Author's Note: I own nothing.

I did my historical research, I'm pretty positive there's no mistakes there.

Enjoy:)

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Spring 1860

Brazoria County, Texas

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"Would you like some more tea, Mr. Whitlock?"

"No, thank you, Abby, I'm just fine." Jasper said, pushing his cup and saucer further onto the table. Abby, the thirty-something servant who had been with the O'Shea's since Mr. O'Shea had purchased her mother decades back, curtsied respectfully and left the room.

"So, Jasper, what do you think about this Lincoln fellow? You think he'll destroy this great nation as much as they say?"

Jasper Whitlock, the seventeen-year-old son of Jeremiah Whitlock, sat across from Connor O'Shea in the parlor at the O'Shea plantation, fondly named Oak Alley. Jasper was as calm and cool sitting across from Mr. O'Shea, who up until recently had just been the owner of the plantation down the road. His role in Jasper Whitlock's life had changed in the past few months, mostly because of the new importance of Lucy O'Shea in his life.

To the majority of the world, Lucy was not great beauty. She was freckled as a result of her Irish background, she didn't have the patience to sit still for hours in parlors quilting as was expected of her, and she was too tall to be stylish (and she was quite relieved that Jasper still towered over her). She had a pretty face, but nothing that would call attention to her. Her favorite trait was that her hair was naturally blonde and curly, which in the eyes of her sisters and friends was her only truly redeeming feature.

To Jasper Whitlock, however, the sun rose and set with Lucy.

To Jasper, there had never been a woman more beautiful, more graceful, or more perfect. To her, her freckles made her adorable, her impatience made her human (he had never been able to understand how his sisters could spend hours with a needle and thread, and it had confused him to no end), and her height simply added to her lovely grace. She was the first girl whom had ever seemed like someone he could understand; she only put on her little lady façade in front of her parents and her elders, but when she was with Jasper, she was herself, and Jasper couldn't get enough of her.

"I do indeed, Sir. He's trying to tamper with our long standing beliefs regarding states' rights. I know some say the issue is that he will get rid of our slaves and that very well may be. But the root of that problem, and I do believe it is a problem, is that he is questioning our right to govern ourselves as states. So, yes, Sir, I do fear for our nation if Lincoln gets elected."

"I couldn't agree with you more. My father was only a child during the Revolution, but my grandfather fought bravely to create this nation. My family was back in South Carolina then, and my grandfather always told me the story of how he and his brothers helped to free our people from the British and helped to start our free nation. And now what do we have? Not even a hundred years later and they're already turning our government into a tyrannical institution! Threatening to take away our rights that we've had for generations! And not to mention our property! No, Sir, if that Lincoln becomes president, there's going to be a whole lot of trouble."

"Do you believe what they say, Mr. O'Shea? About the threat of secession?"

"I do believe it's possible. The good Southern people are not going to take this lying down, no Sir. I do believe it will come to war."

"All anyone's talking about lately is that silly war! Come now, Connor, there are ladies present. Save that talk for later." Eileen O'Shea didn't often interrupt her husband's conversation, but she had a sliver of the restlessness that her daughter had a chunk of, and couldn't stand all the War conversation. Ever since Lincoln had become a legitimate candidate for the Presidency, and the news spread of his abolitionist beliefs, all the men were ever talking about was war, war, war. It was enough to make a lady bored to death.

Connor O'Shea, already having dipped a bit into the day's brandy (it was, after all, past three o'clock), just chuckled at his wife. "Oh, Eileen, you're right. And I do apologize to you and Lucy. I know Jasper and his father are as passionate as I, and we just get carried away. Speaking of, how is your father doing, Jasper? I haven't seen old Jeremiah in quite some time."

"He's doing very well, thank you. In fact just the other night, he was regaling me with tales about your time in the War with Mexico."

Slapping his knee, Connor began laughing again, clearly nostalgic of his old war brothers. "Oh, I'm sure I could top even his stories…"

Lucy tried her hardest to seem entertained and engaged when the men were talking. Her mother may be able to get away with interrupting her father, but it was harder for Lucy. If she wanted to attempt at any sort of interruption, she'd need to wait till the amount of brandy in the bottle was just a bit lower.

