Page 6 of Always to Remember
With her dreams reverberating with the roar of guns and Kirk’s agonized screams, she would awaken bathed in sweat. She imagined that the last thing Kirk had heard before he died was the sound of rifle fire or the blast of a cannon, when he should have heard her voice reaffirming her love. The last thing he had felt was the hard ground when he should have felt her gentle touch comforting him. Hundreds of men had surrounded him, but without her at his side, he had faced death alone.
“Meg?”
She snapped her gaze up to Reverend Baxter’s. He bestowed upon her a congenial smile and nodded toward the organ. She transferred all her heart to the music as the congregation lifted its voice in song.
From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Clayton Holland and his brothers as they quietly rose and walked from the church. She poured her energy into the keyboard, allowing the force of the song to wash over her, cleanse her in ways Reverend Baxter’s sermon never could.
As the final note died away, she bowed her head for the closing prayer. When Reverend Baxter’s voice fell into silence, people scuffled out of the church, and Meg closed her music book.
“That was lovely, Meg.”
She bent her head back to meet Reverend Baxter’s amber eyes. He was a towering man. A sparse mustache topped his warm smile. She returned his smile. “Thank you.”
She started to rise and found his hand beneath her elbow, assisting her.
“I suppose you have a fine meal planned for this afternoon. Will you have your apple cobbler on the table?” he asked.
“Of course. We’d love to have you join us.”
His smile broadened. “Wonderful. I’ll ride over after I’ve visited with my parishioners. In an hour or so. Will that be all right?”
“That’ll be fine.” She skirted him and walked from the dais. Her steps echoed through the church as she continued along the aisle. She stepped into the sultry heat, avoiding the puddles dotting the ground.
She stopped numerous times to visit briefly with old friends, girls with whom she’d grown up, wives and mothers of men who would never come home. They shared a bond that a war had forged. She worked her way through the gathering until she finally reached her father’s wagon.
‘"Bout time, girl,” her father said as she approached. “Thought I was going to have to go into church and get you myself.”
“I invited Reverend Baxter to join us for dinner,” she said as he helped her onto the seat of the wagon.
“You invited him? Or did he invite himself?” her brother asked from the back of the wagon.
Turning slightly, she slapped his arm. “Daniel Crawford, you have the manners of a Yankee. I invited him, just as I said.”
“I bet he did some powerful hinting, though,” Daniel teased, his blue eyes sparkling. “I think he’s sweet on you, Meg.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s twice as old as I am. Besides, I don’t ever plan to marry again. I could never love anyone as I loved Kirk.”
Her father glanced at her, his bushy white eyebrows shifting up over blue eyes that greatly favored hers. “You can’t spend your life in mourning.”
“Why not? You have.”
Thomas Crawford tipped his hat back off his brow. “It’s different with me. Me and your ma had fifteen years to make memories and five children. Those memories will carry me through until I join her. You were left with much less than that, girl.”
“It’s not the number of memories a person has, but how wonderful they are. My memories of Kirk will sustain me.”
Sadly, he shook his head. “Still, you might consider the reverend. You have a good heart, Meg. You’d make a fine preacher’s wife, and it wouldn’t be such a bad life.”
She couldn’t imagine that it would be such a good life either. She didn’t get that warm melting feeling inside her whenever she looked at Reverend Baxter. “I’m thinking of planting petunias around the boys’ graves,” she said to change the subject.
“Damn it, Meg! They ain’t boys!” Daniel cried.
Thomas glared over his shoulder. “Don’t use profanity around your sister.”
“But she keeps calling ‘em boys. They were soldiers.”
“You’re right, Daniel,” she said kindly, trying to soothe the guilt she knew still filled his heart. “But in my mind, I still see them as they were the day they left. Remember how Kirk and I came over for breakfast, and we all had to go into the kitchen and watch Michael shave for the first time that morning?”
“I wish I’d been old enough to fight with them. If only I’d been born sooner …” Wistfully, his voice trailed off.
