Morning
Jan. 3, 1864
Sweetfern Farm
Kirkwood, MS
"Miss Mackenzie, when are you going to let me out of here?" Harm whined for the thousandth time.
She smiled up at him from where she had been setting his arm in a sling. "Soon, Mr. Rabb," she said, as she stood up straight. She arched her back, stretching the sore muscles.
Harm noticed how easily she moved, and for the first time realized that she didn't wear her corset the way other women did. "Your corset is loose," he joked.
Mac spun and stared at him. "What are you doing looking?" she asked playfully stern.
"There isn't much else to look at in here," he replied, a wide smile fixed his lips.
"We'll see if we can remedy that for you," she said, "But first, you've got to eat this."
"If it's porridge again, I don't want it."
Mac smiled. "Actually, it's real food," she told him setting the tray over his legs. "You get toast with strawberry preserve, orange juice, and porridge."
Harm looked over the breakfast, and his mouth began to water. It had been much longer than a week since he's had such food. No soldier had eaten so well since the war had begun. In fact, he felt almost guilty eating it. Almost. He fell into the toast and devoured it.
"Take it easy, soldier," Mac warned, "You'll get a stomach ache."
"I don't care," he said, his mouth full of bread.
Just then, Bobbi came in. "Miss Sarah, Tiner is at the door for you."
Mac rose from her seat and all evidence of her good mood faded. "Would you stay with him, Bobbi," she said, "Make sure he eats that porridge."
Harm was about to give her a dirty look, when he realized her back was to him and she already at the door. Bobbi strode over to his bedside and pushed the bowl of porridge toward the edge of the tray. So, he gave her the dirty look instead.
A short while later, Mac returned. She looked flustered as she pulled Bobbi aside and held a whispered conversation. Harm could tell that something had either just happened or was about to happen. Bobbi nodded seriously and left the room. Mac returned to Harm's beside, and he thought he'd better try to lighten the mood.
"So, your name is Sarah, then," he said lightly.
Mac paused and turned to face him. "Yes, my name is Sarah, but my friends call me Mac."
"And may I be counted among those friends?" he asked, giving her an impish smile.
A small smile crept to her lips. "You're asking an awful lot for someone who's in enemy territory," she warned playfully as she sat on the edge of the bed, holding the bowl of porridge, which he still hadn't eaten.
Harm made a face. "I refuse to eat that," he said, looked straight into her eyes.
"Well," she said sadly putting the bowl back down on the tray, "I was going to let you out of bed today, but seeing as you can't even eat your porridge."
Harm instantly pulled the bowl closer to him, picked up his spoon and began to eat. Mac smiled. The playful banter between Harm and her was something new to her. Men usually only saw her for her looks, or the sizable dowry her father had left her when he died. 'It was the only decent thing he ever did for me,' Mac thought, but she banished it.
Harm was watching her as he ate, and he noticed the flash of thought that had crossed her face. And what a face it was. She looked even more beautiful now than she had a few days before, probably as a result of the rest she'd gotten since the New Year. But behind her pretty face, he could see something buried.
"Finished," he said, and he pushed the bowl away.
Mac smiled and removed the tray. Harm was already pushing himself into a full sitting position when she turned back to him. She reached an arm out to help him.
"You've been laying still for a long time," she told him gently, "You're going to be very weak."
He nodded. "I know, I've been wounded before," he said flatly, and Mac knew there was a story there. She decided not to push it, and instead she allowed Harm to put his good arm around her shoulders.
Harm slid his legs out from under the covers and Mac's breath caught in her throat. There was an eight-inch scar down the top of his muscular thigh. It was white against his skin, and ragged, even though completely healed. Harm turned his head to face her, their noses only inches apart.
"It was years ago," he said, "You want to help me up?"
Mac shook herself, as she looped her arm about his waist. Slowly, Harm was able to rise to his feet. He leaned heavily on Mac, but he was able to take a few steps around the room. When they finally came to rest on the bed again, Harm was breathing hard with exertion and he was dripping with sweat.
Mac reached for a towel and began to mop the moisture from his brow. He jerked his head away.
"What is it, lieutenant?" Mac asked, but then she knew. "Don't like feeling helpless, do you?"
Harm looked at her annoyed, but he knew she was right. He grinned and nodded. Mac said, "Try being a woman sometime."