So, instead, she sat, with her back straight as a rod, aching the whole way through. Bella had tied her corset too tight this morning, and it pinched at her torso, making her stomach cramp. And to sit comfortably without her hoop skirt giving the whole parlor a show was near impossible, so sitting modestly also took a toll on her aching body. But she had instructed Bella to put on her best dress for when she would be seeing Jasper, and her dark purple dress was setting off her gray eyes beautifully (or that was at least what her mother had told her before she came down). Her blonde hair was held back at the nape of her neck with netting, which had been decorated with a purple bow and jewel (a gift from her father last Christmas). And her cheeks were still flushed (and sore) from the two sharp pinches her mother gave her before they entered the parlor that afternoon, "A girl always looks more appealing with a bit of color on her cheeks."

"And then your father, the young fool, decides we'd fool the Mexicans by puttin' feathers on our heads and pretendin' to be Indians!" Mr. O'Shea was slapping his knee and laughing again, and Lucy wondered whether it was the brandy or the reminiscing that brought about his lazy speech. "Oh, lord, those days are so long ago now. Now we're just a bunch of old men, talking about wars that are long since over! But, now, speaking of being old, Eileen and I have kept you two far too long. I hope you won't miss too much of the Donahue's picnic."

"Oh no, Sir, we'll be right on time still. Are you ready, Lucy?" Lucy nodded quickly, and stood up, ready to finally be alone with Jasper (even if Ben would be in front, manning the carriage).

"Alright, have fun you two. Be good, Lucy, and don't get her home too late, Jasper. Oh, and Lucy, don't forget to thank the Donahue's very graciously for inviting you to their picnic."

"I promise, Mama, I won't forget," Lucy said, kissing her mother goodbye, before turning to Jasper. "Is Ben ready yet?"

"Of course. Thank you again for the tea, Mr. O'Shea, Mrs. O'Shea." Lucy's parents thanked Jasper for coming and bid goodbye to Lucy before nodding at Daniel, the houseboy, to shut the door.

"I think he's a sweet boy. And from good stock! Mrs. Whitlock is a sweetheart, I've had tea with her many times."

"It is indeed a good family. I think this may turn out well between him and Lucy."

It was twilight at the Donahue's plantation, and warm May evening served as an ideal setting for the young people of the community to socialize. Mrs. Donahue had set up this social event under the pretence of inviting some of her children's friends to enjoy the warmer season, however her true motivation was trying to find a suitable husband for her dear daughter Caroline, who would be turning twenty-two this fall and had yet to find a decent match.

Regardless of the true intentions of Mrs. Mary Donahue, she had indeed set up a lovely event. And that Whitlock boy (who came from good stock and would have been perfect had he just been a few years older) and that O'Shea girl (who always had been a bit off center, never quite fit in completely with the other girls) had barely enjoyed their friends as they had been sitting on the bench under the poplar tree for the past three hours, barely even noticing the world around them. Betsy and Clara had been diligent in serving the guests their iced tea and offering the men brandy, including Jasper and Lucy, but neither had accepted anything in quite some time and seemed content just to be within each other's company.

"But you said you had fallen out of a tree with your brothers and had been scared of heights ever since!"

"Well, that doesn't include balconies, Silly! You'd have to be real stupid to fall off one of them!"

"If you get any more brandy in Sam Jameson, he may just become that stupid," laughed Jasper, nodding in the direction of the older Jameson boy with his trademark red hair, unsteadily holding his glass for Clara to pour him yet another.

"What do you expect from that family? I wouldn't be surprised if they'd sneaked liquor into church when their mama wasn't looking," Lucy observed, always knowing the Jameson men had an unhealthy love for liquor. "But, yes, a balcony. And not just one! Our home will have many balconies, so we can look out over our land. Yes, Sir, a beautiful Texas plantation with big, old trees, and sugar cane as far as the eye can see, and bluebonnets everywhere!"

As Lucy went on about their dream home, Jasper was composing a mental list which so far had 'balconies, old trees, sugar cane fields, and blue bonnets' written on it. He knew he'd be able to give her whatever she wanted, which pleased him to no end. He knew she'd live anywhere if it was with him, but made him ecstatic to know he could give her everything she'd ever wanted.

