Lost in the Mist

by Wanda C. Keesey

  "No. I'm having trouble keeping the facts straight about Victoria and her family. I don't think I want to understand why I saw the Union corporal.” Connie fell silent as she tried to put what she knew into a logical order.

  She thought of Victoria as a friend and it was hard to know that she disappeared during the war and was never heard of again. She wanted Connie to tell her what was in her future. Connie knew when Carpy died and how. She wouldn't be able to look at that young man without wondering what his children might have been like. Or his life with Annabelle? What he might have become if he had survived.

  She knew a lot of men ... and women died during the four years of the war, and their lives were a great loss, but she didn't know any of them although she knew a lot about the Brentwells and Evan Brewster. She'd been living their lives with them for the past week. She had to know the rest. She felt compelled to find the missing pieces in Victoria's life. What happened to her? And who caused it to happen. Where does this Union Corporal fit in all of this?

  There was no traffic as they neared the picnic grounds. As Joe and Brian discussed the best place to park, a deep rumble stirred the still air. Connie noticed the thick ground fog for the first time.

  "Strange,” she said, “there wasn't any rain in the forecast, or fog either as far as that goes."

  "Rain? What makes you think it's going to rain?” Tracey sat up taking in their surroundings.

  "Don't you hear the thund...?” Connie realized the car had stopped. All three of her companions were watching her. “Come on guys. No fooling, you do hear it, don't you?"

  "Sorry, not a cloud in the sky, and no fog. The only sounds are the early birds getting those worms.” Brian joked, but there wasn't any way anyone could ease her mind.

  "You're kidding. I can't see the sky, it so foggy, I can't see anything outside the car.” She looked at their faces as she reached for her jacket. Not knowing how long she would be gone, she had taken the precaution of bringing an outer garment for warmth.

  Knowing that her friends believed her and knew she wasn't crazy, was little comfort as she saw the doubt in their eyes. “Joe, it looks like I'll be joining you. I might even beat you there.” Could they hear the fear she felt? As many times as she had been in the past, Connie had never felt so afraid. Not for herself, she was afraid of what she would find out. What would happen to Victoria? Even working behind the lines at the hospital was dangerous. Evan had known it but felt it was as safe a place as any other during a battle.

  "Get things ready for me. And if we can't hear each other use the code to send messages through Tracey and Brian. You won't be alone.” Joe smiled. “Boy, you've got some connections. Let's get unloaded before Connie's sucked into the past."

  Even as the words were lost in the stuffy air of the car, Connie knew he was right. She felt herself leaving. The rest of the preparations were lost to her as she found herself no longer in the confines of the car.

  Connie looked around. She was on a hill. The sloping banks blending with the dark of an early winter's morning. Behind her a level glade covered with trees provided protection for the hospital tents and ambulance wagons. She could make out the smaller tents behind the wards. They served as living quarters for the people working with the wounded. So this was where Victoria worked.

  The “thunder” was louder. Looking behind her, toward the river, Connie could see flashes of light where the city lay hidden in fog. The shelling had begun. It was the eleventh of December. The close combat would start in two more days. Today the Union would start building the pontoon bridges across the wide river. They would be slowed by Barksdale's sharpshooters hidden in the houses. The cannon fire would continue on and off for most of the day, but there would be no fighting until the thirteenth. Tomorrow, the twelfth, the Federal army would finally cross into the deserted town. In frustration and to avenge their anger they would loot and destroy many of the buildings before their commanders could return order. Connie watched in wonder as history unfolded around her.

  Trying to get her bearings, she looked around. Wisps of fog clung to the hillside below, but the trees around were clear. She tried to remember what the lay of the land was in her own time. All she could recall was a dense fog. She would have to trust Brian and the Handleys to see that she didn't get hit by a car or wake up perched in a tree. They wouldn't have an easy job if there were buildings where the woods were now.

