Sunrise by Jacquelyn Cook

Author:Jacquelyn Cook
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BelleBooks Inc.
Published: 2013-08-27T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter XIII

TENSION MOUNTED when January 1861 blazed in with political fires so hot even Anne did not notice the wintry weather. First Mississippi, Florida, and Alabama joined South Carolina. Then on January 19, Georgia voted to secede. That night Macon erupted with a torchlight parade of Minute Men.

Anne ran along the boulevard, glad for once of being tall. Proud of Phil, she had to see him marching. He could have stayed out of the service because of his poor vision and his limp, but he had given up his judgeship to become an officer in the Macon Volunteers.

She spotted him with Sidney striding beside him. She hated that he had resigned his teachership at Oglethorpe to enlist as a private, but she understood that the men were heart and soul for the conflict that must be waged to protect home and heritage and the right to independent government.

The youths had no eyes for her. Belles of the town crowded the wrought iron balconies suspended over double doors of houses along Mulberry. They squealed, cheered, and waved handkerchiefs. Anne noticed Phil salute Genie Wiley, who kept her attention following him.

Anne had not asked Mr. Johnston’s permission, but she had invited Phil’s cronies to the house for hot cider and gingerbread after the parade. Anne tried not to mind that her husband went upstairs to his study, leaving the guests in the ground floor living room. As she served them, she could not help but eavesdrop.

“Then we’re all set, Sid?” asked Phil. “You’ll serenade under Genie’s window for me?”

“Sure,” said Sidney. “What shall I play?”

“How should I know? You serenade all the girls.”

They left laughing, and Anne smiled after them. Happy to see Phil interested in a girl for the first time since the loss of his wife, she yet worried. Considering how Macon’s ladies languished over Sidney’s music and sighed into his great gray eyes, she wondered if Phil was taking along too much competition.

EXCITEMENT CONTINUED through January, filling Anne with enthusiasm. But on cold evenings, guilt rode her as she watched her husband growing more despondent, old.

On a false spring day in February, she was working with a man planting a rose garden with China tea roses she had selected while in France. They would be a fragrant array ranging from deep purple to crimson to pink to white. She reserved a special place for her favorite, “Adam,” a rose pink.

“This one really smells like tea,” she told the gardener.

Even as she worked, her anticipation in the spring blooms was dimmed. Perhaps, the season’s brides won’t accept what I have to offer. If Mr. Johnston declares himself a Unionist, we’ll be ostracized.

As if he heard her thoughts, her husband called her to come inside the house.

Silently he handed her a black velvet box. Puzzled, she opened it, gasped. “Exquisite!” she exclaimed, blinking at a tiered necklace of flashing diamonds. Wondering why he had given it, she searched his face. “A lovely Valentine . . .” Where would I wear such an elaborate piece?

He smiled warmly.

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