.”

And so, a week later, Maria found herself being introduced to Mr. William Darden. She was so nervous and excited that she was blushing and stammering. When she went to sit at the piano, she kicked the stool over and then spilled her music onto the floor. She cringed in embarrassment, expecting Mr. Darden to laugh at her. Instead he restored the stool to its upright position, gathered her music and put it back in the right order and smiled at her in a friendly manner. “Do not be afraid, Miss Evans. I will not bite.”

Maria flushed and looked away. Something in the way he was looking at her made her nervous. Once she was finally ready, she began to play. As she played, Mr. Darden prowled slowly around the piano, never taking his eyes from her. She tried to ignore him and concentrate on the music. When she finished playing, he burst into rapturous applause.

“Miss Evans, you play beautifully,” Mr. Darden smiled. “In fact, that may be my most favorite rendition I have ever heard of any of my pieces.”

“Thank you,” Maria blushed.

“Do you know ‘In the garden’?” he asked, referring to his famous tune.

“Of course, it is one of my favorites.”

“I would be honored if you would play it for me, and allow me to accompany you with my violin.”

Maria nodded happily. “That would be just wonderful.”

The afternoon passed quickly. Maria, Mr. Darden, and occasionally Mr. Guido played a number of songs together. Mr. Darden played a couple of his new songs for them and solicited their advice on a part he was having difficulty with.

When Maria was leaving, he took her hand in his and looked deep into her eyes. “We make beautiful music together, Miss Evans.”

As she made her way home, Maria realized that for the first time in a long time, she had been had spent an entire afternoon without thinking of Michael.


July 1863

Gettysburg.

The very named chilled her to the bones.

It was where Michael was. And Max, and Alexander Whitman and thousands of their boys. There had been so much bloodshed in those few days. News trickled to them from all corners of the horrifying loss of life on both sides.

The newspapers were black with the list of names of the dead, the names of those who would never come home. With trembling fingers, Maria would scour those lists, praying not to see his name.

But his name was not on the lists of the dead. Instead it appeared in other reports. Isabel would gasp and push something under Maria’s nose, stabbing frantically at his name. Michael was covering himself with glory in the South.

He had not written to her at all since his visit to Boston. Not that Maria had expected it, Michel had not written after her mother had found out. Mrs. O’Leary and the occasional mention in a newspaper was all the comfort she had now.


October 1863

Summer came and went, Autumn came in, full of color, the tide of war turned in favor of the Union forces. The family prayed nightly for a swift conclusion to the war and the safe return of their loved ones.

As usual, Jeffrey Evans was the center of the Evans’ family’s attention. His mother complained that he was the most spoiled child in all of Christendom. Although she blamed his indulgent grandmothers and doting aunts, she was the worst culprit herself.

“Just wait until your father comes home and puts manners on you,” Liz would threaten Jeffrey, to the great amusement of her sisters-in-law who could not imagine their gentle brother ‘putting manners’ on anybody.

In an effort to deal with her grief at losing Kyle, Tess spent a lot of time playing with Jeffrey and was by far his preferred playmate. While the others were always happy to supply tickles and cuddles, Tess would crawl on her hands and knees, climb over and under furniture and do the hundred other little things on Jeffrey’s whim.

Isabel was following the progress of the war avidly and would spend hours pouring over reports from the front. She would take out her father’s books to gain a better understating of war tactics and the geography of battle sites. According to Philip, Isabel was more informed than the generals who were actually fighting the war.

For Liz, most of her time was taken up with Jeffrey, and although Max was constantly on her mind, she was able to keep her spirits up thanks to her son. When not focused on Jeffrey, Liz was usually sewing or knitting. She organized several sewing circles for the war effort. Every sock she knitted was for Max, every bandage, every shirt; it was all for Max. It helped her to keep going.

Each in her own small, quiet way passed the time as she waited; Liz and Isabel for their men to come home so that they could finally start their lives; Tess for the pain of losing Kyle to subside.

Maria, too, was waiting, but for what? She spent time with her family, listening to Tess as she talked about Kyle, helping Liz to take care of Jeffrey, giving Isabel an audience as she talked about the war. She continued to go to visit Mrs. O’Leary and to attend music lessons.

William Darden had become a frequent visitor to the house and he always brought something interesting for her. It was clear that he had his eye firmly on Maria which was something that thrilled Diane no end. The Darden family was wealthy and well connected. William had made a name for himself as a musician and composer. He was the sort of suitable man that Diane wanted for her daughter.

Maria tried, she really did. William was handsome and charming, he was a talented musician and she loved listening to him play. When Maria was with him, just talking or playing music together, she was happy and not thinking of Michael. But when William was gone away, her thoughts always returned to Michael and very rarely to Mr. Darden.

