She helped him toward a wagon where a fellow soldier had just pulled in from the street. He hopped off, ready to collect his friend.
“Sorry, Davy,” he said. “They held me at post. Got here as quick as I could.”
“That’s all right. Miss Emily took good care of me.”
She smiled at Sergeant Malone, then the other man. He tipped his kepi. “Bless ya, miss,” he said.
The sergeant looked back at her. “I suppose this is the last time we will meet,” he said. “I’ll be returning to New York tomorrow.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful! Will you please give my regards to your family?”
“I’ll do that, as long as you promise me one thing.”
“What is that?”
“Continue to look after the rest of our wounded boys.”
A lump filled her throat. Emily wanted nothing more than to do so. She reminded herself that letting a soldier lean on her as he hobbled down the church steps was just as important as working at the hospital. I can still show kindness. Perhaps by doing so they, in turn, will show compassion to each other, blue or gray.
“I would be honored to do so, Sergeant. You look after yourself now, you hear?”
“Oh, I intend to, miss.”
She watched as his comrade helped him into the wagon. With a final wave, they drove off. Emily then turned back toward the church. Her heart flip-flopped. There just a few feet in front of her was the one man she’d never expected to see again.
* * *
Evan had watched her assist the wounded sergeant, her face pretty and bright. The moment she saw him, however, the look faded. An unreadable expression now masked her features. Would she flee or scorn him? He did not know.
He was surprised that she spoke first.
“Dr. Mackay...I—I was not aware that you were here.”
Her manner was cordial but guarded. She offered him a smile, but it was not as steady as the one she had given the sergeant. He understood exactly why.
His head told him to leave, that no woman in her right mind would even give him the decency of a listening ear. But Evan felt compelled to try. “I came with Dr. Turner,” he said. “May I speak with you for a moment?”
She hesitated but then nodded. People brushed past on all sides. What he had to say was not for public ears, so he motioned toward the tree. “If you would be so kind,” he said.
Slowly, she stepped beneath a canopy of leaves that had already begun to turn gold. When she looked up at him, Evan was cut by his guilt. In her eyes he saw only innocence. She was no stone thrower, no rebel spy. She was simply a young woman who had the audacity to treat wounded men of opposing armies with equal respect.
He shifted his kepi from one hand to the other. His mouth felt as though it was full of cotton. “I wish to...apologize.”
Surprise flooded her face. Evan took solace in the fact that at least it wasn’t anger.
“Apologize?”
“Aye. For my part in your dismissal. I know now you were telling the truth. You did not have anything to do with the prisoner’s escape. That rebel private confessed.”
She blinked. “Which private? Private Reed?”
He returned his kepi to the other hand. Why did he feel so anxious? “Aye.”
“What exactly did he confess?”
“He told me he had you sing because he knew Powell and Branson were planning something. He wanted to keep you occupied so you would not interfere.”
A look of hurt, of immense disappointment filled her face. She pressed her lips together for a moment. Evan wondered if it was to keep them from quivering. Emily was finally learning the hard lesson that despite what she thought, those rebs were not honorable.
He felt sorry for her, nonetheless.
“I believed I was comforting a troubled man,” she whispered.
“I know that. I should have believed you when you said so. You do not lie. You have made that point clearly enough.”
She looked up at him, and her expression tugged at his heart. He shifted his kepi back to the other hand. Have out with all of it, he told himself and cleared his throat.
“My anger over the escape blinded my judgment. That was why I brought your oath into question before Colonel Cole.”
He told her what Jacob had said, how the colonel had already been aware of what she and the other nurses had done. “Had I not publicly forced his hand, you and your fellow nurses could have remained at the hospital.”
He expected her to stiffen, to fire back harsh words in revenge. Instead only a look of pain shone in her eyes. Evan’s guilt was heavy. He hated himself for disrupting the duty she so loved.
“I have no right to ask for your forgiveness,” he said, “but I want you to know that I am truly sorry for what I have done.”
That look of hurt changed to the one he had seen so many times before. “Evan, of course I forgive you. How could I not?”
Evan. Not Dr. Mackay. And of course I forgive you? He was completely baffled. “I am your enemy.”
She shook her head, her golden curls swaying ever so slightly. “You are not my enemy.”
“I accused you of treason. I had you removed from the hospital.”
“You did what you thought was necessary at the time.” The corners of her mouth lifted with the slightest smile. “We all rush to judgment. We all make mistakes. If we were perfect creatures, then Christ need not have died.”
The weight of her words, of her gaze, was like a cannon crushing his chest. His shoulders sagged. His lungs begged for air.
“Aye, but some of us have made more mistakes than others.”
He lowered his eyes. The ruffled hem of her skirt pulled a memory from his mind. Mary had one just like that. She had been buried in it. Inwardly he groaned. His life was one long series of regrets.
“I know it must be difficult for you to be here in Baltimore,” he heard her say.
Evan looked up. The little lass could read him like a book. She knew he was thinking of the past. “I never should have come,” he said.
Her expression was gentle, and tenderness marked her voice. “Yet had you not, how many more would have died? Think of all the Federal soldiers you care for whenever those trains pull into the station. Those men are alive today because you tended to them. And what about Sergeant Cooper or Julia? Or little Rachael?”
