“That’s quite all right. I know you have a job to do.” Jacob downed a swallow of the coffee and immediately sputtered at the bitter taste of the hot liquid. After placing the cup on the bench, he removed the locket from his jacket. Their stop in the small town would be only long enough to take on wood and water, and he was sure the whistle would soon alert him to their impending departure.
He snapped open the clasp and the locket fell open. His breath caught as he read the inscription: To the Sweetest Girl. On the opposing side of the locket was the picture of a handsome young man in uniform.
How could Sarah do this to him? No doubt the young soldier had given her the locket before he marched off to join his regiment—to remember him—to hold him close to her heart. Well, she may have held his locket close to her heart, but she hadn’t remembered him or held him close. And it now seemed that, like Laura, she hadn’t been true either to him or Jacob.
Chapter 14
F or the remainder of the journey to Chicago, Jacob was besieged by a combination of confusion and sorrow. The pain from his fall at the depot only served to make matters worse. His ankle continued to swell, and his hip throbbed with an ache that matched the gnawing pain in his heart.
His hand remained deep in his pocket, with the locket chain threaded through his fingers. Though his duty required him to assist each of the men off the train and into the makeshift ambulances that would deliver them to the hospital, his own injuries now prohibited him from performing his duties. When an attendant from the hospital finally entered their car, Jacob explained his mishap.
“I’m not going to be any help getting the men off the train. Corporal Franklin is in charge of the injured soldiers in the adjoining car. Once they’ve unloaded, I think he’d be willing to help you with my men.”
The hospital attendant stooped down to inspect Jacob’s ankle. “You’d best stay right here until we get you a crutch. That ankle might be broken, so it will be better if you don’t put any weight on your foot. I’ll see if I can find one for you, and then I’ll speak to Corporal Franklin.”
Jacob thanked the soldier and scooted down to rest his head against the hard wooden seat. He felt useless sitting there while the soldiers remained in their cots, each one eager to be off the train and transported to a hospital bed. Yet he had no choice, for even before the hospital attendant had examined his ankle, Jacob suspected it was more than a slight sprain. Fortunately, the men understood his plight and didn’t complain—at least not much.
When the last of the men had been moved from the train, the attendant returned with a pair of crutches for Jacob. With the attendant holding one of his arms, Jacob gingerly stood on his good foot and situated the crutches beneath each of his arms. The attendant moved back and Jacob took a swinging step. Careful to keep his right knee bent and the injured foot in the air, Jacob and the attendant made their way to the steps where another man awaited them.
“We’ll lift you down. We don’t want you trying to use those crutches on the steps.” The attendant didn’t wait for Jacob to agree. Instead, the two men took his crutches and hoisted him down from the train.
Being lifted from the train into a makeshift ambulance left Jacob feeling dependent in a way he’d never before experienced. He hoped he wouldn’t ever again face such a need. No doubt the injured soldiers suffered the same feelings each time they required help. Jacob hadn’t considered how the need for assistance could gnaw at his manhood. Little wonder some of the soldiers became angry and abrupt whenever he attempted to lend aid.
The fact that Jacob’s injuries had occurred on a slick depot platform rather than during a skirmish only caused him further anguish. The doctors were needed to treat wounded soldiers, men who had been injured in battle—not a clumsy corporal assigned as an escort. If his father, who already considered Jacob’s military assignment an embarrassment, ever got wind of this event, Jacob would never hear the end of it. When Jacob closed his eyes, he could still hear the pride in his father’s voice as he spoke of his brother, Malcolm, fighting at Antietam. Indeed, a fall on a slippery platform would provide his father with enough ridicule to last a lifetime.
The wagon ride to the hospital had been bumpy, and with each lurch of the wagon, pain stabbed his hip like a hot poker. Though the wagon had been covered with a makeshift canvas and the men were wrapped in the quilts and blankets the good ladies of Decatur had provided, their teeth chattered and they huddled close together. The freezing winds that crossed Lake Michigan assailed them with a piercing iciness that cut to the bone, but Jacob didn’t complain. Shivering, he held fast to the locket and prayed his heart wouldn’t turn as cold as his freezing fingers.
