Secret Way to the Heart

by Camille Regholec

  “Thank you, Miss Jayne. These costumes are wonderful.” Jeremiah’s compliment made the late nights of sewing worth it. When he reached out to take the bundle of clothing, their fingers brushed each other’s, filling her with deep longing for more, but his concentration was on the children, not her.

  She noticed a change in him, a peace and vitality mixture that thrilled her. Though Jeremiah still had to maintain his father’s farm and care for the elderly gentleman as well, Jeremiah seemed to thrive in the midst of chaotic childish bedlam. That the children were memorizing Scripture had everyone talking about the man and his method of teaching.

  William was a different matter. On several of the Sunday strolls with him, Jayne hinted that there were things he could help with, but it was he who now changed the subject. In fact, Jayne was not surprised when William no longer was found waiting for her after services. Jayne had to admit to herself that she was secretly relieved. In her heart, she knew she and William were never meant for anything but neighborly friendship.

  One Sunday, Jayne’s pastor called her up to the front of the church. When he began to praise her commitment and service toward others, her cheeks warmed. She had not done any of this for recognition, but to do what Christ expected of those who follow Him. To love one another and be of service to those whose men were sacrificing their lives for a greater cause.

  “In First Corinthians twelve twenty-five, the Bible tells us of being united and caring for one another as one body,” he said as he smiled down from the pulpit. “You, Jayne, have exemplified this Scripture for us. You have shown us all what a Christian should truly be.”

  In one accord, everyone stood up, and Jayne received a standing ovation from the congregation. The pastor’s wife gave her a new Bible with her name etched in the leather cover. But when Jayne looked out over the crowd of family and friends, it was Jeremiah’s face she sought. There was such joy in the depth of his hazel eyes and something else, something deeper that caused her to silently praise God. Thank You, Lord. God had answered her prayer that Jeremiah would find joy and a renewed spirit in Christ and in life. That he had come to see her in a different light was an added bonus.

  Dearest family,

  It is so hard to send greetings of good cheer when I sit among the wounded and dying. Those who have not been hit by cannon balls or gunshot are dropping like flies from dysentery, malaria, and smallpox.

  Those that are well are so severely depressed at missing yet another holiday at home. Soldiers used to bringing in the Christmas tree and singing carols at home are now out scavenging for food for we are always short on supplies. They know they are robbing from other people’s homes. The guilt for their actions as well as fear this may be happening to their own kinfolks is distressing to all. But I must not complain, because I am alive and my family back home prays for me.

  Jayne, I am sure David Moses is so excited at the thought of Santa Claus. For the children of the South, it is another matter. The contraband (what they call the slaves freed and living and working among us) tell me that back in the South quite a few mothers explained to their children that even Santa Claus would not be able to run the formidable blockade. And the Richmond Examiner described Santa to its young readers as a “Dutch toymonger” who had nothing to do with traditional Virginian Christmas celebrations.

  Our lanterns are almost empty of coal oil until we receive the next shipment, so I must end this letter. But I have good news. The army has come to believe that I am not a threat and offered me the position of Assistant Surgeon since the last one died of the pox. I have accepted. Once again I will have the freedom to have furloughs when the soldiers do and the money to take care of my basic needs. They actually gave me the bounty of $300 for agreeing to serve. Father, I am sending half of that for you to invest in my son’s future. Please continue to tell him of my deep love for him and my love for all of you.

  Your beloved doctor son, Jim

  Chapter 18

  “Oh, Mother, why do they fight on Christmas Day?” Jayne exclaimed and looked up at her mother in despair. “And this paper says that Charleston is on fire, and as almost an afterthought, it mentions one white man mortally wounded and one white woman slightly wounded. How many other men and women who are of color were lost? If that is not enough, it mentions there are 300 cases of smallpox among the Yankee prisoners in the Danville prison.”

  “I pray Joel and Clara are all right!” Jayne's mother’s face turned pale as she spoke.

