Shades of Honor

by Wendy Lindstrom

  o0o

  ... July 1, 1863. Arrived at Gettysburg. Artillery roared on all sides, but we were not engaged that night.

  July 2: General Greene ordered us to dig breastworks, which we were later grateful to have as we took shelter behind those makeshift walls, the ring of ramrods and blast of our muskets filling the night as it became an unimaginable, unspeakable hell.

  July 3: Dawn arrived cool and cloudy, but we were drowned in our own sweat and weary to our soul from long hours of fighting so fiercely. We endured one fierce volley after another from the Rebel line. The battle raged. Dead bodies began to putrefy. I gagged repeatedly on the stench and squinted at the enemy through a river of tears. The metal barrel of my gun blistered my palms. The day became an endless slaughter and ammunition grew scarce. There were desperate charges from both sides. Smoke-blackened faces were streaked with sweat and tears. Our lips bled from the saltpeter in the bullet cartridges and it was hard to recognize our own men. William raced by me in a panic only to return a moment later and roughly scrub my face with his shirtsleeve. When he determined it was me beneath the grime, he hugged me fiercely, told me to keep my head down, then raised his rifle again.

  Enemy fire continued until the morning of the fourth, when the Confederates finally retreated. Thousands of bloated corpses scattered the ground and rocks. The earth was riddled by grapeshot and pieces of canister. Glazed, unseeing eyes stared back at me from bloody piles where men had fallen dead upon their friends.

  The sounds of whistling shells and cracking muskets still roared in my ears in the silence of that desolate morning.

  A dark rage churned in my gut at the pathetic waste. I yelled and cursed all men for the destruction of our families, for robbing our lives of peace. William dragged me away, but not before I gazed one last time upon the field of dead men who would never return home to those who waited for them.

  Dear God...what manner of animals are we?

  Evelyn closed the book, unable to see through her tears.

  To read of Radford's agony was heartbreaking. She turned up the lantern and hugged the journal to her chest, feeling utterly powerless to help a man who'd suffered so much.

  She had to talk to her father, to beseech him one last time to ignore Radford’s privacy and try to help him before the pressure drove him insane or something terrible happened to him.

  Hoping he was still awake, Evelyn crossed the hall and knocked on her father’s bedroom door. He didn’t answer. Knowing he’d been weak and upset since the fight between Radford and Kyle, Evelyn eased open the door to assure herself that he was sleeping.

  Her father was sprawled on the floor, his skin as pallid as paste.

  “Papa!” Evelyn rushed to his side, blood pounding through her ears. She shook his shoulder, but he remained unresponsive.

  “Doctor Kendall! Help!” Evelyn yelled, her panicked voice echoing through the hall. She heard a thump, imagined the doctor’s feet hitting the floor, then his door burst open and he hobbled down the hall into her father’s room.

  He gripped the footboard on the bed and lowered himself to his knees with a jerky, pain-filled movement. Using two fingers, he touched her father’s neck, then put his ear to his chest. “Help me get him into bed,” he said.

  They worked their arms beneath her father’s prostrate form and poured their strength into lifting him onto the mattress.

  “Is he breathing?” she asked as her voice quaked with fear.

  “Yes, thank God. Get my bag from my room.”

  Evelyn raced to the guest room, grabbed the doctor’s bag from beside the satchel he’d packed in preparation for leaving on the morning train, then raced back to her father’s room.

  “William?” Doc Kendall called. He lightly slapped her father’s cheeks, but didn’t receive a response. “What happened?” he asked, lifting her father’s eyelids.

  “I don’t know,” Evelyn said, sick to her stomach with fear. “I thought he might still be awake, but when I checked on him, I found him on the floor. Is he...will Papa be all right?”

  The doctor’s eyes were grave. “I honestly don’t know. He’s extremely weak. He must have been on the floor for a while. He’s cold as hell.” After giving her father a more thorough physical, the doctor sighed and rubbed his neck. “There’s nothing to do but wait.” He glanced at Evelyn. “Will you be all right alone for a while?”

  Filled with fear, Evelyn nodded.

