“Abigail had children of her own. She must have imagined what that boy’s mother would have felt. The never knowing. The Yankee boy’s family would never have known. The other corporal…” Rebecca sighed, with just a hint of frustration. “That’s all I’ve ever been able to pin down on him so far—he fought for the Union and was a corporal. At least that’s the information that’s been passed down through the MacKades.”
“What the MacKades did for that wounded boy was brave and kind, too,” Savannah commented. “But you need to find him, don’t you? To learn his name, see his grave. To settle it.”
“I suppose I do. They were killed so long ago, yet it seems…unfinished. They fought and died at each other’s hands, two ordinary young men who never really lived. But their deaths affected so many other people. And it seems they still do. Isn’t that part of what you feel in the woods, Savannah?”
Savannah tilted her head. “What do you consider the strongest emotions, Rebecca?”
“Love and hate. Everything else stems from that.”
“Yeah.” Pleased, Savannah smiled. “That’s good, for an egghead. Anyway, that’s what I felt in the woods. Love, I suppose that was for Jared, and for home. Hate—it was more the fear and violence that hatred leaves behind. Why were we both drawn there, and drawn most strongly to the spot where those two young boys fought more than a century ago? Connections?” She lifted her shoulders. “A need to settle it, or soften it, or understand it.”
“And did you?”
Savannah lifted a brow. “Did Jared tell you that the first time we made love was in those woods?”
“No. No, he didn’t.”
“He probably thought it would embarrass you.” A slow, warm smile, utterly female, curved Savannah’s lips. “The cabin was empty, there was a perfectly good bed upstairs, but we went to the woods. Because it was right for us, because we were…connected. Because love heals.”
Rebecca thought of Shane and his tender gift to her. “Yes, it does.”
“I’ve sat there and I’ve heard the rustle of leaves under boots, heard the shuddering breaths of frightened boys, the war cries, the crash of bayonets. I heard them before I’d heard the story.”
Rebecca’s eyes narrowed with new interest. “You didn’t know about the two corporals when you came here?”
“No. Jar
ed told me about it later, but I already knew. No, felt it.”
“Do you consider yourself psychic?”
Now Savannah chuckled. “No more than anyone.” A fretful wail had her glancing toward the stairs. “Feeding time,” she murmured. “Be right back.”
“Baby,” Layla said as her mother headed upstairs. Toddling over, she handed Rebecca a doll. “Baby.”
“Pretty baby.” Understanding, Rebecca kissed the doll, then the child. “Almost as pretty as you.”
With a grin that had the MacKade dimple winking, Layla squeezed the doll fiercely, then passed it back. “Mama.” She danced in place, then squealed with delight when Savannah came down with Miranda fussing in her arms. “Baby! My baby!”
“Come and see,” Savannah invited, settling down. Her free hand brushed over Layla’s dark hair as the child bent over the infant.
“Baby, baby, baby,” she cooed, placing wet kisses over Miranda’s red, furious face.
“The baby’s hungry,” Savannah explained, and rolled her eyes at Rebecca. “And boy, does she let you know it!”
Rebecca watched as Savannah chattered with both of her daughters, fingers expertly unfastening buttons. The baby rooted, one tiny hand kneading a breast while her busy mouth found the nipple.
The envy, pure and primal, that swarmed through Rebecca shocked her. Because of it, she swallowed the questions that sprang to her mind. How does it feel to feed your child from your own body? Is it the intimacy of it that makes your eyes go soft?
“Would you rather finish this later?”
“No, this is fine.”
“Regan looks like a Madonna when she nurses,” Rebecca murmured. “You don’t.” Savannah’s lifted brow had her laughing a little. “That’s not an insult. I bought these tarot cards—part of my research. The Empress is a card of fertility, female power. That’s what you look like.”
“I can live with that.”
“Well.” Taking a deep breath, Rebecca got back to work. She asked her questions, moving Savannah from generalities to specifics, then moving her on to more esoteric matters. By the time she was finished, the baby was sleeping again, her mouth milky and slack.