by Kim Bowman
He looked at me a moment and was silent. What was he thinking? Was it impertinent for me to ask such questions? Was it any of my concern?
“Didn’t enlist. Was drafted in sixty-three. Before the war — I had thoughts of being a doctor.” His voice was low and I struggled to hear him over the noise of the street below us.
“And now? Do you still want to be a doctor?”
“No. Farming is what I will do until the day I breathe my last.” His tone rang out with conviction and I got the sense that he would be more than happy to plant corn for the rest of his life. Because of the war? Had it disillusioned him so?
“And Fischer? What did he want to do?” Amelia was fascinated with the subject of Grayson’s brother, knowing that Grayson had raised him in much the same manner that I had raised her.
“He likes to read, wanted to teach. Would have been good at it, too. If he hadn’t enlisted.”
“So he wasn’t conscripted?” This surprised me. I thought that with Grayson being drafted his brother would have also not joined the fighting until it was demanded. Why hadn’t Grayson joined at the war’s onset? “Why didn’t you enlist when he did?”
Had I overstepped my place asking such a personal question? Of course, he knew much of the intimacies of my own life since the war¯shouldn’t I be entitled to knowing something about him?
“I wanted him to stay out of the fighting, finish his education. He was only nineteen years old. There were plenty of others willing to fight. If he hadn’t enlisted I was going to.”
“Why? Why didn’t you enlist with him then?” This puzzled Amelia, I could see it on her face. I waited for his answer, curious myself.
“The farm. Didn’t want to leave it in someone else’s hands. Probably gone now though.”
That hadn’t occurred to me. Were Federal soldiers seizing land in Tennessee? If his farm had been in his family nigh on eighty years, it would be a shame for him to lose it now.
“What will you do if it is? Would you become a doctor then?”
“No. I’ll never pick up a scalpel against a man again.” With that cryptic statement, he pushed past me and sank into the chair.
I wanted to ask him what he meant by again but the look in his eyes stayed me. Had he worked in a medical capacity for the Southerners? “What will we do? Will we leave for Chicago today? Will you join the prisoners and head home?”
“I’ve been thinking. We need to know exactly where your sister and her husband are. Can you send a telegram to his family? Would they answer?”
“Matthew would.” Amelia stated while I worried the question. I certainly didn’t know the Loftons well enough to ask them such a thing, but then again, my uncle had long been set against Mr. Lofton so why would he feel the need to speak to my uncle?
“Good. We will send a message this afternoon.” Grayson then told me to hurry and pin my hair, that we would go to find something to eat. I did as he bid, wanting to get out of the little room. I knew I couldn’t spend the entire day with Grayson in such close confines ¯ not without expressing my curiosity over last night’s behaviors.
We left our hotel after paying the hotelier for two more nights in advance, guaranteeing we would have lodging while in the city. Although the room was cramped, old, and somewhat shabby, it was still a roof above our heads. What would we do while waiting for Mr. Lofton to return our missive?
Grayson inquired as to directions to the nearest telegraph office and we found one located just inside a local bank. He told Amelia what to say, and gave her the coin to pay for it. Why he was letting the child do it I didn’t know, but Amelia seemed thrilled at the responsibility. When it was done, we found a local restaurant and Grayson asked that a picnic lunch be packed. We soon found ourselves carrying a blanket-wrapped bundle of sandwiches and a bottle of strong iced tea. Grayson led the way, following directions the large woman who handed us the meal had given him. We soon found ourselves seated along the banks of the White River. It was a water of intermediate size, flood-swollen from this winter’s melted snow. It had been an unbelievably harsh winter. Thankfully that seemed to be over now, and the day dawned clear and bright, and only a little bit chilly. Of course it was several weeks past the beginning of spring.
I couldn’t remember ever enjoying such a leisurely luncheon as I did there by the river. People often wandered by, happily stopping to chat about the surrender. Grayson remained quiet, and when he did speak he tempered his voice so that his accent was much less noticeable. It saddened me that he felt the need to be so careful, and I hoped that soon he would be amongst those with whom he could drop his guard.
