SOPHIE, DEEP IN conversation with Christine as they descended the stairs, hadn’t noticed anyone yet, however, when she raised her head, she frowned. Consciously forcing the scowl away, she replaced it with what she hoped was a serene smile, as Richard made his way toward her. “Good evening, Mrs. Ford.”

Sophie dipped her head in response.

“Christine, you look stunning.” He took Christine’s hand and gallantly bowed over it.

“Thank you, Richard.”

Sophie followed Christine to where Michael and Nona stood. They greeted a handsome young man with red hair reminiscent of Christine, and Sophie knew he must be Andrew. He stood next to a woman, an older version of Nona, so she could only be their mother. Andrew turned, leaning on an ornately carved cane, and welcomed the girls with a huge smile. “Teeny, how are you?” He grabbed Christine and chastely kissed her on the cheek. Andrew then turned toward Sophie. “This must be Mrs. Ford. How are you handling my sisters?” Leaning down, he added in a whisper, “They are notorious for being bossy, so please don’t let them push you around.” Taking her hand, he kissed it gently, and Sophie loved him instantly.

“I’m holding my own, thank you for asking. And please call me Sophie.”

Andrew reminded her of Lucas, and her heart caught at the memory of her husband’s closest friend. The goofy class clown, always up for a good time and ready to play practical jokes on anyone within a five-mile radius.

“Sophie, this is our mother, Miriam.” Christine greeted her mother with a kiss on her cheek and then turned back to Andrew. “Andrew, thank you for collecting Mama. I knew she wouldn’t get back from her afternoon tea with Martha before I needed to be here.”

“I’m not dead, dear,” Miriam admonished, and Sophie caught the siblings’ silent amusement.

The group walked through the foyer and down a long hallway. Sophie had only been as far as the library and was surprised at how long it took to get to their destination. The hallway fanned open to reveal another foyer of sorts, and Sophie tried to stay silent as she took it all in.

Marble tile, alternating black and white, covered the floor. A wide stairway hugged the west wall and led to a u-shaped balcony jutting out from the upper landing. Two large doors on the opposite side of the stairway, and well over eight feet tall, were open, and music wafted from the interior. Sophie was swept with the group into the room and stood momentarily in shock.

Standing on a large landing, she surveyed the room. Easily able to hold a hundred couples, it was exquisitely decorated. The woodwork ornate, but not overly so, complemented the light blues and golds on the walls. Alcoves had been built strategically around the room in order to provide a modicum of privacy or rest, if guests needed.

A crush of people in beautiful costumes danced below, laughing in celebration of the soldiers risking their lives for the cause. Some of them would never fully grasp that risk. This was Sophie’s happy place, a room full of Union soldiers and beautiful women. The music, louder than Sophie would have expected without a PA system, showcased a group of highly talented musicians. Jamie would fit right in.

Christine distracted her by taking her arm and didn’t leave her side all night, both of them managing to avoid the dancing. Andrew was their ever-present escort and introduced Sophie to everyone at the party, while acting the perfect gentleman. Christine was also a wealth of information, having met many of the men through her work at the hospital. She assisted Sophie with a few of the more personal introductions.

Sophie survived dinner and enjoyed the speeches honoring the men who were so bravely fighting the Union’s cause. She wished there was a way to warn them all of what lay ahead, but she knew it would be futile.

An hour into the celebration, Sophie began to relax. Unsure how much of it was the wine, she decided not to analyze it too closely, relieved that, for just this one moment, she didn’t feel as though the world was closing in on her.

She stood off to the side to get a brief moment alone and gather her thoughts, when all of a sudden a glass of champagne appeared in front of her. Believing it was Andrew, she turned to thank him, a huge smile on her face. Her smile fell. “Have you slipped laudanum in this drink, Mr. Madden?”

“Sophie,” he whispered.

“Mrs. Ford to you.” She handed him back the glass and started to walk away from him. Richard stopped her by gently taking her arm. “Let me go. Now.”

“I have acted badly, and I want to apologize.”

She glanced at his hand. “I smell something harder than champagne on you. Perhaps that has loosened your behavior.”

He dropped his hand and gave her a slight bow.

Christine made her way over to them, a concerned look on her face. “Richard,” she said with a warning voice.

Andrew also joined them, placing a hand on Sophie’s elbow. “Sophie, have you met the Quinn family? Douglas and I served at Shiloh together. He and his wife Gretchen are right over here.”

Turning to him, Sophie smiled her deepest smile. The one Jamie said could bring a man to his knees. “Why, no, Andrew. I don’t believe I have. I would appreciate the introduction.”

Taking his arm, she turned her back, quite pointedly, on Richard, and heard Christine admonish him as she walked away. “Richard, what are you doing?”

Richard took a deep breath. “I was trying to apologize. Please forgive me.”

* * *

The party wound down a little after midnight. Despite the small hiccup with Richard Madden, Sophie felt energized and could honestly say she’d had a wonderful time. Michael and Nona said farewell to a few of the stragglers at the front door. Elizabeth and Adam stood with them.

“Andrew, thank you for being my ever-gallant escort. I couldn’t have made it through the night without you,” Sophie said.

Andrew beamed. He took her hand and bowed over it as he placed his lips gently on her fingers. “It was my pleasure, Sophie.” He kissed his sisters and then gathered up his mother, leaving behind the last set of guests.

