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He looked at her. “He wrote them, not you?”
“It doesn’t mean anything.” Megan bent to pick up the sheets she had taken from the bed. “Most likely he didn’t have two pieces of paper or he was in a hurry to send it out. Besides, he knows his mother worries more than most would.”
“Surely he enclosed a message for you.”
She glanced at him. He seemed genuinely curious. “Now you’re talking too much again. I guess that means you’re feeling better.” She left the room and took the sheets out to the service porch in back.
She sat on the back steps, despite the cold, and hugged her knees to her chest. Why hadn’t Seth at least sent her a greeting? How long would that have taken? For that matter, why had he sent the letter at all? Didn’t he know it would upset his family and only make his mother worry more? How like Seth to think only of himself.
Megan hated these thoughts but she knew they were true. Seth had always put himself first. Even that night in the clearing when they had made love the first and only time. He must have known then that he was considering joining the army and he had taken her anyway, even if a baby might have been the consequence. What on earth would she have told her parents and everyone else in the settlement? Sex before marriage was strictly forbidden, even to couples who were engaged. But Seth had wanted her and he hadn’t thought beyond that.
For the first time, Megan let herself think of her future if she backed out of marrying Seth. For one thing, she would probably have to give up her cabin and move back in with her parents. It made more sense for Bridget and Patrick to have the cabin than for her to stay there alone. Megan liked being away from the others, even if it was lonely or even frightening at times. Cabins were too difficult to build and the men’s time was too precious for her father to be willing to build Bridget and Patrick another one.
Megan rested her chin on her knees. On the other hand, if she married Seth, would she be happy? She was rather surprised to realize she had never thought about that before. Like everyone else in Black Hollow, she had always assumed she would marry him. Her future had been more or less ordained since she was twelve or so. The only real surprise had been that she and Seth had waited so long to announce their intentions of marrying. Did that mean he had reservations as well? Megan had certainly never thought of that. Maybe he didn’t love her at all, but was simply taking the easy route.
The chilling wind crept into her and Megan got up shivering. She knew her thoughts were more the cause of her trembling than was the temperature. These were thoughts she should never have had. Not when she was living in the cabin, using the things from her hope chest and waiting for Seth’s return. She would be shunned if she backed out now. Assuming, of course, that Seth returned at all. He had said in his letter that men were dying around him every day.
She went into the house and finished peeling the potatoes to boil. Doing routine work helped. It was harder to think when she had to keep her mind on the sharp knife and her fingers.
“Megan?” Caleb called.
“What is it?” She dropped the potatoes into boiling water and went into the room.
“Who drew these pictures?”
She looked at the sketches she had hung from tacks on the wall. “I did. Why?”
“You drew them? They’re good.” He was studying them as if he hadn’t noticed them before.
“There’s no need for you to make fun of me. I’m busy.” She turned to leave but he called her back.
“I’m not teasing you. Why do you always get so defensive?”
“Why would I believe you mean these things? I’m not a fool. Didn’t you just try to escape? Don’t you remember we’re enemies?”
“If you were in my place, wouldn’t you try to get away? As for us being enemies, that’s not the way I think of you.”
She frowned at him. “You must think I don’t have any sense at all. You’re North and I’m South. If that’s not enemies, I don’t know what to call it.”
“You might think of me as a person.”
“I’m busy.” Again she turned to leave but this time she paused of her own choice. “You really think my drawings are good?”
“Of course I do. They look as if they could walk off the paper.”
Megan went farther into the room. “I like to draw. Papa says it’s a waste of time and that it’s sinful to waste anything. But sometimes I just can’t help doing it.” She glanced at him to see if he was laughing at her. “I only draw when I’ve finished with the chores for the day.”
“You don’t have to make excuses for me.” His eyes met hers and she had to look away. “I’ve seen Felicity’s drawings and they aren’t nearly as good as yours, but she’s considered to be quite talented.”
Megan went to a drawing of two puppies tumbling in play. “These are two dogs Papa raised. They’re coonhounds but there’s not much for them to hunt these days. They spend most of their time sleeping under the porch.” She smiled. “That’s about all coonhounds do, sleep and hunt. And howl. You can hear these two from miles away when they pick up a scent. A good hunter can tell one dog’s voice from another and know just what they’re tracking.”
