The next morning, Jeffrey woke early. The sun was no more than the hint of a glow peeking over the horizon. Only two sentries stood guard around the yard.

Jeffrey stood on the porch, Romeo hunched at his feet, and watched as three deer nibbled the tender grass at the edge of the pond. He sipped steaming hot coffee.

Tendrils of mist drifted from the water, in a transition from the cool night air to the warmer air of day.

Jeffrey was content. He and Claire had kissed for hours.

And he had fallen even more in love with her.

He thought about Claire asleep in her bed. If only he could go to her as he longed to do.

He would take her from here. From this war. Take her to Chene Ruelle – his family home, untouched by the war. Claire and his sister Alexandra were about the same size. She could share her dresses with Claire. Grand-père would adore her.

There was no need to wait to be married. They were of age and the war changed all the old customs that required them to wait for so long.

Speaking of war, he had some explaining to do. Claire thought he was from the North—a Yankee.

And indeed, he had thought himself a Yankee, for a time.

But now, he understood. Now he knew he could never raise a hand to the South. It was hard enough when he had Grand-père and Alexandra to think of. But with Claire. He wanted to make a home with her. And her home was here—in the South.

Before Claire, he couldn’t fathom life after the war. Now he could. Now he wanted to start a life—a normal life with her. And that life had to be in the South.

Sipping his coffee, he sat on the rocker with his feet propped on the porch railing, scratched Romeo’s ears, and watched the world wake up.

One of the soldiers waved as he made his way to the well with a bucket. Another soldier kindled a fire to start breakfast.

The mist on the pond rose and three ducks flew in and began swimming around in the water.

Gramps stuck his head out the door. “Morning.”

“It’s a beautiful day,” Jeffrey said. For this instant, he could pretend that everything was normal.

Gramps agreed and went back inside to reheat the coffee water.

Colonel Bonaire stomped through the house and let himself out the front door without speaking. It appeared he hadn’t forgiven them for last night.

Jeffrey sat up, his feet slipping off the railing and landing on the porch with a crash at the sound of a volley of gunfire off to the left just on the other side of the pond.  It was close enough that he saw gun smoke entwine with the mist off the pond.

By the time he got his bearings, a second volley answered the first.

Gramps appeared back at the door as the soldiers who were able got up on their feet. “We’re too late,” he said.

“We need to go now,” Jeffrey said.

Jeremiah appeared on the porch. “Where’s Claire?” he asked.

“Not up yet,” Gramps said.

“I’ll get her,” Jeffrey said, dashing into the house. He called her name as he rounded the corner into her room.

“Claire!” he called again.

“No,” she said, covering her head with the blanket.

“You have to get up,” Jeffrey said, moving closer to her bed.

“Go away,” she said, her voice muffled.

“Very well,” Jeffrey murmured. “I thought I’d have to work to get you into bed, not to get you out.” He reached down and picked her up, blankets and all.

“What the?” Claire’s eyes popped open. “What are you doing?”

“We have to get out of here.”

“I’m not dressed,” she insisted.

Glancing around, he located her trunk, threw it open, and pulled out a blue gown. “Put this on,” he demanded. “And be quick.”

“Is there a fire?” she asked, but was standing up now, focusing on him.

“Yankees,” he said, turning his back to her.

She shrugged out of her nightgown and put on the blue dress.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Shoes,” she said, glancing around the room, pushing the hair out of her face.

Her shoes were scattered near the door. She must have stepped out of them last night and left them. Interesting for one so tidy and organized. He couldn’t help but smile. She’d had a similar effect on him as well.

“Gramps?” she asked, grabbing a book off her nightstand.

“Waiting for us.”

The gunfire was closer now. Jeffrey looked out the window to see soldiers in gray moving along the tree line not far from the house.

Then the sound he’d been dreading shattered the air. A cannon fired. It sounded as though it was about to land on their heads within seconds.

Claire put her hands over her head and closed her eyes.

Jeffrey took her hand. “We’re safe,” he said, pulling her from the room.