“What are you saying? That God accepts my sin? That he excuses my pride, my hard-heartedness?” He knew that couldn’t be the case. He had been raised on the Scriptures.
“No,” Emily said. “Your hatred has indeed cost you dearly. It has cost you the time you could have spent with Mary and the life you may have had after her passing.” She moved a little closer. His heart beat faster.
“But God’s love is great, and His grace is greater than our sins. He has used you for His purpose, despite what you have done.”
How could she look at him like that? How could she speak with such compassion, such confidence that it made him want to fall upon his face and seek his Creator? His eyes began to cloud.
“Let go of your hatred, your guilt, Evan. God has so much more for you.”
“Emily...” His tongue felt thick. Try as he might, the words would not come.
“I say!” Jacob Turner suddenly called from the front steps. “Miss Emily! What a lovely surprise!”
As she turned to smile at the old man, Evan snapped back to attention. Emily Davis had done it again. She had reduced him to weakness and confusion. What was it about her that disarmed him so?
Chapter Thirteen
Before her emotions could become obvious, Emily bid both physicians a good day, then hurried to her father’s carriage. Her thoughts were all aflutter and her hands were trembling.
You do not lie. You have made that point clearly enough.
He had come to the meeting. He had sought her out. His declaration filled her with joy for she had been vindicated, at least in his eyes. That, however, which truly gripped Emily’s heart was the lo
ok on his face, just before Dr. Turner arrived. When she’d told Evan she’d forgiven him, it became clear that he could not comprehend such a notion.
Her father gave the reins a click. The carriage rolled up Charles Street. “I noticed Dr. Mackay was at the prayer meeting today,” he said.
“Yes,” Emily said. “Did he speak with you?”
“No, but I see he spoke with you.”
Emily could feel heat creeping into her face. There was an explanation expected. She could hear it in her father’s voice. Her parents knew she had taken an interest in Evan. Undoubtedly they could give her a list of Baltimore gentlemen far more suitable for the title of husband.
“Dr. Mackay came to apologize,” Emily told them. “He said he had allowed his anger to cloud his judgment. He said he knew I was not involved in Lewis Powell’s escape. Another man confessed to assisting by distracting me.”
Her father nodded contemplatively, his stovepipe hat shifting slightly. “Good,” he said. “A wise man admits when he is wrong.”
Her mother cast her a glance but said nothing. The carriage came to a stop in front of Julia’s house. Eager to end this conversation, Emily gathered her sewing supplies and quickly climbed out.
“We will be by to collect you at four o’clock,” her mother said. “Don’t forget we are to attend the Moffits’ autumn gala tonight. It will be a lovely evening. I am certain you will enjoy it.”
Emily inwardly groaned. A night in high society was the last thing she wanted, but she promised her mother, “I will be ready.”
She hurried through the garden gate. Sally met her at the front door. She was holding little Rachael. The baby’s pink gown stood out in stark contrast against Sally’s black taffeta.
Emily greeted them warmly. Sally, struggling to smile, walked her to the parlor. Julia was on the settee, knitting needles in her lap. Emily was pleased to see her color was improving.
“How was the prayer meeting?” Julia asked.
“Very well,” Emily told her. “Everyone is asking about you both. They are eager for your return.”
Sally didn’t say anything, but Julia smiled. “Father says I may attend soon, but I cannot serve at the bread table for at least several more weeks.” She chuckled. “And if Samuel has his way I will never work another day in my life.”
Emily smiled. She knew confinement was getting to her friend. Julia had always been a busy bee and it was surely torture not to be baking bread and serving it at the prayer meetings.
“Rest will make you stronger in the end,” she told her.
Julia rolled her eyes at Sally. “Spoken like a true nurse.”
Sally smiled, though the look was still heavy. She then handed Rachael to her mother. “I’ll fetch us some tea.”
When she had gone, Emily whispered to Julia. “How is she?”
“It is difficult for her. She has been by my side day and night. I tell her she need not do so much, that she should rest herself, but she says she would rather be here than at home.”
“Surrounded by Stephen’s memories.”
“Yes.”
Emily crossed the space between them, reached for Rachael. The dark-haired beauty wiggled happily. “Have you heard from Edward?”
Julia frowned slightly. “No, but hopefully soon.” She held up her yarn. “I am making him a pair of socks.”
“That’s a fine idea.”
Emily claimed the nearby rocking chair and settled Rachael in her arms. The baby stared up at her, eyes wide. Emily couldn’t help but remember that Evan had been the first to hold her.
“Has there been any change?” Julia asked. “Any hope of returning to the hospital?”
She shook her head, doing her best to keep her emotions in check. Despite Evan’s apology she knew she would never return to her nursing duties here in Baltimore. Something as simple as packing crates at Apollo Hall was also doubtful. In order to have access to the Union camps and hospitals, the Christian Commission had to be absolutely certain of the loyalty of their volunteers.
