Harrison couldn't stop himself from taking hold of her and pulling her closer to him. It wasn't a physical response to her this time. He just wanted to keep her close for as long as he could.
She seemed to understand what he needed, for she put her arms around his waist and hugged him tight.
'You were very lonely growing up, weren't you?'
'If I was, I didn't know it,' he answered. His chin dropped to rest on the top of her head. He closed his eyes and let himself feel the pleasure she was offering him.
'Until now?' she whispered into the collar of his shirt.
'Yes, until now.'
She was trying to comfort him. Harrison was almost overwhelmed by her gentleness and her understanding. She had so much love inside her. She made him feel… complete somehow. Life had been empty, hollow, terribly cold. Mary Rose, sweet, loving Mary Rose. What in God's name was he going to do about her?
He finally forced himself to let go of her. Getting her to let go of him took a little longer. He had to pull her hands away from him.
'I'm not going to ask you to kiss me. You needn't worry about that.'
'You need to go home, Mary Rose. Come on, I'll walk with you.'
'But I just walked you to your home.'
'Good night then.'
'Good night.'
She turned to leave, Harrison clasped his hands behind his back and watched her. He was completely caught off guard when she suddenly turned again and threw herself into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaned up on her tiptoes, and gave him a long, thoroughly inadequate kiss.
He couldn't stop himself from taking over. His arms wrapped her in his embrace, and then he showed her how he wanted to be kissed. His mouth was hot, open, devouring. His tongue moved inside to mate with hers, and, heaven help him, he couldn't seem to get enough of her.
The kiss turned carnal. He never wanted it to stop. The husky little sound she made in the back of her throat intoxicated him.
Everything about her was magical to him, and when he realized he wanted much, much more from her, he immediately pulled back.
She stared up at him, her lips rosy and swollen from his kisses, her eyes misty with passion, and all he wanted to think about was pulling her back into his arms again.
'Good night.' Her voice was a throaty whisper.
She didn't move. Harrison was inordinately pleased with her bemused state of mind. He understood that passion was new to her, and because she didn't have any experience to guide her, she was vulnerable because she trusted him. Mary Rose was a strong woman. She wouldn't allow any man to take advantage of her. She had high values and morals, but she was nonetheless vulnerable with him. It was, therefore, his duty to keep her from being hurt.
Harrison watched her until she reached the house and went inside. And still he didn't move. What in God's name was he going to do? Mary Rose was falling in love with him. He could have stopped the infatuation before it became more serious. Yet he had done nothing at all to discourage her.
Why hadn't he? Harrison blanched over the truth. It had been staring him in the face for over a week now. He knew exactly why he hadn't discouraged her.
He was in love with her.
August 2, 1864
Dear Mama Rose,
We read in the Hammond paper about another battle that was fought right around where you and Mistress Livonia live. Of course we all started worrying. We've heard so many terrible stories about the riots for food and medical supplies. A week after we read the paper, your letter arrived telling us you were doing just fine. You're probably shaking your head over our foolishness. You keep telling us to have faith in Cod and let Him do the worrying, but sometimes it's hard to hand things over to Him. We try, Mama. I guess that ought to count for something.
We're sure sorry to hear the new treatment didn't improve Mistress Livonia's eyes. Don't you think all those beatings her husband inflicted on her might have something to do with her blurred eyesight now? I remember seeing her all bruised and bloodied. Please tell her we're thinking about her and praying for a recovery from the cross she's been given.
I hope her sons are leaving the two of you alone. Some of the things they've done to their own mama makes us sick inside. How can her sons be so cruel? Cole's worried the boys will try to bother you the way their father did, but I told him to have more faith in you. As long as you keep on your guard and stay close to their mother, they won't dare come after you. I pray I'm right.
There was another of Lincoln's fine speeches reprinted in the paper. He gave the talk several years ago, Mama. Did you know he called us Black Men instead of slaves? Black seems more dignified to me than some of the other names I've heard. Cole wonders why everyone can't be just called men and women. He doesn't see any reason in having to be more specific. I wish it were all that simple, but people have strange notions about anyone who isn't just like him. Why does being a different color make people hate?
One night all of us brothers got into a discussion about the differences in the races. I asked Travis if he thought the men who wrote the Declaration of Independence for us worried about the color of a man's skin. It says in our laws that all men are created equal. I told my brothers I didn't believe Jefferson was thinking about including black men when he wrote down his rules for government, but Douglas said it shouldn't matter. Equal is equal, no matter what color your skin is or what religion you practice, and so on. We all ended up agreeing on one thing. A lot of southern folks never took the time to read the Constitution.
Mary Rose likes to help with the dishes now. She's careful with the two china cups Travis got for her. He promised her that as soon as he could barter for a couple more, he'd show her how to have a proper tea party. He's trying to find a teapot now, and knowing Travis, he won't fail. He doesn't know anything about what's proper, of course, but he is sure Mrs. Morrison will be happy to show him how it's done, and then we can teach our sister. Cole swears he isn't having any part in tea parties, but he'll change his mind. He always does.
Cole finally started work on our house. One thing after another prevented him from beginning the project last year. First there was the barn for Douglas, then winter set in before he could put in the cellar, and the following spring, he had to spend all his time hunting for food and horses to barter. We sold every one of the mustangs he captured. The mountains are filled with opportunities. Cole can't work on the house while his brothers work gathering up horses. He knows our income depends on catching the wild ones and training them before anyone else does. Douglas is getting a reputation around Blue Belle. Folks come from miles around to get his opinion on what should be done about an ailing cow or a persnickety hen. My brother does have a gift of knowing what should be done.
We've all started working hard to clean up our language because Mary Rose is swearing all the time now. Cole came up with the idea of writing a new word on the chalkboard every morning. We all have to use the word sometime during the day. He thought it would be good for all of us to increase our vocabulary, and of course sister will also benefit. She doesn't like to be left out of anything.
I'm enclosing everyone's personal notes to you. I'll write again real soon, Mama.
God keep you safe,
Adam