Jasper making his mental list not so that he could fulfill all Lucy's wants in the far off future. He was instead making his list to discuss with his father, with whom he would be searching for land in the coming weeks upon which to build Jasper's future home. And, with any luck, Lucy's future home as well.

Lucy may have been completely unaware, but Jasper had already discussed with Mr. O'Shea the prospect of asking Lucy to marry him. Mr. O'Shea had promptly slapped him on the back, exclaimed what a great addition he would be to the family, and began offering him cigars and brandy, which Jasper graciously accepted and enjoyed.

Lucy had grown quiet now, seemingly content with the vision she had in her head.

Lucy had grown up always seeing Jasper Whitlock with his father down the road. He was always a sweet boy, quiet, but amazingly astute in his observances. He had a keen sense of the people around him, and Lucy always seemed in awe around him. She had always been too shy to talk to him, as he was a little older, and when she was a child a year seemed like twenty. It was at a debutante ball last summer when she first recognized Jasper not as the older boy down the road, on the plantation with all the big, sprawling willow trees, but instead as the young man who stood so apart from the rest of the boys in town.

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Eleanor Fitzpatrick had turned sixteen last summer, on a sweltering summer day in July. She and her mother had spent the past year planning a gorgeous ball to which would be invited all the families (especially those with sons) in the surrounding area. On the morning of the ball, it was so hot that they were near afraid people would instead opt to stay in their homes, being fanned and trying to survive the heat.

But, as proper Southern gentlemen and ladies, each one of their expected guests showed right on time and dressed in their best (The Fitzpatricks soon learned that if you keep people hydrated with brandy for the men and iced tea for ladies, then you'd be sore to find anyone complaining). The evening went off without a hitch, and no one took much notice of the charming Whitlock boy and the quirky O'Shea girl sitting off at the far end of the tables, seemingly deep in conversation for hours.

They just sat there, talking as if they had been the best of friends for years, and didn't even get up for a single dance! The only ones who took much notice were a few of the young girls who had admired Jasper's flaxen hair and muscular frame (and a few of the mothers who had hoped for a match with the wealthy Whitlock boy). Aside from a few jealous ladies, however, Lucy and Jasper went unnoticed. And to them, there was not a single other person in that field behind the big Fitzpatrick home than themselves. They were in a world unto themselves, and since that day, Jasper and Lucy lived, endlessly happy, in their own world that had been created just for the two of them.

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Jasper had always been good about judging people's moods. And he could tell that Lucy, right now, was swept up in an idealistic and divine vision of her and Jasper's future, and he decided that at this moment, when her head was filled with daydreams of their marriage, that there was no better time to offer himself to Lucy and solidify that future she had built for them. Ever since that day in July on the Fitzpatrick homestead, Jasper had eyes for no one but Lucy, and could think of no one with whom he could better spend his life. He wanted nothing more than to make her happy, to provide her with anything she ever wanted. And he knew Lucy wanted nothing more than to wake up with him every morning, and to take care of him in any way he needed.

"And then we should have a big, wrap around porch, so we can sit and watch the sun go down!" Lucy exclaimed and then laughed (as Jasper added 'wrap around porch' to his mental list), "Oh, look at me, going on and on. You must stop me when I get carried away like that. Here I am talking about some silly house, meanwhile I'd live in a shack down the creek so long as it was with you."

Yes, this would be the perfect time. It was still only May, Jasper was sure Mrs. O'Shea and Lucy would have time to plan a wonderful fall wedding, Granted, the only discussion at the table would probably be about the upcoming election and what would happen to our fine nation if that Illinois Representative received the presidency, but at least that talk would engage Mr. O'Shea. Yes, this was the right time.

"I would never stop you, Lucy, I am very entertained listening to you describe the home you've built for us."

"Oh, Mr. Whitlock, don't you know it's rude to tease a lady?"

"I know very well, which is why I'm not teasing. I do love hearing you describe our home. You're doing it perfectly. Besides, hopefully soon I am indeed going to need your input on the ideals of a home for a newlywed couple."

