by Ann Rinaldi
He hesitated a moment, then recommenced speaking. "If I do that, Camille comes with me. If I stay, Camille, you'll have to go to Philadelphia with the others."
She ran to him and threw herself in his arms. He hugged her. They said no words.
We all spoke at once, all except Teddy. We all told Louis to go and take Camille. They loved each other so much. Teddy gave a small smile and nodded yes.
"All right," he said, quieting us, "all right, it's Louis's decision. Leave him be. Now the rest of you, go pack your things. One valise, no more. You have half an hour before the stage leaves for Marietta."
Camille sent a valise, too, just in case Louis decided to stay. She wanted to please him.
***
Monday of the third week in May, Louis announced at breakfast that he had decided to escort the citizens out of town.
"We'll be leaving by the middle of June," he said.
We were all tremendously happy about that. But happiness in such times lasted only two minutes. I had learned already not to trust happiness.
In the next moment Teddy told Viola, Carol, and me that we should dress for our trip, that this afternoon we were taking the stage to Marietta, and from there the train to Philadelphia.
"Scouts say that Sherman's within a hundred miles," he told us.
I froze in my seat. My breakfast went cold on my plate. "I want to go with Louis," I said. "I don't want to go to Philadelphia."
Silence. So loud that Sherman could likely hear it a hundred miles away.
Teddy compressed his lips and looked down the table at his brother from beneath lowered eyelids.
Louis tightened his jaw and did not look back at Teddy.
They have been expecting this.
"I think I'll wear my flowered suit," Carol said lightly. "It's always comfortable to travel in."
"I want to go with Louis," I said again.
"Why don't you ask him," Teddy said.
So he would let Louis do the dirty work. I looked at Louis, who was sipping his coffee.
"Can I go with you, Louis?" I appealed.
He set down his cup. "I can't take you, sweetie, much as I'd like to."
"Why?"
"Because you belong to Teddy. He's legally responsible for you."
"Bullcrap," I said.
"That's enough, Leigh Ann," Teddy snapped. "I'll not have such language at the table. Now you are excused. You can go and eat breakfast in the kitchen."
"If we're leaving this afternoon, it's my last meal here," I protested.
"You should have thought of that before." Teddy did not look at me. "Leave, please."
I got up and ran, tears coming down my face.
Cannice, who'd heard it all, brought my plate and tea and set it down before me on the kitchen table. "You'd best eat, lamb," she said.
"I hate him. Why did he have to send me in here when it's my last meal with Louis and Camille and all?"
" 'Cause you been naughty. You know he doan like to hear you cuss. Why you hafta go and plague him so? You know how upset he be, you all leavin' today."
I sat there pouting, but I did not eat. They were all talking and laughing in the dining room like it was just a regular day. How can they be that way? I started to cry.
I don't know how much time passed, but Cannice went out the back door to the kitchen garden. And then Teddy came in.
"You didn't eat," he said. "Don't you know you'll be hungry on that stage to Marietta? Now stop that crying and put some food in your mouth."
But I couldn't do either one. "I can't wait to go away this afternoon," I said between sobs. "I can't wait to get away from you."
"I can't wait to get shed of you, either. You're nothing but a little brat who's always given me nothing but trouble."
"In Philadelphia I'm going to do just what I want. I'm going to stay up late and read racy books and use cuss words and you'll never know it. I'm going to kiss boys."
"I hope you have a good time."
He pulled up a chair, sat down, and, with a napkin, wiped the tears from my face. Then he picked up a forkful of scrambled eggs. I opened my mouth and he shoved it in, like I was a knee-baby.
It went on like that for three or four forkfuls, with neither of us saying a word. Cannice came in, looked at us, put her hands on her hips, shook her head, and made a throaty sound.
"You got a fierce bark," she told my brother, "but you sure do spoil her. You want a fresh cuppa coffee, Massa Teddy?"
He said yes. That sounded good.
He gave the fork over to me and I ate and he sipped his coffee and no words were necessary. All had been said. Except, from Teddy: "You remember what I taught you."
But before we got on the stage for Marietta that day, Louis got a telegram at the mayor's office. As of that day, the last Monday in May, train travel was forbidden to all civilians.
We were going nowhere after all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
That very night, at dusk, when Teddy had gone to the mill and Louis was still at the mayor's office, a telegram was delivered to the house for Viola.
Johnnie had been killed on the eleventh at the Richmond defenses.
Viola collapsed in a faint. When we revived her she got hysterical. Camille gave her rum. Carol put cold cloths on her forehead. Cannice told me to ride and get Teddy at the mill.
As I mounted my horse, Trojan, Careen told me that Viola was pregnant. I carried that thought with me, a sour taste in my mouth, as I rode to the mill.
Johnnie dead. Louis soon to leave. Viola pregnant. Yankees soon to come. Me saying vile words at the table, and Teddy sending me into the kitchen.
What had happened to my world?
In no time, it seemed, I was at the mill. Inside, the din that had always terrified me now validated the confusion in my mind. Quickly, I found Teddy's office. The door was closed, but behind the glass was a light. I knocked and saw the figure behind the desk come to the door and open it.
