Everlasting Light - A Civil War Romance Novella

by Andrea Boeshaar

  A great sadness enveloped her now as she turned her gaze to the dreary December sky. Zeke confirmed that Braeden had been wounded, but he wasn’t dead … until the Yankees captured him. Alaina closed her eyes against the horrors she’d heard about Federal prison camps and emaciated Confederate soldiers. There was little hope that Braeden made it out alive—especially since he’d been injured first. The hardiest of men returned from Yankee prisons resembling mere shadows of their former selves. Surely Braeden was dead.

  “Alaina!”

  She glanced over her shoulder at the sound of her mother-in-law’s voice. Moments later, Mama McKenna appeared at the doorway.

  “What are you doing out there? You’re liable to catch your death.”

  “I’d welcome it.” She looked back out toward the road, ignoring Mama McKenna’s exasperated sigh.

  “You’ve been more melancholy than ever since Zeke came home with news of Braeden’s capture. Develop some backbone, my dear. I’ve lost two sons, but do you see me wallowing in self-pity? No. Now, here …” The older woman stepped onto the porch and thrust a jar at her. “Take this vegetable soup over to the Wheeler place and make yourself useful. Jonathan and Zeke are over there trying to help Michael out, and I promised those men I’d fix supper.”

  Alaina obediently took the large container.

  “And while you’re on your way, you might try counting your blessings for a change.” Wisps of faded lyard blonde hair blew onto Mama McKenna’s aging cheek. “Our home wasn’t burned. The Yankees didn’t find our personal valuables. We’re luckier than most.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Alaina’s eyes filled at the sting of her mother-in-law’s rebuke. She crossed the yard tearfully and started down the road. Off in the distance, she heard hammering as Papa McKenna and Zeke attempted to help Michael rebuild his home. The task was a daunting one. Half of the Wheeler house had been ruined by fire, and since timber and sundry other supplies were no longer available, re-construction was nearly an impossibility.

  As she walked on, Alaina’s thoughts turned to Jennifer Marie. One of the more precious memories she held dear to her heart was the day her friend became a believer in Christ.

  It was back in ’62 and Jennifer Marie had just learned that the man she’d fallen in love with, Major Uriah Perkins, had been killed. He’d been the officer she’d met at her aunt’s party the night Braeden proposed, and it wasn’t long after Alaina’s marriage that Jennifer Marie was making great wedding plans of her own.

  ******

  Alaina stopped to watch her friend’s buggy roll up the gravely road to the McKennas’ house and lurch to a halt. Jennifer Marie stepped out, wearing a stunning black ensemble that caused Alaina’s knees to weaken in trepidation.

  “It’s not Braeden, is it, Jennifer Marie?” Alaina all but forgot about her chores. “Please, tell me it’s not Braeden.”

  “No, it’s … it’s Uriah.” Sorrow pooled in her eyes. “A neighbor brought this to me last evening. Look.”

  Alaina took the crumpled sheet bearing a list of names of the dead. Yes, Uriah’s name was among them. Braeden’s was not. Feeling relieved for herself and a deep, heart-piercing sadness for her friend, Alaina burst into tears. “Oh, Jennifer Marie. I am so sorry to read this news.”

  They embraced and then, with her arm around her dear friend’s shoulders, Alaina led her into the house. Leaving Jennifer Marie in the parlor, Alaina brewed a pot of tea. Minutes later, Mama McKenna joined them for a cup, fussing over Jennifer Marie as any concerned auntie would do but to no avail. Jennifer Marie could not be consoled.

  “D–do you th–think Uriah’s in h–heaven?” she stammered in between sobs.

  “I couldn’t say.” Mama McKenna spoke in gentle tones. “I didn’t know the man.”

  “He was good and kind … the most wonderful man on earth. Why, Uriah hated the thought of killing— even killing Yankees. He was an upstanding, moral person who never even once tried to take liberties with me—even when I wished he would.”

  Alaina couldn’t help smiling inwardly at the remark.

  “Those are fine characteristics for a man,” Mama McKenna began, “but they don’t guarantee a home in Heaven. Only faith in the Lord Jesus Christ can do that.”

  “Maybe Uriah was baptized as an infant like I was.”

