Chapter 30

A sharp rapping came at the door. They shot up from their seats and looked at each other in terrified silence.

Violet grabbed Lin’s wrist with her good hand, ran for the far side of the kitchen, and nodded to a small, rectangular door. The pantry cupboard utilized the space beneath the staircase. It wasn’t huge but neither was Lin.

Lin unlatched the door, bent low so as not to smack her head on the doorframe, and slipped inside. She crouched beside a bushel of potatoes and stared out with unconcealed fear.

Putting a finger over her lips, and wishing it weren’t as dark as the devil’s armpit in the cupboard, Violet closed the door. She dropped the latch in place, sealing her friend inside.

They had spent too much time hiding in closets and cupboards this week for her liking. But they would continue to do whatever it took to stay alive.

The rapping sounded again, sharper now. As she went to open the door, she patted her dress pocket with her right hand, sending a spear of pain up to her shoulder. She would never be able to use that hand to her advantage, so she reached over with her left and took the Remington Model 95 from her pocket.

Placing the over-under double-barrel pistol in her left skirt pocket, she covered the last few feet to the entrance. She did not have heaps of experience shooting left-handed but if it were necessary to protect them, she would manage.

The door opened inward, so she peeked out of the window beside it before she touched the latch.

When she saw Thomas Harvey on her front porch, she considered ignoring his presence. However, the look on his face gave the impression that if she did not open the door, he would continue to rap on it. Or worse. She didn’t put it past him to force his way in.

As he lifted his hand to hammer on the wood again, she opened up. His hand stopped inches from her face.

They stood glaring at each other for a long moment before he dropped his hand.

She wanted to get the high ground from the very beginning of this exchange. It didn’t matter why he had appeared on her doorstep—she didn’t care.

He has to leave—now.

She couldn’t say that the man no longer affected her. If anything, her visceral attraction to his nearness had rather increased. Mother told her daughters that yearning for what they could never have was futile, a human condition which often rendered the one who yearned unable to think clearly. Finally, she understood her mother’s warning on the topic.

Fortunately, she had learned from Father, as well. He advised that it was wiser to follow logic than emotion. Her traitorous heart had no chance of swaying her mind on this one. She would follow advice from both parents now.

The man who stared down at her with an intensity fierce enough to cow a less-determined woman cleared his throat. His gaze dropped and when he saw her arm, his forehead creased.

“What happened to your arm?”

No idle chitchat, just straight to the point. Ordinarily she liked that about a person but in this circumstance, it peeved her. How did he presume to ask questions that were none of his business?

“I don’t believe that’s any concern of yours. If that’s all you have to say, I’ll bid you good day.”

Violet tried to swing the door closed but he reached out and put a palm against the wood.

“What is going on? Why are you so ornery all of a sudden?” He did not hide his irritation. “I swear, you confound me. One minute, honey drips from your sweet lips and the next you cut me in half with your icy stare. Would you at least tell me what happened to turn you into a snow queen?”

The long morning had left her tired, overwhelmed, and in pain. On a good day she might have more patience with his temper, but this was not a good day.

“How dare you insult me?”

“You’ve turned against me and I don’t understand why. You’re the one who’s been insulting. Why, you won’t even speak with me when I see you in town. Blast it—do you know what kind of grilling I got from Gertie after you stormed from the mercantile? You made me look foolish.”

“No one can make another ‘look’ anything, Mister Harvey. You look foolish? Well, maybe you should consider that you might be foolish.”

Southern charm for this man had taken the train out of town yesterday. She had no remorse about being unkind to him. She had not forgotten how he helped her, or how he saved her life more than once, but she didn’t owe him anything. That debt had been paid already with Confederate blood.

He could go to Hell for all she cared.

The lie hurt her heart but eventually she might believe it. When she could do so, she would be better off so she planned to repeat the falsehood as often as necessary.

“Perhaps you should consider how you look right now, Miss Bloom.”

“I don’t care one bit how I look to you. Are you finished here?”

She went to close the door, but he repeated what he had done a few minutes earlier. This time he kept his hand on the wood and held it open.

“Tell me why you’re different.” He lost the combative tone. He practically begged to comprehend what had changed.

She did not owe him anything but acting with disregard for another went against her disposition. She could give him the truth.

“You fought for the Union, didn’t you?”

He narrowed his gaze. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Answer the question, Mister Harvey. Or don’t, it’s up to you. But I know a Union sidearm when I see one. And your family is from back east—the northeast, to be exact. Two and two make four. I know what you are.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “The war has been over for longer than a decade. And you couldn’t have been more than a child when it occurred. How can you still think any of that has any bearing on what we do here, or who we are?”

“I saw more than any child should see, and at right about the same age your daughter is now. I witnessed what the Union soldiers did—and I have not forgotten. I will not forget, I assure you.”

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to hold a grudge? I didn’t want to consider it, but I see that you really do cling to what is best forgotten.”

She shook her head. “I know what I know. As I said, two plus two makes four—and in this case, adding up your sums does not earn you a passing grade.”

“You should check your arithmetic.” He took his hand off the door and plowed it through his hair. Then he smashed his Stetson back onto his head and turned.

She did not watch him walk away.

Convincing her heart to harden itself against the man would be challenging, but necessary. Hopefully, it would not prove to be impossible.