  “Mother, there are thousands of people living down there,” Jayne commented softly. “It does not mean those two are the ones affected. Why would you think that?”

  “I am not sure why, but my soul feels heavy every time I think of the two of them.”

  “I try not to think of them at all!”

  “But, Jayne,” her mother whispered, “they are a part of this family, even if they have rejected us. Does not our heavenly Father still love us? And think of the many times and ways we have rejected Him!”

  “Please don’t remind me! I know I have to work on my heart,” Jayne reluctantly admitted as she rose and kissed her mother good night. It didn’t feel like Christmas this year with her father ill. In fact, Christmas hadn’t felt like a joyous occasion in a long time. It seemed no happiness could be found within the church with so many pews devoid of people. Jayne’s prayers now were for peace, not only between the states but also in the hearts of so many mourning the loss of a loved one from this war. She struggled to focus on the message of hope that Jesus’s birth had brought to the world. As she drifted off to sleep she prayed, “Lord, help us all.”

  “Who could that possibly be banging on our door?” Jayne grumbled several hours later, tripping over one of David Moses’s wayward blocks as she ran through the darkened parlor. Without a light, she tore open the front door and stood staring up at a heavily bearded man whose clothes appeared too large for him. The hat on his head was that of a Union soldier, and the green silk sash around his waist declared his medical status. It wasn’t until he spoke that Jayne recognized who stood before her.

  “Are you still a spinster, sister?”

  “Jim! Oh Jim!” Jayne threw herself at him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Mother! Father! Jim is home! Jim is home!”

  “What did you say?” Her mother asked as she entered the parlor from the bedroom, lifting a candle. “Did you say something about . . . Jim!”

  Jayne's mother dropped the candle onto the floor as she rushed toward her child. “My son! O thank you, Lord. You’ve brought my son home to us!”

  Jayne released her brother and grabbed up the candle. She stamped out the fire that had started on the corner of the rag rug, tears streamed down her cheeks as she watched her mother sob on Jim’s shoulder.

  “Christ has given us a wonderful gift.” Jayne smiled and sniffled. “What a wonderful Christmas present!”

  “It is after New Year’s Day!” Jim protested, wiping the tears from his mother’s cheeks with one hand while still holding her tightly with the other. His voice cracked as he kissed her forehead. “Oh, that I can be with you all again is a true miracle. An answer to my prayers.”

  “So God heard my prayer anyway!” She laughed, hanging onto her son and smiling at Jayne. “It feels like Christmas to me!”

  “In that case, you might as well call it an anniversary present as well!” Jayne used the corner of her sleeve to wipe her own eyes at the sight of her brother safely home.

  “Lil’ Jim was by my side on my wedding day to Marc.” her mother’s own smile wavered for a second as she continued, “And God knew to send him home to be by my side in these final days.”

  “Mother!” Both Jim and Jayne spoke out in protest, but their mother lifted her hand to still them.

  “Jayne, you know your father has been barely holding on for the last few days. I-I believe he wa
nted to celebrate one more Christmas with his family, and God has brought his son home.” her mother’s tears continued, but she stiffened her back as she looked at her son and daughter. “One cannot complain when it is time to say goodbye to a loved one who was always a gift. I have been married for thirty-six years, and I know one day we will be together again forever.”

  “May I go in and see him?” Jim asked, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “And . . . and my son?”

  “Of course.” Their mother turned and led the way back to the bedroom. “If there is anything that will cheer Marc, it will be the sight of you, and you as well, Jayne.” She took her daughter’s hand and squeezed it as she smiled at her son. “Jim, you will be happy to know your little sister has been a wonderful surrogate mother to your son and such a godsend to Marc and myself.”

  “How could she be anything else with a mother such as you?”

  “After you visit with Father, I will take you in to see your son.” Jayne glanced toward her room. “I am surprised he hasn’t awakened from all the racket.”

