by Jane Peart
He seemed eager to tell her about himself, as if to make up for their short acquaintance and the brevity of his time in Hillsboro. When she attempted asking about his army life, he dismissed it as unimportant.
“It will all be over by summer,” he said loftily. “The Yankees are no contest. Not for men like us, born in the saddle and knowing how to hunt! Most of them are clerks, farmers, shopkeepers, schoolteachers,” he scoffed. “Most never held a gun or rode a horse.”
He was much more eager to tell her about his family, his home, the life he loved and was anxious to get back to, a life of riding, hunting, socializing. He told her he had two younger sisters, Melissa and Anadell, whom he adored, a mother and father he loved and respected, two sets of grandparents, and an assortment of cousins, aunts, and uncles.
“Sounds like us!” JoBeth laughed, gesturing to the room full of Shelbys, Cadys, Hayeses, and Breckenridges.
“That’s what makes Southerners strong,” Curtis nodded, not arrogantly but with complete assurance. “We have unbreakable bonds of loyalty. We stick together, have pride in our land.”
He talked about his horses, two fine thoroughbreds he’d brought with him into the brigade that he’d volunteered to join, and he added in a nonchalant aside, “I also brought Jericho, my groom.”
His casual reference to his manservant after his horses jarred her. Later when she recalled her reaction, she wasn’t sure why that had bothered her so much. Then she decided it was because she could imagine Wes’s reaction. Putting a human being behind a pair of prized animals. At the time, she didn’t have a chance to analyze it or question Curtis about the reference, because there was a general stir around them. Harvel called for everyone’s attention. They were going to play “the farmer in the dell” for the sake of the smaller children, who would soon have to be put to bed.
The ensuing chaos chased away any serious talk for the rest of the evening. When the children were shepherded off to their rooms upstairs, the grown-ups went into the magnificent dining room, where a bountiful buffet was spread out. After that, the evening quieted down. People sipped coffee and ate fruitcake while Dorinda played softer melodies on the piano for all to listen and enjoy.
Gradually some of the guests began to depart, among them Uncle Madison and Aunt Josie. At this, Blakely and Will, with Curtis adding his pleas, begged Johanna to let JoBeth stay longer. They were going to roll up the rugs, declared another cousin, Ted Hamlett, and dance. They all promised her mother that they would escort JoBeth safely home later. Smiling, Johanna gave in to the chorus. Shelby decided to accompany his mother home and went to get her cape. JoBeth helped her mother on with it, and Johanna patted her daughter’s cheek, saying, “I’m glad to see you having a good time, darling.”
One by one the Munroe Cady children got droopy-eyed and cross, and reluctantly Dorinda and Munroe declared they had better take their children home, as they were dropping like flies and getting into little squabbles. Dorinda stood up regretfully to close the piano lid. Surprisingly, Curtis offered to replace her. At that the dancing gradually turned into a songfest, with the lingering guests gathered around the piano. JoBeth discovered that Curtis had a rich, true tenor voice and knew all the words to most of the popular songs.
Finally, at a little after midnight, everyone agreed it was time to depart and leave the household in peace and quiet. The last remaining quintet of Will, Blakely, Ted, Curtis, and JoBeth bade their hosts thanks and good night and went out into the starry December night. Outside, they linked arms as they walked, singing merrily some of the marching songs the young men had learned since enlisting. It was a short distance back to the Willows, and the crisp air and lively company made the trek seem short.
In the Cadys’ wide front yard, Blakely, Will, and Ted succumbed to the temptation of an impromptu snowball fight, and Curtis walked with JoBeth up onto the porch.
“I can’t tell you, Miss Davison, how glad I am that I accepted Blakely and Will’s invitation to spend my leave here in Hillsboro. I cannot remember a recent evening when I have enjoyed myself so much.”
The light from the porch lantern that was left burning for her return illuminated his expression as he spoke, and it was flatteringly sincere. Instinctively JoBeth stepped back from it so that he couldn’t see the sudden blush that warmed her cheeks. She felt inordinately pleased and then immediately guilty. Why should she care that any other man besides Wes enjoyed her company?