“I’ve done some hunting, but living in a city, I don’t own hounds.”
She studied him. “I can’t imagine living like that.”
“It’s not a bad life,” he said with a wry smile.
“I didn’t mean that. What do you do all day? I don’t see how you get the things you need. Surely you can’t afford to buy everything. Where do you get food?”
“From stores. We buy whatever we need.”
She shook her head. “Brother Grady would have a field day with that! He says it’s sinful not to work for everything you have and that you’re supposed to grow your own things. We try to be as self-reliant as we can be in the Hollow. There isn’t much we have to buy.” She smiled. “I guess that’s a good thing since the only thing we can’t seem to grow is money.”
Caleb didn’t comment.
“Are you hurting very bad now?”
“I’m better.”
“I could go get you some willow to chew. I’ve heard that helps with pain.”
He shook his head. “I’m all right.” He hesitated. “Megan, I wasn’t escaping from you. I have to try to get back to my unit. Otherwise, I’m a deserter.”
“I understand. I guess I would do the same thing.” She added, “Dinner will be ready soon. You’ll feel better once you’ve eaten.”
“You know your plan to trade me won’t work, don’t you?”
“I don’t know any such thing. It only stands to reason that they would want their own officer more than a private like Seth.”
“How do you intend to make this trade?”
“I don’t know yet,” she admitted.
“Crossing Union territory, even with a few Confederate sympathizers around, will be dangerous. Traveling with me as a prisoner and returning home safely will be nearly impossible. Even if we reach the right prison, there’s no guarantee that they’ll give you Seth. They might just keep me and send you away.”
Megan felt the tears rising and she fought them back. “I have to do something!”
“Because you love Seth that much?”
She didn’t answer for a long time. “No,” she said finally. “Because I don’t love him enough.” She left the room before he could ask any more questions.
Caleb lay there listening to her make supper and thought about what she had said. Certainly she was honest. She hadn’t been forced to tell him that. “If you don’t love him that much, why are you set on marrying him?” he called out.
“It’s not something you’d understand,” she called back.
“Explain it to me.”
She came slowly back into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. “I was intended for Seth most of my life. I can’t explain it to someone who didn’t grow up in the Hollow. I guess it’s different elsewhere. You see, most of us are related in one way or another so we don’t have many to choose from. Seth and I are one of the few that aren’t kin and that are the right age to marry. His cousin, Patrick, married Bridget. Seth was to marry me.”
“So it’s an arranged mamage.”
“In a way. I care for Seth. Our lives fit together. Our families are friends and the family lands are side by side. After we marry, the land will all be one, for all intents and purposes, though our fathers will control it as long as they’re alive. Do you understand?”
“I’m beginning to.”
“If I don’t marry Seth, there’s no one else eligible. Not unless I want to settle for a widower and have to raise his children from a previous wife. There are two men I could marry who already have families, but both of them are Papa’s age and I don’t care for either of them. Since I don’t have a brother to look after me as I get older, I have to marry. It wouldn’t be right to expect Patrick to take me in since he has younger sisters of his own that may need to live with them.”
“You have a brother. Maybe your family will forgive him after the war is over.”
“Not Papa. He never changes his mind. Mama would take Owen back right now. He was her favorite. Owen and Papa never saw eye to eye on anything. He probably would have left the Hollow for another reason if it hadn’t been the war. Owen is too rebellious.” She smiled faintly. “He and I are alike. Bridget is more like Mama. Papa has always said that Bridget will be happy in life because she doesn’t ask for all that much.”
“And you?”
“He says I never will be. Maybe he’s right in the long run, but I’m happy now. I like my cabin and I even like not being with the others.” She looked at him. “Can you understand that?”
“I can understand it easily. From what you’ve told me, I wouldn’t want to be with them, either.”
She shook her head. “No, you don’t see. I love them. Or at least I care for most of the people in the settlement. But I like my independence.”
“And after you’re married?”
For a long time Megan was silent. “I guess we all have to give up something. Sacrifice is supposed to be good for us.”