We finished our meal, giving the remaining bread crusts to Amelia so she could feed the mallard and his family that had wandered near to us. Then Grayson gathered the bundle, wrapping our trash up in it, and suggested we check the telegraph office for the Loftons’ reply.
Chapter Ten
We waited near on twenty minutes for our turn at the telegraph office. I hadn’t seen so many people on one street my entire life and I found it more than a little daunting. Grayson seemed completely unfazed and Amelia’s face radiated enchantment. This time, though, Grayson dealt directly with the man, impatience evident in the tightening of his face.
The counterman hesitated before handing the paper to Grayson, who read it and looked at me.
“What? What is it?” Trepidation was heavy in my stomach. Grayson remained silent, and I grabbed the telegram from his hands. It startled him so, and he was unable to hold onto it.
Dear Amy. Gideon dead in fire. Stop. Rachel to return with his body via Indianapolis. Stop. Taking train two days hence. Stop. Matthew. Stop.
Gideon dead? Oh my God!
“Livy?” Amelia attempted read over my shoulder but I pulled the missive to my chest, unwilling for the child to see such news in print.
“There was a fire. Your brother-in-law died.” Grayson’s voice was flat, devoid of emotion but I barely heard it. I kept seeing young Gideon in my mind, his laughing at the harvest festival two years ago, his holding my sister close in Jessup’s barn ¯ I couldn’t reconcile those images with one of him charred in a fire. And my poor sister, how on earth was Rachel? How was she coping?
Amelia began crying, jerking me out of my state. She had known the boy much better than I and this was the first death of someone close to her that she could remember. She had been a small child when we lost our mother, and we were gone long before we lost our father and brother. I gathered her into my arms, letting her cry, joining her with much quieter sobs. Several moments passed before I realized Grayson’s own embrace encompassed both my sister and me. The crowd milled about us, some with visible impatience on their faces as they bypassed our small group.
Grayson disengaged himself and returned to the telegraph counter, this time falling in line behind only one other customer. I rocked my sister, whispering useless words of comfort, trying to calm the child. Grayson returned several moments later.
“What did you do?” I whispered as we guided my sister out of the telegraph office.
“Sent another telegram. Told the boy’s family we’d meet Rachel and accompany her back. Your sister will need you.”
I agreed with his plan, hating the idea of Rachel dealing with widowhood alone. But what of him? He could be hung if my uncle caught him, if someone recognized the General. And couldn’t my uncle demand Amelia be returned to him?
“But what of my uncle? If he finds you¯” I couldn’t face the possibility. “And what of Fischer? Don’t you need to find him?”
“I can go through Louisville just as easily as someplace else. You can’t go to Chicago now. Not with your brother-in-law dead.” Grayson’s voice was calm, resolute, and I was thankful for his strength. I hadn’t thought of what Amelia and I were to do, whether we would continue on to Chicago.
Could we go to Maryland? Back to our father’s farm? Did it still stand? What of our neighbors, the Cunnings, the Moores, and the Melroses? Did their places still r
emain? How would I support us if the farm was gone?
Only one thing was certain. I couldn’t remain in the same town as my uncle. I would have no means of employment, would be completely unable to support myself, let alone Amelia.
I don’t know how it happened but we soon found ourselves back in our small room. I removed Amelia’s shoes, idly noticing that they were almost too tight on her ankles. We should have bought her a new pair before boarding the train. I tucked her onto the mattress, knowing how exhausting grief could be. I bade her rest, that I would be near if she needed me. Grayson remained a strong presence in the room, sitting in the rough-hewn chair near the window. After the girl dozed I moved to stand by the window.
“It doesn’t make sense, does it?” The words came out on a ragged whisper as I counted the windows on the buildings across the street.
“Hmm?” He rose from the chair, and I soon felt those large hands warm my shoulders. He worked at the knots tightening my neck.
“That Gideon’s father kept him from fighting. So he’d be safe. And now he died, the week the war ends. If it’s ended.”