"Miss Mackenzie, when are you going to let me out of here?" Harm whined for the thousandth time.
She smiled up at him from where she had been setting his arm in a sling. "Soon, Mr. Rabb," she said, as she stood up straight. She arched her back, stretching the sore muscles.
Harm noticed how easily she moved, and for the first time realized that she didn't wear her corset the way other women did. "Your corset is loose," he joked.
Mac spun and stared at him. "What are you doing looking?" she asked playfully stern.
"There isn't much else to look at in here," he replied, a wide smile fixed his lips.
"We'll see if we can remedy that for you," she said, "But first, you've got to eat this."
"If it's porridge again, I don't want it."
Mac smiled. "Actually, it's real food," she told him setting the tray over his legs. "You get toast with strawberry preserve, orange juice, and porridge."
Harm looked over the breakfast, and his mouth began to water. It had been much longer than a week since he's had such food. No soldier had eaten so well since the war had begun. In fact, he felt almost guilty eating it. Almost. He fell into the toast and devoured it.
"Take it easy, soldier," Mac warned, "You'll get a stomach ache."
"I don't care," he said, his mouth full of bread.
Just then, Bobbi came in. "Miss Sarah, Tiner is at the door for you."
Mac rose from her seat and all evidence of her good mood faded. "Would you stay with him, Bobbi," she said, "Make sure he eats that porridge."
Harm was about to give her a dirty look, when he realized her back was to him and she already at the door. Bobbi strode over to his bedside and pushed the bowl of porridge toward the edge of the tray. So, he gave her the dirty look instead.
A short while later, Mac returned. She looked flustered as she pulled Bobbi aside and held a whispered conversation. Harm could tell that something had either just happened or was about to happen. Bobbi nodded seriously and left the room. Mac returned to Harm's beside, and he thought he'd better try to lighten the mood.
"So, your name is Sarah, then," he said lightly.
Mac paused and turned to face him. "Yes, my name is Sarah, but my friends call me Mac."
"And may I be counted among those friends?" he asked, giving her an impish smile.
A small smile crept to her lips. "You're asking an awful lot for someone who's in enemy territory," she warned playfully as she sat on the edge of the bed, holding the bowl of porridge, which he still hadn't eaten.
Harm made a face. "I refuse to eat that," he said, looked straight into her eyes.
"Well," she said sadly putting the bowl back down on the tray, "I was going to let you out of bed today, but seeing as you can't even eat your porridge."
Harm instantly pulled the bowl closer to him, picked up his spoon and began to eat. Mac smiled. The playful banter between Harm and her was something new to her. Men usually only saw her for her looks, or the sizable dowry her father had left her when he died. 'It was the only decent thing he ever did for me,' Mac thought, but she banished it.
Harm was watching her as he ate, and he noticed the flash of thought that had crossed her face. And what a face it was. She looked even more beautiful now than she had a few days before, probably as a result of the rest she'd gotten since the New Year. But behind her pretty face, he could see something buried.
"Finished," he said, and he pushed the bowl away.
Mac smiled and removed the tray. Harm was already pushing himself into a full sitting position when she turned back to him. She reached an arm out to help him.
"You've been laying still for a long time," she told him gently, "You're going to be very weak."
He nodded. "I know, I've been wounded before," he said flatly, and Mac knew there was a story there. She decided not to push it, and instead she allowed Harm to put his good arm around her shoulders.
Harm slid his legs out from under the covers and Mac's breath caught in her throat. There was an eight-inch scar down the top of his muscular thigh. It was white against his skin, and ragged, even though completely healed. Harm turned his head to face her, their noses only inches apart.
"It was years ago," he said, "You want to help me up?"
Mac shook herself, as she looped her arm about his waist. Slowly, Harm was able to rise to his feet. He leaned heavily on Mac, but he was able to take a few steps around the room. When they finally came to rest on the bed again, Harm was breathing hard with exertion and he was dripping with sweat.
Mac reached for a towel and began to mop the moisture from his brow. He jerked his head away.
"What is it, lieutenant?" Mac asked, but then she knew. "Don't like feeling helpless, do you?"
Harm looked at her annoyed, but he knew she was right. He grinned and nodded. Mac said, "Try being a woman sometime."
