chapter three

Charleston 1865

On April 12th, it's all over. Somewhere in Virginia. And we wait for the boys from Wade Hampton's legion to return home. And grieve with those families whose men will never be returning.

We receive a letter from Dr. Mitchell that he'll be accompanying Peter to a convalescent facility before coming home. Peter requested to go anywhere but Charleston. I read these words and my heart snaps in half. I've been waiting for the man I love to come home for so long. Unlike too many of our neighbors, my husband is alive. And still, still I cannot have him back. Did I do something? Did I not do something? Too few letters? Too many? Why doesn't he want to come home?

I tell his parents that it was a requirement that he go elsewhere for a while. I can't bear to see the pain on their faces.

Ten painful months pass. Dr. Mitchell shares that Peter has been asked to leave the hospital, as he's technically as recovered as he's ever going to get. The rest is just the hard work of learning to live life with one leg.

We all spend a week cleaning like mad, setting up the bedroom, not knowing what to expect.

When he arrives, we're all nervous as sinners in church. I try to catch a glimpse, but he's mostly covered in white sheets, carried on a stretcher up the flying staircase by the doctor and several house servants.

Peter is laid into bed. I allow his parents to gush first. His mother is beside herself to have him back, doting, and kissing his cheek. His father is teary-eyed with pride, and sadness at the results of that pride.

I stand in the doorway, holding myself back.

"You not goin in to Mr. Peter?" Mom Annie asks me. Always so sharp, she sees my discomfort.

"I will in a minute."

"Son, I thought you might want to come out to Belle Rive, have a look at the new rice crop this year..." his father starts.

"I'd just as soon be left alone, sir", Peter remarks.

"Well of course he needs rest!" Bethanny gushes, "Come on now, come on..." she shooes everyone out, "you too", she motions to me.

"I haven't said hello to my husband yet", I say.

"Plenty of time for all that, he needs his rest", she says.

I've never disobeyed her since I married Peter. Until today.

"I'll be along directly, Mother Wentworth", I say, and close the door in her face. I hear her puffing on the other side of the door, but Jeremiah insists she walk away.

I sit down on the bed.


"I'm so happy to see you again", I start, my voice cracking.

"Lavinia, I..."

"Your leg..."

"Gone."

" ;No matter."

He stares hard.

"I mean of course the loss is acute. But...no matter between us."

"That's kind of you", he says, "I appreciate your words, but...I believe you would be happier sleeping down the hall. This bed...I'lll never get out of it again."

The words hit me like knife.

"There are all kinds of advances these days", I say, but I know his mind isn't open enough right now to hear about them.

"I..."

He pulls the covers down. I don't feel ready for this, and unfortunately he sees my trepidation.

"You need to know what you want to lie next to", he says.

One leg is perfect, but heavier.

The other ends inches above where the knee should be, it's blue and black and purple all over. The swelling has clearly gone down a bit, leaving the scars looking stretched.

The thigh of the missing leg is thick and strong, taking the full brunt of movement that all the muscles in that leg once shared.

His shoulders are more rounded, his chest is fuller...and he has a big round soft belly. My once slim muscular soldier is no more. The sight of his softness electrifies me.

"I know I'm no prize", he swallows, "I have one leg, I'm fat, I'm can't get around on my own...I want to give you the right to get out of this marriage and find someone who can still provide for you."

"And why can't you still do that?" I ask. "You'll own Belle Rive someday, no one is asking you to pick the rice."

"Lavinia..."

& quot;Remember", I gulp, "Remember our St. Cecelia? When I came out? You caught me staring at the founding members, the husbands, all old enough to be my father!"

"I remember", he smiles, "I almost didn't ask you out because of it, I thought you were set on an older husband. You were - are - so beautiful. I couldn't resist."

"It wasn't age, dear, it was that they had let they had let themselves go a bit. They weren't soldiers, or going to war...I didn't know how to talk to you about it, and then everything happened so suddenly, you had to go to war, and I loved you so. I wasn't about to wait until after the war to become your wife..."

"Go on", he says.

"It was their bodies, they were softer, bigger...your body, Peter, is perfect to me."

His mouth falls open half an inch, then closes it. Then he just stares for a moment.


"Don't lie to me, Lavinia...."

"Look into my eyes." I cup his chin and lift it.

He sighs. "Those big gray eyes of yours, I could always get lost in them..."

"You'll see I'm tellin the truth."

A tear runs down his cheek.

"Lavinia, I'm only going to get bigger, fatter, weaker, more useless, until laying here finally kills me, maybe my heart will go first..."

"Peter!!" I can't stand it. I throw my arms around him, burying my face in his chest.

"Peter, don't talk that way. You're going to be fine, you're home, we're together, and you're going to be fine, baby, please...." I can't look at him, just sob in his arms. As I'd hoped his protective nature comes to the surface. He's been trained to be a gentleman since he was in short pants.

He wraps his arms around me. "Don't cry, darlin, please please please. It will okay. Everything will be okay. I can still protect you."

"I know that! Peter, don't leave me alone."

"Never, never." I cup his face and kiss him. In a moment, we're kissing wildly and he's forgotten his shame. I open his shirt and kiss down his chest.

"I love you, Lavinia, I've loved you from the first moment I saw you..."

I touch the front of his pants.

"No", he shouts definitely. "I can't."

"You can't? But your knee isn't related to..." How do we talk about this? In world where it's unseemly to even refer to sex with my own husband?

"I can't balance, Lavinia, okay, I don't see how I ever will again, please, just leave me alone..."

I throw a leg over him. "So we have to change a few things, but it's not important. We're going to be together, it's the only thing that matters."

I know this is hard for him. But I also know if I leave him, if I sleep somewhere else, and vow not to touch him, it will be this way forever. I can't baby him in this case, or my husband and I will be separated forever.

I can't talk to him about this, I have to show him.

I pull down his pants, and he's hard. He makes little sounds of desperation, like he wants to escape, like that's the last thing he wants, like he wants me to leave, or never leave.

"I love you" I whisper again and again, straddle him.

"Lavinia!!"

I seize his lips in a kiss.

Lifting his belly with one hand, I scooch closer, and come down his erection. He screams out, and we rock together.

"That's it, God, I love you baby." I kiss his cheeks, damp with tears.

"I want your baby", I hiss to him.

He gasps and I feel him get closer. "Lavinia, do you really? Not knowing what will become of me?"

"I do."

His belly jiggles between us.

"You feel so amazing", I say.

"My beautiful wife." He cums hard.

We kiss and I know for certain we won't be apart.

I feed him shrimp and grits for dinner, bringing the fork to his lips.

"I shouldn't eating, I should be working out these muscles", he says, but lets me feed him and play with his belly. I exercise his legs to keep his muscles from atrophying.

He lets the doctor get a wheelchair for him. Everything is changing now we're intimate. He's happy, as happy as he can be. He actually laughs occasionally.

"You're putting on flesh, son, a lot of flesh", his mother moans, and pats his belly as Peter turns red. "You need to lose some of that before the ball this year."

Peter and I look at each like she's crazy. "Oh I know you can't dance, but you CAN look like a gentleman. I always hoped you wouldn't get that from my side, but you're looking big son."

"Call the tailor..." Peter says.

"And you're going to lose weight first!" his mamma rejoices.

"No, tell him Mr. Wentworth is a man of girth now, and bring a couple of waist sizes bigger than mine..."

TBC