Taylor laughed softly, then rested his chin on his hand. His eyes twinkled at me. “So what do you do now? Anika, Aidan, and Flanna—you know all about them. But you’re the next heir of Cahira O’Connor, Kathleen. And we’re only months away from a new century.”
“You know, it’s really ironic that you should be so curious about all this.” I opened the journal and pulled out a sheaf of paper I’d placed inside. “Since you and the professor urged me to pursue this, I was curious to see whether or not I was directly related to Flanna O’Connor. So I traced her descendants and mapped out her family tree.” I glanced down at the paper, then shot Taylor a quick smile. “Very interesting stuff, genealogy.”
“Really?” Taylor pulled back his shoulders and lifted his chin. “How so?”
“I’m not descended from Flanna at all, so I must come from another line of the O’Connors. But there was one really interesting line. Alden and Flanna Haynes gave birth to Alden Roger Haynes, born in 1863. Alden Roger married, and his wife gave birth to Felma Frankie Haynes in 1887, who married and gave birth to Lela Johnston in 1915, who married and gave birth to Arthur Johnston Morgan in 1943, who married and fathered Taylor Johnston Morgan in 1973.”
The shock of recognition blanched Taylor’s features. “You don’t mean—”
“You.” I nodded, more than a little pleased that I’d be able to hound him for a while. “If I’m an heir of Cahira O’Connor, then so are you. Flanna O’Connor is your great-great-grandmother.”
Taylor had been interested before that moment, but now the facts overwhelmed him. He sank back into the wing chair and turned away from me, his hand rubbing over his face as if he could somehow wipe the truth away.
“What does this mean?” Abruptly, he turned to me. “What in the world are we supposed to do about it?”
I wanted to laugh. I’d been asking the same question for months, but neither Taylor nor the professor had been able to give me a clear answer.
“Maybe,” I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees, “we take what we’ve learned and we look for some avenue where we can do some good. The professor seemed to think that I’d need something from each one of the other heirs to make a difference when my turn came. He said I should take Anika’s spiritual strength, Aidan’s creative joy, and some quality of Flanna’s—”
“Which one?” Taylor interrupted. “You’re not a doctor.”
“No, but Flanna was more than a doctor. She had to step outside the role society expected of her. Maybe that’s what I’m supposed to do.”
Taylor leaned forward, and his eyes twinkled as they met mine. “I don’t know, Kathleen. There aren’t many things women can’t do today. Unless you want to play professional football—”
“No way.” I crossed my legs on the sofa and ran my hand through my hair. “Honestly, Taylor, this may be the end of it. Those three women did remarkable things with their lives, and I’m proud to think I’m somehow linked to them. I have learned a lot from this project. Who knows? Maybe we’re both supposed to take what we’ve learned and make the world a better place.”
Taylor stood up and gave me a twisted smile. “So—you want to get a bite to eat? Since you’ve done such a good job with my great-great grandmother, maybe you can shed some light on my unhappy childhood.”
“I’d like the food, but I’ll pass on the psychoanalysis.” I stood up and reached for my shoes, which had disappeared beneath the couch.
Taylor moved out into the hall in a fog of deep thought, and I tried to concentrate on tying my shoelaces. I had enjoyed finishing Flanna O’Connor’s story, especially when I discovered the link between the Boston doctor and Taylor Morgan. The next time he insinuated that I was destined to save the world in the twenty-first century, I’d just ask him if he was prepared to play Moneypenny to my James Bond.
He was leaning against the wall, his hands in his pockets, when I came into the hall. “You know why people write historical novels and screenplays?” he said, voicing his thoughts aloud.
I pulled my jacket from the hook in the hall and swung it over my shoulders. “Tell me.”
“People write historical stories because they deal with contemporary issues too painful to study at close range.”
His eyes moved into mine, glowing with brilliant intelligence while I fumbled in ignorance. “And your point is?”
He opened the front door, but stopped me before I could walk through the doorway. “What are the issues you’ve been studying? Spiritual corruption in Anika’s day, greed and lust in Aidan’s, and slavery and prejudice in Flanna’s. What if”—his voice dropped in volume, as if he were confiding a deep secret—“what if you will be confronted with all these issues in the coming months? Think about it, Kathleen. God may have been preparing you through all this—”
“I’m hungry, and you promised to feed me.” I moved past him into the hallway, then turned and winked at him. “Coming, Moneypenny?”
This time he was left fumbling in the dark. “Money what?” he asked, pulling the door closed. “I don’t get it.”
“Remind me to introduce you to James Bond sometime,” I said, slipping my arm through his as we moved out to the street. “You know, Taylor, you really should get out more often.”
He tilted his head and gave me an uncertain smile. “I’d like that, Kathleen. You know, I’ve had a chance to think about it, and I don’t want to end up like the professor. He was a wonderful man, but he was…quite alone.”
