Christmas at Carnton (Carnton 0.5)(24)

Aletta shook her head. “I do my best, ma’am. Especially for Andrew’s sake. But there are moments when despair is an unwelcome but very near companion.”

“I’ve no doubt of that, Mrs. Prescott. And yet . . . here you are.”

Aletta smiled, then listened with interest as Mrs. McGavock laid out the plans for the auction including the work leading up to it. So much to do—sewing, knitting, cooking, quilting. So much organization. But it excited her to be a part of something that would help so many, and that would keep her mind occupied and her hands busy.

Finally, Mrs. McGavock rose, and Aletta took that as her cue.

“I believe that’s all the information I have for you at present, Mrs. Prescott. I’m going to the kitchen to discuss this week’s menus with Tempy. I’ll ask her to fetch Captain Winston for you. He can take you into town for your personal items and whatever else you might require. No need for you to walk all that way again in the cold.”

“Thank you, Mrs. McGavock.” Aletta looked again at the large portrait of her hostess situated on the far wall. The mistress of Carnton in more youthful years.

Mrs. McGavock laughed softly. “That was painted shortly before my marriage to Mr. McGavock. Some fifteen years ago. And another lifetime, it feels like.”

“It’s beautiful, ma’am.” Yet Aletta found it somewhat odd that Mrs. McGavock had chosen to wear what appeared to be black for the portrait, the color of death, at what had to have been so joyous a time in her life. Although, on closer look, perhaps the color of the dress was a deep midnight blue instead. Regardless, the portrait, and the woman in it, were lovely.

“Why don’t you wait here, Mrs. Prescott, until Captain Winston has pulled the wagon around. And Miss Clouston will make certain Andrew is taken care of until you’ve returned.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Mrs. McGavock took her leave, and Aletta walked toward a rear-facing window of the home when her gaze fell to a newspaper folded in half on a side table. She looked more closely. Today’s date. And the newspaper had already been well read. Assuming she had a few moments, she picked it up and scanned the headlines, looking for updates on the war, any news that might indicate a near end to the conflict.

She came upon an update from the War Department. And more from habit than anything else, she scanned the three lists for Tennessee—“Killed, Wounded, and Missing”—hoping she wouldn’t recognize any of the names.

Nearing the end of the first list, she read the last name and it delivered an unexpected blow.

Emmett Zachary, Franklin, TN

Her eyes filled. No . . . Her hand went to her chest. Not Emmett, Warren’s friend. Kate’s husband. She closed her eyes as tears rose. She’d only met Emmett once. Briefly, at the train station. But Warren had spoken of him so often in his letters. They’d become good friends.

Aletta swallowed, resolved to go by and visit Kate while in town that afternoon, offer her condolences and see if there was anything she could do for her. Kate had done so much for her earlier that fall. Had been such a comfort.

Aletta returned the newspaper to the table and went to peer out the back window and across the large back porch. She rubbed the ache in the small of her back, the pain gradually beginning to subside.

She spotted Captain Winston in the barn, hitching the mares to the wagon, and walked out to join him. When he turned around, she was taken aback.

“Good morning, Mrs. Prescott.”

She stared at the freshly shaven man smiling down at her, a hint of stubble shadowing the jawline that only yesterday had sported a full and unruly beard. “Captain Winston?”

His smile deepened, along with the gray of his eyes, which, without the distraction of the beard, proved to be a rather disarming combination.

He rubbed a hand over his jaw as though privy to her thoughts. “Yes, ma’am. At your service. Mrs. McGavock says you need to go into town.”

“Y-yes, I do. Thank you, Captain, for taking me.”

“My pleasure. Just give me a couple more minutes and we’ll be set.” He circled the wagon and checked the harness straps on the other side.

She tried not to stare, but had to acknowledge . . . He was a handsome man with strong, angular features. And younger than she would’ve guessed upon their first meeting. He possessed a quiet confidence about him as though he had nothing left to prove. Either that, or he simply didn’t put much stock in others’ opinions.

Seeing him clean shaven brought back memories of Warren’s last trip home in April. He’d been sporting a similar soldier’s beard, as she’d called it. All wild and woolly. She’d shaved it off for him that first night, cherishing the chance to look fully into the face of the man she’d married. And loved. Loved still.

“Allow me, ma’am.”

Aletta became aware of Captain Winston’s outstretched hand and accepted his assistance up to the bench seat. He settled in beside her.

“Mrs. McGavock tells me you need to go by your house to fetch a few items.”

“Yes, that’s right. And also—” The mere thought of Kate Zachary and the pain she must be experiencing at that moment, if the woman even knew about Emmett’s fate yet, caused a tightening in her chest. “I need to go see a friend. I read the War Department’s list moments earlier and . . . learned that her husband has been killed.”