by Ginny Dye
It was almost dinner before Carrie had a chance to drink the cup of water Hobbs brought to her. She’d finished half of it before there was a disruption at the door of the ward.
“Someone told me he is here,” a strident female voice exclaimed loudly. “I have to go in and find him.”
Dr. Wild looked up impatiently from where he bent over a patient. “Get that woman out of here! She will be disturb the ones resting.”
Hobbs began to move toward the door.
Seconds later a woman brushed by him impatiently. “Don’t tell me I can’t come in here. I will find the man I’m looking for. His name is Perry Appleton. Where is he?” she demanded imperiously.
Carrie looked up and then stiffened. She took a deep breath and stepped in front of the angry woman. “That’s far enough, Louisa. You’re not allowed in here.”
Louisa Blackwell stopped abruptly, her blue eyes flashing below her carefully arranged blond curls. “Carrie Cromwell!” she snapped scornfully. “I wish I could say it is a pleasure to see you.”
Carrie flushed, but her eyes and voice didn’t waver. “I’m not interested in your personal feelings, Louisa. I am interested in the welfare of my patients. Your intrusion here could put some of them in danger. Please leave.” She almost smiled at the enraged look that erupted on Louisa’s face, but the situation was too critical for humor. Her mind flashed back to the carefree days when they were children playing on neighboring plantations. That was long ago. They had both grown and changed.
Louisa managed a haughty laugh. “Really, Carrie Cromwell. I don’t know who you think you are, but you are certainly misinformed of your importance.” She tried to step around her. “Get out of my way!”
Carrie remained where she was. The aisle between the beds was too narrow for Louisa to force her way through. She was well aware many of the soldiers were witnessing this undignified exchange. “My name is Carrie Borden, now,” she said quietly. “I will ask you one more time to leave.”
“Oh, Carrie Borden, is it?” Louisa sneered. “So you finally managed to trap poor Robert. I guess since he couldn’t have me he decided to settle for you.”
Carrie held her growing temper in check with great difficulty. Louisa’s anger and jealousy over Robert’s lack of interest in her had exploded beyond all reason. Carrie didn’t have time to analyze her one-time friend’s feelings now, though. Turning to Hobbs, she said quietly. “Please find someone to escort Miss Blackwell from the ward.”
Louisa tried once more to step around Carrie.
“That will be quite enough, young lady,” Dr. Wild snapped from behind her. “In case you haven’t noticed, this hospital is full of sick people.”
Louisa whirled on her new attacker, saw he was a young, attractive man, and immediately softened. “Why, Doctor, I’m so glad you’ve come over,” she said in a simpering tone. “Maybe you can make this troublesome nurse get out of my way. I simply have to find Perry Appleton.”
Carrie grinned at Dr. Wild’s disgusted look. He didn’t seem at all impressed by Louisa’s fluttering eyelashes and helpless look.
“That troublesome nurse,” Dr. Wild said grimly, “happens to be my assistant. If the man you are looking for is in here and alive, it is highly likely she is responsible.”
“Your assistant?” Louisa spat. She spun around and glared at Carrie. “What game are you playing here?”
Carrie remained silent, staring at her steadily.
Dr. Wild stepped up and took Louisa’s arm firmly. “I will see you out the door,” he said in a no-nonsense voice. “It will be several days before any of the patients can have visitors. If your young man is here, you can come see him then.” His voice softened slightly.
Louisa pulled against his hand for a moment, her eyes staring wildly through the ward. Carrie’s heart caught as she witnessed the genuine misery and fear shining from the girl’s eyes. Anger blended with sympathy as she remembered her own heartache over Robert. Louisa sagged in defeat and wordlessly allowed Dr. Wild to lead her from the ward. After a moment’s hesitation, Carrie followed.
She found Louisa standing under a tree just outside the door. Her expression was one of dazed confusion. Carrie walked up to her quietly. “I’m sorry, Louisa.”