Once the wounded soldiers had been assisted into the hospital, the medical staff took charge with tactical precision and assigned each of the injured soldiers to a specific hospital ward. Jacob, however, was taken to an examination room, where the doctor pronounced his ankle badly sprained. Though Jacob objected, the doctor insisted the ankle would be more seriously injured if he returned to duty before the swelling diminished and the ankle had time to strengthen. Had the doctor been a civilian rather than an officer in the army, Jacob might have disobeyed. He silently cringed when he was transported to a ward filled with amputees who’d lost limbs while fighting for the Union. They’d likely have a good laugh at him when they discovered his injury had been received while trying to navigate a slippery depot platform.
He threaded the locket’s chain through his fingers and settled his head against a lifeless pillow. When Jacob had departed the train, Corporal Franklin had offered to notify friends or family of Jacob’s whereabouts. For a fleeting moment, he’d considered sending word to Sarah but then changed his mind. Perhaps she could use the additional time to write letters to the fellow whose picture she carried in her locket.
Sarah stood inside the depot as the train returning from Chicago huffed into the station the following day. She remained with her nose pressed near the glass until the train eventually departed. Maybe she’d misunderstood, but she was sure that Jacob had said he’d return on this train. Slowly, she made her way out of the depot and returned home. There had been no word of a mishap with the train. If an accident had occurred, a message would have been received at the depot. And if Jacob had been detained somehow, she was certain he would have sent word.
Her breath caught. Maybe Jacob sent word and Matthew hadn’t told her. Sarah turned on her heel and hurried back to the station. Once inside, she passed through the café and entered the hotel.
Matthew leaned across the counter as she approached. “This is a surprise. Have you come to join me in a cup of coffee?”
Sarah shook her head. “No. I wondered if a telegraph had come about the hospital trains. The ones that return from Chicago to Cairo to pick up more of the wounded soldiers.”
He pushed up from the counter and squared his shoulders. “This is about Corporal Curtis. Am I right?”
She gave a slight nod. “I thought perhaps he sent word he’d been detained in Chicago. He was supposed to have come through on the train returning to Cairo today.”
Matthew hiked a shoulder. “How many times have I told you that you can’t depend upon the promises of a soldier during wartime, Sarah? You think Corporal Curtis is different, but I’m telling you that he isn’t. Maybe he was offered an opportunity to leave his assignment on the hospital trains and he jumped at the chance.”
“You’re wrong. Jacob has no intention of requesting a change of assignment.”
Matthew arched his brows. “You go ahead and believe whatever you want. I know how men think. Jacob may tell you he’s happy to stay away from the fighting, but I know better.”
Sarah studied him a moment, regretting the entire conversation. Matthew wouldn’t tell her the truth even if he had received word from Jacob. “You may think you know better about other men, but I know Jacob, and I’m certain he’s told me the truth.”
“Why do you think some soldier you barely know is more tr
ustworthy than me?”
Recollections of Matthew’s many half truths and deceptions flooded her mind. She wanted to tell him she knew how he’d tried to take advantage of Elsie and how he’d told Johnny Folson to stay away from the depot, but she’d given them both her word. She’d have to remain silent, but hearing Matthew continue to argue against Jacob only strengthened her resolve.
“Is it because I’m not wearing a uniform? Is that why you want nothing to do with me? You think I don’t know half the town calls me a coward behind my back? Why wouldn’t I believe you think the same way?”
She was weary of him and just wanted to be home. “You know this has nothing to do with wearing a uniform or joining the army. If I had my way, not one man in this town would be off fighting in the war, so don’t accuse me of refusing your suit because you aren’t wearing a uniform.”
By the way he just stood there, she knew there was no need to continue their conversation. She wasn’t going to change her mind, and neither was he.
“If Jacob should send a message, can I rely upon you to deliver it to me?”
“That’s my job.” His jaw was tight as he met her eyes.
