Savannah, or a Gift for Mr. Lincoln by Jakes John

Author:Jakes, John [Jakes, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical, Adult, Romance
ISBN: 9780451215703
Amazon: 0451215702
Goodreads: 71767
Publisher: Berkley
Published: 2004-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

While Vee foraged for brandy in the back of the house, Sara studied their visitor, and not without a certain nervousness. There were two reasons: Hattie’s unconcealed dislike of Yankee uniforms and all who wore them, and Sara’s own admiring appraisal of their benefactor.

Rather awkwardly, he perched on the edge of the chair Vee had chosen for him. He had swarthy good looks, by no means ideally handsome, but pleasing. His voice was a hundred percent Yankee: nasal to a degree that grated on her ears. He told her that he was one of several news reporters attached to the army at the War Department’s insistence. He worked for a paper called the Eye, in New York, and she supposed that explained a lot about him.

“You were raised there?”

“No, upstate, but I’ve been in the city for many years.”

“I’ve never seen New York.”

“A pretty fascinating place. Rough sometimes. The people are pushy, nervy, because they’re crowded together. They knock you down if you’re in their way. Still, underneath they’re like people everywhere, grumpy or kind, according to the circumstances. New York’s the capital of everything—finance, music, theater, social striving, crime, vice—everything.”

“I don’t believe I’ve actually met someone from New York before this.”

That produced a broad smile; he stretched out his booted legs and relaxed. “Well, contrary to the stories they’re dispensing in Richmond, those of us above Mason and Dixon’s line don’t have horns and forked tails. We do have strong disagreements with you Southern folk about the unbreakable union and your, ah, peculiar institution—isn’t that what you call it?”

Sara quickly moved Hattie from her stool and pointed her toward the kitchen. “Do see whether Vee is finding that brandy, dear. Our guest is thirsty.”

Hattie gave Stephen a look and departed. Sara said, “I’m sorry she’s not sociable. She’s quite the little rebel.”

“So I have deduced.” Stephen’s careful reply was designed to acknowledge the truth of the statement but without giving offense. Not only was the captain reasonably good-looking in a Mediterranean sort of way, but he was also intelligent—Sara didn’t know any men who slipped words like deduced into conversation. Polite, too—he and his army were the new masters of Savannah, but you would hardly know it from his behavior.

Sara sat down opposite him. “I should imagine it’s lonely for any soldier, being away from his family this time of year.”

“True. It’s melancholy even when you don’t have someone at home. In Canandaigua, that’s a pretty little town up near Lake Ontario, my only relatives are two cousins and a maiden aunt. I don’t see them often.”

No wife, no children—she’d gone fishing just as he had a while ago. She changed the subject. “Those men you drove off—will they be disciplined?”

“Mrs. Lester, I’d be less than honest if I said it’s a certainty. I’ll do everything I can, but there are a good many in the Union army who feel that Southerners are the only ones needing punishment. Then there is the necessity to move forward with this campaign. It takes precedence over everything.

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