“You are comfortable with him, have much in common and have built a good friendship with each other. Many marriages have been made on less Maria,” Diane informed her daughter as they sat by the fire one afternoon.

“Yes, mother,” Maria nodded. “All the same… If he made an offer, I would not accept it.”

Diane sighed. “Do you intend to remain unmarried Maria?”

Maria didn’t answer, she picked at a loose thread on the sewing in her lap. “I suppose, yes.”

“And if Mr. Guerin were to make an offer?” Diane prompted.

“He won’t,” Maria answered dully.

“Did you and he ever discuss marriage?”

Maria shook her head. “No, we both knew it was hopeless. I knew it was hopeless.”

“Do you think that Michael will ever marry?”

A flash of pain crossed Maria’s face. “I hope so. He lost his whole family when he was so young and I know that he would love a family. He deserves that at least. I wish only happiness for him.”

Diane took her daughter’s hand “But not for yourself?”

Maria gave her a small smile. “I am happy.”

Her mother really wished that she could believe that, but it had been evident to her for a long time that Maria was not happy.

January, 1864

A year had passed since Kyle Valenti had been reported missing, presumed dead. Tess, who had become more like her old self as time had passed, went quiet again as she marked the first anniversary of his passing.

Max had made it home over the Christmas period and that had lifted the spirits of the whole household. Roswell Hall was a cheerier place when its first son was under its roof. Jeffrey had shied away from him at first, but soon they were inseparable. Max had spent a lot of time surrounded by the dying and seriously wounded. His spirits had been very low when he came back to Boston. But after spending a few days basking in his son’s love and innocence, the change in him was visible and he went back to the South with a renewed vigor and sense of purpose.

Maria had still no word from Michael. Max had seen him several times over the year, but he had no message or letter for her. Maria had interrogated him, at length, about Michael. She wanted to know everything he had said, how he had looked, had he said anything about her. All Max could say was that Michael had not mentioned her once.

Towards the end of the month, they received word that Alexander Whitman had been injured in a skirmish. He needed to have his left foot amputated. After spending a week in a field hospital in Virginia, he was sent home to Boston and into the waiting arms of his delighted fiancée.

Though he was injured, Alex was in good spirits. He was at home and Isabel was nursing him.

Isabel was eager to be married as soon as possible and would have demanded a bedside wedding if Alex had agreed. He, however, wanted to wait until he was able to stand at the top of his aisle and walk into his home with his new wife on his arm. Reluctantly, the bride-to-be agreed to wait.

June, 1864

Maria pressed her forehead against the window pane and closed her eyes to let William Darden’s haunting, slow, melody wash over her. It was as if he had written her feelings down on sheet music and was playing the notes; her loneliness, her longing for Michael, the hopelessness she felt.

The tune came to an end as a tear trickled down her cheek. Maria brushed it away and turned to William with a smile and clapped her hands. “That was beautiful, I think it’s your best yet.”

“Thank you,” William smiled. He laid his violin down carefully and sat beside her on the window seat. He took a deep breath. “I have some news. I will be travelling to Europe in the autumn for a tour. I will be playing in Paris, Vienna and London. I won’t be back until January.”

“It sounds wonderful,” Maria said wistfully. “I shall miss you of course.”

To her surprise, William reached for her hand and held it in his own. “You don’t have to miss me. You could come with me, Maria.”

“Oh….” Maria had been half expecting a proposal from him, though she had been very careful not to give him any false impression. Now it was here and she had no idea how to respond. He was a good friend, one of her closest. He was kind and charming, and he loved her. He had so much in common with her. Her parents approved of the match. She knew that they could build a stable marriage together. And if she were married, then perhaps Michael would move on and find somebody else too. Though the thought disturbed her more than anything, it was what she wanted for him.

The logical decision was to say yes, to move on from the impossible situation with Michael and find a way to be happy without him.

“Maria?” William prompted.

Then an image of Michael flooded Maria’s mind and she felt another hot tear tickle her eyes.

“I can’t William, I’m sorry.”

He released her hand and stood up. “Very well. I should go,” he said sadly.

Maria waited until he had gone before letting her tears fall. She knew then that she was destined to a life alone.

September, 1864

“To Alex and Isabel.”

The wedding guests raised their glasses and echoed Charles Whitman’s toast as the happy couple exchanged a loving kiss.

For Isabel’s three sisters it was a bittersweet moment. They were all delighted to see Isabel and Alex become husband and wife, but occasions such as this always made them think of the missing parts of their own lives.

The weight of absent friends hung in the air, but everybody was determined to enjoy the day. Max had written a week earlier to say that he might be able to come home for the wedding, but he hadn’t arrived.

Isabel caught their eyes and smiled at them, letting them know that she understood what they were going through. Tess, Maria and Liz smiled back and shook off their own self-pity and got into the festivities, they didn’t want anything to bring down Isabel and Alex’s special day.