  “That’s a fine tradition, but if being baptized as an infant could save a person’s soul, our Lord would not have had to go to the cross and suffer for our sins.” Mama McKenna stood and fetched her worn, leather-bound Bible. Sitting back down, she ruffled through its delicate pages. “Here … listen to this. It’s from the third chapter in the Book of Romans. For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God; Being justified freely by his grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus: Whom God hath set forth to be a propitiation through faith in his blood, to declare his righteousness for the remission of sins that are past … To declare, I say, at this time his righteousness: that he might be just, and the justifier of him which believeth in Jesus.”

  Looking up from God’s Word, Mama McKenna gave Jennifer Marie a warm smile. “It doesn’t say a person ought to be baptized in order to enter the kingdom of God, does it? It says that Jesus is the justifier for all who will believe in Him.”

  “I don’t feel a bit better.” Jennifer Marie dabbed at her swollen eyes with a lace handkerchief. “I don’t know if Uriah believed that or not.”

  “My dear, it’s not our place to judge.” Mama McKenna took hold of her niece’s hand. “But you can choose your eternal destination here and now.”

  ******

  Alaina snapped from her musings as Michael’s house came into view. Walking up the stony dirt road, she smiled to herself, remembering how Jennifer Marie had accepted God’s free gift of salvation—His Son, Jesus Christ.

  How fortunate you are, Jennifer Marie, to be in Heaven with the Savior.

  “Well, look who’s come to pay me a social call.” Michael’s voice carried across the wintery brown lawn. He jumped from the two-foot ledge on which he’d been working and dropped his hammer. The left side of his white shirt sleeve was pinned halfway up, and Alaina marveled at how much Michael accomplished in spite of missing a limb. “If I knew you were coming, Lain, I would have set out the tea cakes in the parlor here.” His eyes twinkled with mischief before he nodded toward the scorched end of his home.

  Alaina shook her head at him, wondering how he could make such a flip remark about something as dreadful as a burned-out parlor. “I brought you, Papa McKenna, and Zeke some soup.” When she reached the porch, she handed him the jar.

  “How very kind, thank you. But you just missed your father-in-law. He started back to your place through the field several minutes ago.”

  “I guess Papa McKenna will have his soup at home, then.”

  Narrowing his gaze, Michael searched her face. Alaina turned away, brushing a few strands of hair off her cheek.

  “You’ve been crying again.”

  “What’s not to cry about?” She brushed off his concern, stepped onto the porch, and inspected the site for new repairs. “How are things coming along here?”

  “Coming along fine, but very slowly. If I could finish boarding up these windows, the cold winter wind won’t be able to howl through the rest of the house.” He looked skyward. “I think we’re in for some weather. Rain, maybe snow.”

  Alaina pulled her woolen cape around her more tightly. “You could always stay with us, Michael.”

  He fixed his gaze on her and grinned. “Jonathan said the same thing just this morning. He said I could have Kirk’s room. But, I … well, I don’t think that’s a wise idea, considering how I feel about you, Lain.”

  She looked away, flattered, and yet her heart crimped painfully. While evidence seemed to indicate that Braeden was dead, she didn’t want to accept it. But perhaps it was time to force herself to do so. Maybe Mama McKenna was right—maybe she needed to “develop some backbone” and get on with her life.


  Glancing back at Michael, she noted his ardent expression and the light of sincerity in his chocolate-brown eyes. He loved her. It was obvious. Maybe she should just marry him and make up her mind to be happy again.

  “Why, Miz Laina, I didn’t know you was here.” Zeke came to stand in the front doorway.

  ”I didn’t realize you were still either, Zeke.” She mustered a smile. “Mama McKenna made some vegetable soup and asked me to run it over.”

  “Warm soup … that sounds good.” He glanced at Michael and grinned. “Lemme help you with the container.”

  Michael handed it over

  Zeke motioned Alaina inside. “Get yourself outa the wind. You’re liable to catch a chill.”

  She stepped into the house. Michael entered after her. There were stairs to the immediate right that led up to the second floor. To the left, the parlor and dining room were boarded off to keep the December wind at bay. She walked down the corridor, where pieces of salvaged furniture and Michael’s damaged paintings lined the wall. Her heart sank at the sight of ruined artwork. Moving on, she strode into the kitchen area. Beyond it stood the charred remains of the cookhouse.