Sophie laid her hand on Elizabeth’s arm and smiled. “Elizabeth, thank you so much for this incredible dress. I don’t know how I can ever repay you. It is exquisite.”

“I believe it’s you that made it exquisite. I’m so glad it got some use, it would have sat at the bottom of my wardrobe otherwise. In fact, I believe I may have a few more I can donate.”

“Elizabeth, I couldn’t. You’ve been so generous already.”

“Nonsense, Sophie, it would be my pleasure.” Addressing the group, Elizabeth said, “I think Adam and I are going to make our way home. I wonder if the children have given the nanny an apoplexy yet.”

Adam chuckled behind her and the family said their good-byes. Christine decided to stay behind and help Sophie with her dress, so the girls hugged Nona, said goodnight to Michael and then made their way upstairs.

Entering her bedroom, Sophie froze, hand flying to her chest as her face grew warm. The orange glow from the fireplace enfolded her as she moved closer to the bed. The shadowing on the walls from the lit sconces reminded her of the power outage that hit her neighborhood during her first Christmas with Jamie.

“What’s amiss?”

Sophie smiled. “Oh. Nothing, just memories.”

“Good ones, it would seem.”

“Most definitely.” Sophie walked the room, taking everything in as Christine stood quietly. After a few minutes, Sophie shook herself from her fog and let Christine help her with her clothing.

Once Sophie’s corset and gown were removed, Christine made her way out of the room. Pausing at the doorway, she smiled. “I’ll be in the guestroom down the hall if you need me.”

“Thanks.” Sophie climbed in between warmed, soft sheets.

* * *

Richard Madden sat in his office, staring at the dark amber liquid beckoning to him from behind the glass. Memories slammed through his mind, despite his earlier attempts to vanquish them, but the Wades served nothing stronger than champagne, and that just wasn’t doing the job. Wrapping his long fingers around the neck of the bottle, he stood and made his way to his bedroom. Sleep would not elude him tonight. Removing his clothes between swigs of whiskey, Richard stumbled into bed and closed his eyes. Sleep came, however, not without dreams.

“Richard!”

Turning, he saw sandy blonde curls bouncing as his sister skipped toward him and threw herself into his arms. “Hello, Lillian.”

Memories of fifteen years ago rushed back. Caught between little girl and little lady, his ten-year-old sister was his complete joy. Never without a smile, especially for him, she worshiped him. “You’re home early.”

“I am. Did you miss me?”

Lillian nodded. “So much. Mama’s been sick, did you know?”

Richard frowned. His mother was never sick. “No, little bean. I didn’t. Let’s find her, shall we?”

Slipping her tiny hand into his, she pulled him back. “No, we can’t.”

“Why not?”

“We will get sick.”

Richard’s heart raced. “We will?”

“Yes, Mrs. Johanson died already.”

“Son.”

Richard turned at the sound of his father’s voice. “Mother’s sick?”

“Yes.”

Richard stepped onto the porch and followed his father inside. “What is it?”

“Typhoid. She’s not going to live.”

“I must see her.”

Before his father could answer, they heard a call from upstairs. “Mr. Madden!”

His mother was gone. Less than two weeks later, his father met the same fate and Lillian lay in bed, fever ravaging her tiny body. Clayton had returned from school for their mother’s funeral and stayed for their father’s, and now the young men were forced to wait for their sister’s. Richard sat vigil at Lillian’s bedside as Clayton paced the tiny room.

“Dickie,” Lillian rasped.

“I’m here, little bean.”

“I am too, love.” Clayton sat on the opposite side of her.

Lillian handed each of her brothers one of her ribbons.

“What’s this, sweet?” Clayton asked.

“Please keep them and remember me.”

Richard choked back tears as he nodded and took one from her.

“When you lay me in the box, will you put Lucy in with me,” she asked, referring to the rag doll she was holding. “I don’t want to be by myself.”

“Lilly,” Richard whispered. “Of course we will. Don’t be afraid.”

They were well past the hope that she might recover.

“Clay?”

“Yes, love, I’m here.” Richard watched his fifteen-year-old brother gently lift their sister’s hand and lay her palm against his cheek. He’d grown up so much in the past few weeks; they’d both been forced to.

“Tell Rosie not to cry for me and that she should stay away until this is done. I would hate for her to get sick.” Rose Johanson was Lillian’s best friend and had been sent away as soon as the threat had started.

“I will,” Clayton whispered.

“I’m really cold.”

Richard gathered her into his arms and held her against his chest. “Is this better?”

She never said another word.

* * *

Richard woke with a start and swore. Sitting up, he reached for the bottle and drank deeply, before climbing out of bed and making his way to his bureau. Sliding open the top drawer, he noticed the ribbon still sat on top of his pocket watch, and he pulled it out and lifted it lovingly to his lips. Tears streamed down his face as he let it slip through his fingers back to its hiding place. As he turned back to the bed, anger overwhelmed him.

Once they buried their sister, Richard and Clayton sold everything off, freed the slaves that hadn’t already purchased their freedom, and made their way to Pennsylvania. Away from the south, away from the memories. In the midst of making their new life, Clayton found God and Richard found rage—and whiskey.

Richard pulled his pants on, grabbed the bottle, and stumbled down the stairs back to his office. He stayed there, barely lucid, until the sun rose.