So they laughed and danced and in the end, they all had a great time; for just a few hours forgetting all about the war. Finally it was time for the Evans family to go home and leave the new Mrs. Whitman behind. There was a lot of tears and hugs then and Alex was beginning to worry that Isabel would decide to leave with her sisters and parents. Thankfully Diane stepped in and separated the girls and ushered her own brood out the door.

The next morning as they were eating their first breakfast without Isabel, a servant delivered a note to Philip. He read it quickly and paled.

“Come,” he told the three girls before hurrying out of the dining room. Confused, Maria, Tess and Liz hurried after him. He ushered them into a carriage and they set off at a brisk pace.

“Father, what is it?” Maria demanded.

Philip turned to Tess who was sitting beside him. “That note was from James Valenti. He said that Kyle is home but he is gravely ill. Max is with him.”

He was immediately bombarded with questions but he had no more answers for them. It felt like hours before the carriage finally reached the Valenti home, and Tess jumped out even before it had completely rolled to a stop.

She pounded at the door and Maria feared she would have broken it down if the butler had taken any longer. Tess didn’t give the man a chance to speak but burst past him and ran up the sweeping staircase. Maria and Liz hurried after her, trying to calm her down.

There was a great deal of activity happening in one room and that was where Tess headed, with her sisters on her heels.

When Liz and Maria caught up with Tess, she was standing in the doorway of the bedroom, her mouth wide open in a silent scream of horror. Maria followed her gaze and clapped her hand over her own mouth to stifle the oath on her tongue.

There were a number of people gathered around the bed. Kyle Valenti was lying in the bed. At least, he bore a passing resemblance to the Kyle Valenti they once knew.

The man in the bed was so emaciated that he barely resembled a man anymore. His beard was overgrown and matted, his face sunken and aged. His body was barely a crease in the blanket that covered him.

James Valenti stood beside the bed with tears streaming down his face. He looked like he wanted to cradle his son is his arms but was too afraid to touch him, in case Kyle should shatter in his arms.

Tess stepped closer to the bed. She too was in tears and her whole body was trembling. Very gingerly, she took his hand in her own and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Welcome home, Kyle,” she whispered.

“Excuse me,” an older man said kindly. “I really need to examine the patient now Can you clear the room?”

Reluctantly, Tess allowed Liz and Maria to lead her out of the room and down the stairs to the drawing room.

It was only as they descended the staircase that Liz even realized that Max had been in the room with Kyle and had followed them out.

In the drawing room, Tess began to sob, drawing in huge breaths of air as if she couldn’t breathe. Maria rubbed circles on her back and made soothing noises until Tess was finally able to calm down.

Liz rushed into Max’s arms and they embraced tightly, only pulling apart when a servant brought in food for Max.

“What happened to Kyle?” Liz asked.

Between wolf-sized bites Max explained. “Kyle was in a prisoner of war camp in Andersonville. We exchanged prisoners a few days ago and Kyle was one of the soldiers who were released.”

“Were all the soldiers who were released in the same condition as Kyle?” Liz asked, horrified.

Max paused for a moment, a haunted look crossed his face before he nodded, just once.

“How can they treat people like that?” Tess cried. “How could they do that to Kyle?”

“Will he… recover?” Maria asked.

“Doctor Fenton is a skilled doctor and something of an expert in the field. Kyle is in good hands,” Max answered. “It will be a tough road for him and he may never recover fully. But he’s alive and he’s home, and we must be thankful for that.”

“Yes, indeed, we have a lot to be thankful for,” Philip agreed. His eyes ran over Max. While Max was thin and hungry, he was healthy and vital still and not a barely breathing skeleton like Kyle was. For that, he was immensely grateful.

“Isabel and Alex were married yesterday,” Maria said suddenly. “Alex is doing remarkably well. The doctors were so surprised but we weren’t, we knew Isabel would whip him into shape.”

Max laughed. “Good. And Jeffrey?”

“He’s wonderful Max, he will be so happy to see you,” Liz smiled. “Are you staying long?”

“I have to leave tonight,” Max said sadly. “My leave started last week, but I couldn’t come sooner as Kyle was too ill to move.” He took Liz’s hand in his larger one and kissed it. “But the tide is turning; soon we will all be home for good.”

June, 1865

Max was right.

The tide had turned in the Union’s favor. Atlanta fell shortly after he returned to the fighting.

Jeffrey Parker made the trip North to Boston, older and smaller than a man of his years should be. He was reunited with his wife and daughter. Though he had lost all his material possessions in the war, he was able to smile when he looked down at his grandson and namesake for the first time.

Kyle made slow but steady progress back to health with Tess nursing him all the way. They married in a simple ceremony in January of the New Year.