“No. It is hard to understand. Did his father lose any sons in the fighting?” I shook my head no before turning to face him. He lowered his hands partially, but when I rested my cheek against his chest they wrapped around my waist.
“Poor Rachel.” I whispered the words into his cotton shirt. To lose the man you loved, so shortly after being free to be with him must be horrible for her. I wrapped my arms around his middle. I couldn’t imagine. I tightened my grasp, wanting to hold him as close as I could. He must have sensed my feelings for he grabbed my hands then looped them around his neck. I didn’t question, not even when he scooped me up in his arms. He acted so recklessly for a man who had been wounded just a week earlier.
He sank into the chair and I wondered idly if it would hold our combined weight; he didn’t seem concerned. He tucked my head under his chin, whispering orders for me to rest, not to think for a while. He was caring for me just as I had done for Amelia. I didn’t mind ¯ in fact I liked it a lot. It was nice to be taken care of for a change.
Several hours must have passed for when I woke, night had just fallen. I was alone in the room, curled on the small mattress. A carafe of tepid water sat on the table, with a threadbare cloth beside it. It was still damp and I knew Grayson or Amelia had washed up some before going wherever it was they had gone.
I dipped the rag into the water after removing my gown and chemise. I washed myself quickly and redressed, not knowing when my companions would return. It felt good to be clean, though there wasn’t enough water to wash my hair. I removed the pins holding it in place and ran a brush through it. I had finished braiding it into one long rope when the door opened and they walked in.
Amelia carried a paper-wrapped parcel. She handed it to me and I opened it to find a sandwich. I thanked her and sat down. All I had thought about since waking was Rachel and how she must feel, losing Gideon. He was only a year or so older than I and already gone. I couldn’t fathom it.
We spent the remainder of the evening talking quietly. Amelia read aloud to us for a while from an old novel we found under the bed. Grayson listened quietly, but I could tell the man found little to entertain from such a book titled Pride Prejudice. I enjoyed it, recognizing it as a story my mother had read to me when I was younger than Amelia. I loved how Elizabeth was so at first against Mr. Darcy. But even that remembered pleasure fell short.
After reading for a while longer, this time in silence, Amelia declared she was going to bed. Grayson excused himself to give the two of us privacy to prepare for bed.
“Livy?” Amelia paused in brushing her hair, turning to where I sat, unbuttoning my dress.
“Yes?” I didn’t want to talk, to think about Gideon or Rachel. I hoped Amelia felt the same way.
“Do you think Gideon’s in heaven?” Heaven wasn’t a topic much addressed in my uncle’s home. Of course we, like everyone else in town, regularly attended church meetings. My uncle was an important man and him not going to services would be remarked upon ¯ and not favorably. My mother and father had felt differently. They went to the Lord’s house regularly, and taught Rachel, John, and I to do the same. I hate that I might have neglected that with Amelia.
“I don’t know. I didn’t know him well enough to judge whether he would get into heaven.” Heaven knew I wasn’t qualified to make that judgment of anyone! “I don’t think anyone can make such an evaluation of another, do you?”
“Well. No. But what he and Rachel did was wrong, wasn’t it?”
“What do you mean?” Had Rachel and Gideon engaged in activities young Amelia should not know about? I wondered this as I unraveled the bun I had twisted my hair into earlier. “What did they do that you think is wrong?”
“Well, in that book… Elizabeth’s sister… she runs away… and marries that man… the officer… and her whole family… they are so upset… Is what Rachel did wrong, leaving with Gideon? Is that why he died? Was he being punished?”
“Gideon didn’t die as punishment. He died because the Father decided it was time for him to go. We mustn’t seek to interpret the reason.” I paused to think a moment, wondering how to word my response. “And as to that story. What was wrong about what the girl did—”
What was different about Rachel’s behavior with Gideon and the younger sister in the book? Both had run away with a man their family didn’t approve of¯although I certainly had approved of Gideon ¯ only to marry the man. But unlike the girl in the book, Rachel was not returning with her husband. And upon thinking about it, the girl in the book hadn’t been truly happy with her officer either. Were there parallels to be drawn from the fiction and my sister’s life?