  “One of the bedrooms upstairs is now safe enough for me to sleep in,” Michael said, coming up behind her, “so I don’t have to sleep in the kitchen anymore.”

  “Such devastation.” Alaina whirled around, facing him. “Those Yankees had no cause to do such evil to our homes and our land.”

  “It’s war, Lain. What do you think happens in a war? Death and destruction.”

  “Hmph! Maybe women ought to run the next war. Things would be a far sight better.”

  Michael’s chuckle echoed through the empty room. “Now that would be a

  phenomenon—women running a war. Let’s see … they’d stab the enemy with their vicious tongues and confuse them so greatly with gossip and rumors that the opposing army wouldn’t know in which direction they were moving.”

  “Oh, hush.” She glared at him. He of all people shouldn’t be poking fun at her. “For your information, I do not gossip or backbite. Not all women do, you know.”

  “Then I stand corrected. Hmm, let’s see.” He tapped his jaw in thought. “Females could always render the enemy senseless with their parasols or strangle them with their lace shawls.”

  Alaina squared her shoulders. “Stop mocking me.”

  In the far corner of the room, Zeke chuckled softly as he spooned the soup into bowls. “You best be careful, Mistah Michael. My mama used to say ain’t no fury on God’s green earth like a woman’s.”

  The corners of Michael’s eyes softened, but the grin didn’t leave his face. “I’m only teasing, Lain. Don’t be angry with me.” At last he wiped the smile off his face. “It’s just that you’re so pretty when you’re riled. Your cheeks get all rosy.” He touched the side of her face with the backs of his knuckles.

  She slapped his hand away.

  “I done warned you.” Zeke snorted a laugh as he brought over the bowls of soup to the table.

  Alaina spotted the three bowls. “None for me, Zeke. I guess I should have been clear. I’m just not—”

  Horses’ hooves pounded up to the front of the house. Alaina froze. No one had horses anymore, except for the …

  “Federal soldiers!” Wild, icy fright coursed through her veins.

  “Don’t panic.” Michael set his hand on her shoulder.

  “What if it’s more raiders? I’m sure you heard what they did to poor Mary Baily—and then they killed her husband!”

  “Shh, Lain …” He looked over her head at Zeke. “You know where my gun is.”

  “Uh-huh, and I know how to use it too.”

  “Good. I’ll go see what this is all about.” Michael’s gaze lit back on Alaina. “You stay inside.”

  She nodded.

  Zeke already clutched the rifle as Michael made his way to the front of the house. Alaina followed him as far as the door. Peeking around Zeke’s broad shoulder, she saw Michael greet two men clad in dusty blue uniforms who sat astride sleek roans.

  “Shoot them, Zeke!” Alaina couldn’t keep the hate in her soul out of her tone.

  “That’d be cold-blooded killin’, Miz Laina. I cain’t do that.”

  “But they’ve taken so much from us. They burned our fields, our farms, looted our homes then set them on fire, killed our cattle. They murdered William, Kirk … Braeden.” Alaina fairly choked on her sudden tears. “I despise the very sight of those horrid men!”

  “Look at them, Miz Laina,” Zeke answered softly. “They’s just like us. They’s lost brothers and friends too.”

  Had they? Of course they must have. Until this moment, she’d seen the United States Army as some soulless killing machine.

  “Not all of them’s cruel. Some’s got a conscience.”

  “Hard to believe.”

  “Some of them’s even Christians. Brothers in Christ.”

  Alaina’s resolve all but fell to pieces. Hard as it was to believe, her spirit said Zeke spoke the truth.

  “I don’t blame you for being bitter-hearted, Miz Laina, but there’s no comfort in it.”

  “No … no, there’s not.” She watched Michael converse with the officers.

  “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us,” Zeke said.

  Alaina recognized the passage from the Lord’s Prayer. “Is that how you cope? You forgive?”

  “That’s right. But jes’ in case these men are up to no good, I got Mistah Michael’s back covered.” Zeke pointed the gun directly at the two soldiers, and his trained, dark gaze never strayed from the potentially deadly situation outside. “God doesn’t say we can’t defend ourselves.”

