Part 10 (1/2)
”And if I thought it would help, I'd take it.” Manning took a sip of coffee. ”When we went to the luminaria ceremony this spring, she cried through the whole thing. Twenty thousand candles commemorating fallen soldiers is a tough sight to behold, but she took it personally. Debbie Mae has really been carrying the burden. It's been hard for both of us, but she had appointments and the tests and then at the end...” He shook his head.
”You feel helpless.”
”Right. And it's my job as a man to protect her, to keep her from harm.” His jaw went tight. ”I know we're supposed to be modern, educated men but deep down we all just want to keep our wives and children safe.”
Brooks felt a heaviness settle in his chest. Children. Plural. They had suffered such loss and he hadn't even known. He wanted to apologize, to say how he'd failed him for not asking, for not visiting. But inserting his own guilt into the conversation seemed wrong.
”Anyway, she's decided we need to focus on other things. She definitely seems happier, although there are days...” Manning stared into his mug, lines tight around his mouth. ”I told her she needed to go see Caroline. They're best friends and she didn't even visit her at all this year.”
”I know Caroline missed her.”
”It'll be good for both of them. Caroline needs to get out of that house before her mother locks her in the attic.”
Brooks laughed. ”I was just telling her the same thing. Of course now she has this idea that we're all going to dress up in Regency costumes for some Austen-themed party.”
”I think that was Debbie Mae's idea, actually. She saw that PBS special and got it into her head that it would make a great summer shebang.”
He sat back, considering for a moment how Caroline hadn't defended herself, how she could have easily told him it was all her cousin's idea. Instead she did her best to convince him to come. He felt a pain in his ribs, part admiration for her loyalty and part sheer dread at the realization he was bound to this party now in a way he hadn't been before.
”I thought it was pretty crazy, but the more she smiled as she was planning, the more I figured it doesn't matter if we're all coming as elephants and bicycling dogs. It makes her happy and I'm doing whatever I can to help her pull it off.”
”I'll be there. Caroline's been shopping Etsy for costumes. Promise me you'll be wearing something equally silly. ”
”I think I'm supposed to be a Mr. Martin, a farmer. So maybe I don't have to wear the fancy suit.”
”If you wear normal clothes and get to carry a pitchfork, I'm switching.”
Manning laughed, holding up both hands. ”Ask her if there's someone else you can be. There must be hordes of villagers. How about some ancient, one-eyed, cripple that begs in the town square? That would be fun.”
”And a cripple couldn't dance, either.” Brooks made a mental note to push for another role. He didn't care if he looked like a b.u.m.
”I think Caroline invited that Frank guy from the Werlin's party. He'll be perfect for it. They can take turns dancing with him and we can sit in the corner and plan for Vicksburg.”
Brooks frowned. He'd forgotten about Frank. The image flashed before him of Frank squiring Caroline around a dance floor, delicate music accompanying their every move.
The sun beat down through the gla.s.s and he could feel the late summer heat on the back of his neck. He stood to adjust the blinds and caught a flash of color. A smooth cheek, a few careless blond curls, the angle of her shoulders.
He jumped up, stepped to the door and opened it just as she walked by. ”Caroline?”
”Oh!” She stepped sideways, hand on her heart. ”Brooks! You scared me to death.” She laughed and he felt himself laugh in response, although he didn't really know why. Seeing her there, on the street, was like finding something precious out of the blue. Or maybe something he'd lost a long time ago and forgotten about.
”Come on in and have some coffee.” He held open the door and she stepped through. As she pa.s.sed, the light scent of her perfume made his smile even wider. He'd missed her and it was only Monday.
Manning stood up and gave her a hug. ”I'll you order for you. What will you have?”
”Single vanilla latte, decaf,” Brooks answered and pulled out a chair for her.
His brother shot him a look and went to the counter.
”What are you doing here? I didn't know you were headed down this way.” he noticed for the first time she was wearing a pink suit and a simple strand of pearls.
”I was meeting a friend for lunch.” She scooped her curls into a simple ponytail. Tugging a pen from her purse, she maneuvered and twisted the hair around in several swift movements until it was a softly-made bun. Tendrils framed her face and she glanced up at him, smiling. ”I went to your office but you were out. So I left a note and was heading for Nick's Big Bookstore on Thirteenth.”
