Secret Way to the Heart

by Camille Regholec

  “Thank you, Jayne.” Jeremiah returned his focus on her. “That is very considerate of you. I pray I will be able to repay you for this kindness. The thought of waking Hope now and then again early in the morning was distressing to me, but I know she is too much for my father to handle. Being a grandfather proves to be extremely tiring when one is unwell.”

  “Do not worry about Hope,” Jayne replied, smiling back at Jeremiah. “She will enjoy herself playing Mommy with David Moses.”

  A faint color came across Jeremiah’s cheeks as he looked away. With a brief nod of farewell, he quickly departed, leaving Jayne wondering once again what she had done.

  As the weeks went by, Hope spent many an afternoon with Jayne and David Moses as Jeremiah worked in his father’s fields or did unknown business in various places. That he was still on sabbatical bothered Jayne, and her nightly prayer for his return to God’s calling on his life became prominent. She wanted him to be in a right relationship with God more than anything else, even if it meant he would no longer be around.

  Jayne enjoyed Hope’s presence, and the little girl’s happy spirit seemed to lift everyone else’s. Jayne's father, when not resting, told stories to the children, and his comical expressions caused the children’s gleeful laughter to fill the air. Delight and life filled the house once again, and Jayne thanked God for His blessing them with these two children.

  Hope’s visits had an extra benefit that only Jayne cared about. Jeremiah would join them for afternoon tea, and the sound of his laughter as he listened to his daughter’s tales of their adventures filled Jayne with a deep sense of rightness. That Jeremiah seemed pleased to be in Jayne’s company as well may have been only in Jayne’s imagination, but she looked forward to each opportunity to prove she was not all bad.

  ~ ~ ~

  One rainy afternoon when Hope and Jeremiah did not appear, Jayne came in the kitchen door, tugging a reluctant toddler behind her. She had discovered the reason for David Moses’s supposedly extra-long nap. Somehow he had gotten out of bed and into the jam cabinet and removed the opened jar of grape jam. He had managed to carry it back into the bedroom where he quickly emptied it, not only into his mouth but onto what appeared to be every inch of him and his bed. Taking down the washtub, Jayne began filling it with a mixture of cold water from the basin and hot water from the kettle.

  “Oh, how terrible!” Jayne's mother cried out from where she sat at the table, reading the local paper.

  “It’s not that bad, Mother,” Jayne replied as she pulled the child’s sticky clothes off. “David Moses will be clean in a moment, or at least until his stomach reacts to all that jam.”

  “No, my dear,” her mother replied. “It says here that there were 22,180 men lost at the second battle of Bull Run and 5,325 of those were from New York alone. It also lists that Reverend Pelatiah Ward died on September twenty-fifth of wounds he received in Manassas, Virginia.”

  “The pastor from the Ellenville Methodist Church is dead?” Jayne remembered hearing how the preacher had stood up on the pulpit, crying out for men to do their duty, and almost every man stood up in response. When the men requested he lead them to war, he did not hesitate in the removal of his robe. Jayne considered how scornful she had been toward Jeremiah Bronson for not behaving the same. Now she shuddered at the thought of the same consequences falling upon the Southern preacher she’d fought so hard to dislike.

  “The paper says there are Indian nations from New York going to war, and free Negroes in New Orleans have formed a black regiment called ‘Hunters of Africa,’” Jayne stated as she looked over the articles in the local print. Lifting her eyes to glance at those gathered around the table, she remarked with mix feelings, “If this is true, then the twins will be able to go soon.”

  “I’m ready!” Jacob shouted, jumping to his feet.

  “Me, too!” Caleb shouted louder and saluted. “I’m just waiting for the chance.”

  “Well, while you’re waiting.” Mary tossed a basket at Jacob and a bucket at Caleb. “The eggs need gathering, and the cow is ready for milking.”