"Is your sister getting married? I didn't think Annie was too enthralled with that Keagan boy she had been seeing."

"No, silly, Annie's not getting married! Besides, she's scarcely fifteen. I'm talking about you and I."

Lucy tried her hardest to look surprised and taken aback, but she truly wasn't. She knew how Jasper loved her and knew it likely wouldn't be long before they were betrothed. But it didn't stop her from being monumentally overjoyed (and she didn't fool Jasper either, she'd guessed, what with his keen intuitions). She loved Jasper, wholly and completely, and wanted nothing more than to spend every waking moment in his presence. And she could hardly stand the wait till the days when she could do nothing but take care of him, and make him happy every day of his life.

"So, Lucy, Miss O'Shea, would you please make me the happiest man in the world and agree to marry me?"

"Jasper, as if you even had to ask, of course I will! There's nothing in this world that could possibly please me more." Jasper smiled, and presented her with the gift he had picked up in Houston nearly three weeks earlier. It was a solid gold band, with fine, delicate roses engraved into the entire circle. It had indeed been beautiful, and Lucy couldn't have loved it more if she had designed it herself.

Lucy would never, for the remainder of her days on Earth, look at any man again besides for her Jasper. Jasper, for his part, never looked at another woman besides Lucy for as long as he lived.

"No, no, no, the white dress! The way Queen Victoria did it!"

"Lucy, your white dress is nearly two years old, why not your new green dress, it looks beautiful on you!"

"Mama, remember how beautiful Queen Victoria looked in her white dress at her wedding? I must have looked at that sketch a hundred times, she looked like an angel! I want to look pretty like that."

"Lucy, you will look beautiful regardless of what you wear. But, I suppose it is your wedding, so…"

"Oh, thank you, Mama! It'll look right, I promise, I'll have Abby make it look perfect, maybe add some new lace to the trim, and the cuffs…"

Lucy twirled around in front of the looking glass, holding her white dress in front of her. She was wearing only her undergarments, as she and her mother were trying to decide what would be the best gown to wear for the upcoming wedding this weekend.

All their friends, family, and associates had been invited, nearly all had responded graciously that they would be in attendance, and it was beginning to look as if it would be a wonderful event. Jim and Cadence, the slaves belonging to Jeremiah Whitlock, had just this morning brought over the large canvas tent owned by the Whitlocks under which the wedding guests would spend their evening. It had hooks every few feet on which to hold lanterns, and was big enough to fit dozens of tables under. Mr. O'Shea had went to Houston last weekend to stock up on cases of brandy and fine imported wines, and Abby and Bella had been working up a storm, preparing cakes and truffles and pies, and then while everything was baking scrubbing the large O'Shea home from top to bottom.

Yes, Oak Alley was indeed in a tizzy. There was not a moment to spare in preparing for Saturday, and Lucy was suffering from a bit of cabin fever as her mother and sisters had kept her away from the outdoors and even from sitting by a window for too long in fear of burning her pale complexion (even though, as Lucy asserted, her complexion was no great asset as it was dotted by freckles anyway). It was late September, but the sun still shone brightly over Oak Alley.

But all the plans were coming together, and it appeared that Saturday would be a wonderful event. A wedding in late afternoon by the local reverend, dinner at twilight, and dancing into the evening. Mr. Whitlock and Jasper had been wrapped up in building plans the same way Lucy and her mother were wrapped up in wedding plans. Mr. Whitlock had purchased the plot of land south to the O'Connell plantation, and while Lucy knew the area well had been strictly forbidden from visiting there or even have Sam drive her past in the carriage ever since the Whitlocks had begun construction. It seemed to both Jasper and Lucy as if they had barely since each other in the past months, but they knew soon all their separation would be well worth the while once they had a beautiful wedding and beautiful home to move into.

The morning of the wedding dawned bright and cool, a promise of the autumn weather to come. Lucy was calm that morning, she did run around the house like a chicken without its head as Mama and her sisters were doing. Bella brought her breakfast early, a light meal, and her Mama came in to brush her hair and get ready for the day (this was quite a treat for Lucy, as it was usually Bella who brushed her hair and dressed her each morning. The only other time she could remember her Mama doing it was on the day of her debutante ball). Her sisters were running around the room, trying to decide which was their best dress to wear, and the girls' room was an array of color as bright red, yellow, blue, and green hoop skirts were thrown on and off the girls' bodies.