He nodded. She loved that place. Especially the historical fiction section on the third floor. ”If you stay here too long someone might snag your favorite bean bag.”
”Probably. I'll sacrifice.” She gazed around. ”It's been so long since I've been in here. It really brings back memories. Shelby and I used to come here, before she moved.”
”Does she come home at all?”
”Every now and then, but this summer she and Ransom are coming to stay in Flea Bite Creek for a while. He's probably more concerned with the 150th reenactments this year than visiting her parents, but he's a good sport about it.”
”We're not in the same company, but I remember him at the Battle of Booneville. He was die-hard, head-to-toe and never stepped out of the role. When tourists came up to take his picture, he kept giving the name of a real Rebel soldier.” Brooks grinned. ”Folks never questioned whether Gideon Johnson Pillow was really his name. The only time I saw him break character was when he was talking to the African American guys who made up the Corps D'Afrique. One of them had his great-great-granddaddy's medal of honor and Ransom had to go get his camera from Shelby so he could take a picture.”
Caroline leaned forward. ”Now explain to me why this is perfectly normal and dressing up in Regency gear is not.”
He blinked. ”Finley, because the Civil War is history.”
”So is Regency England.” She laughed, eyes bright. ”Just because we're not firing cannons or riding horses, doesn't mean it won't be fun.”
Manning arrived, setting her latte on the table. ”Hey, maybe we should bring that new cannon. Although, I still haven't got it to the firing stage yet.”
”No, you should bring the Parrott 30-pounder. Not as impressive but at least it's functional.”
”Now, you two. We're not firing any artillery. Can you imagine what a disaster a wild shot would be around all those people? It's too dangerous!” Caroline said.
”Wild shot? They're extremely accurate up to a mile. No one is going to get hurt. And if we want to be really historically accurate, we can stage a little battle. Not sure which, but I'm sure they were in some kind of war at that time. England was always in a war with somebody,” Manning said.
”I don't think the Napoleonic Wars count since it wasn't on English soil. We're not turning this into a battle field. There will be music and dancing and fine food and gracious conversation.” She ticked them off on her fingers, one by one.
”Oh, great idea.” Brooks brightened. ”We can borrow the smoothbore Napoleon. It's Southern made, but no one will know that.”
”I wish they hadn't cleaned it.” Manning shuddered. ”It was a perfectly acceptable oxidized patina, but some misguided soul thought he should s.h.i.+ne it up. Now it's as s.h.i.+ny as a new penny.”
”I'll carry my Cavalry revolver. The musket has the bayonet and doesn't look as dressy.”
”The Colt 1860 Army?” Manning leaned forward. ”I've been looking and looking but no one will part with one for any price. I don't care if I come in a hat and tails if I get to carry a Colt .44.”
”Listen to me!” Caroline held out both hands, one to each brother. ”This is Debbie Mae's party. If she wants cannons, she'll tell you to bring cannons. If she wants everyone to bring their rusty old service revolvers, she'll tell us. As far as I know, this is a weapons-free dance.”
”Rusty?” Brooks sat back like he'd been slapped. ”It's not one of the cheaper bra.s.s replicas. It's the original steel frame with engraving on the cylinder, although it's a Navy scene on an Army gun and n.o.body can explain why. Anyway, I've got the attached shoulder stock but I can just use the holster. It's not anything close to rusty.”
She let out a sigh. ”I'm sure it's pretty. But can we just forget what we want and pull together for Debbie Mae?”
Manning was silent, nodding his head. Brooks realized Caroline didn't want to have a Regency party any more than he did. His chest tightened. She was someone who put the needs of her friends above her own, no matter how silly and inconsequential they seemed. He, on the other hand, didn't want part of any activity unless he got his own way. A wave of shame went through him at the comparison. Caroline had always been the kinder person, and the more thoughtful, of the two of them. ”You're right. No firearms. No cannons. We'll be there and we'll be as Regency as possible.”
”Thank you,” she said, laying a hand on his. He could tell a weight had lifted from her shoulders.