  “Aw, Ma!” Both boys cried in frustration as they caught their respective container and, with slumped shoulders, turned for the kitchen door. “We’re gonna be like the Hunters of Africa, and you want us to do chores!”

  “That’s right.” Mary smiled. “You two are the Hunters of Phillipsport. You go hunting for them eggs, and you go hunting for Bessie. Now git!”

  “There it is, Mary.” A few days later at the eatery, Pete suddenly yelled gleefully, “There it is!”

  “What are you going on about?” Mary replied wearily as she passed the soup tureen to Jayne, who had come to the eatery to lend a hand since Jesse was feeling poorly. The locks were empty, and business would be slow until the next set of barges came to pass through. Taking advantage of the lull, all the eatery workers sat down to dine. Though it was only May, the air was stifling, and the cold potato soup Mary served was appreciated as it was refreshing.

  “160 acres!” Pete yelled, jumping up from the table to spin his wife around. “We can own 160 acres out West! We can be landowners!”

  “Where would we get the money to go out West let alone buy 160 acres?” Mary asked as she took her seat and passed the basket of biscuits.

  “You already own land, thanks to Hannah and George. They left the eatery to you and Mom,” Jayne mumbled. The thought of more loss frightened her. “And it’s a successful business you run here.”

  “That’s right!” Pete continued to Jayne’s dismay. “We have been saving for years, and if we sell the eatery, we’ll have more than enough. It says here any person can have a claim.”

  “Are you a citizen?” Mary asked. “Just what are we in this here country? We can’t fight to set men free. We can’t vote for anyone. So are you a citizen or not?”

  “Neither can women,” Jayne murmured. “Does that mean we are not citizens either?”

  “Now, Mary, don’t put a damper on my dreams!” Pete protested as he sat back down at the long table. “It says here that on May twentieth of last year Lincoln signed the Homestead Act, giving citizens twenty-one years or older the right to buy 160 acres of land in the West! A year ago! See, Mary, ya gotta be a dreamer to get that land. And the paper says any person, nothing about being a citizen. We’re young enough to start over, and we will be able to be landowners! A place gained under our own power and not because it was left to us.”

  “I don’t know, Pete.” Mary shook her head. “I wish Hannah was here. She would tell us if it was a good idea or not.”

  “Why don’t you pray about it?” Jayne suggested to ease the tension in the room.

  “Well, let’s pray God finds a way to convince Mary before all the land is gone,” Pete grumbled as he set to eating. The subject was dropped as the toot of an approaching barge got them all moving and preparing for the next influx of customers.

  The months went by slowly, Jayne feeling a fear that further loss was coming. She was not sure what it was or who was going to be involved, but the feeling grew daily.

  Jeremiah was rarely around, and Jayne dreaded the thought he would never return. She felt guilty for not praying more for his father’s healing, because the man was the only reason for Jeremiah to stay. The change in her heart toward the preacher was confusing. The very thought of him had her catching her breath as if he was once again holding her close. William could flirt until the cows came home, and she felt nothing. But Jeremiah caused her heart to pound and ache when she thought of his apparent opinion of her. She spent a lot of time praying God would either quiet her wayward thoughts or give some of those thoughts to Jeremiah toward her.

  It seemed that God had other changes for her to face before those prayers would be answered.

  “It may have taken months for God to answer, but He done it !” Pete shouted o
ne morning, grabbing the newspaper from Jayne’s hands and waving it in front of his wife. “Here’s your answer, Mary!”

  “What has got you hopping like a mad man ?” Mary swatted the paper out of her face as she continued to tat a doily.

  “You wanted to know if we should go out West and wished Hannah could tell you.” He pointed at the article Jayne had just read. “Well here is the answer in black and white. The first Homestead Act claim was filed by a civil war veteran, a doctor named Daniel Freeman on January 1, 1863. You hear that last name? You hear it? Freeman! Freeman! If that’s not a sign, nothing is! We are going West!”