  “All right, then. There’s nothing else to do but keep him warm,” the doctor said, covering her father with blankets. He stepped back and patted Evelyn’s shoulder with a fatherly kindness that surprised her. “You sit with him a while. I’ll go next door and let them know what happened.”

  Evelyn watched the doctor shuffle from the room and prayed that Radford would return with the old man. She needed him.

  Thirty minutes passed before Evelyn heard Radford’s boots on the stairs. “Evelyn,” Radford said quietly as he came into the room and squatted in front of her chair. “Are you all right?”

  Her eyes misted and she shook her head, knowing she was far from all right.

  “Your father has survived unbelievable battles. He'll fight this, too.”

  Evelyn bit her lip and averted her face, praying Radford was right, and wondering if he was going to survive his own battle. He looked exhausted and physically abused, his hands shaky and red. She couldn’t stand to look in his haunted eyes after reading his journal and knowing the torment he was suffering.

  “He’ll make it through this,” Radford said, stroking his hand down Evelyn’s arm.

  “This is my fault,” she said, picking at her fingernail. “Papa’s been so upset about the break between you and Kyle, and my part in it, that he could hardly eat all week. I should have never run for Papa when you and Kyle were fighting. It was too much for him.”

  Radford held her trembling fingers in his hand. “Regrets won’t change or improve your father’s condition.”

  “I know, but I’ve been so selfish!” Evelyn closed her eyes against the sting of tears. “I hurt Kyle and caused you to betray him. Now Papa’s in bed because he has worried himself sick over the three of us.”

  “Your father’s failing health isn’t your fault.” Radford’s shoulders slumped as though the weight of the world rested on them. “Neither is my problem with Kyle. My betrayal started long before last night.”

  o0o

  “How’s he doing?” Agatha asked as she entered the bedroom where Evelyn had been sitting with her father all night. Despite being tired, Evelyn was glad to see Agatha, hoping it would keep her mind off Kyle and his visit that morning. He’d been rigid and silent as a stone to her, bristling with such animosity when he passed Radford on the stairs that Evelyn thought Kyle would strike him again. Thankfully, they hadn’t fought, but both men were so tense, Evelyn’s nerves were frayed by the time Kyle left the house. She’d tried to thank him for coming by, but Kyle had made it painfully clear he’d come to see her father, not her.

  “Has he been awake yet?” Agatha asked.

  With a weary sigh, Evelyn shook her head. “Once, briefly. Doc Kendall says Papa’s recovery is up to the Lord this time.”

  “Well, you must keep your faith. It's times like this when we need it most.” Agatha went to William's side and tapped him lightly on the chest. “Don't you dare leave me again, William Tucker. I’ve yet to have the pleasure of getting even with you.”

  To Evelyn’s utter disbelief, her father’s eyes fluttered open and he squinted up at Agatha. “Papa!” Evelyn cried. With profound joy, she rushed to his side and clasped his limp hand.

  Agatha held his other hand. “It's about time you remembered your manners and greeted me properly.”

  One side of his mouth lifted. “Aggie. Would rec-nize that horrennous voice anawhere,” he said, his speech badly slurred.

  Agatha’s smile faltered. “You'd better mend fast so I can tell you what a rotten man you are for breaking my heart all those years ago.”r />
  “Ah, Aggie...Fwank was a wucky guy.”

  Tears filled Agatha's eyes and she pressed her handkerchief to her quivering mouth. “William, you must get well, you hear? You must!” She choked and turned away. “I’ll have to come back tomorrow,” she whispered, then hurried from the room.

  Evelyn dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand, the pain a welcome diversion from the one shredding her heart. She touched her father's paralyzed face, but his eyes were closed. “Papa?” she called, but he’d slipped away again, leaving Evelyn alone with her fear.

  Carefully, she lay down beside him and rested her cheek against his thin shoulder. The shadows of evening eventually darkened the room and Evelyn rubbed her father’s chest.

  “Do you remember the day you took Mama and me on a picnic in the gorge? Mama made fun of your legs and you tossed her in the water.” Evelyn’s lips curved against his shoulder. “That was one of my best days. Mama looked so pretty with her hair wet, and you spent the whole day making us laugh. Sometimes, I can still hear Mama’s breathless laughter echoing through the gorge. You could always make us laugh, Papa.” Evelyn propped up on an elbow and stroked her father’s dry cheek, silently begging him to wake. “You were the best father a girl could have, and now you're a wonderful friend. Please don't leave me.”

