“But this just isn’t right, Whalen, ” Margaret Leanna Worthington protested, leaning away from her young swain's most persuasive lips.
“Aw, Maggie darlin', you know it's the only way. We’ll have to elope. Your father will never let us marry, what with him bein' such a rabid Union man and me bein' from Maryland.” Whalen Price’s voice betrayed the soft cadence of his border state birth, although he had lived in Boston since he was twelve years old. “I can't join the Federals and shoot at my own relatives. The only solution is for me to leave, and I can't bear to be separated from you, Maggie.”
The earnest entreaty in his voice melted her heart. “If only Papa weren't so unreasonable.” She sighed, gazing into his warm hazel eyes. Maggie already had dozens of suitors, even before she had finished her education at the Pruitt Institute for Young Ladies. But none of them held a candle to the dashingly handsome blond Southerner who came to clerk for her father's big mercantile firm. It had been love at first sight. But her father, a rabid Republican and decorated campaigner from the Mexican War, was zealous in his insistence that his daughters not only marry wealthy Yankees but that his sons-in-law be staunch Federal supporters. Whalen Price was Southern, impoverished and unwilling to join the Federal Army.
Matters had come to a head the past month when Congress finally enacted a conscription bill which made it mandatory for all able-bodied men to either be inducted into the Union Army or pay a 300-dollar exemption fee. On his poor clerk's wages, Whalen could not do that.
“I still don't see how we can elope. You'll have no job. Papa will discharge you for certain once we wed without his consent. How will we survive?”
“You just let me worry about that. I’ll find work out West, Maggie. With all the young men flocking to the war, there are jobs just crying to be filled.” His fingers toyed with one long auburn curl falling over her shoulder.
When he leaned over and kissed her bare skin where the curl had rested, she quickly looked around the garden in back of the Hershfelds' house. Soft music floated on the spring air, coming from the orchestra inside. She had come to Amelia Hershfield’s birthday party with her two sisters. Whalen had sneaked in uninvited to dance with her on the patio when she slipped away from the press of the celebration. Her reputation would be in shambles if anyone caught her alone with Whalen Price, but she loved him and refused to consider the consequences. Closing her eyes, she let his warm, persuasive lips set fire to her.
A hot rush of pleasure sang along her nerves, sizzling her senses as Whalen s mouth trespassed lower, skimming over her collarbone, then dipping to brush the swell of her breasts. How much longer could she deny him? Her untutored seventeen-year-old body cried out for his touch. Other girls her age were already married with children on the way. His words broke into her jumbled thoughts.
“Say you 'll elope. Please. I'm mad for you, Maggie, simply mad with wanting you. I have a plan.” He punctuated his words with drugging kisses, feeling her virginal ardor flare.
“Oh, yes, Whalen, yes!”
* * * *
Eight months later they were in Omaha. Now, it seemed like a lifetime ago since she had been that vapid, stupid girl in the Hirschfields' garden. Maggie surveyed the shabby hotel room, like a hundred others she'd seen, with its lumpy mattress and splintering bare floorboards. A cracked pitcher and basin stood on a rickety table in one corner and a chair sat across from it, strewn with Whalen's clothes.
Whalen. Her lover but not her husband. Knowing what she did now, she should be grateful for that.
“Gullible fool, I believed him and his story about waiting until we got settled and could plan
“Aw, Maggie darlin', you know it's the only way. We’ll have to elope. Your father will never let us marry, what with him bein' such a rabid Union man and me bein' from Maryland.” Whalen Price’s voice betrayed the soft cadence of his border state birth, although he had lived in Boston since he was twelve years old. “I can't join the Federals and shoot at my own relatives. The only solution is for me to leave, and I can't bear to be separated from you, Maggie.”
The earnest entreaty in his voice melted her heart. “If only Papa weren't so unreasonable.” She sighed, gazing into his warm hazel eyes. Maggie already had dozens of suitors, even before she had finished her education at the Pruitt Institute for Young Ladies. But none of them held a candle to the dashingly handsome blond Southerner who came to clerk for her father's big mercantile firm. It had been love at first sight. But her father, a rabid Republican and decorated campaigner from the Mexican War, was zealous in his insistence that his daughters not only marry wealthy Yankees but that his sons-in-law be staunch Federal supporters. Whalen Price was Southern, impoverished and unwilling to join the Federal Army.
Matters had come to a head the past month when Congress finally enacted a conscription bill which made it mandatory for all able-bodied men to either be inducted into the Union Army or pay a 300-dollar exemption fee. On his poor clerk's wages, Whalen could not do that.
“I still don't see how we can elope. You'll have no job. Papa will discharge you for certain once we wed without his consent. How will we survive?”
“You just let me worry about that. I’ll find work out West, Maggie. With all the young men flocking to the war, there are jobs just crying to be filled.” His fingers toyed with one long auburn curl falling over her shoulder.
When he leaned over and kissed her bare skin where the curl had rested, she quickly looked around the garden in back of the Hershfelds' house. Soft music floated on the spring air, coming from the orchestra inside. She had come to Amelia Hershfield’s birthday party with her two sisters. Whalen had sneaked in uninvited to dance with her on the patio when she slipped away from the press of the celebration. Her reputation would be in shambles if anyone caught her alone with Whalen Price, but she loved him and refused to consider the consequences. Closing her eyes, she let his warm, persuasive lips set fire to her.
A hot rush of pleasure sang along her nerves, sizzling her senses as Whalen s mouth trespassed lower, skimming over her collarbone, then dipping to brush the swell of her breasts. How much longer could she deny him? Her untutored seventeen-year-old body cried out for his touch. Other girls her age were already married with children on the way. His words broke into her jumbled thoughts.
“Say you 'll elope. Please. I'm mad for you, Maggie, simply mad with wanting you. I have a plan.” He punctuated his words with drugging kisses, feeling her virginal ardor flare.
“Oh, yes, Whalen, yes!”
* * * *
Eight months later they were in Omaha. Now, it seemed like a lifetime ago since she had been that vapid, stupid girl in the Hirschfields' garden. Maggie surveyed the shabby hotel room, like a hundred others she'd seen, with its lumpy mattress and splintering bare floorboards. A cracked pitcher and basin stood on a rickety table in one corner and a chair sat across from it, strewn with Whalen's clothes.
Whalen. Her lover but not her husband. Knowing what she did now, she should be grateful for that.
“Gullible fool, I believed him and his story about waiting until we got settled and could plan
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