“May I see you again? My leave only lasts three more days, and they will go very fast. I find myself not wanting to miss any possible time with you.”
JoBeth hesitated. This evening had been enormous fun. Was it wrong to feel lighthearted and happy for a change? Was it a disloyalty to Wes? But then, she was sure he would be the last one to mind if she had a good time.
Curtis asked, “Is there something wrong?”
“No, it’s just that I don’t know whether it’s such a good idea.”
“Why not? Blakely tells me there are several other events planned for our time here—a ball tomorrow night, I understand, and if the temperature continues to drop, he says, the ice on Bedlow Pond may be solid enough for a skating party. Surely you’re not going to miss those? Come now, Miss Davison, isn’t it your duty to provide a brave soldier some respite from the war?” There was a teasing challenge in his question. “Besides, I want it very much, so please don’t refuse.”
How could she hold out against such persuasion? And what harm could it do to spend a few hours in such delightful company? Surely it would all be innocent enough. Besides, it would be hard to explain to Blakely and Will why she wouldn’t accommodate their house guest. It would also be difficult to explain to her aunt and uncle, who, she could tell, had taken quite a liking to Curtis Channing.
“Yes? You will, won’t you?”
She laughed. “Well, yes then. If it freezes tomorrow, I’d be happy to go skating.”
“And even if it doesn’t, may I call?” Curtis persisted.
She laughed again. “Yes, you may. And now I must go in, or else those fellows will wake the whole house!” She pointed to the other three, who were still scuffling and throwing snowballs at each other on the lawn.
She turned to open the front door, but Curtis caught her hand.
They both now stood shadowed by the porch columns, hidden from the frolickers in the front yard.
“Good night, Curtis,” she said softly and gently tugged her hand, which he pressed and then very slowly released. Her heart gave a little warning flutter, as if alert to some unexpected danger. Quickly she went inside. After closing it, she peered through the glass panels on either side and saw Curtis leap buoyantly down the porch steps, join his comrades. Then the three of them, arms around each other’s shoulders, went down the path, out the gate, whistling “Dixie” and singing at the top of their voices.
To her surprise, a light was shining out from the small parlor. Who might still be awake and up? Tiptoeing toward the stairway, she glanced in through the half-open door and saw her brother sitting by the fireplace, his sandy head bent over a book.
“Shelby? What on earth? Do you know what time it is?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” he explained with a smile as she came over to join him.
JoBeth tucked her skirt under and sat down on the low hassock opposite Shelby, asking, “Problems?”
“I suppose you might say that. Mostly what I’ve already written you about.”
“Enlisting?”
“I’m torn between what’s my duty and my calling,” he sighed.
JoBeth put out her hand and covered his to convey her understanding. “I know. It’s the same here. Bugles blowing, flags flying. Anyone who isn’t in uniform gets a scorching glare or a questioning look or even worse! It’s almost as if those people who don’t go, no matter if they have good reason or whatever, are supposed to walk around with a placard tied around their neck telling why in bold letters.”
Her mockery brought a slight smile to Shelby’s
lips.
“There’re only ten left in our class of thirty-five. Of the ones who all started out together”
“But you’re so close to being finished,” JoBeth reminded him.
“I know, but it all seems so pointless with fellows my age out there on the battlefield. Wouldn’t it make more sense for me to be out there, ministering in some way—not carrying a gun, necessarily, but taking God’s message?” He halted, then gave an ironic shake of his head. “That is, if God goes out on the battlefield—any battlefield.”
“You sound like Wes,” JoBeth told him.
“I thought Wes was convinced he had chosen the right thing to do.”
“Oh, yes, I’m sure he believes he has. But he doesn’t think war is right, no matter what. The longer he’s in it, the more bitter, the more disillusioned, he sounds.”
“You’ve seen him? He’s been here?”
“Oh, no! He couldn’t come.” She gave a harsh laugh. “He’d be shot as a spy! Uncle Madison would probably meet him with a shotgun himself!”