  She pressed her lips to his shoulder, smelling the starch of the sheets and the light perspiration on his nightshirt. “I feel as helpless as I did the day Mama died.” She lifted her head and gazed down at him. “I didn’t know men cried like that, but when you fell apart, it was awful. Seeing you like this is worse, Papa.”

  Moisture beaded up on Evelyn’s lower lids and she buried her face in his shoulder. The sound of a door closing downstairs jolted her, but she stayed close to her father.

  “Aunt Evelyn!” Rebecca's small voice called up to her.

  Evelyn drew a shuddering breath beneath the weight of her leaden chest, then let it sigh away and ease the constriction in her throat. “I love you, Papa.” She kissed his hot, dry cheek, then left the bed and lit a lantern.

  “Is Grandpa better?” Rebecca asked, peeking inside the door.

  “We'll have to ask him when he wakes up,” Evelyn said, not wanting to frighten Rebecca with the truth of his condition.

  Rebecca went to the bed and touched his cheek. “Grandpa?” she called quietly. She nudged him gently, but he didn't move. Rebecca's mouth drooped. She leaned against the bed and picked at the yarn ties on the blanket. “He can't hear me.”

  Evelyn patted the bed. “I'll bet Grandpa would like a hug.”

  Rebecca crawled onto the bed and perched on her knees beside him. She took his limp hand in hers and called his name. “Why don't he wake up?” she asked, but Evelyn couldn’t answer. She compressed her lips and swallowed the tears that surged in her throat.

  “What are you doing on Grandpa's bed?” Radford asked as he entered the room.

  Rebecca looked up and her shoulders sagged. “He won't wake up, Daddy.”

  Radford leaned over and cupped her chin. “Grandpa needs his sleep, and so do you. Kiss him good night, so Grandma can take you home.”

  “I want to stay here with you, Daddy.”

  Radford shook his head, but Evelyn caught his eye. “Let her stay with us,” she said. Doc Kendall had delayed leaving because of her father’s collapse, which provided a suitable chaperone that had allowed Radford to stay and keep vigil with Evelyn throughout the long night hours.

  “All right, sprite, you can stay,” he said. “Come on.”

  She laid her head on William’s chest and gave him a hug only children know how to give, then kissed his flaccid cheek. “‘Night, Grandpa.”

  After they left, Evelyn thought about how much she loved those two. She hadn’t planned to love them. But she did.

  “Evewyn?”

  Her father's hoarse voice startled her and she hurried to his side. “Thank the Lord, you're awake.”

  “Where's your movvurr?”

  “Mother?” Evelyn asked, having difficulty understanding his slurred speech. When he nodded, she was sorry she'd guessed correctly. “She's not here, Papa.”

  He looked confused for a moment then comprehension lit his eyes. “Thaz right.” His lips compressed and he averted his face. She smoothed back his thin hair, understanding how deeply his heart ached. Slowly, he returned his misty gaze to hers. “Whaa are you doin’ abouu Raforr ann Kyle.”

  Intense shame washed through Evelyn. More than anything in the world, she’d wanted to make her father proud. “I’m so sorry, Papa. I didn’t mean to let you down.” Evelyn’s eyes filled and her throat convulsed as she tried to hold back her tears. “I tried not to love Radford, but I do. I can’t marry Kyle.”

  He fumbled for her fingers, his own trembling with the effort. “I unnerstan.” He gave her hand a weak pat. “Our heart chooses who we love, pixie. Just wiz I could stay arounn to see my grannchillen.”

  Evelyn covered his lips with her fingers. “Don't say that.” She laid her head on his chest, fighting the ocean that threatened to spill from her eyes. “Please don’t say that.”

  He turned his head until her fingers lay upon his hollow cheek. “Evewyn.” With resignation she lifted her head and looked down at him. “I wannn you happy. Raaforr lovz you.”

  “You're right, William.” Evelyn’s glance flew to Radford who stood in the doorway, hands in pockets, eyes dark.