"For goodness' sake! Emily, you wear the blue with the white sash, it compliments your eyes, Kitty, wear the yellow, its always been your best color, and now, for my sake at least, calm down and shush up!" Emily and Kitty glared at Lucy's outburst, but did choose her recommended dresses and began to calmly brush each other's hair. Mrs. O'Shea tried to stifle a laugh at her soon-to-be-wedded daughter (but hid it from her other two).

At around two in the afternoon, Lucy and her sisters heard the sounds of carriages coming up the road, and by the sound of it, it was quite a few carriages at that! Kitty and Emily sat by the window seat, looking down at all the arriving guests, complimenting and insulting all the dresses the women were wearing. Within an hour, Kitty had a plan to ask her father for a green velvet dress like Melanie Wilkes had, and Emily had sworn never to wear orange again after seeing how Mrs. Carmichael looked today.

"Lucy, you are now forbidden to come near the window. The Whitlocks just arrived!"

"How can you tell, Kitty? All I can see is their driver's face,"

"Emily, that's the Whitlocks' carriage. Theirs is the only one with darker canvas."

"She's right, Emily, his is darker."

"Fine, then I agree with Kitty. Lucy, stay far far from the windows. We wouldn't want to curse this union before it even began!"

"Have they gotten out of the carriage yet?"

"Just Mr. Whitlock has…now Mrs. Whitlock….and there's Jasper! He's helping Annie out of the carriage now."

"I like Annie's dress."

"Me too."

Lucy was still not feeling nervous, but now she began to feel anxious. How much longer until the ceremony was set to begin? She'd be up since eight this morning, and it felt as if the day had simply dragged by, and now how much longer before she could finally be downstairs under the canopy of the Willows getting married?

And just then, Mr. O'Shea knocked on the frame of the open door. "Lucy? Are you ready, dear?" He spoke quietly, which is a rarity for the loud, lively man.

Lucy could tell her father was nervous, and a little sad, which she found to be endearing. "Yes, Papa, I'm ready," she nodded, and she stood up and joined her father.

Twelve hours had passed since Mr. O'Shea had led Lucy out into the flower covered field behind their home. Eleven hours had passed since Jasper and Lucy had officially become husband and wife. Ten hours had passed since the entire party sat to dinner, and three hours had passed since the last cup of brandy was downed and the last dance was danced.

However, Jasper and Lucy did not participate in the last dance, nor did they even see it. Instead, Jasper was far too anxious to show Lucy their new home that he had built for them. Lucy's reaction was all he had hoped for, and when she first saw the big white house with black shutters, and its wraparound porch with double stairs, she could hardly contain herself. Jasper and his father had kept the ancient willow that stood in front of the house, which would provide ample shade during the hot Texas summers. The house would be flooded with light during the day thanks to the large and plentiful pane glass windows, and, just as she had wished, there were bluebonnets in all the front gardens. Jasper had translated her fantasy into reality so seamlessly, and the vision of her ideal home in her head perfectly into physicality.

And it had been twenty minutes since Lucy had awoken after only a few short hours of sleep. Jasper slept silently beside her, the pale skin of his bare chest reflected in the moonlight shining through the window. She had never seen him sleep before, and couldn't fall back asleep once she started watching him. Somehow he managed to draw her in, to mesmerize her, even in his sleep.

And for the past ten minutes, Lucy sat at the window seat by the window overlooking her garden of bluebonnets, even though she could barely make anything out in the darkness which was only illuminated by a lit lantern on the porch.

Lucy never thought she would be one of the lucky ones. She thought she would be like her mother; marry for convenience, grow to love her husband and be content with a marriage of respect and friendship, and live out her days as such. She never thought she would be so lucky as to fall so deeply in love with a man who fell as deeply in love with her, and who she had just spent her very first night with. Jasper had always been loving and gentle with Lucy, and had proven himself to be even more so tonight. Lucy had not been nervous; quite the contrary, she couldn't wait to finally be alone with Jasper tonight after all the months of wanting him above anything and never being able to have him completely. Tonight, they had been able to finally have each other completely, and (even better) had their entire lives ahead of them to enjoy and love each other.

