You Belong to My Heart Read Free Page B

he’d look out for Mary Ellen.
    Mary Ellen was, from the minute she learned how to walk, a spirited tomboy. She liked to run and shout and play chase and climb trees as much as any boy. She liked to roam the lush Tennessee countryside, to venture deep into the woods with Clay and pretend that they were bold adventurers exploring a new, uncharted land.
    Mary Ellen loved the river and was allowed to go down to the levee as long as she was with Clay. It was such fun to see the mighty steamers ferry passengers up and down the waterway and to watch the giant bales of cotton being loaded onto huge cargo craft. Enchanted by all the activity going on at the landing, Mary Ellen once asked Clay if he’d like to work on the river when he finished school. Maybe be a riverboat pilot?
    “No,” he was quick to set her straight. His silvergray eyes flashing with excitement, he said, “You know very well that I want go to the Naval Academy.”
    She did know. Clay talked incessantly of going to the Naval Academy. He collected sea charts and atlases and books about faraway places. He pored over maps and books for hours at a time. He talked often of his grandfather, repeating to Mary Ellen the stories his mother had told him of Admiral Tigart’s bravery. His aging grandfather was one of his heroes; the other was a young naval officer who’d been born right there in Tennessee, over in Knoxville. David Glasgow Farragut was, Clay believed, destined for greatness. He hoped that the day might come when he would serve under the brilliant Farragut.
    “Yes, sir, it’s the deep-water navy for me,” Clay said. “Brave the Cape of Good Hope and then on to sail the seven seas.” He paused, sighed dreamily, then added, “You can be the riverboat pilot.”
    “Me?” Mary Ellen made a face. “I can’t. I’m a girl, silly.”
    “Really?” Dark eyebrows shot up as if he were surprised. He looked pointedly at her dirty face, her tangled blond hair. “You could sure have fooled me.”
    He laughed and threw shielding arms up before his face when she stuck out her tongue and slapped at him. Clay never really thought of Mary as a girl; she was his friend. It was the same for her. Clay was her pal, her playmate, her confidant.
    Through the years they attended school together, they studied together, they played together as if they were the same sex. Finally, however, the day came—first for Clay, later for Mary Ellen—when they realized fully that they were indeed of opposite sexes.
    The revelation came unexpectedly for Clay one bitter New Year’s Day when he’d walked from his house in the cold to welcome Mary Ellen back from a long holiday trip she’d taken with her parents.
    The Prebles had gone to South Carolina to spend the Christmas season with Julie Preble’s family. They were to arrive back at Longwood sometime that Monday afternoon, the first day of the brand-new year, 1845.
    When their carriage rolled up the pebbled drive before Longwood, Clay rushed out to meet it.
    Mary Ellen, her blond curls gleaming in the weak winter sunshine, was the first one out of the big brougham. She bounced eagerly from the carriage, rushed the few short steps to him, and, as she’d done a thousand times before, threw her arms around Clay’s neck and gave his tanned jaw a big kiss.
    She squeezed him tightly and said, “Miss me?”
    Outwardly Clay reacted just as he always had when the impulsive Mary Ellen displayed affection for him. He pulled a sour face, raised his hand, and made a big show of wiping her kiss from his cheek.
    “Not really,” he told her. “Been pretty busy myself.”
    But his heart misbehaved, skipping a couple of beats.
    Mary Ellen giggled happily, wrapped both her arms around his right one, and drew him with her toward the house, saying, “No use pretending, Clay. I know very well that you missed me just as I missed you. Tell me you did. Say it or I’ll pinch you.”
    He finally grinned. “A little, maybe.”
    That night, long