Louisa looked up slowly, her confusion quickly changing to anger. “Oh, just be quiet, Carrie Borden!”
Carrie bit her lip, determined to maintain control. Amazingly, she could feel her anger turning to both compassion and pity. “If you tell me what he looks like, I’ll go back in to try to find him.”
Louisa stared up at her, anger dissolving once more into confusion. “Why would you do that?” she muttered.
“Robert was missing in action for eight months last year. I worried and wondered about him every minute. I would have given anything just to know...” Carrie’s voice trailed off as the old pain resurfaced.
Louisa was still staring at her suspiciously. Carrie, looking at her more closely, could see the war years had taken their toll. Louisa retained her beauty, but the strain had added lines and tension to her face. “Who is he?”
“His name is Perry Appleton,” Louisa finally answered in a broken voice. “We were to be married when he got back from Pennsylvania. He...,” her voice broke. “He’s all I have left, Carrie. He’s all I have left.”
Carrie was struck by the desperation in Louisa’s voice. Memories of Louisa’s hateful attacks over the last few years rose up before her, but she pushed them back down. “What do you mean?” she asked gently. “What about your family? Your father? Mother? Nathan?”
Louisa shook her head wordlessly. Her voice was wooden and numb when she answered. “Father insisted on fighting in this crazy war even though he was old enough to be exempt. He died last winter at Fredericksburg. Pneumonia took him.” She took a deep breath. “Nathan was killed at Chancellorsville.”
Carrie groaned. “Not Nathan,” she whispered. She had liked Louisa’s cheerful older brother. He had always been kind to her. “And your mother?”
“Mother is still alive, but she might as well be dead,” Louisa said bitterly. “The light left her when Father died. When word came of Nathan, she completely fell apart. Two weeks ago we got the news our plantation had been burned. She hasn’t spoken since then. She just sits in the window and stares out like a zombie. She hasn’t eaten a single thing. I know she’s trying to die.” Her voice broke again as tears welled in her eyes.
Carrie stepped forward impulsively and hugged the distraught girl. Now was no time to hold on to past hurts and angers. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry.”
Louisa finally gained control and looked up. “Why are you being nice to me?” she whispered. “I’ve been so hateful.”
“All of us are just people trying to survive,” Carrie said firmly.
“Robert?” Louisa asked. “Did you ever receive word?”
“Yes,” Carrie said softly. “We had a few days together; then he had to go back to duty. He fought at Chancellorsville. Then they sent him to London. I haven’t heard anything.”
“London,” Louisa breathed. “How wonderful that sounds.” There was no resentment in her voice. “You couldn’t go?”
“I chose not to,” Carrie admitted. “I felt my duty was here.” She paused then decided to be honest. “There are times I regret it, and I miss him every day, but I believe I did the right thing.”
Louisa looked at her curiously. “If someone offered me the chance to get out of this miserable city with the man I love, I would do it in a heartbeat.” She paused. “You always were an odd thing.”
Carrie stiffened then realized Louisa wasn’t being hateful. She smiled slightly. “To each her own.”
Louisa continued to gaze at her. “I’ve been so jealous of you, Carrie. I’m sorry. Can we try again?” she asked simply.
Carrie nodded, tears threatening to choke her. How easy it would have been to turn away completely, to gloat when Louisa had been escorted from the ward. “I’d like
that,” she said with a smile.
Louisa returned the smile then asked hopefully. “Do you really think you might be able to find Perry for me?”
“I can try,” Carrie promised. “Tell me about him.”
“Perry is wonderful,” Louisa replied. “He’s very tall - about six feet, four inches. He has blond hair and a blond mustache. And the kindest blue eyes you could ever imagine,” she said with a wistful smile.
Carrie nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“I’ll wait here.”
Carrie hesitated. “It could be a while. There are over a hundred soldiers in there, and I still have work to do.”
“I’ll wait right here,” Louisa repeated firmly. “No matter how long it takes.”
