Read Online Yankee Wife by Linda Lael Miller - Free Book Online Page B

describe it, is really just plain, stubborn pride,” she said. She'd sounded bitter as she spoke, but the words were already out before she realized that.
    Devon's response was gentle, and by that very fact it shamed her. “Is that what makes you so strong, Lydia? ‘Plain, stubborn pride’?”
    â€œMaybe,” Lydia confessed, flushing. He was right; she held tightly to her pride, fearing that she would be weak without it.
    When they were halfway up the brick driveway, they encountered Charlotte, who wore a flowing gauze dress and had draped herself in thin silk scarves of all colors. She stared dreamily ahead, not seeming to notice them, and Lydia was amazed.
    She started to follow the girl, only to have Devon grip her elbow lightly and stay her.
    â€œDon't worry,” he whispered, his eyes full of warm laughter. “Charlotte is pretending again—my guess would be that she's been reading some story set in Arabia.”
    Lydia felt an upsurge of joy. After the horrors she'd seen in Union field hospitals and prison camps, it was wonderful to be reminded that young girls still played dress-up and cloaked themselves in dreams. Being in Quade's Harbor was like waking up to sunshine after a frightening and tempestuous night.
    â€œMaybe she'll be an actress when she grows up,” Lydia speculated.
    Devon touched an index finger to his lips. “Don't let Brig hear you say that. He has very conventional ideas where his daughters are concerned—he'd rather see them join the circus than tread the boards, I think.”
    They had reached the house, and instead of using the formal front entrance, they went around to the back and stepped into Jake's kitchen. He'd set the big oak table next to the window for five, but only Millie was there.
    Devon washed at the pump in the sink, while Lydia used a basin of warm water Jake had set out for her.
    The meal consisted of cold meat, bread, applesauce, and vegetables preserved at the height of last year's gardening season. Charlotte drifted in midway through, like a beautiful ghost, and ate delicate portions without ever acknowledging the others at the table with so much as a look.
    â€œWe're invisible,” Millie explained in a stage whisper.
    â€œOh,” Lydia replied.
    After they'd eaten, she helped Jake clear the table and tidy up the kitchen, but the cook refused to let her wash the dishes. Devon had gone back to his building project, Millie was curled like a kitten in one of the big chairs in her father's study, sound asleep, Aunt Persephone was reading in the main parlor, and Charlotte was still wandering about looking tragic. Lydia climbed the main stairway and tapped discreetly at doors until she found the newlyweds' room.
    Polly was standing at the window, gazing out at the endless panorama of sea and sky and mountains. She was still wearing her dressing gown, and her hair trailed down her back in a gleaming tumble of dark curls.
    â€œPolly?” Lydia inquired softly. “Are you ill?”
    When the other woman turned to look at her, Lydia saw pain in the beautiful hazel eyes. A single tear slid down her cheek. “No. No, I'm well enough. Considering.”
    Lydia stepped into the room and closed the door, even though Polly had not actually invited her. “Then why are you crying?”
    Polly sighed. “It would seem silly to someone like you.” Lydia had told the other woman something of the suffering she'd seen in the war, while they were sailing up from San Francisco.
    Lydia shook her head. “No one's troubles are unimportant,” she said.
    Devon's bride suddenly covered her face with both hands, sobbed, and collapsed onto the edge of the bed. “Oh, dear God,” she wailed. “You don't know what I've done! He doesn't know what I've done!”
    Lydia went to sit beside Polly on the mattress, cautiously putting an arm around the woman's trembling shoulders. “What is it?” she asked