  From what she saw going on outside, it didn’t appear the soldiers had evil intentions—this time.

  “Miz Laina, I been thinkin’ it’d be just like Braeden to hear what Sherman did to poor South Carolina, and it’d be just like him to go west to Texas like most folks is doin’. He probably tried to write or wire y’all ’n’ let you know he’s alive, but with them Yankees ever’where, his messages didn’t get through no-how. But he’s got hisself a plan for him and us, and it’d be just like him to git home fer Christmas so he can tell us all ’bout it.”

  “Oh, Zeke.” The misery in Alaina’s heart doubled—tripled. “I want to believe, and at times I’m sure Braeden’s alive. But how would he have ever survived, wounded and in a northern prison camp? It’s not possible.”

  “Anythin’s possible, cuz with God all things is possible.”

  More truth. Alaina couldn’t argue. “So you’re saying I need to forgive and believe.”

  “That’s it.”

  The Yankee soldiers gave their horses’ sides a hard nudge and galloped away. Zeke lowered the gun. On his way back to the house now, Michael read a parchment of some sort.

  “As if I didn’t already know my tax bill is due.” He entered the cluttered foyer and grunted. “And by the first of the year? I don’t have the kind of money they’re asking for. Who does?” His gaze lit on Alaina. “The Confederate dollar is worth only a little more than one cent to the Union dollar. Who can even afford a sack of flour these days—five hundred dollars for flour? Such an atrocity!”

  She knew it all too well.

  “Washington is trying to break us South Carolinians because the war started here. Can’t they see we’re already broken?”

  “Mercy,” Zeke muttered, shaking his dark head.

  “Oh, Michael …” A little sob caught in Alaina’s throat. Forgive? Believe? But it all seemed so hopeless. She put her head in her hands.

  “Now, Lain, don’t cry.” Michael pulled her against him. “Don’t cry,” he whispered against her temple. “We’ll think of something.”

  “What I think is that Miz Laina gots to go home.” Zeke took a firm hold of her elbow and jerked her out of Michael’s embrace.

  “Zeke?”

  Anger glinted in his eyes. “I be takin’ you home right
now.”

  Alaina didn’t ask questions. She figured Zeke must have a good reason for behaving so strangely. Moving toward the door, she glanced at Michael and noted his curious frown.

  “I’ll come back, Mistah Michael, don’ you worry,” Zeke called from the porch, guiding Alaina down the steps. “I said I’d help with rebuildin’, an’ I won’ go back on my word. But Miz Laina’s gotta go home this minute or Mistah Braeden … well, he gonna have my hide!”

  Chapter 9

  “Zeke! Don’t walk so fast!” Alaina couldn’t take a deep enough breath to keep up with the man’s long strides.

  He slowed his pace.

  “What in the world has gotten into you? And what did you mean when you said Braeden will have your hide?”

  He stopped on the road and faced her. “I knowed Mistah Braeden since we was born. We got our whuppin’s together when we was bad boys. Why, we didn’ even care we were different color till Mistah Braeden went to school and someone tole him different. After a while, Mistah Braeden said he didn’ care I’s black and he’s white. And I didn’ neither.” Zeke gazed at Michael’s dilapidated home. “And I know Mistah Michael too. I know he’s Mistah Braeden’s best friend, but Braeden and me … we’s tighter than best friends. I know how Braeden thinks, and I know there’s some things he won’ share with his best friend, no how! One o’ them’s his woman. If I stood by and let that happen, I’d get mine … right after Mistah Michael got his!”

  “Now, wait a minute, Zeke.” Alaina held up her hands, palms out. “Michael said he loves me and he wants to marry me. Everyone else has said Braeden is dead. Mama McKenna thinks he’s buried in a mass grave somewhere. She tells me to get on with my life and stop pining for my husband who’s never coming home. Michael’s told me the same thing.”

  Zeke seemed to listen while staring off into the charred remains of woods across the road.

  “For so long, I’ve been the only one who’s held onto any hope that Braeden will come home, but it’s rapidly diminishing.” Her vision blurred. “Maybe it’s true that if Braeden hasn’t come home by now, he never will.”