It was Shelby’s turn to comfort. “I’m sorry, JoBeth. It must be doubly hard for you. A divided heart.”
She nodded. “Oh, Shelby, you always put it so right. Yes, that’s what I have, a divided heart, and sometimes I feel as if I’m bleeding to death.”
The two siblings turned to the fire and were lost momentarily in their own dark thoughts. Then Shelby said firmly, “Don’t worry about me anymore, JoBeth. I’ll go back. I’ll finish out this term, at least. Then we’ll see what next summer brings. Maybe the war will be over by then—”
“Please, God!” she said fervently. “I think you’ve made the right decision. At least for now. Mama would be so disappointed if you left. She’s so proud of you, Shelby.”
“I know. And I realize how hard she’s worked, making quilts, selling them to pay for my tuition, room, board, books. I know that. Above all, I do want to do the right thing.”
“You will, Shelby. I trust your judgment.” She got to her feet, leaned down, and tousled his hair softly, “You’re a wise old owl for seventeen!”
“Sometimes I feel more like Methuselah!”
“Well, I’d better get to bed, get some sleep,” JoBeth said.
“Good night, then. Thanks for listening.” Her brother raised his hand in a saluting gesture. “See you in the morning.”
“Yes, I’ll be up bright and early. I’ve promised to go skating if the pond is still frozen. Will and Blakely’s house guest has unlimited energy!”
“Good! You deserve to have some fun.”
“Want to go with us?”
Shelby shook his head. “As Proverbs says, ‘Do not boast about tomorrow, for you do not know what a day may bring forth.'”
“Spoken like a true seminary student!”
“Or ‘Out of the mouths of babes …,’ right?” Shelby said, laughing.
“I’d better get out of here before you shame me any more with your Scripture quotes,” she said. “Good night, Shelby.” She waved her hand as she went out the door.
“Good night, Sis.”
Chapter Ten
The next day, instead of dropping, the temperature rose. An unseasonable warmth melted the light layer of snow that had fallen before Christmas, so there was no skating party on Bedlow Pond. However, the Spencer twins and their guest arrived at the Cadys’ house to call upon JoBeth the following afternoon. Warmly received by Aunt Josie, they stayed, enjoying Uncle Madison’s special holiday punch and the congenial company. The Spencers, always known for their exuberant personalities, were true to form and in high spirits. The visit ended after a round of singing, with Curtis again doing the honors at the piano.
When it was at last time to go, Curtis lingered a little behind as the others stood at the door, thanking the Cadys for their hospitality. He asked JoBeth, “May I call again tomorrow? On my own?”
“Tomorrow is the bazaar, a fund-raiser the Ladies Auxiliary is holding, and I’ve promised to help my aunt at her booth.”
Disappointment clouded Curtis’s handsome face momentarily, then quickly disappeared as he asked, “An event, I presume, that is open to the public?”
“Of course! Provided you bring lots of money to spend,” she teased.
“Done.” He saluted her. “And if I empty my pockets, may I have the honor of escorting you to the ball tomorrow evening?”
She laughed. “That sounds very mercenary.”
“Anything for our cause, right?” He raised an eyebrow and smiled.
When Curtis departed with the others, JoBeth realized, with a guilty start, that she had not thought about Wes all afternoon.
The bazaar to raise money to send needed supplies for “our boys in gray” had been planned for a long time. All the proceeds would go to various relief services. Hospitals, soldiers’ widows and orphans, people who had left their homes in fear of Yankee invaders, and other charitable groups were listed as recipients of the money to be earned. For the past several months, all the Hillsboro ladies had been busy making handiwork of all sorts to sell. JoBeth’s mother, aunt, and other relatives in the family had been involved from the beginning. Aunt Josie, known for her organizational ability, headed up the committee, assigning the different booths, each with specialized items for sale. Homemade delicacies, preserves, jams, jellies, baked goods. Embroidered pillowcases, tea towels, spectacle cases, slippers, floral potpourri and sachets, scented bath salts. Several booths were planned that would offer practical knitted garments, such as mittens, scarves, gloves, wrist warmers, socks, have locks for foraging caps. There would also be booths tapping the varied creative talents of Hillsboro “artistes,” exhibiting and selling such works as hand-painted china, watercolor greeting cards, and sentimental quotations in small frames. There would be a booth devoted to displaying dainty baby accessories, which were much in demand and would prove to be a popular item. (As would infant apparel—at one of the first organizing meetings, Patsy Faye Wrightman had commented, “With all the many military marriages that have taken place since Fort Sumter, there should soon be a market for baby booties, bonnets, buntings, blankets, and the like.”)