  Connie moved along the ridge. Looking to her left she could see the tents of the hospital two hundred yards away. Straight ahead were Stonewall Jackson's troops. The woods that interrupted the Confederate line were swampy and thought impassable. Connie looked at the tangle of trees and undergrowth. She imagined the small contingency of Pennsylvania's finest that penetrated the barrier and made their mark. Thinking about the history of the area had a calming effect on Connie. It helped to put the events in the past where they belonged.

  The campfires were cold. Movement and quiet voices in the big hospital tents told her that the guns were waking the camp. Being drawn by activity to her right, Connie moved over the rough ground, gliding over stones and roots. Soldiers ran from their tents, carrying rifles, heading for the protection of the ridge.

  The hushed voices drifted up to her from behind and below. Turning Connie walked until she saw several shadowy clusters of people.

  One voice found its way to her ears. “So many are lost. What is it that makes men kill each other? They say not, but they do seem to enjoy the power conflict brings to them. Evan is in his element. He glories in the power he welds.” A solder who had been standing close by approached Victoria from behind, leaning forward he spoke softly to her and moved discretely out of hearing when she nodded.

  Connie slid nearer. “...he is so kind and I know he cares for me, but I feel an emptiness, not contentment or happiness. Am I evil, Annabelle?"

  Not noticing her before, Connie saw Victoria's companion's face framed by the dark hood from her cloak when the tall girl turned to answer her friend. They started the walk back up the steep slope, making their way over the frozen ground.

  "You are not evil, Victoria. You are kind, perhaps too kind. You give everything and keep nothing for yourself. Mr. Lincoln is evil for starting this war. And General Burnside for doing his bidding.” Annabelle stopped when she realized that her friend was no longer beside her.

  Victoria stood still staring up the hill. She watched as Connie waited, then bowing her head back to the slippery ground, she continued walking, making no explanation to her companion.

  Carpy waited for the couple to pass his position, following some distance behind.

  "Have I told you Max is back with his unit? I fear for him. Papa has been to visit several times since the army arrived. His time is taken treating the ill. Many suffer from insect bites and careless injuries, but the illness that sweeps through the army put more soldiers in bed that bullets have.

  "He is concerned for General Lee. It seems he is suffering from the stress of this long war. Have you heard from Simon?” Victoria eyes concentrated on the rough ground.

  Connie watched and listened.

  "Not for over a month. The last post we received, there were three letters. He was well then."

  As they passed Connie's position, Victoria glanced in her direction. The sadness in her eyes aged her beyond her young years.

  Turning back to watch the flash of the explosions that followed the drum of the cannon fire, Connie fought back tears of frustration. Quickly glancing behind her she watched as the dark figures merged with early morning darkness. The ground shifted under her feet as Connie moved in time. With her eyes closed she tried to maintain her footing on the unstable hillside.

  The first things she noticed were the smell of honeysuckle and dew wet grass. The second were the sounds of birds and small animals hunting for their breakfast, they were excited by the presence of humans. The third was the strong arm that supported her. Knowing she was safe and in her own time, Connie allowed herself to relax.


  "Bring her over here.” Tracey led the way to a picnic table where Brian eased Connie down on the narrow bench.

  "Sorry about that folks. Just give me a minute.” She smiled her thanks to Brian, softening his frown with a squeeze of his hand.

  Looking around she saw Joe. “She's here, Victoria and her friend Annabelle.” After a pause Connie words were thoughtful. “I think it was at the first day of shelling. There weren't any signs of fighting.” She thought of the absence of bodies, and the quiet tension of the two women.

  "Where were the shells hitting? Could you tell?” Joe's eyes were bright, as he marveled as Connie's trip.

  "It seemed to be concentrated to the South ... I see what you're getting at. Yes, it could have been the attempt to lay the pontoons.” She turned to the others. “Barksdale's Massachusetts sharpshooters delayed them in spite of the shelling aimed directly at their positions."

