McShannon’s Heart Excerpt

Morgan County, Georgia, 1861

“In My Father’s house are many mansions. If it were not so, I would have told you…”
Rochelle McShannon closed her eyes, but she couldn’t shut out the minister’s words or the scent of the freshly turned earth waiting to fill her mother’s grave. She couldn’t connect the thought of death with a beautiful March morning like this, cloudless and bright, with new green everywhere and the wind carrying the fragrance of Morgan County’s rich soil, ploughed and waiting for seed.
But not our fields. Not this year, maybe never again.
The spring sun warmed the black wool of her dress, sending trickles of perspiration down her back. She slipped her gloved hand into her twin brother’s, felt his fingers close tightly around hers and knew he was struggling for control, too. Through the rest of the service, Chelle clung to Trey’s hand, gathering her strength for the task of receiving condolences.
Most of the county was there. Sidonie McShannon had been popular with her neighbors, from the Sinclairs and the other large planters down to the hardscrabble farmers. It wasn’t in her nature to look down on anyone, and she’d been good at smoothing the feathers that the less than tactful little Yorkshireman she’d married tended to ruffle. She’d possessed an easy grace that Chelle had long ago given up trying to emulate. She was too much like her father.
After Reverend Mader’s final prayer the family stepped away from the grave, into the shade of a spreading pine. Their neighbors formed a line to pay their respects. Justin and Cathy Sinclair, Trey’s closest friends, came first with their parents. Justin’s hazel eyes usually held a gleam that meant he and Trey were up to no good, but now they darkened with sadness as he gave Chelle a gentle hug.
“Twig, you look tired. Why don’t you and Trey come over tomorrow afternoon for a while?”
Hearing the nickname Justin had given her at seven brought fresh tears to Chelle’s eyes. She blinked them back and whispered, “Thank you. Perhaps we will, if Dad is feeling better.”
She glanced at her father as Justin’s parents offered their sympathies. “Bless you, Colin. Our thoughts are with you and the children.” He responded with a silent handshake. He’d been moving like a machine since his wife’s death, all of his usual ebullient energy gone. Chelle couldn’t shake her fear that his heart had failed along with her mother’s, and wouldn’t recover.
Justin moved on to take her brother’s hand. Trey spoke quietly to his friend. Bruises discolored his face, reminders of his fight with Nate Munroe the week before. His dark eyes burned with as much anger as grief, anger Chelle knew and shared.
Thank God the Munroes had the sense to stay home today.
With each day’s news bringing war closer, tempers flared easily. The local boys had formed a cavalry troop in the winter and elected Justin Sinclair captain, but Trey hadn’t joined them. Most people accepted Sidonie’s illness as a reason, knowing Trey was needed more than ever on the farm to spare his father, but not the Munroes. The fight with Nate had been a long time coming.
As people filed past her Chelle cast covert glances down the line, looking for the one person she most wanted to see, the one neighbor whose comfort she craved. Rory McAfee had been in the church. He couldn’t have left without speaking to her.
No. There he was, standing with his parents, talking to Reverend Mader. Fresh courage welled up in her at the sight of Rory’s strong-featured, clever face, a face Chelle had been seeing in her dreams for months.
With his usual negligent grace, he bowed to the minister and joined the receiving line, with his parents behind him. Chelle followed the progress of his dark head as he moved along. It seemed to take forever for him to reach her, but the heat that raced up her arm when he took her hand still caught her by surprise.
“Rory.”
Her heart skipped a beat, then gave a painful little bound. Rory had been able to do that to Chelle since the first time he’d kissed her, last summer. He could make her skin burn with a look. Their attraction would have been the worst-kept secret in Morgan County if the coming conflict hadn’t taken precedence.
At first glance Rory looked studious, but that was only until you noticed the gleam of deviltry in his dark gray eyes. In his perfectly-cut black suit and white ruffled shirt he looked like what he was, the son of one of the county’s large planters, but the proper clothes and manners didn’t hide the strength of his lean body or the recklessness beneath the civilized veneer, a hint of danger Chelle loved so much it frightened her. It took all her self-control to lower her gaze and listen demurely while he spoke, his breath tickling her ear.
“Chelle, your mother was a great lady in every way that matters. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Unable to speak, she squeezed Rory’s hand and nodded. When she’d spoken to his parents and they moved off toward the line of buggies parked at the end of the churchyard, Chelle took a deep breath to steady herself. She couldn’t betray her feelings until she’d talked to Rory and told him her family’s plans. What happened then would depend on whether or not he loved her as he said he did, loved her enough to wait for her for years. Thinking of it hurt so much she could scarcely breathe.