She turned to leave but stopped short. “No one has mentioned finding a locket, have they? I thought I’d worn it when I came to the depot yesterday, but now I can’t seem to locate it anywhere. I’ve looked at home and I’ve asked most of the ladies of the Basket Brigade, but no one has seen it. I thought perhaps someone might have found it while sweeping up.”
“The locket Samuel gave you?”
Sarah bobbed her head. “Yes, have you seen it?”
“There’s been nothing turned in to me, and I’m sure my mother would have known it was yours and given it to you if she’d found it. If it should turn up, I’ll let you know.”
Sarah mumbled her thanks and trudged toward home. The loss of her locket had been foremost in her mind until she’d been confronted with Jacob’s unexplained absence at the depot. She bowed her head low against the frigid wind as feelings of hammering defeat assailed her. Where was her locket—where was Samuel—and where was Jacob?
The bell over the bakery jingled, and her father glanced up when she stepped inside. “Hurry and close the door, Sarah. It’s cold out there.”
Tears stung her eyes. She’d barely cleared the threshold before he’d chastised her. “I’m sorry, Papa. I know it’s cold. I walked home from the depot.” She pulled her scarf from around her neck and strode toward the stairs.
“I’m sorry, Sarah. I was more worried about keeping the bakery warm than about my daughter’s welfare. Forgive me. You should go upstairs and fix yourself some tea and warm up. Maybe sit with your mother for a while. I know she misses you.”
“I’ll do that, Papa.”
Once she’d brewed the tea, Sarah carried the tray to her parents’ bedroom.
“What a lovely surprise. How did you know I was longing for a cup of tea and some time to visit with you?” Her mother scooted higher in her bed while Sarah placed the tray on a nearby table.
“Let me arrange your bedding so that you’re more comfortable.” Sarah plumped the pillows and then stepped to the table and poured tea into the two cups. “I’m sorry I haven’t spent more time with you, but it seems there’s always something….”
“No need to apologize. I know you’re kept busy with your duties in the bakery and with the Basket Brigade. I don’t want to be an additional burden.”
“You’re not a burden, Mama. I love spending time with you, but there aren’t enough hours in the day.”
“Is that why you appear so sad? You’ve forced a smile onto your lips, but I see sorrow in your eyes. Is there something beyond the letter from Samuel that’s caused you unhappiness?”
She nodded her head and quietly revealed her concern that Jacob hadn’t been on the train from Chicago. “To make matters worse, I’ve lost the locket Samuel gave me before he left Decatur. I’ve looked everywhere and haven’t been able to find it. Nothing seems to be happening as it should. You’re ill and the doctor can’t seem to help; Samuel’s whereabouts and well-being are a mystery; Jacob has gone missing; and my locket has vanished.”
Her mother brushed a strand of hair from Sarah’s forehead. “Tell me—have you prayed and asked for God’s help?”
“No, I haven’t.” A pang of guilt stabbed her. Why hadn’t she thought to pray? “I seem to always think I must solve problems on my own, and forget to pray, until I realize I have no solution.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Sarah. All of us have times when we are so consumed by our problems that we rush to solve them ourselves instead of stopping and seeking God’s guidance. God understands, but He does want us to come to Him with our needs. Now that you’ve done everything you can think of to resolve your problems, maybe the two of us should pray together. Would you like that?”
Sarah reached forward and lightly grasped her mother’s hand. “There’s nothing that would help me more. Thank you, Mama.”
Together, they bowed their heads. When they’d said their final amen, Jacob and Samuel still hadn’t appeared and her locket hadn’t been found, but a sense of peace had settled in Sarah’s heart. Finally, she had released her worries into God’s loving hands.
Chapter 15
Jacob didn’t particularly want to attend the church service that a local pastor conducted each Sunday at the hospital, but he did want to escape the confines of the medical ward. Since his arrival, he’d been quizzed by almost every patient—at least those who were conscious enough to be aware of his existence. Though none of them had laughed at his mishap and a few had even expressed their thankfulness for the help they’d received from military attendants on the hospital trains, feelings of inadequacy and the picture in Sarah’s locket continued to plague him. The church service would provide a brief diversion.