  Connie shivered. “It's strange to see history being lived.” Turning, she looked at Brian, “We can talk later,” she said softly. “Let's get the stuff out of the car and find a place to settle in.” The sun was lighting the sky, burning the dew from the grass, as they gathered the food and blankets. Connie was only half listening to the light chatter. Her thoughts were in Victoria's world. The sun wouldn't burn away the fog that covered the ground below Marye's Heights for a few hours yet.

  "Let's go further up the hill.” Joe led the way through the open field above the parking lot. They each struggled under their burdens. Tracey and Joe talked excitedly in anticipation of Joe's coming adventure, while Brian and Connie followed quietly behind.

  "Are you sure you'll be okay? You're pretty quiet.” Brian watched Connie's solemn face.

  Glancing at him, Connie nodded with a short jerk of her head. “Yeah, I'm okay. I just wish..."

  "This looks like a good place.” Joe waited for the others to agree, before putting the cooler under a massive weeping willow near the top of the rise. “We'll be grateful for the shade later and it's far enough away from the tourist route, we should be left alone."

  "Looks good, Joe,” Brian agreed. “I could use some of this coffee. Where are the cups?” He held the big thermos while Tracey took a stack of Styrofoam cups out of a large canvas bag.

  "There are breakfast rolls to go with that coffee,” she added as she opened the hamper.

  Joe and Brian spread the blankets next to each other before the food was passed around. Connie sipped the strong liquid, ignoring the sweet roll next to her.

  "You have to eat, Connie, it's going to be a long day,” Brian broke into her meditation.

  Smiling weakly, Connie picked up the plate and tore a corner of the pastry off, putting it into her mouth. Even though the fresh roll was bland, she nodded in agreement. She washed it down with a swallow of coffee before trying to speak.

  "I didn't call to you. Victoria was walking with Annabelle and a soldier. I suppose he was Carpy. I didn't want to startle her."

  Connie pointed out where the encampment was and where she had seen the two women. She told Brian where she would be going on the next trip. She wanted to see the hospital tents.

  By the time she was finished, Connie was surprised to see she had eaten the entire roll and her cup was nearly empty. “I need a refill.” She held out her cup.

  "Feeling better?” he asked.

  Sitting on the blanket overlooking the town, her legs crossed at her ankles, Connie blew gently across the cup of hot liquid. “Yes, it helps to know you have some contact and maybe some control. It still bothers me that I don't know what day I will appear in. I could arrive too late and miss something important. Somehow I feel there's a reason for me to be there.” A shiver of apprehension, or was it excitement, shook her. Connie looked at Joe. “Keep an eye out for me, and I'll watch for you. I would like to see if we can see and hear each other."

  Joe nodded. “Me too. We could be opening a whole new branch of science."

  "You never know.” Connie smiled at her co-traveler before taking several mouthfuls of the quickly cooling coffee, and looked at Brian and Tracey. “I want to be as free as I can be. Short of walking into a solid wall or off a cliff, and coming back while I'm there, I want you to let me go where I have to.” She waited for their agreement, especially watching Brian. Connie knew the doubts he had, but she trusted his instincts.

  A smile and squeeze of her hand gave her what she needed. She returned both with a soft, “Thank you."

  Tracey looked at Joe. “That's the way we work it. I've never told him, but I'm scared to death the whole time he's gone. I wear running shoes and pack a drinking bottle so I can keep up and won't have any reason to take my eyes off him.” The married couple's eyes locked.

  Joe bent to give his wife a loving kiss and hug. “She's been a rock.” He'd tried to lighten the mood; instead the four were silent, each with his or her own thoughts.

  Never taking his eyes off of Connie, Brian's quiet voice broke the spell. “How do we start?"

  "I don't know,” Connie voiced her uncertainty. She drained the remaining coffee and put the cup aside.

  "Well, when I'm ready, I just think about Jeremy, and ... well, it just happens.” Joe shrugged. “You slip back so easily, I don't think it should be a problem."