Carrie looked at her for a moment. “I’ll send Hobbs out with some water.” As she walked back into the ward, she knew she would have done the same thing.
It was almost an hour before Carrie could break away from her immediate duties to try to locate Perry Appleton. Walking slowly down the aisle, she smiled cheerfully at each soldier who was awake, searching for tall ones with blond hair. Three times she stopped. Each soldier shook his head regretfully, his wistful expression saying he wished someone was looking for him.
Finally she reached the end of the row. The last soldier had been one of the first to come in that morning. She was about to turn around in defeat when she saw a shock of dirty blond hair sticking out from the bandage covering his head.
Please God, not him...
Carrie walked a little closer. The man was unconscious, his breathing shallow and rapid. Sweat beaded on his skin. She winced as she looked at the bloody bandage just above where his right knee would have been. He was still out cold from the morphine.
“He gonna make it?” the soldier lying next to him asked.
“I hope so,” Carrie responded. “He has a good chance,” she lied. Dr. Mike had merely shaken his head sorrowfully after taking the wounded man’s leg off and had turned to his next patient. She turned back to the awakened soldier. “Do you know who he is?”
“Sure,” the man responded promptly. “He’s from my unit. His name is Perry Appleton. Comes from around here somewhere.”
The man kept talking, but Carrie wasn’t listening anymore. With a heavy heart, she turned back and looked at the maimed man. How could she tell Louisa she had found her man, but that he wasn’t expected to live? How could she burden her with one more death - one more heartbreak? Still, if it had been Robert, Carrie would have wanted to know. Taking a deep breath, she turned away.
She found Louisa waiting outside the door, her face pinched with fatigue and pink from the blazing sun. Carrie took her arm and gently led her under the nearby tree.
Louisa peered into her face. “You didn’t find him,” she stated flatly, hope dying in her eyes.
Carrie shook her head. “I found him.” Then she stopped, groping for words.
Louisa’s eyes lit with excitement. “You found him? Perry is still alive?” She turned toward the door before turning back. “Please, Carrie. I have to see him. I’m not going to try to force my way in like I did last time.” She hesitated. “Can you help me?” she asked imploringly.
Carrie fought for the right words. “He’s very sick, Louisa.”
“Well, of course, he’s sick. He’s in the hospital. But he’s alive!” She seemed to be desperately holding on to that one reality.
“He might not make it,” Carrie said gently. “He - he...” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words.
Louisa straightened and moved over to stand directly in front of her. “He’s what?” she demanded. When Carrie remained quiet, she took her hand. “He’s what, Carrie? You have to tell me.”
“He lost a leg this morning,” Carrie admitted slowly. “Dr. Wild tried to save it, but it was impossible.” She saw no reason to give Louisa graphic details of his hideous wounds. “The infection had already set in. He has a very high fever.”
Louisa whitened, but her eyes remained steady. “I don’t care whether he has two legs, or none. I love him.”
Carrie’s respect for her spoiled friend multiplied tenfold. She had half expected Louisa to turn away in disgust when she heard the truth. In spite of her angry outburst this morning, it was clear that the war and suffering she had faced had matured her.
Louisa took her hand again. “Perry needs me. I promise to stay out of the way. But I want to be with him,” she said firmly. “Please.”
Carrie stared steadily into her determined eyes; then she nodded. “I’ll see what I can do,” she promised. Turning, she went back into the ward. She found Dr. Wild just finishing surgery on another man. She quickly explained the situation to him.
“You say that woman is a friend of yours?” Dr. Wild asked skeptically.
“Louisa was not always the way you saw her this morning. She has been under tremendous strain. I think the war has changed her - some for the good.” She took a deep breath. “I will be responsible for her while she’s here.”
Dr. Wild shook his head. “You are certainly more forgiving than I am,” he said, a mixture of admiration and doubt in his voice. Finally he nodded his head. “All right. She can come in and be with him. She’s probably the only chance he has to make it.”