  “I am sure that Freeman is probably white. It says he is a veteran,” Mary tried to reason. ”That doesn’t mean it is a sign.”

  “Oh, yes it does!” Pete replied, a wide satisfied smile playing on his full lips. “Doesn’t matter the man’s color. It’s the name. Yep, it’s a sign all right.”

  Though Jayne had not believed it actually would occur, the eatery sold quickly. The profits were split between the two families, even though Jayne's parents' protested. Pete would not take their share of the sale back, a fierce look of pride in his eyes as he said, “It’s only right. Hannah always said the business belonged to both families, and the property was left to both as well. What was made of the place was done by both so both will profit from it. We only will take what is ours. I’m not starting a new life with someone else’s money.”

  Now that Pete’s dream was becoming a reality, it was affecting everyone. When Jesse and her family decided to go as well, Jayne realized the extent of her loss. Her dearest friends would be off living a life of new adventures, and she would be left behind with the mundane chores of adulthood. As the packing was done, Jayne tried not to be envious, but it was hard. Jayne’s father took to his bed, and nothing could draw him out. Only Jayne and her mother sat down for a final meal with their friends before the group departed for the Wild West. Jayne sensed her father was feeling unwell because all his friends seemed to be leaving him. She silently prayed. God, please give father peace to deal with this major change in his life.

  “Pappa!” Caleb called out as he opened the door and stuck his head in. Scanning the faces of everyone sitting around the table, he pushed the door open farther and came inside.

  “Did you wash up to eat?” Mary rose and fetched another two bowls and spoons before returning to her seat. If Caleb was present, everyone knew his twin was close behind.

  “Yes’m, I did.” He flopped down in the chair next to his mother and took her hand in his. “Got something to tell ya both, but ya ain’t gonna like it none.”

  “What is it, boy? You been acting strange since last night after Miss Jayne read the papers,” Mary asked.

  “It’s official. We can now enlist in the army and serve to set slaves free.” Caleb let go of her hand and got up to stand by the door. His twin pushed him aside to enter and stand beside him.

  “W-what are you talking about?” Mary stopped serving, the ladle splashing soup on the table as she quickly sat down.

  “We done enlisted!” Jacob grinned, pounding his brother on the shoulder. “The Hunters of Phillipsport are finally gonna fight to free our Southern brothers and sisters!”

  “B-but you were going to go out West with us and work our homestead!” Pete said as Mary nodded, tears forming in her eyes.

  “Yeah, we were going to . . .” Caleb mumbled, looking slightly guilty for a moment before straightening his back and looking his parents in their eyes. “But our dream was to fight for freedom, not plow 160 acres. That is your dream.”

  “A good dream,” Jacob added as he grew serious. “Just not ours.”

  “And it’s law now that every able-bodied man be drafted into service,” Caleb reminded them. “So we enlisted before we could be drafted. At least this way we will be together.”

  Mary pulled her apron up and covered her face as sobs broke through her lips. Pete put his hand on her shaking shoulder as he stared at his two sons, his mouth twisting as he attempted to speak. Finally, his eyes filled with tears of pride. Pete jumped up and grabbed both his sons in a fierce hug.

  “Boys, you make me proud!” he shouted before he turned to his wife. “Mary, ain’t you proud of your sons?”

  “Yes I am.” Mary joined the group hug and continued to cry on them. “But we may never see you again! I can’t bear that thought!”

  “Oh, Momma.” Caleb laughed as he kissed her cheek. “You know God gave us the last name Comeback for a reason.”

  “Well, I guess we are celebrating a lot of answered dreams this day.” Jayne's mother smiled, her own eyes brimming with tears. “Life is changing for each of us. Let’s now pray for God’s blessing on everyone’s new journey.”