  “Come here, Raaforr. Wannn talk to you, too.”

  Radford placed a chair beside the bed. “Glad to see you’re awake. Rebecca's been waiting for a story.”

  A weak chuckle sounded in William's throat. “Thaz your job now. And you damn well be'er take care of my daugh'er.”

  “I intend to.”

  His gaze locked on Radford. “We need to talk, son.”

  “I’ll check on Rebecca,” Evelyn said, respectfully leaving them alone.

  “Don't have muz strength for this, but some things need sayin'.”

  “I've got all night, William.”

  “I don't, so lizzen to me for once. Your father raiz four sons to be prouu of and I love all you boys. You muss find a way to fix things with Kyle.”

  Shame and sorrow consumed Radford. “If it takes the rest of my life, I’ll find a way. I swear it.”

  William nodded. “Your father was a good frienn, but you and I had a spezial frienzship, Raaforr. Our time togezzer in the war was hell, but it made us close—like father and son. It made us strong.” William paused to catch his breath. “I know why you thinn you're a cowarr.”

  The statement shocked Radford. “You were there. My actions speak for themselves.”

  “Bull. You're no cowarr, Raaforr. Time you faced that.”

  Radford believed he had accepted the truth, but he remained mute, unwilling to challenge William’s statement.

  “Remember the promizz you made me affer Chancellorsville?”

  Radford nodded, remembering the words he had spoken to William after deserting from his first battle. He’d promised to conquer his fear and face each battle like a man, to embrace each moment of his life with passion, and to trust in the caliber of his own character.

  “Truz yourself, Raaforr. You’re worthy of my daugh’er’s love and her belief in you. Don’t let her down.”

  Radford clasped the hand of his best friend, his father, his mentor. “I'm sorry for this situation, William. I never meant for this to happen, but I do love her. I intend to marry her as soon as I straighten out a few things.”

  “You’re lettin’ it eat you up, Raaforr. Just turn arounn and look at it!” William said, his chest heaving from emotion. “Stop runnin’, dammit. My daugh’er needs you. So does Rebecca.”

  “I know.”

  “Then take care of it.” His hand trembled. “Take care of Evewyn for me.” His eyes teared and he sighed tiredly. “She’s my life. An’ don't wait no mournin’ period to marry her. Don't believe in all that bull-malarky.”

  “I'm hoping t
here won't be any need, William. I've been looking forward to parking my rocking chair next to yours someday and seeing if I can't outdo some of those tall tales you tell Rebecca.”

  His eyes crinkled at the corners, pushing aside the sheen of moisture that had welled up. “Never happen,” he said. “Tazes years of practice to get that full of bull.”

  “Then you'd better perk up. Rebecca's missing you.”

  Radford felt the faint squeeze of William's hand. “That li’l one gave this old man sumpin’ worth living for. You tell her thaz for me when she's ole ‘nough to unnerstann.”

  Radford nodded, too overcome by emotion to answer.

  William coughed weakly, winded from his moments of talking; still, he clung to Radford’s hand. “Let Evewyn help you. You have nothin’ to be ‘shamed of, Raaforr. You need help to unnerstann that.”

  “Thank you,” Radford said, admiring the man who had given him so much, who had protected him like a son, and taught him by example how to become a man.

  “Do it for me,” William said, his eyes drifting closed. “Do it for an ole man who lovz you.”

  Radford clenched his fist and closed his eyes, unable to watch William’s struggle to breathe. He sat up and wiped William’s face with the wet cloth that had been lying in the basin. “This battle isn’t over yet, William. Now fight!” he whispered fiercely, his fingers clenched in the cold cloth.

  But William didn’t respond to Radford’s command and his breathing grew more labored despite Doc Kendall’s renewed attention and Evelyn’s continuous prayers. The three of them sat at William’s side until Radford forced the doctor to go to bed. Eventually, exhaustion claimed Evelyn, and she dozed in her chair. William’s breathing grew more labored, and though he roused occasionally, he was no longer lucid.

  Late in the night, Radford was finally forced to wake Evelyn. Filled with remorse, he brushed the hair from her face and watched her eyes flutter open. “You’d better wake up, love.”