Isabel found that she was with child in February and they were all optimistic that this child would be born into a time of peace.

On April ninth, the South surrendered and the war was over.

Max was home in Boston within a week, reunited for good with his wife and son. They settled into a home of their own to finally be a family, living under one roof.

Philip had given Jeffrey Parker a loan and was helping him to get back on his feet. Jeffrey and Nancy decided to take rooms in town close to Max and Liz.

And so Maria found herself living alone with her parents. Her sisters and brother were beginning their new lives, and Maria endeavored to give them the space and time to find their bearings. She was still devoting a lot of time to music, but lately, she was finding her interest in it was waning.

She waited for word of Michael, for his return but there was no sign. He was alive, that she much she knew. Isabel had showed her an article about Michael receiving some kind of military honor.

William Darden had returned from Europe with a French wife. She saw a little of him now and again. She still visited Mrs. O’Leary, but the old woman had her hands full now with all her boys who had returned with broken bodies and broken spirits. A couple of times a week, Maria volunteered at one of the hospitals where the injured soldiers were being treated.

The days stretched before her, long and empty. Was this how the rest of her life would be? This was the decision she had made. She had just never realized how lonely she would be.

“Have you heard from Michael?” Liz asked one day as they played with little Jeffrey in the garden of Liz and Max’s new house.

Maria shook her head, “I had wondered if perhaps Max had?”

“Not recently, just that letter when Max got home.” Liz reached across and hugged Maria. “I worry about you.”

“There’s no need, I am fine Liz,” Maria retorted.

“You always seem so sad,” Liz sighed.

There was no answer for that so Maria said nothing. As she made her way home, she resolved to stop giving her family reasons to worry about her. They had so much of their own troubles to worry about without adding to it. From now on, she would be happy and smiling and wouldn’t let them see the sadness inside.

When she arrived home, she entered with a smile on her face and a happy greeting on her lips.

“You are in good spirits,” Diane commented as she met her daughter in the hallway. “Your father wishes to speak to you in the music room.”

“Really?” Maria racked her brain trying to work out why he would want to speak to her there. “What about?”

“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about. I think you’ll like it,” Diane smiled. “Don’t keep him waiting.”

Maria took a step in the direction of the music room when Diane placed a hand on her arm and stopped her. When Maria turned back, Diane engulfed her in her arms and kissed her cheek before giving her a gentle push to get going.

For some reason, Maria was nervous as she approached the music room and even knocked on the door before entering. As the music room had been generally accepted as her domain for years, it was a strange act on her part and Philip’s confusion showed when he opened the door to her.

“Come in.”

“Mother said you wanted to speak to….” Maria’s sentence trailed off as she laid eyes on the other occupant in the room.

Michael Guerin was standing by the window. He looked older than he had the last time she saw him, more tired. But when he saw her, his whole face lit up and she was reminded of the boy she had met so many years ago when she had given him a toy soldier for Christmas. He was dressed in full uniform, a row of gleaming medals on his chest. He looked polished and distinguished.

“I will leave you to talk,” Philip told them. He leaned down and kissed his daughter’s cheek and whispered in her ear. “Be happy.”

Maria looked at him in surprise, but he simply winked at her and slipped out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. She looked to Michael for an explanation.

For a moment he was silent, drinking in the sight of her. Then in three long strides, he crossed the room and took her in his arms. He cupped her face and kissed her with an almost bruising force. Maria clung to him, holding him close, not willing to let him go.

Eventually he broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against hers, with just the smallest distance between their lips.

“I missed you,” he breathed.

“Where have you been?” she asked tearfully.

“I had to report to Washington. I have been appointed to a post there.”

Maria pulled away and looked at him, horrified. “You’re leaving Boston? For good?”

“For now.” He pulled her close again. “Maria, I cannot say what the future holds for me. I have a position in the military and I hope to progress. I will never be able to provide for you in the manner you are accustomed to but I believe-”

“Are you asking me to marry you?” Maria broke in.

“Yes.”

“With my parent’s permission?” she asked incredulously.

Michael laughed. “Yes.” He produced a letter from his pocket and Maria immediately recognized her father’s writing. “It’s from your father, he invited me here. He offered me a job, a good job, in his company. He said that thousands of people had sacrificed their lives and their happiness to bring freedom and equality to this country and he was determined to do his part. We are all entitled to be happy, Maria, and that is what he wants for you more than anything else. I want to make you happy, Maria. If you wish, I will take the job your father has offered me.”

“Would that make you happy?”

He smiled. “I am not a clerk or a paper pusher, I am a plain old soldier.”

“So we will go to Washington,” Maria decided. “And be happy together there.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes,” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him hard and long.
It was a long time before they left the music room in each other’s arms, smiling and happy and ready to start their lives together.

***