She looked at Joe, who was having his own struggles. “What a congregation of watering pots,” she said. No need for them to know of her tears.
“I have to ride to Three Mile,” Joe said.
“I’ll come with you, sir,” Rattigan said.
“As much as I love the infantry, you’re not much of a horseman, Sergeant.”
“No, I’m not, sir, but I can stay in the saddle and you shouldn’t ride alone. Let me get my shoes. We’ll stop by the barracks and pick up a squad of other terrible horsemen.”
The men left in a few minutes. Susanna sank down on the sofa, her eyes filled with the sight of mother and daughter. She closed her eyes against her own pain of wanting to be with her son. Maybe Joe had spoken truly. As painful as it was for her, this did feel like the rightest thing anyone had ever done.
When she opened her eyes, surprised that she had slept, she heard Maddie and Maeve in the postage stamp of a spare room, moving boxes. She went to the doorway and watched them as Maeve made a pallet on the floor.
“We’ll have a cot for you tomorrow, my love,” Maeve said. She kissed Maddie’s untidy hair. “Or maybe we won’t worry about this now. Let’s just go to my room.”
Maddie nodded, her serious self again, possessed of years beyond her childhood. “I’d rather not sleep alone tonight.”
“Neither would I,” Maeve said softly.
Nor I, Susanna thought. She knelt by Maddie. “Sleep tight, dearest.”
Maeve followed her to the door. “You have done the kindest thing,” she whispered. “I know you must want to keep her yourself.”
Yes, a thousand times, Susanna thought. “I have a son. You needed a daughter.”
Susanna stood a long time on the footbridge, watching the flowing water, seeing in her mind Maeve and Maddie cuddled together in bed. When Sergeant Rattigan returned, if there was still time before reveille, he would likely join them. They would probably sleep three to a bed, tight as mussels in a basket, until Maddie was ready to sleep alone.
The ice was breaking up and she knew there were fish below, freed from their winter prison and eager for spring. She had heard taps earlier, so it must be ten o’clock now, because the sentries were calling their “All’s well” around the post. Her heart was troubled, but spring settled around her, anyway.
The front door was closed when she came home. She went inside to see Emily knitting. Susanna sat beside her cousin and told her what had happened.
“Maddie will have a good mother now,” Emily said.
She had a good mother before, Susanna thought. She knew Emily wouldn’t believe her, so she just nodded.
Emily resumed her knitting as Susanna hesitated a long moment, weighing the consequences of what she wanted to do. In an evening of deep breaths, she took another one.
“Emily, I’m going to Major Randolph’s quarters. He is the worst cook ever, and I’m going to make him some muffins and coffee. He’ll be famished when he returns.”
To her surprise, Emily continued knitting. “I rather think you should,” she said. “Don’t put any of those everlasting raisins in the muffins. I’ve been hoarding a handful of dried apricots. Let me get those. Just soak them a little while before you add them to the batter.” She went into the kitchen.
Susanna took the apricots and kissed her cheek.
“And for goodness’ sake, do try to return before reveille, and use the back door. You know how people like to spread rumors here. I, of course, will be as silent as the grave.”
“Cousin, you know what I’m doing isn’t right and proper,” Susanna said.
Emily thought a long moment before she spoke. “We’re grown women. Maybe life isn’t just black-and-white, is it?” She held out her hand for Susanna to grasp.
Susanna walked two doors down to the major’s quarters. She knew his door wouldn’t be locked. Funny how a house with only a man in it could feel so empty. The lamp in the parlor still burned, so she sat in his armchair, tired to her bones. To her amusement, she saw he had tacked up the French words for chair, table, bookcase, books and rug by their namesakes. She went into the kitchen, and re-acquainted herself with French for sink, cookstove and a variety of edibles. She laughed out loud to see the word merde scrawled on the wooden box containing raisins. Good thing Emily had given her apricots.