In two short months, Republican candidate, Abraham Lincoln, the Representative of Illinois, would be elected to the Presidency of the United States in November of 1860. Before he could take office in March of 1861, seven states would declare their secession from the Union and their establishment of the Confederate States of America, with President Jefferson Davis at their lead. Texas was one of those original seven, officially seceding from the union on February 1, 1861, even before the Battle of Fort Sumter which marks the official start of the Civil War.

And on that morning of February 1, 1861, Lucy would be awoken by hollering and shouting of young men and the firing of the celebratory gun shots.

Lucy awoke on that cool February morning to find her bed empty, which was an unusual occurrence for her as she was usually the early bird while Jasper would have to be roused awake. The sun was pouring through the pane glass windows on that Friday morning, and the sheer curtains that hung barely kept the light from Lucy's eyes. She immediately looked around the room for signs of Jasper, and spotted him across the room, with his back to her, looking out their window.

The gun shots and hollering outside her window made it clear the young men were celebrating something, but in her sleepy fog she couldn't figure out what in the world it could be. But, she knew it indeed must be something important, so she pulled herself out of bed and wrapped her rose embroidered robe around her white cotton sleeping dress and walked over to her husband.

She stood behind him, looking over his shoulder and past the window. She didn't say anything, because as soon as she saw the celebrations outside everything clicked in her now all-too-clear mind. The celebratory shots, the ale being passed around so early in the morning, the young men eagerly talking to each other, it was all too obvious.

"Is it official?"

"They'll be puttin' it to a vote at the end of the month on whether to join the Confederate States, but the secession is definite. And the vote is a lock already, where else would we go?"

"Don't you want to be down there?"

"I am proud that Texas is going to fight to defend itself. We can't have some tyrant trying to take away the rights of an individual state. But I also realize it means we will be going to war. And I'm not ready to leave you yet, Lucy." Jasper had turned now, and his face was somber and his eyes serious. He did not move closer to her, but put his arms on her shoulders and held her at a distance where he could look her in the eyes.

Lucy had no words for him. She knew no matter what she said, nothing could convince him to stay behind. Even if she could, a draft would be established soon enough and then the only thing he would have gained by not volunteering would be dishonor. She knew the military would care little about his age so long as he was able to carry a gun and shoot his target, and Jasper could easily pass for older. And she knew with his level of charisma, he would have no problems enlisting. Plus the influence of his and her father would only spur him more. No, there was no hope for holding Jasper Whitlock back. So, she didn't say anything. Instead, she stood there, quiet, as the life she had the night before and the life she had now seemed to grow further and further apart.

"Maybe…maybe Mr. Lincoln will let the South go. Maybe it won't come to war," Lucy whispered, and even she saw the blatant lie she was trying to tell herself.

Jasper did not correct her, only pulled her close this time and held her. They had been married now for nearly six months, all of which had been ideal. They had already celebrated their first Christmastide together, their first celebration of the New Year, and Lucy's birthday (Jasper's wouldn't come until April). Jasper knew he would be leaving Lucy, but he also was determined that it would not be for good. Southern men were strong, fearless warriors; the War would be over soon enough and he would be able to return to Lucy and the home they shared on the plantation he was growing to love dearly (and which he and Lucy had named Blue Bonnet Plantation). No, there was no doubt in Jasper's mind that he would be able to serve his honorable duty to the State of Texas and to his new nation, the Confederate States of America, and come back in tact and quickly to his love.

"Lucy," Jasper cupped Lucy's chin and tilted her face towards his so he could look her in the eye. "Please do not worry. All of the South will be fighting for our independence! How long could it really take? Besides, we're not in Georgia or Virginia, we're all the way out in Texas, what's the likelihood the battle will come out this far West? No, Lucy, you should not worry. I promise you, I will return to you as soon as possible."