  Dearest family,

  I am a refugee in my own country. In my attempt to return north, I was found by a Union troop, but they were not quite sure what to do with me. Since I was found with a small group of slaves, I was taken back to camp and brought before the general, who wondered if I was a spy. When I told him I was a doctor, this tired man perked up and sent me off to the medics with a guard in tow who had received orders to shoot me between the eyes if I harmed any of his wounded. Many of these poor boys were beyond my hurting, and their last breaths were taken in my arms. Those I attempted to help may meet their Maker soon anyway due to the infections and diseases spreading throughout the camp. My guard ran off at the sight of the first amputation I performed, and that was just a snipping off a few fingers.

  Oh the horrors of this war! How I pray for these young souls! They are not only tortured physically by battle wounds, but emotionally as well—conflicted at facing their own kin on the opposing side and spiritually scarred with the memory of their blazing rifles pointing at each other.

  At the end of a day of battle, one can find a pile of discarded limbs—arms, legs, fingers and toes—outside the hospital area. These remnants of young men’s innocence are either buried in a trench or burned to keep the wild dogs from feasting.

  I know these facts should be kept from the tender ears and eyes of the womenfolk, but if I do not write about it, I feel I will explode screaming, and nothing would stop me until a bullet put me out of my misery.

  Kiss my son and pray for me, Jim

  Chapter 17

  The months passed, and life continued, the empty house across the yard a constant reminder to them all. Jayne watched her father struggle as he tried to participate once again in life. When he began to show renewed interest in attending church, Jayne made sure she had the carriage ready well in advance, so he would not have an opportunity to change his mind.

  Waiting for her parents to finish their Sunday conversations with their neighbors after service, Jayne stood to the side of the church’s huge double doors, trying to appear nonchalant as she played with David Moses. Alone and ignored, she stood in the shade of the building. In the past, she would have Jesse laughing by her side or some of her old classmates to keep her company, but no longer. The older people, after briefly greeting her, turned to their peers, their conversations on those away at war. The wives of soldiers bunched together, bemoaning their loss, while younger people were busy enjoying the beautiful day and the freedom youth experience. Jayne did not fit into any of these categories.

  Having the responsibility of parenting David Moses, Jayne could talk about mothering with the young married women, but she had no other connection with them. She was still single and, as her father had told her, “Too pretty to let around some of those young married men.”

  Jeremiah no longer came for long visits, stopping only to pick up his daughter. His adopted father’s health was not improving, and as Jeremiah explained to Pete, he did not want to leave him alone other than to pick up supplies or deliver goods to the barge captains. Nor had he brought up the subject he had originally come to dinner to discu
ss with her. Whatever it was seemed to no longer be of importance to him.

  Jayne waved at Hope as they left the church, but Jeremiah just gave a brief nod and returned his attention to the many women who flocked around him. Whatever he and his daughter were saying had the younger women giggling and the older women smiling.

  “I am sure they are not talking about you, my dear,” her father murmured softly to his daughter as he walked by. “With the lack of eligible men since the war began, the young ladies are truly vying for Reverend Jeremiah Bronson’s attention. I must say, by his response, today appears to be their lucky day! His little daughter has caught the regard of everyone, and he can surely find a good woman to mother his child among the members of this church.” He patted her arm before leaving her. Her father could not realize how his words would cause Jayne deeper distress which she could not deny or understand.

  “Hello, Jayne.” The laughing tone of a friendly voice had her spinning around, her smile of greeting growing larger as she recognized William.

  “William! It is so good to see you!” Jayne’s voice was a little higher than she wanted it to be, but she felt a tinge of satisfaction when she noticed Jeremiah glancing their way and the sudden frown that creased his forehead. Jayne forced herself to keep her attention on the young man talking to her. “Have you been so busy lately with court? It has been a while since you have been to your grandmother’s. She says until you do stop by, she will have nothing to brag about.”

  “That sounds just like something she would say.” William laughed softly and, to Jayne’s surprise, reached over and gently touched one of the blue ribbons of her bonnet. His eyes seemed full of concern as he lowered his voice for her ears alone. “How are you, my dear friend?”