Teddy stood there in shirtsleeves, scowling. "What's wrong?"
"Johnnie's been killed defending Richmond. Viola's hysterical. They told me to come and get you."
I did not tell him that Viola was pregnant. He would not hear that from me. He had enough to cause him pain these days. I vowed to myself that I would not be the reason for any more of it.
Within a few minutes we were on the way home, where Teddy took charge.
Viola was on the Persian carpet in the front parlor. Neither Carol nor Camille could get her up. She wouldn't let anybody come near her, not even Cannice.
Why not Cannice? I wondered as we came into the parlor. She always trusted our beloved housekeeper. Everybody did. But there Cannice stood, in a far circle that had formed around my sister, which included Careen. All kept their distance.
And then I saw why.
Viola had a gun, Teddy's .32 Colt navy revolver. She held it carelessly in one hand.
I gasped, standing beside Teddy. He put out his arm and held me from going any farther into the room. "Stay where you are, everybody," he directed. "Don't move."
He took a cautious step forward. "Hello, honey," he said to Viola. "I'm sorry for what's happened."
"Come near me and I'll kill you," she told him viciously.
Teddy squatted down. "The mill's powerful busy, but I've come home just for you."
"You don't care for me. Always want to scold me. That's all you want to do."
Teddy nodded. "I've done my share of scolding, I admit, but it was always 'cause I loved you and wanted to see you grow up and become a sister I could be proud of. And you are."
He shuffled a mite closer to her. "Damned proud of you, I am."
She raised the gun. "I said I'd kill you if you came closer."
"I know you did. But then, what would more killing do? You're not in charge of your senses, Viola, and if anybody around here has senses to be in charge of, it's you. Sometimes you've got more sense than all the rest of us put together. And if you kill me, why, then they'
ll have to take you away and hang you. You can't just kill people, even though there's a war on."
He stopped. Someone had come in the front door and was coming down the hall. We listened to the steady steps that halted at the doorway of the parlor.
Louis.
He stood there, taking it all in. From behind Teddy, and out of range of Viola's eyes, I signaled to him to stay where he was. He nodded at me.
"And then," Teddy was saying, "with me dead and you dead, and Louis gone away, who would take care of the family? Who, Viola?"
"I don't care," she said. "Johnnie's dead, so I don't give a damn about anything. I may even kill myself now. Save everybody the trouble."
She raised the revolver so the barrel was pointed at her face.
Everybody muffled screams.
Only Careen didn't muffle what she wanted to say but yelled it out: "Don't, don't, Miz Viola," she screamed. "'Member, you be's pregnant. You be's pregnant!"
In that moment Teddy leaped toward his sister, throwing himself at her. Everything happened at once then.
Teddy landed on top of Viola and his action pointed the gun away from her, over her shoulder. The revolver went off and the shot exploded loudly and went through the window. The glass shattered like ice, and servants came running from all directions, thinking the Yankees had arrived.
Teddy enfolded Viola in his arms and held her while she bawled out her misery. Louis quieted the servants and sent them back to their posts, saying no, there were no Yankees, that Leigh Ann had been playing with one of Teddy's guns and it went off accidentally and, yes, she would be punished. And Viola was crying because her betrothed had been killed. And yes, Johnnie's body would be shipped home and they could come to the funeral and sing some of their spirituals.
Viola stopped crying, finally, and told everybody how sorry she was. Especially, she told Teddy. "I was out of my senses," she said. "You should have slapped me."
"I've never slapped my sisters," he said, "and I never will."
Everybody calmed down then.
Cannice gave Viola a concoction to quiet her nerves. Carol and Camille readied her for bed. Teddy went back to the mill. I slept with Viola. Louis, being home, told me to wake him if she gave me any trouble.
Nobody said anything for many days after about Viola's being pregnant. All were hoping she would come through this and be all right. We just pampered her and fussed over her. Nobody wanted to upset her.
In early June the Yankees took Marietta.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Johnnie Cummack's mother did not come home from Virginia for the funeral of her son. Having heard that the Yankees were in Marietta, no civilians were allowed to travel on the trains, and most citizens were leaving Roswell, she was afraid to come.
His father, Colonel John Cummack, came. He was a scraggly-faced man with hard blue eyes and a short white beard. Louis and Teddy called him "sir." He was with the Confederate Infantry of R. H. Anderson's Corps that had attacked Sheridan's Cavalry near Cold Harbor.
He told us about it. Oh, the names. The corps, the infantries, the brigades, the attacks. I was sick of hearing about all of them. All they meant were more dead Johnnies.
My own James hadn't written a letter in weeks. And when one finally came it was from north of the Chickahominy. James was with Lee, moving southeast toward Cold Harbor, Virginia. All was still well. He was not wounded.
I was in a state of terror now, after what had happened to Johnnie. I'd been visiting James's grandmother, Mrs. Stapleton, at least once a week, and we compared letters. And after supper we prayed together for him.
Colonel Cummack allowed our negroes to come to Johnnie's funeral and sing their spirituals. Johnnie was buried in the cemetery behind the Roswell Presbyterian Church. A lot of the town folk came. I thought, How can a mother not come to her own son's funeral? How can you be afraid to come to town? How can you be afraid of anything after you have lost a son?