“I’ve never believed that. And I don’t think independence is a bad thing. It hasn’t hurt me any.”
“Of course not. You’re not a woman.”
“Why couldn’t a couple be independent together?”
“Now you’re talking nonsense.” She touched her drawing of the puppies. “If I tell you something, will you promise not to laugh?”
“Yes.”
“I used to pretend that when I became an adult I would write a book and draw pictures to illustrate it.” She threw him a quick look. “Are you laughing at me?”
“No. I was smiling because I plan to write a book someday myself.”
Megan stared at him. “You want to write a book? Now I know you’re teasing me.”
“Why do you think I’m ridiculing you at every turn? I’ve had stories in my head ever since I was a boy. I used to tell stories to Felicity and her friends all the time.”
“Men don’t write. They build fences and repair barns and hunt for game.”
“Megan, the world is larger than Black Hollow. My father doesn’t do any of those things. Neither do any of my uncles. Who do you think writes books if they’re not written by men and women? Somebody does it and I don’t see any reason why it shouldn’t be me. Or you, for that matter.
“I can just see me now, writing stories between milking the cow and churning the butter and gathering the eggs. Maybe I could do the illustrations while I scrub the floor.”
“Suit yourself. Far be it from me to convince you to be free.”
She frowned at him. “The world isn’t so accommodating. I’m surprised you’ve grown this old and have not noticed that.”
“The world also isn’t full of nothing but work and responsibilities. If some of us don’t dream and work to fulfill our dreams, we aren’t any better than cattle.”
“Why is it that we end up arguing if we talk more than a few minutes? I’m going to see how supper is coming along.”
“Supper can wait.”
“You talk twice as much as any man I ever saw. I’ll bet Papa hasn’t talked to Mama this much in the past year!”
“Then I feel sorry for your mother.”
“Caleb, not everyone talks all day long. And what’s more, I don’t think your people are as idle as you say they are.”
“They aren’t idle at all. They just have different pursuits.”
She nodded knowingly. “Yes, well, I’m going to pursue supper now.” She left but she couldn’t stop thinking about all he had said.
Could she really write and illustrate a book? She had harbored this dream for so long it was a part of her. Yet when she thought of how to go about it, she reached a dead end. Nobody in Raintree was a book publisher—they didn’t even have a newspaper. How would she ever go about getting a book published, assuming it was good enough for others to want to read it? No, she told herself. Being a writer would just have to be a dream.
But would Caleb write? He seemed certain that he could do it. Did he know how to go about it? Whatever her own experience, Megan knew men and women wrote books because she had read their names on the covers. How did they have time? Perhaps once she had several children to help out with chores, there would be time, but she didn’t want to wait and she hadn’t seen her own mother’s work lessening over the years. Work seemed to expand to fill all the hours of the day no matter how many hands were whittling it down.
The idea of writing never left her all the time she prepared the meal. No matter how hard she tried to tell herself it was a foolish idea, it stuck in her mind.
When she took Caleb’s supper to him, he was lying very still. She knew him well enough by now to know this meant he was in pain. He didn’t mention it but sat up, and she handed him the plate. She admired him for that.
“Will you bring your plate in here and eat with me?”
“I suppose I could do that,” she conceded. She had never had a meal in her life that wasn’t consumed in the kitchen, but who was to know?
She joined him and noticed he had waited for her. “Mama baked the bread,” she said.
“She’s a good cook. So are you.”
Megan smiled. “Mama insisted that Bridget and I learn that even if we never learned anything else. She also taught us to sew.”
“And to read.”
“No, that was one of my aunts. Papa wasn’t too pleased that Bridget and I learned that. Owen was the one who was supposed to be learning to read.”
“Megan, why didn’t Seth write to you instead of to his parents? What’s the real reason?”
She pushed the food around on her plate. “I don’t know. I’ve asked myself that all afternoon. He had to realize that I would know the letter came. I can understand him writing his parents instead of me the first time—maybe. But I can’t see a reason at all for him not even mentioning my name in the second letter.”
“Not even a greeting?”
She shook her head. She felt too close to tears to answer aloud.
“I know it doesn’t mean much to you, but I would have written to you.” His voice was softer than she had ever heard it.