“Thank you.” Carrie smiled her gratitude. “I’ll go get her.”
Louisa was waiting outside in the exact same spot. She turned a hopeful face to Carrie as soon as she walked out the door. Carrie nodded. “You can take care of him.”
Louisa began to cry softly, great tears slipping down her cheeks. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
Carrie watched her ease into the ward door, then Carrie walked slowly to the plateau’s edge. A stiff wind had begun to blow, buffeting her with hot, dry air. Ships bobbed on the water glimmering below. Great flocks of gulls from the ocean flew in wide, lazy spirals over her head and called to each other excitedly. Carrie stood quietly, letting the breeze whip through her soul and mind. In a world where destruction and hatred seemed to be reigning supreme, she wanted to savor the triumph of forgiveness and hope.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Wallace Livingston looked up from his paper as Abby entered the dining room. “Good morning, Abby,” he said pleasantly. “Sleep well?”
“Wonderfully,” Abby responded, slipping into her place at the sumptuously laden table. Nancy, who loved to sleep in, would not be down for several hours. Abby smiled up at the servant who placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of her and then stared out the window. “Dawn has always been my favorite part of the day. It seems as if it promises a brand new beginning.”
“Here’s hoping for one,” Wallace said grimly, laying the paper aside. “This blasted war had better end soon, or the entire economy will fall apart.”
“Real estate not doing well these days?”
“Oh, I’m doing well enough,” Wallace admitted. “The rich always seem to have money,” he laughed. “It took me quite a while to make mine, but now that it’s made it’s safely invested and protected. My friends are the same way.” Then he scowled. “It’s impossible not to see what’s going on, though. Retail prices have risen forty-three percent since the war began. Unfortunately, wages have only gone up twelve percent. I’m afraid there are too many people who have found their standard of living drastically lowered. Too many are living in abject poverty. That, my dear,” he said grimly, “is the formula for trouble.”
“You’re still worried about violence?” Abby probed. “I thought Michael told me everything was under control.”
“I’m sure it is,” Wallace assured her instantly. “No, it’s not violence I’m afraid of; it’s what will be happen to our country.” He picked up the paper again. “Listen to this.
“Conscription rides roughshod over the rights of the states and has created one of the largest standing armies known in the history of the world. I would not give a rush for the reserved rights of the states or the boasted liberties of
the people if this power is granted to the United States. I fear this is part and parcel of a grand scheme for the overthrow of the Union and for the purpose of building upon its ruins a new government based on new ideas - the idea of territorial unity and consolidated power. Arm the Chief Magistrate with this power and what becomes of the state legislatures? What becomes of the local judicial tribunals? What becomes of state constitutions and state laws?”
Wallace laid aside his paper. “I’m afraid I agree with the fine Congressman from Ohio.”
“You don’t really think Lincoln is trying to frame a military dictatorship?” Abby protested.
Wallace sighed heavily and reached for another piece of toast. “Support for the war is fading, Abby. People have had enough. I’m not sure the government has shown enough capacity for effectively using the means it already has at its command to justify this infringement of states’ rights. They are walking a very fine line.”
“Yet you support abolitionism?”
“Certainly,” Wallace said promptly. “I also support the continued Union of our country. What happens if we manage to successfully destroy the Confederate rebellion with our superior force? Do we then send that force down to maintain control? It would most likely take over half a million men. What does that do to our freedom?”
Abby sighed. “There are so many questions there just seem to be no answers to. I think people are realizing more and more that the tide of passion has pushed them into a whirling cauldron of chaos. There seems to be no way out, yet the only way to survive is to keep fighting. If only we had been able to see clearly into the future before this whole thing had started.”
“Ah,” Wallace said thoughtfully. “Hindsight is always so much clearer than the future. The sad thing is that man never seems to learn from his mistakes. If one would but look at history, there are plenty of examples that would have shouted the perils of unleashed passion. But like so many generations before us, we chose to follow our hearts and leave the stones of the past unturned.”