“All them that’s coming to hear the preacher, raise your hand if you need help getting down the hall.” A young medical attendant stood in the doorway leading into their ward.
“If I ain’t got a hand anymore, can I raise my foot?” A patient who looked to be about thirty years old guffawed and raised his leg high in the air after he’d shouted the question.
The attendant laughed with him. “You can raise anything you want as long as it ain’t a ruckus. Glad to know you’re in such good humor today, Corporal Williams.”
“I aim to please. Now, find someone to help me out of this bed so I can go to the church meeting.”
Jacob longed to help the man, but the doctor had adamantly refused to let him bear weight on his ankle. Although he was now permitted the occasional use of crutches, the amount of help he could offer the other patients was limited.
Once inside the meeting room, Jacob took a seat near the front and glanced around. Though it was good the hospital allowed space for church services, the room was a close match to the one he’d just left. Granted, no beds lined the walls, but he was certain the chipped plaster and thin, faded window coverings were a far cry from the stained-glass windows and ornately carved wooden pews that likely adorned the large Chicago churches. Though he’d never attended a church with such finery, he wondered if the city had a group of women like those in Decatur—women dedicated to doing their best to help the wounded soldiers. If so, a bit of refurbishing to make the room more appealing and providing the men with Bibles would likely be appreciated. Maybe he’d mention his idea to the doctor when he next visited. Surely the doctor would know if the women of Chicago had formed a Ladies Auxiliary to aid in the war effort.
Jacob pushed aside thoughts of the gloomy surroundings as a young private stepped forward.
The young man motioned to his left and then his right. “I’m in charge of the music, and as you can see, there’s no piano or other instruments to accompany us. You need to sing out, and I’ll do my best to lead you. We’re going to sing Christmas carols, so most of you will know the words. Let’s start with ‘Silent Night.’”
The men joined
in, their voices blending—at least for the most part. Corporal Williams sang with gusto, although he was off-key for most of the song. He didn’t seem to notice the arched eyebrows and shudders of those around him. Corporal Williams was a man filled with joy in spite of his injuries, and the realization caused Jacob a twinge of guilt. How could a man be so joyful even though he’d lost his right hand as well as his left arm up to his shoulder?
They’d barely finished the last notes of “Silent Night” when Corporal Williams called out, “How about ‘Away in a Manger’? That’s my little boy’s favorite.”
A son? How would Corporal Williams ever teach the boy to fish or hunt? Even more, how would he earn a living to support his wife and that little boy? Jacob wondered whether the man had even considered life beyond the walls of the hospital. If so, it was difficult to imagine how he maintained such a positive outlook.
When they had finished singing, the pastor stood and greeted them before thanking God for the opportunity to meet and worship. After the prayer, he opened his Bible to the second chapter of Luke and read the familiar verses about the birth of Jesus.
When he finished reading, he closed the Bible and glanced around the room. “I know that each of you is suffering, and this Christmas is going to be very different from any other Christmas you’ve ever celebrated. So I thought that instead of me preaching a sermon, maybe some of you would like to share a little with each other. Christmas away from home and family is challenging. It’s even more difficult when you’ve suffered injuries that will forever change your life.”
A deafening silence fell over the room. Jacob had been sure Corporal Williams would speak up, but the boisterous man quietly stared at the floor. Moments later, the shuffle of feet could be heard near the back of the room, and a dark-haired soldier stepped forward.
“I believe I have something I’d like to share with all of you.”
Jacob’s breath caught as he stared at the man. He reached into his pocket, removed the locket, and snapped the clasp. He stared at the young man pictured in the locket and then looked at the soldier standing at the front of the room. The likeness was undeniable. His stomach clenched, and he tightened his hold on the silver locket. So this was Sarah’s beau. He was as handsome in person as in the picture. Jacob moved to the edge of his seat, not wanting to miss a word.
A Basket Brigade Christmas Page 18