The cannonball landed several feet from the house, sending up a volley of dirt.

“How did you know?”

“Lucky guess.”

By the time they reached the front door, Jeremiah had appeared sitting atop a wagon pulled by one emaciated horse. No one questioned how he had managed to take the army’s horse and wagon, or how he knew they would be leaving.

The soldiers were moving closer. Now the Yankees with their blue uniforms were visible on the far side of the clearing.

Another cannon ball headed in their direction as Jeffrey lifted Claire into the wagon and Gramps jumped in the back.

Again, Claire covered her head.

The cannonball landed at the edge of the house, shattering one side of the front porch where Jeffrey had sat with his morning coffee just minutes before.

“Wait,” Claire called.

Jeffrey glanced around. “I don’t know where Romeo is,” he said.

“No, we have to go back inside the house.”

“I’ll see if he’s inside,” Jeffrey said, turning to go back inside to look for the dog.

He found Romeo in the kitchen, wedged between the stove and the wall. Jeffrey bent down and picked him up, groaning under the weight of the dog.

“At least you didn’t run off,” he told the dog. “I thought I was gonna have to go out to the woods and find you.”

As he hefted Romeo up into the wagon, he realized Claire had gotten off the wagon and was headed back inside the house.

“Claire,” he called, running after her. “There’s no time.” As she headed toward the parlor, he put his arms around her waist, stopping her. She struggled, but stood dead still at the sound of another cannon ball whining over their heads.

It crashed into the back of the house. “Now there’s a fire,” he said, picking her up.

They made it back as far as the kitchen before he realized there were two Yankee soldiers blocking his path.

Jeffrey stood her slowly on her feet and nudged her behind him. She gasped when she saw the men standing in her house pointing rifles at them. Jeffrey raised his arms. “We’re not armed,” he said.

“Come outside peacefully,” one of the soldiers ordered.

The soldiers stood aside to let them pass. Gramps and Jeremiah also had guns pointed at them and the wagon was surrounded by half a dozen soldiers. Jeffrey and Claire were ushered toward the wagon.

“We’re too late,” Gramps said.

“So it seems,” Jeffrey said.

Claire hadn’t said a word since he’d stopped her from wherever it was she was headed. He still held her hand, however, and capturing her gaze, attempted to reassure her. “It’ll be all right,” he said.

“How?” she asked.

“They won’t harm us.”

“I hope you’re right,” she replied.

“Get in the wagon,” one of the soldiers demanded.

Jeffrey picked her up again and placed her on the back of the wagon and jumped in after her.

Jeffrey scanned the yard. He saw one officer on horseback turned away from them, and other Yankees on foot with pistols and muskets. The rag-tag soldiers protecting the sick and injured had been no match for the well-armed Yankees. Jeffrey’s stomach recoiled at the sight of soldiers in blue harassing injured boys in gray.

What had he been thinking? These Southerners were his people. How had his loyalties gotten so misguided? His urge was to help them. But at the moment he had no weapon and he had no choice but to wait there. Besides, he could protect Claire if he stayed near her.

Claire leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Do you know these men?”

“What? No,” he answered, regretting now not telling her the truth already.

“What will they do with us?”

“I don’t know,” he said, automatically, then after glancing at her ashen face added, “They won’t hurt us.”

“Why have they singled us out?” she asked.

Why had they? Jeffrey glanced at the breeches and shirt he wore. He was not in uniform—of any color. “We’re civilians,” he said.

“Major Perkins,” a young solder said, coming to stand next to the one on horseback.

“Yes, Bobby?”

“We have the men subdued.”

Jeffrey bit his tongue. Subdued? The men they had subdued were injured and sick. Not a major feat.

“Good job,” Major Perkins said. “Climb up and we’ll be on our way.”

“Very well, sir,” Bobby said, and climbed onto the driver’s seat of the wagon.

“Where are you taking us?” Gramps asked.

Major Perkins turned and for the first time seemed to see them.

“To prison, old man,” he answered, and turned his back to the wagon.