“She did what she did without thinking of the consequences that might befall her family. She held the potential to ruin not only her own happiness, but that of all of her sisters. And bring shame down on her father and mother. Rachel’s behavior is not like that ¯ she deeply considered what might happen to you and me. But she made the right decision for herself. It just ended badly.” My mind flashed back to the moment in Jessup’s barn, how Rachel had cried, worrying about what might befall Amelia and I. Could she have imagined this? “Now, go to bed, we will have plenty of time to talk tomorrow.”
After the child did as I ordered I took a few moments to rearrange the blankets into suitable bedding for Grayson and myself¯careful to keep some space between the two pallets. No wonder poor Amelia was so confused ¯ with Rachel running away and now seeing me embracing Grayson. She was just at the age when boys would start to notice her ¯ and she’d return that interest.
Grayson knocked quietly and I bid him entrance then turned decorously away as he removed his outer garments. He settled onto his blankets beside me and I turned to him. He remained silent, merely looking at me. He held out a hand and I took it, unsure what to do with it. He squeezed my fingers before bringing them to rest along his chest. I could feel the mat of hair just under the thin cotton of his undergarment. It was curious ¯ that hair was so much coarser than the strands on his head. I waited for him to begin kissing me but he didn’t oblige me. Instead, he pulled me across the minimal distance separating our blankets, tucking me under his chin. My nose was nudged into the hollow above his collarbone, a warm crevice smelling of that spicy scent I loved.
I slept fitfully, both from the knowledge that Rachel was somewhere alone, with only the body of her dead husband for comfort, and from expecting ¯ needing ¯ Grayson to kiss me again. Just so I could forget for awhile the uncertainty of the next several days. He didn’t oblige my unstated wishes though I know he must have sensed my feelings. I wondered if it was out of a misguided attempt at nobility. I just wanted him to hold me for a while.
Amelia woke me several hours after I slid into an uneasy sleep. She was sick to her stomach and needed me. I knew what ailed the girl ¯ nerves and grief. There was little I could do to help her save bathe her face in cool water
and tell her it would pass. She clung to me so trustingly, like she had when she was smaller. I had spent the last ten years caring for this person and I loved her so deeply. She was more my child than my sister and for the first time I wondered what it would be like to have another child to love.
I didn’t want to spend my life alone, and Amelia was near grown. Four to five years from now she would be entertaining suitors and marriage. Where would I be then? Would I find a man to marry, have a family?
I hadn’t thought that far ahead and it momentarily stumped me. Was it wrong of me to be worrying over my own future with my brother-in-law newly in the hereafter? What would become of Rachel? Would she choose to stay with her husband’s family, so close to my uncle? Rachel had long hated that man and I couldn’t picture her remaining that near to him. And him? He would torment her every time they met in town. Would she choose to come with Amelia and me wherever it was we chose to go?
“Grayson?” I whispered the words as Amelia had drifted back into slumber. We had been careful not to disturb him. “Are you awake?”
“Hmm.” His eyes opened and shown nearly black in the dim lamplight. I hadn’t lowered the wick before lying down beside the man again. “What do you need?”
“What will happen? Where will Amelia and I go? After the funeral?”
“I don’t know. Do you have any other family besides your uncle?” His breath tickled my nose and I twitched, raising my chin slightly. “Someone who’d take you in?”
“No. There used to be an aunt, in Maryland. I don’t know anymore. My mother’s sister. But I wouldn’t want to go there. She was quite elderly and infirm. It wouldn’t be fair to burden her.”
“I don’t know then.”
“Grayson?”
“Hmm?”
“Can we go with you? Maybe I can find a job, teaching or sewing. We won’t be a burden. I promise.” Was I begging? I couldn’t be serious!
“Where would you live? With me? What would the rest of the town think?” Grayson’s voice was so infuriatingly calm I wanted to scream. Did he think I begged on regular occasion? “Never mind how they’d treat you and me ¯ what about your sister? How would those around town view Amelia?”