  As if summoned, the toddler stood in the doorway, his eyes sleepy until he saw Jim. Jim stared hard at the child, his jaw working as he seemed to try to get control of his emotions. He took a step toward David Moses, took off his hat, and crouched down to the child’s height.

  “Hi there, little man.” Jim’s voice was rough with emotion as he stretched out his hand timidly toward his son. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

  David Moses stared back, his eyes wide with wonder. Always fascinated by beards and mustaches, he was clearly eyeing the bushy example of both that was before him.

  “David Moses,” Jayne said softly as the toddler took a tentative step toward Jim and then stopped. “This is your daddy, who has come home to see you.”

  The child looked up at Jayne and her mother. Clearly, the sight of both smiles and tears on their faces confused him. Giving that little frown that made him look so much like the man before him, David Moses turned his glance back to Jim.

  The breath catching in her throat, Jayne prayed that the child would not react as he did when William came near. Please, Lord, let him accept his father, Jayne silently prayed as David Moses stuck his thumb in his mouth as he contemplated the man.

  Time seemed to stand still, and no one spoke until, with a loud pop, David Moses freed his thumb and looked up at Jayne. “My daddy?”

  “Yes, dear, your daddy.” Jayne’s voice was thick as she struggled not to burst into tears of joy. “I think it would be nice if you greeted him.”

  “Yes’m.” Without further hesitation, David Moses walked the last few steps that separated them, wrapped his arms around Jim’s neck, and kissed his bearded cheek. “Hi, Daddy.”

  For a second, Jim froze, his eyes filling with wonder, before wrapping his arms around his son and rising to his feet. Holding his son tightly, Jim let the tears flow, wetting David Moses’s face. With his shoulders shaking as he sobbed, Jim began kissing the face before him. “My son! My son!”

  “My daddy!” David Moses patted his father’s wet beard. “Why cry? Daddies no cry!”

  “Oh, David Moses,” Jim laughed huskily as he wiped his face then his son’s. “Daddies sometimes cry when they are very, very happy.”

  “Amanda?” Jayne's father called out from his bed. “What is going on out there? I hear voices. Do we have a caller at this time of night? Is someone in need of help?”

  “No, my dear, it is an answered prayer,” Jayne's mother responded as she led the way into the bedroom. “A miracle has occurred. Jim is here!”

  “Jim my boy, you have come back to us!” He cried out as he struggled to sit up. Jayne ran over, helped him rise, and placed several pillows behind his back to support him. She then lit the lamp by the bedside, and a bittersweet feeling engulfed her as her brother strode over and wrapped one arm around her father’s shoulders while still holding David Moses. The family was reunited, but so much was missing. And so much could be taken away.

  Chapter 19

  1864

  Jim looked up at Jayne and smiled over his plate of turkey, ham, and various roasted root vegetables. Jayne smiled back before turning her attention to the groaning tables that were covered with a vast variety of dishes. Once again, the friends and families quickly scheduled a welcome home reception at the church for Jim’s return.

  Jayne couldn’t remember the last time she had heard such laughter and cheers as when Jim walked down the cellar stairs into the fellowship hall. She couldn’t remember heartier “Amens” from the people than after Jeremiah invoked God’s blessing on the gathering and the food.

  William came and entertained the ladies with tales of wild Manhattan while he tried to stay close to Jayne’s side. Jayne felt mixed emotions at this attention. One part of her enjoyed the man’s presence, but her eyes kept turning toward Jeremiah, who after a brief greeting to Jim and her family, had crossed the room to talk to several young families that were new to the area. Not able to bear the silence between them, Jayne was about to excuse herself from William’s company to ask for a few minutes of Jeremiah’s time when someone whispered in Jeremiah’s ear. With a brief nod and a glance at Jayne, who automatically nodded a silent Hope is all right here. Go. Jeremiah grabbed his hat and left, leaving Jane feeling as if he’d walked off with a piece of her. What is wrong with you? The man barely acknowledges your existence, and here you are pining away because he left without saying a word! Yet at the same time, her heart soared that Jeremiah entrusted his daughter to her care.