Lucy nodded, and leaned up to kiss her husband. Jasper held her tight, pulling her in close to his body. She wouldn't argue with him, wouldn't beg him to stay. She wouldn't make their final days tense by begging for something that would not come to fruition.

And, as Lucy knew, exactly four weeks later, a month after Texas seceded and a week after officially joining the Confederate States of America, she was standing in the great doorway of the Blue Bonnet Plantation homestead, with her hands on the rough, gray wool of Jasper's uniform. His chest was warm beneath her fingers, even with the interruption of the cold brass buttons. They had been in each other's company for nearly every moment of the past four weeks, and had now been standing silently in the doorway for nearly twenty minutes. The infantry would be leaving Houston by noon, and Jasper had a two hour ride into the city.

"I will write you every day, Lucy."

"Then I will come to worship the Post Master, as he will hold my well-being in his hands."

"Please do not fret, Lucy," Jasper begged, his eyes pleading with her to be content while he was eye. He dictated his next words strongly and clearly to her, "I will return to you. I promise you that, Lucy."

Lucy nodded, endearing him for wanting to make such a promise but knowing deep down that it wasn't one that he would have much control over. All she could do was say her prayers at every spare moment and beg the Lord to bring him back soon and safe.

She lifted his black hat off the table near the door and placed it snugly on his head. "I do not doubt that you will make me proud, dear Jasper, but please place your safety above all else, as your safety is all that matters to me in this world."

And this time, he leaned forward to kiss her in a way he had never done before. All his previous embraces had been when their time together seemed to lay endlessly in front of him, and therefore neither ever had any need for urgency. But now, with seconds left together, Jasper pulled her tightly to him, crushing her into his chest, and he had to consciously make his hold more gently out of fear she would find bruises upon her the next day, and he surely didn't want that to be his farewell gift. But she was still enveloped with in him, with his broad arms snug around her frame.

Lucy would remember this kiss for the remainder of her days. This would be when her love, her Jasper, was ripped from her side and sent out into the cold world of rifles and cannons, where bodies lay strewn upon the ground, without even time for a proper Christian burial. This would be her last memory of holding him to herself, of feeling his warmth, of feeling the safety of his embrace.

She watched him walk from the door frame, letting her hand slip finally from his when at last he had no choice but to leave. He saddled himself upon Dixie, his great chestnut filly, and turned to look at her one last time.

"Smile, Lucy, this is not the end, you will see me on the doorstep yet again."

So, Lucy smiled for him. And that while he was away for the next few months, maybe years, he could hold to himself a dear memory of her happy, standing in the entry of their home, waiting for him. So that when he was cold, lonely, and scared, trying to fight bravely for his new nation, he could think of the warmth of his wife back home, and dream about the time in the future when he could walk up the road to Blue Bonnet Plantation and into the arms of his dear Lucy.

And for the next nineteen months, Jasper would indeed think of his Lucy at every moment. He would focus greatly on his mission, on his quick advancement through the ranks, on his military success. But at the back of his mind, at every moment, would be Lucy. Lucy would be visible in every dream he had, be he awake or asleep. Every civilian he helped to safety was Lucy. Every soldier whom he listened to discuss his sweetheart back at home was talking about his Lucy. And every time he heard news of a Confederate victory, it meant he was one step closer to Blue Bonnet Plantation. And every Union victory was a crushing blow, a push in the wrong direction, pulling him further away from Blue Bonnet.

In October 1862, the Union Commander William B. Renshaw demanded the unconditional surrender of the city and the port of Galveston. The Confederates refused, but came to an agreement where they would be given four days to evacuate the city, so they could fight like gentlemen and not endanger innocent women and children.

Jasper Whitlock was placed in charge of evacuating the city of Galveston. He dedicated himself to this mission earnestly, not getting a second of sleep during those short days, as the evacuation of all the women and children meant the savor of a fellow's soldier's Lucy.

Jasper was successful in the evacuation. He was proving himself a fine and brave soldier, and a courageous Southern gentleman. Therefore, it was only in his nature to offer assistance to the three young girls, even younger than his sister Anne, whom he found late one night wandering along an empty road.

