Little Love Affair (Southern Romance 1)

He might have ruined her and left her instead, preying on her weakness. Instead, he had shown where his honor lay: with his fellow soldiers above her.

What a fool she had been to expect anything more. How pathetic must she have looked to him, holding out the package and asking to see his comrade? A naïve little schoolgirl, who did not understand the first part of this war. A stab of shame hit her: perhaps he had never desired her at all and found her kisses repulsive. She wanted to melt into the ground at the thought.

When she remembered the press of his hips against her own, she could not believe that, but what difference did it make? He had turned her away anyway.

Her footsteps, halting and clumsy, led her to the farmhouse. She would go to bed, she thought, and claim she was ill. When she woke, she would put all of this foolishness behind her and she would tell her mother the truth—and all of them could begin to heal. She squared her shoulders, pushed open the door, and stopped dead.

“Cyrus.” She was so surprised that she could think of nothing to say. For a blessed moment, the pain receded.

“Clara?” Her mother was on her feet. “Child, what has happened? We saw the wagon home, but no one could find you...” She meant to be gentle, but the truth tumbled out despite her.

“Solomon is dead,” Clara heard herself say. Her chin trembled, and she gripped the doorframe to stay upright. “I saw Johnny Benson in town. They’re home. Without him.”

“Oh, Clara.” Millicent was moving to Clara’s side at once, her hands out. She enfolded Clara in an embrace. “Oh, my daughter.”

“You were right.” Clara could not feel her lips moving any longer.

Her mother said nothing, only held her close as the tears came in a rush.

“I thought...”

“I know,” her mother whispered into her hair. “I know, Clara.” Her voice broke. “You were right to hope.”

She thought she would die at the pain in her mother’s voice. No one should have to bury their child. She buried her face in her mother’s neck and sobbed, clinging desperately. She drowning in the grief.

“He promised,” she whispered, unable to hold the words back.

“What did you say?” Her mother smoothed her hair back. “Clara?”

“He promised,” Clara cried out. “He promised he was coming back safe. He lied, he lied...” She could not stop the sobs, and she could not hold the words back, no matter how childish. “He told me he was coming back, and he didn’t.”

“Oh, child.” Her mother’s arms tightened around her.

“Mother...?”

Cecelia’s voice stopped them all. Clara bit off a sob in a hiccup and lifted her head, pressing the back of her hand against her mouth. Cecelia stood in the doorway from the barn, her red dress backlit, her face grave. Millicent was staring over her shoulder, her face stricken, and Cyrus had frozen where he stood at the table.

“Cecelia.” Her mother did not seem to know what to say.

“Miss Dalton.” Cyrus was at her side quickly, his arm out. “Come sit.”

“What’s wrong?” Cecelia stared between them. Her face had gone pale.

“Here, sit.” Cyrus steered her into a chair.

At his appealing look, Millicent extricated herself gently from Clara’s arms and went to the table, Clara trailing behind her. She felt Cyrus’s arm come around her waist, and for the first time she could remember, she was comforted by his solid presence. She laid her head against his chest and grasped his hand, and he did not try to speak, only held her. His head bowed over hers.

“Dear, hold your heart.” Millicent knelt at Cecelia’s side. “We’ve had some news.”

“Solomon,” Cecelia whispered, and Clara squeezed her eyes shut at the pain in her sister’s voice. “It is, isn’t it? You’ve heard. They’re sure.”

“They never found him,” Clara said, her voice stronger than she would have guessed. Facts gave an eerie clarity. “They did not send word, because they wanted to be sure.”

“How could he just be lost?” Cecelia demanded. She looked between them. “Someone must know where he is.”

“Cee, hundreds have been lost. The battlefields—” Clara broke off at her mother’s headshake. “We don’t know how,” she finished softly.

“They just left him there, all alone on the battlefield? They didn’t even go to find his body?” Cecelia’s voice was rising.