  Connie nodded, and butterflies began their dance in her stomach. She decided it was good to be afraid; it would sharpen her sense of self-preservation. Unconsciously she twisted the interwoven bands of the ring she wore on her pinkie finger. The antique ring made her think of her ancestor, Mandi Kosgrove. According to the stories she had heard, Connie knew Mandi had been a strong woman, both in body and mind, and her ring bought that strength to Connie. “I'll give it a try,” she said. Standing, Connie walked toward the sun filled field, pushing aside the drooping fronds of the giant tree. Knowing Brian would be close behind, she walked to the top of the hill and looked west.

  The remains of a long trench was still evident on the west side of the rise. Connie knew that it had been a highway of sorts. Dug and used by Stonewall Jackson to move troops and supplies from one position to another during the battle without exposing them to gun fire, a change in tactics for an aggressive fighter not in the habit of being on the defensive. Beyond the trench lay the gentle slope where the field hospital had been and the wooded area, although it had been cleared leaving only the largest of the trees still standing. Connie remembered studying the ambrotypes of the area and from what she saw this morning, she tried to pick out landmarks. The scene before her started to take shape. She could see the clearing as it must have appeared to the photographer a hundred forty years ago.

  The dreamlike vision became solid. Soldiers sat behind the rise sharing their meager supplies of tobacco and food while they talked nervously. A few wrote on whatever scraps of paper they could find. Some of the more seasoned slept as they all waited for the battle they knew was coming.

  They were close enough to touch, but Connie's eyes were glued to the large tents set up below. Men and women hurried between them, occupied by the business of tending to the sick. There were those suffering from disease as well as wounds to be taken care of.

  North of the hospital tents, a large fire with a kettle set over its flames, marked a cooking area. The wagons filled with what meager supplies were available sat nearby. Horses and mules chomped listlessly at the short tuffs of brown grass poking through the thin layer of icy snow.

  Looking behind her, toward the river, Connie saw a shroud of fog engulfing the area. The guns on Stafford Heights rained their death over the empty fields, well short of the dug-in Confederate troops. It was the day of battle. Turning back, Connie was frantic to find her friend.

  As she scanned the area, her eyes searching for the dark green cloak, Connie saw Victoria emerging from the living quarters behind of the big tents, Carpy close behind. Annabelle waved from one of the wards. Victoria waved back, and reached down to lift the hem of her heavy cloak above the slush and snow. Her steps faltered, she stopped
and the young Corporal almost ran into her. They spoke briefly. Connie couldn't tell what was said, but she could see Victoria put her hand on the soldier's arm, as she spoke to him.

  The Corporal turned to study the area around them carefully, before nodding and leaving his charge to go toward the cook fire, looking back several times as he walked. Victoria continued walking toward her friend, but her eyes were turned to scan the hill above. She stopped as she caught sight of Connie. Pushing her hood back she watched as Connie began picking her way through the troops. She easily jumped over the trench, and started to glide down the hillside.

  The inside of the tent was dark, lit only by the sun burning through the heavy canvas. Victoria still wore her cloak as did Annabelle. Connie could see their breath and that of their patients, their bodies covered by thin blankets and the tattered remains of their own outer garments. The fire burning in the potbelly stove in the center of the tent burned off the worst of the cold.

  "I have asked Carpy to see if there is anything hot to give the men. Have you been up all night, Annabelle?” She went to the other woman.

  Annabelle nodded. “I wanted to be near if any should call out. It was a quiet night, but I could not sleep.” She rubbed her fingers against her temples. “I fear that the fighting will start soon. Some of the men that were down at the river brought news that the Federals have entered the city and are grouping to attack. They have burned houses and taken everything not already broken.” Tears started to fall from her dark eyes. “I am so afraid, Victoria. What is to become of us all?"

  Victoria put her arm around her friend and led her to the tent entrance. “You need to get some sleep, Annabelle. If as you say the fighting starts soon, we will need all the hands we can find to help, and you must be rested.” She pointed toward the distant cook fire. “Look, Carpy has found something hot to drink. You will take some with you to our tent and you will sleep."