And then I thought, How can I criticize others? I have not seen my own mother in more than a year.
Viola wore black and a widow's veil.
Colonel Cummack looked at her strangely, but she did not care.
He left to go back to the field right after the funeral. He would not even come back to our house for a repast.
***
June went by in a haze. I did some swimming in the stream. Viola stayed pretty much in her room, or else she sat on the front verandah, rocking next to Pa, who never came out of his reverie anymore but was content to stay in his own little world. Viola would just sit there with a book in her hands, gazing off into some middle distance.
Sometimes Jon would sit with them. He would talk to her. And he would always make sure someone would see him doing this.
Viola did not seem to mind. It was as if she did not even know he was there.
One day, the third week in June, when Teddy was upstairs sleeping, Carol with him, when Viola was out on the verandah and Louis and Camille were meeting in the mayor's office with the people they were leaving with the next day, Theophile Roche came around.
From my room upstairs I saw him riding up the front drive and going 'round the back to the rear entrance. What did he want? Had he come to see Teddy? There was an iron rule in the house. Nobody woke Teddy from his sleep during the day. If the Yankees came, they must be told to wait until it was time for him to get up.
I waited for about seven minutes, then crept downstairs.
Roche was in the kitchen with Cannice. I could see he was drinking tea and eating cake she had given him.
"So, I do not know what to do," I heard him telling her in his French accent.
He was confiding in Cannice, like everyone else did, sooner or later.
About what? Women? The mill? Was he sick? Had he come for a remedy?
I casually sauntered into the kitchen. "I smell cake," I said.
"You know you'll ruin your appetite now for supper," Cannice said.
"Just a little piece? I won't tell anybody you gave it to me."
She set it down on the table and I pulled out a chair and sat down.
"I have come to see your brother," Mr. Roche told me. "I forget that he is sleeping. Cannice here is kind enough to offer me tea and cake. So I confide in her. It is time to put the French flag on the roof of the mill, but alas"—and he raised both hands—"this poor Frenchman is too frightened to go up there. It is so high. " He made the sign of the cross and rolled his eyes to heaven. "I am afraid. What am I to do? I have promised your brother I will fly the flag to show that the mill is under neutral ownership. And now I can get no one to go up there and place it for me! All are afraid!"
He was truly distressed.
I looked at Cannice and she at me. I thought for a moment.
We must do anything we can to save the mill.
I could hear Teddy saying the words inside my head, even now. And then I had a thought so brilliant that it struck me like lightning, leaving me in shock.
"When does the flag have to go up?" I asked Roche.
"Soon," he said. "The more soon the better."
I nodded. I finished my cake and told Cannice how excellent it was. I gulped my tea. "You could," I told Roche, "offer one of the workers extra money to take the flag on the roof. I'm sure my brother wouldn't mind."
He shook his head no, sadly. "They are all afraid."
I got up. "I can help you. I can go with you and offer one of them extra money. They will talk to me. Come on. Cannice, if anyone asks for me, tell them what I'm about. No, don't, not yet. I may fail and I don't want anyone to know it. I'll be back in plenty of time for supper."
Cannice said yes. She wouldn't tell anyone. And I went off to the mill with Roche.
***
Of course, I had no intention of asking any of the mill workers to bring the French flag up on the roof. If one of them did, and fell and got killed, Teddy would be in all kinds of trouble.
I was determined to do it myself.
Here was my wa
y to make amends to my brother for all the trouble I'd given him over the years. Here was my chance to do something important for my family. For the war. I was not afraid to go up there on the roof. When I was ten I'd climbed to the uppermost limb of our cherry tree in our backyard, hadn't I?
"Show me the flag," I said to Roche once we got inside the mill.
He took me to a storeroom on the third floor.
Oh, it was a magnificent flag, blue and white and red, but not as pretty as our Confederate banner. "I'll have to take our Confederate flag down, won't I?"
"You?" He said something in garbled French. "You are going to do this? I thought you said you'd get a worker?"
"Oh, Mr. Roche, don't be a silly-boots. You knew I was going to do it all along, didn't you?"
"But, pretty little miss. Your brother will—how you say?—kill me."
"My brother is so busy worrying about the Yankees coming, he won't have time to kill you. Anyway, you don't have to tell him. Not right away, anyway."
He made the sign of the cross and said a prayer, his lips moving quickly. Did that mean he would let me do it? "I have a little sister at home," he told me. "I would not let her do it. And if I found out she did such, I would—how you say?—spank her."
"Teddy doesn't spank. Now show me: how do I get up there?"
He led me down a small hallway to where he reached up and pulled down a ladder. Above it in the ceiling was a trapdoor that led to the roof. Just like in an English romance novel.
He went up first and opened the trapdoor to reveal an expanse of blue sky. Then he came down and bowed and extended his arm graciously.
Gripping the staff of the flag, I climbed the steps.
The roof was slanted. The Confederate flag waved gaily a good distance from me at the other end of the roof. My heart leaped in my throat.
I would have to walk all the way to there? I looked down at Roche, smiling, determined not to appear frightened.