While Reverend Henry would grant her exemption, Mr. Goldsborough Griffith, president of the Maryland chapter, would not. Emily couldn’t blame him. He had the reputation of the entire organization to protect. There had already been instances of commission wagons being used illegally to transport goods to the Confederate army, accusations of spying as well. They could not run the risk of further scandal.
“I am sorry,” Julia said. “I know it pains you deeply.”
Sally came back into the room, a tray of tea cakes in her hand. “I for one don’t know how you could stand it, Em. They all began to look like Stephen to me. I never want to step foot inside a hospital again.”
“That is understandable.”
Rising, Emily took the tray, giving Sally the baby instead. She snuggled Rachael close as she glanced at the tintype of Edward on the mantel. Emily knew despite her grief for her brother, Sally looked to the future. She longed for what Julia had now, a husband, a child of her own to love.
Sally placed Rachael in the cradle. “Well,” she said. “We had best finish our quilt for this little lady before she grows too big to use it.”
“Indeed,” Julia said.
They rolled out what they had started. Emily claimed a corner, then from her basket fished out her needle and thread. Trudy and Elizabeth soon arrived.
“Just like old times, isn’t it?” Trudy said.
Everyone smiled and did their best to think of positive topics to discuss. Sally shared a recipe for canning tomatoes. Trudy had one for pickles. War-relevant subjects, however, soon invaded.
“How are your efforts on behalf of Elijah and Elisha coming along?” Elizabeth asked Julia.
She and Sam had befriended two young slave boys back when they had worked the refreshment table at the prayer meeting. Over the past few months, they had tried repeatedly to ransom the pair.
“Not well at all,” Julia said sadly. “The dry goods merchant who holds their papers will not let them go.”
Listening, Emily’s heart sank a little deeper in her chest.
“I thought at first the man was being greedy,” Julia said, “but we have offered more than what he has asked for, time and again. I think he is simply being cruel.”
“He knows you and Sam care for the children,” Trudy said.
“Yes. Samuel says the man must realize that we are abolitionists.”
“And so he will not budge,” said Elizabeth.
Julia nodded sadly.
“What will you do now?” Emily asked.
“Keep trying, I suppose. Keep praying. I know the boys are in God’s hands.”
Her words caused Emily to think of Evan. All her prayers on his behalf were at best only partially successful. He may no longer view her as a stone thrower, but unforgiveness still poisoned his heart. Even today, as he had come to apologize, the hardness in his eyes was there. Emily knew she could not continue to pine for a man filled with such hate. There could be no future between them.
Biting back her pain, she focused on the stitches in the fabric before her.
I don’t know why You allowed our paths to cross, Lord but I trust that You had a purpose. I leave him in Your hands and I ask You...please heal my heart.
* * *
Jacob talked all the way to the Barnum Hotel, scarcely taking a breath. He was speaking of new medical techniques in the Boston hospitals. That was one subject Evan was interested in. He did his best to listen, yet Emily Davis’s words kept interfering.
I forgive you. How could I not?
He had accused her of aiding in the escape of a rebel prisoner. He had brought about her dismissal from the hospital. Yet still, she extended grace.
Even after I have made it perfectly clear what I think of those Johnnies, she forgives me. She tells me I have been used by God.
Evan could not reconcile her charity with his actions. He could not.
“Come on, young man,” he heard Jacob say. “We mustn’t keep Mr. Coll
ins waiting.”
“Mr. who?”
“Mr. Collins and his daughter, Louisa. He owns several cotton mills here in town. He makes tents for the army. Remember? I told you.”
Evan didn’t remember any such details concerning the man’s loyalties to government and country. In fact he hadn’t even realized they had reached the hotel until then. He hopped from the carriage, although he wasn’t exactly eager to dine. “Aye. Sorry.”
He followed after the old man. Just inside the lobby, beneath a cut crystal chandelier, an obviously well-to-do businessman was waiting. His daughter, a dark-haired, dark-eyed copy of himself, was on his arm. Jacob made the introductions.
“Dr. Evan Mackay, may I present Mr. Jefferson Collins and his daughter, Louisa.”
Evan nodded. “Sir... Miss.”
The cotton man responded in kind. The girl did, as well, although she looked about as happy to be there as Evan felt.
“Shall we, gentlemen?” Mr. Collins said, and they entered the dining room.
Water glasses clinked and the pleasant hum of civilized conversation swirled about them as they walked to a reserved table. Collins assisted Louisa with her chair; then they all sat down. Unsurprisingly, Evan had been placed next to her.
While the waiter took their orders, Evan scanned the room. Just across the way he spied Emily’s father. The gray-headed Southern lawyer must have been informally arguing in defense of some reb. His table companion, a known officer attached to the provost marshal’s department, did not look pleased.
He’s pressing some constitutional point, no doubt, Evan thought. That must be where she gets it from. Once more he remembered her words. Of course I forgive you. You are not my enemy.
How in a time of war could she not consider him the enemy? Sides had been taken. He would stand on what was right. She would foolishly adhere to her convictions.
His chest burned. She cannot look upon all men as equals. We are not equal. Traitors and renegades are not the same as those who hold to the Union.
Her words drifted again through his mind. If we were perfect creatures, then Christ need not have died....
“Louisa is interested in nursing,” he heard Collins say.
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