  Hope came over to Jayne, who smiled as the “little mother” took David Moses by the hand and led him to a quiet corner to play house. The girl’s attachment to Jayne’s nephew was heartwarming, and she had to admit Hope had found a place in her own heart as well. Would it make any difference to Jeremiah if he knew she cared for his child, and him?

  Joining her brother at the long table, she glanced at her parents sitting across from them. her mother positively glowed with the love and pride she had for her son, and Jayne's father appeared to have rallied and seemed healthier than he had in several months. He had insisted he was well enough to come to the party, and even though it had taken Jim and several other men to carry him down the church’s stairs into the fellowship hall, it was well worth the effort. His old friends came by to welcome Jim home, then stayed to reminisce with her father on days gone by.

  The children of various ages were sitting at the table set aside for them, and Jim glanced and smiled at his son, who was playing with some blocks with Hope singing a hymn at his side. The love in Jim’s eyes brought a tightness to Jayne’s heart. How long before you leave your son again? Or take him from me?

  When Jim spoke, he did so quietly to the adults. “It seems Dr. Herman Craft, Assistant Surgeon of the One Hundred Forty-third Volunteers, wrote to the Ellenville Journal on January twelfth from Lookout Valley in Tennessee to tell of the conditions of the camp and how disease is causing more fatalities than the wounds.”

  “I remember Dr. Craft,” Jayne commented. “What is the difference between you and Dr. Craft? You said you were an assistant surgeon in your letter, yet I heard someone call you captain. Are those titles one and the same?”

  “Well, I was asked to assist but chose to volunteer and join the army,” Jim explained. “Dr. Craft was hired to assist the captain or rather the senior surgeon. Thus that is why he is listed as assistant surgeon. Other than the green sash worn during battle, which identifies medical personnel, Dr. Craft and others like him wear no uniform.”

  “Another difference is that a hired man can quit anytime while an enlisted man must serve the allotted time,” Jayne pointed out.

  “That is correct, little sister,” Jim agreed. “But even those doctors who are hired are not likely to leave until there are no wounded or ill patients to help.”

 
“Jim, I don’t understand why you have to serve. Are you not exempt?” Jayne asked.

  “Technically, no.” Jim smiled at those gathered around. “I may be the only son in our family, but mother is not a widow, thanks be to God.”

  “Amen,” Jayne replied with feeling before continuing her questioning. “Is that the only exemption? The pastor and William don’t have to go, and their respective parents passed years ago.”

  “That is true if you are speaking about Jeremiah Bronson.”

  “I wasn’t,” Jayne corrected him. “I was speaking of our church’s pastor, but since you mentioned him, how is it Mr. Bronson is not serving?”

  “Well, clearly neither he nor I are mentally or physically impaired,” Jim stated. “But the uncle Jeremiah came to take care of adopted him when Jeremiah was orphaned.”

  “So what you are saying is once his uncle adopted him, Jeremiah became his legal son. Since Mr. Cudney is sick and all alone, Jeremiah will not be drafted?” Jayne asked but quickly said more to keep others from sensing her concern. “Nor William?”

  “I have an elderly grandmother to care for,” William interjected. “She has no other relatives.”

  “That’s the way it looks,” Jim said.

  “But, Jim, you have a sick parent!” Jayne protested.

  “Another technicality I’m afraid.” Jim shook his head, bemused. “Since I have two parents and only one is ill, I am eligible to be drafted. Mrs. Cindy’s husband and children all died from diphtheria years ago, and William is the last of her family.”

  “That’s all right for William, but it does not make sense!” Jayne complained again. “Not only is your father in poor health, but you have a son who needs his father. Is there no other way?”