The Logan ladies, as JoBeth’s great-aunties were sometimes called by those who knew them before they were married, combined their quilting skills to contribute a beautiful quilt for which raffle tickets would be sold. In order to finish it in time for the bazaar’s grand opening party, they increased their “quilting bee” from one to five days a week. The pattern they had chosen to make was Star of Bethlehem in bright yellow, blue, and red, with pointed patches making the star, and the quilt bound all around with a band of orange.
Johanna made several crib-sized quilts. JoBeth put aside her own work on her pledge quilt to help her mother. On these days when mother and daughter spent time together on the project, a new closeness seemed to grow between them. There was something about the quiet task that initiated confidences and sharing. Often the sound of November wind or rain beating upon window or roof created an intimacy, shutting them off from the outside world. Sometimes JoBeth would ask her mother about the years in the mountains when she had first married Ross Davison.
“Oh, it was a wonderful time, such happy years.” Johanna’s voice grew soft. “Hard work, which you know I wasn’t used to at first. But so rewarding, so worthwhile. Your father was so kind, so loving—such a fine man, beloved by all the people in Millscreek.”
JoBeth had her own memories of the tall, rugged man who was her father. She remembered his coming home and swinging her up into his arms, times he had held her on his knee, read to her. She could still recall how his beard felt against her forehead when she leaned back on his shoulder, the smell of him, the scent of leather, balsam pine, the slightly medicinal aroma that clung to his clothes. She remembered the gentleness of his hands, and the sound of his deep voice.
Thinking back on those long-ago childhood days, JoBeth felt the sharp twinge of loss. Only when she closed her eyes and really concentrated could she bring bac
k the smell of the pine woods that had puckered her nostrils, the feel of the brown-needled carpet on her bare feet when she would run down the path between their home on the hill and Granny Eliza’s.
“Do you remember the gritted cornbread Granny used to make?” Johanna’s question broke in on JoBeth’s thoughts.
“Oh, my, yes!” JoBeth looked at her mother, eyes shining. “That was the sweetest, tastiest cornbread I ever had! Was it a secret recipe or something?”
“I’m sure not. She told me how to make it and I tried, but mine never turned out as delicious as hers.” Johanna laughed and shook her head.
“As soon as the weather gets better, I must go visit Granny,” JoBeth murmured. “Maybe when Shelby comes home in the spring, when the snow melts, we can ride up there together.” She thought of the weathered cabin nestled under the cedars with a tender longing. It was a part of her life, a part of herself that somehow had got lost in the years since she was a little girl. She felt an urgency to recapture it, treasure it somehow. Everything about the past had taken on a special significance, because everything else was changing so fast. Holding on to happy memories was important.
The morning of the bazaar, soon after breakfast, Aunt Josie supervised packing Johanna’s crib quilts into large boxes, then directed Jonas to carry them out to the carriage. Then she said, “JoBeth, you come along with me now. I need you to help arrange the booth, help me to decide which ones to display first.” Buttoning her fur tippet, she nodded approvingly to JoBeth’s mother, declaring, “Your quilts are just the sweetest, Johanna. Doting grandmothers will certainly snap them up in a hurry. I’m sure they will all go like hotcakes.”
JoBeth glanced at her mother, who seemed a trifle wistful at seeing some of her favorite baby quilts disappear. It was as though she hated to part with them. JoBeth knew that each one her mother made was special to her. She gave her a sympathetic smile as she kissed her cheek, saying, “You’ll come over later, won’t you, Mama?”