Major Jasper Jeremiah Whitlock of the Confederate Army would never return to the Galveston harbor. His superiors refused to believe he was a deserter; he was far too dedicated and brave to do such a thing. The only reasonable excuse they could believe was that he been overpowered by a band of looters, and the brave Whitlock had attempted to fight them off and keep them from the city, and sadly the young man was no match.

It was Colonel Joseph J. Cook who wrote the letter of condolence to Mrs. Whitlock. Colonel Cook had seen the dedication in Jasper, and was impressed by his quick ascent through the ranks, and desired to keep him under his wing and be a mentor to him.

And it was the following letter that Lucy would receive some six weeks later;

Dear Madam,

I am so deeply sorry to inform you of the passing of your beloved husband, Major Jasper Jeremiah Whitlock. I had the great honor to serve beside your husband and know his true valor. He died bravely besides his brothers-in-arms at the Battle of Galveston.

I feel how weak and fruitless must be any word of mine which should attempt to beguile you from the grief of a loss so overwhelming. But I cannot refrain from tendering you the consolation that may be found in the thanks of the Nation he died to protect.

I pray that our Heavenly Father may assuage the anguish of your bereavement, and leave you only the cherished memory of the loved and lost, and the solemn pride that must be yours to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of freedom.

Yours, very sincerely and respectfully,

J. Cook

And it was after reading this letter, in the presence of her mother and father who had taken to spending much time with her to keep her from loneliness, that Lucy would collapse into a fit of hysterical tears, which she would never again come out of.

The local physician was called immediately, and gave the convulsing Lucy a hefty dose of Laudanum, to deaden her mind and force her into a deep sleep. And it was a large dose he advised her mother to give her each time she woke up in hysterics, which she would do each time she opened her eyes and remembered her last waking moment.

Mrs. O'Shea feared for her daughter's life, but felt entirely helpless each time Lucy would awake in a panic, tears streaming down her face so much she could hardly breathe, begging her mother to bring him back. Begging her mother to please, please, bring her Jasper back to her. Begging for answers, begging for a release, begging for God to take her too, so she could be with her Jasper again.

Three weeks after receiving the letter from Colonel Cook, Lucy Whitlock died. The doctor's official explanation was a weakness caused by a lack of nutrition mixed with overdoses of Laudanum which severely weakened her body and eventually led her down the Lord's road into death.

The official cause meant little to her family and the citizens of Brazoria. There would always be talk about Lucy Whitlock, who had loved so deeply and who had died of a broken heart. "For Lucy Whitlock," the people would say, "a world without her love was not a world in which she could live."

Mrs. O'Shea would never forget hearing the cries and screams of her tortured daughter for those few minutes she would be awake during her final weeks. She would pray every day for the rest of her life, which would come to about twenty three years, that her beloved daughter had been reunited with her husband in Heaven was, at last, at peace.

Lucy had pleaded with the Lord to take her so she could once again be with her Jasper. Her wish was granted, she was taken from the world as we know it. But poor Lucy never found Jasper. Lucy was destined to wander, for eternity, in search of her beloved.

A beloved who today has no memory of a Lucy O'Shea who had once been the center of his existence. A beloved who if he were to be shown a photograph of Lucy would not even recognize her. A beloved who now loves another.

No, Lucy O'Shea was not destined to live a life like her mother. Her mother never experienced the overwhelming, all encompassing, passionate love that Lucy did. But her mother also didn't experience the feeling of having that love being ripped from her soul, after such a short time spent with it.

Lucy Whitlock died December 10, 1862. She was buried at Blue Bonnet Plantation, next to a marker labeling the birth and death of her husband, Jasper Whitlock, but below the tombstone was an empty coffin.

No, Lucy would never love another man again. And Jasper Whitlock, the man who he was in life, would never love another either. And Blue Bonnet Plantation still stands, where Lucy and Jasper's dreams filled the home to the rafters. Where they had one day imagined hearing the laughter of small children, where they expected to have Christmas after Christmas, Easter after Easter. Where they thought they would grow old together.

Their dreams would never grow to fruition. And Lucy, who had loved so deeply, will never be successful in her search for her beloved. And poor Lucy will never be in peace.