“You don’t have to be alone.” I tightened my hold on his arm and pointed to the Chinese restaurant on the corner. “And if you take me for Chinese and promise not to ask how I’m planning to save the world, I’ll let you tell me all about your unhappy childhood.”
“Deal.” He paused at the steps of my apartment and surprised me with a light kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Kathleen.” He smiled down at me. “I have the feeling my life is about to change.”
The feeling was mutual, but I wasn’t quite ready to tell him so. “Life is always changing,” I finally said, hoping that this time he wouldn’t lose interest after only a few weeks. “You can count on it.”
A frigid wind blew down on us as we left the shelter of my front steps, but I pressed closer to Taylor’s warmth and barely even felt the cold.
Author’s Note and References
The tragedy of the American Civil War has not been forgotten, nor should it be, for more than 130 years later we are still influenced by the powerful feelings that instigated this conflict. As I researched this period of history, I discovered that my own great-great-great-grandfather, John M. Johnston, joined the Confederate army in 1862 and was among the starving soldiers who surrendered with Lee in 1865. It is impossible to write about these men without feeling a surge of loyalty and affection toward them.
Could a woman really disguise herself and enlist in a Civil War army? Of course, and over four hundred actually did. Motivated by patriotism, bounty money, a love of adventure, or the desire to remain beside their husbands and brothers, they left the traditional roles of womanhood behind and went off to battle. One soldier from a Massachusetts regiment wrote his family: “There was an orderly in one of our regiments and he and the Corporal always slept together. Well, the other night the Corporal had a baby, for the Corporal turned out to be a woman! She has been in three or four fights” (An Uncommon Soldier, p. xii).
There is an abundance of material available on the Civil War, and I, unfortunately, could not pursue an exhaustive study. I have, however, taken pains not to contradict the actual facts regarding the battles at Ball’s Bluff, Fair Oaks, and Antietam. And while I am certain there was a Twenty-fifth Massachusetts regiment, Alden’s Twenty-fifth Massachusetts and its officers are fictional. All other references to specific regiments and commanders are taken from the historical record.
I am extremely grateful for the wealth of information compiled by various authors and experts on the Civil War. Many of the quotes that spill from my characters’ lips were actually
voiced by men and women who lived during the American Civil War, and I must give credit to the fine authors whose books enabled me to explore these tragic years of our nation’s history.
Bergren, Philip. Old Boston in Early Photographs, 1850-1918. New York: Dover Publications, Inc., 1990.
Brooke, Elisabeth. Medicine Women: A Pictorial History of Women Healers. Wheaton, Ill.: Quest Books, 1997.
Burgess, Lauren Cook, ed. An Uncommon Soldier. New York: Oxford University Press, 1994.
Colbert, David, ed. Eyewitness to America: 500 Years of America in the Words of Those Who Saw It Happen. New York: Pantheon Books, 1997.
Davis, Kenneth C. Don’t Know Much About the Civil War. New York: Avon Books, 1996.
Davis, William C., ed. Touched by Fire: A National Historical Society Photographic Portrait of the Civil War. New York: Black Dog & Leventhal Publishers, 1997.
Fishel, Edwin C. The Secret War for the Union. New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1996.
Fraser, Walter J. Charleston! Charleston! The History of a Southern City. Columbia, S.C.: University of South Carolina Press, 1991.
Hall, Richard. Patriots in Disguise: Women Warriors of the Civil War. New York: Marlowe & Company, 1994.
Johnson, Robert Underwood, and Clarence Clough Buel, eds. Battles and Leaders of the Civil War. 2 vols. Edison, N. J.: Castle, 1887.
Marcus, Robert D., and David Burner. From Settlement to Reconstruction. Vol. 1 of America Firsthand New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1989.
Massey, Mary Elizabeth. Women in the Civil War. Lincoln, Nebr.: University of Nebraska Press, 1994.
McCutcheon, Marc. Everyday Life in the 1800s. Cincinnati: Writers Digest Books, 1993.
Schwartz, Gerald, ed. A Woman Doctor’s Civil War: Esther Hill Hawks’ Diary. Columbia, S.C.: University of South Carolina Press, 1986.
Ward, Geoffrey C. The Civil War. New York: Knopf, 1990.
Wiley, Bell I. The Life of Johnny Reb and The Life of Billy Yank. New York: Book of the Month Club, 1994.
Woodward, C. Vann, ed. Mary Chesnut’s Civil War. New York: Book of the Month Club, 1994.
THE VELVET SHADOW
PUBLISHED BY WATERBROOK PRESS
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Scripture quotations, unless otherwise noted, are from the King James Version of the Bible.
Some of the characters and events in this book are fictional, some historical. For further information on the historical basis of the book.
Copyright © 1999 by Angela Elwell Hunt
Rosetta Wakeman’s letter on page viii was taken from Lauren Cook Burgess’s An Uncommon Soldier (New York: Oxford University Press, 1994).
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
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2009
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