by Ginny Dye
“We should have taken another crack at them,” another insisted. “I done heard about some boys that are going to take off for the hills and keep fighting.”
Robert scowled. “I will have no talk like that in my unit,” he ordered sharply.
“Why not?” the soldier snapped with an angry scowl. “We done been fighting for four years. Don’t seem right to give up now. We could all just disperse and take to the hills. Let’s see how them Yankees handle guerilla warfare for a while.”
Robert bristled with anger, but he fought to keep his voice calm. “So you want to create a state of affairs in the South that it would take us years to recover from? You want Federal cavalry traveling the length and breadth of the South for no one knows how long; killing first and asking questions later because they’ll never know where their enemy is? You want to create a country where no one is safe, and we don’t have a chance to rebuild our lives? You want to make certain your fellow soldiers end up in prison because you’re too proud to admit we lost?”
Silence fell over the entire area as Robert’s voice rang out strong and proud. “Is that what you want?”
The soldier hung his head and shook it slowly. “No. I guess I didn’t think it through real good.”
Robert nodded. The offending soldier was a good man who had lived through an unbearable four years. “It’s hard to think when you’re starving and have been marching for days with no food,” he said generously, knowing creating goodwill would get him much further than casting blame. Robert hid his smile when the offending soldier relaxed again, reaching out to fill his plate with more bacon and beans.
“What you gonna do, Captain?” the soldier asked.
It only took Robert a second to give his answer. “I’m going home.” He looked eastward to Richmond and smiled. “I’ve got the most beautiful wife in the world waiting for me. I’m going home.”
Late that night his fever began to climb again and his coughing seemed as if it would explode his lungs. He could feel the life being sucked from him as the pneumonia he had fought for weeks took control with a vengeance.
“Captain?”
Robert looked up through burning eyes at Alex’s young face peering down at him. He opened his mouth, but he was too weak to speak. “Carrie…” he managed to whisper. “Carrie…”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Matthew was waiting on the porch when Carrie and Aunt Abby walked arm-in-arm through the gate. “Now that’s a wonderful sight,” he called. “Two of my most favorite women in the world together again.”
“Just two of your most favorite women?” Carrie replied playfully. She turned to Aunt Abby. “Surely there must be something we can do to knock someone else out of the top positions.” She laughed and looked back up at Matthew, not understanding the quick shadow that flashed in his eyes; then quickly deciding he must have news. “What is it?” she asked quietly.
“Lee surrendered his army this afternoon,” he informed them. “Word just came through over the telegraph. I came straight here.”
Carrie stared at him and then sank down on the step, her thoughts swirling.
“Carrie?” Aunt Abby asked gently as she sat down next to her and took her hand.
Carrie shook her head. “I’m trying to figure out my own feelings,” she admitted. “I wanted Richmond to fall. I wanted Lee to surrender. I want the war to be completely over. I just know so many people are going to grieve.” An image of her father caused her heart to squeeze with pain. She looked at Matthew quickly. “What does this really mean? There are other Confederate forces. The last I heard there are over one hundred thousand men still in units around the country.”
“That’s true,” Matthew agreed, “but all of them have hinged their spirit and belief on General Lee. As long as Lee’s troops were still fighting, all of them had the will to continue. Lee’s surrender is going to deflate everyone. I predict General Johnson will surrender by the end of this month, and then it will spread west.” He took one of Carrie’s hands. “The war is over, Carrie. There will be a little clean up, but it’s over.”
Carrie stared at him. “Over…” she murmured, not sure if she really believed it. Now only one thought burned in her heart. “Lee’s soldiers? Robert?”
“Everyone is free to go home,” Matthew said quickly. “Lee is talking to them today and then they’ll be free to go.”
Carrie brushed at the tears on her cheeks.
“You don’t seem excited,” Matthew said quietly, peering into her eyes, his blue eyes dark with compassion.
“Last night I had a terrible dream,” she admitted, and looked at Aunt Abby. “I haven’t said anything about it because I didn’t want to give any validity to it.”
“That explains why I felt you were far away a few times this afternoon,” Aunt Abby said gently. “What did you dream, Carrie?”
Carrie took a deep breath and felt their love embrace her. “Robert was very ill,” she whispered. “He was burning up with fever and no one could get it down. When the dream ended he was whispering my name.” She shook her head. “I’ve learned I can’t let my fears and dreams control me, but it just seemed so very real.”
Aunt Abby moved forward to enfold her in her arms. “I’ll be here with you until Robert comes home...”
Carrie smiled gratefully, but noticed the hesitation that said or until you receive word.
Three days later the city was still reeling from news of Lee’s surrender and the obvious collapse of the Confederacy, but the city was also full of joyous reunions as exhausted soldiers returned from the war. Some were coming home; some were making their way home. All their faces were a mixture of defeat and relief; their eyes still dull with disbelief that four years of agony had come to this.
Vibrant young men or boys when the war started, they were now caricatures of themselves - starvation, illness and wounds had sapped their energy and life; leaving them old men before their time. Confidence and joy had been replaced by numb acceptance. Hope had been eroded by pain.
Carrie watched every face, hoping for just one, but Robert did not appear. It was almost dark when she trudged up the stairs to the house, wishing for the easy happiness and celebration she was feeling just days before because her house was full of friends and family. They were still there, but the cloud over her heart wouldn’t lift. “This will pass,” she murmured as she came onto the porch. “This will pass.”
“It will, you know,” Aunt Abby said tenderly.
Carrie sighed, sank down next to her on the porch swing, and rested her head on Aunt Abby’s shoulder. “I know that in my mind, but my heart just can’t feel it. I’ve dreamed all these years that if the war would just end everything could go back to normal. But nothing’s normal.”
“And it won’t be for a long time, my dear.”
Carrie gazed up at her. “I want it to,” she said simply.
Aunt Abby smiled. “And there’s nothing wrong with your wanting it to be different,” she replied softly. “It’s what will keep you fighting through challenges to create change.” She paused. “The end of the war is just the beginning. Our country is full of wounded soldiers who will never again be able to live independent lives. It’s full of women who will never be content to go back to just being wives and mothers because they know what it’s like to be responsible for everything – and to do it well. It’s full of children who have grown up hating people they don’t know, and something they couldn’t possibly understand.” She took a deep breath. “It will take a long time for things to change; perhaps even longer for the feelings to follow the actions.”
“Robert…”
Aunt Abby squeezed her hand. “I won’t insult you by saying everything will be fine. You’ve been through too much; you know that’s not true. Horrible things happen and pain must be endured. I will, however, tell you you’re borrowing trouble before it is here,” she said firmly. “You’re acting like Robert is dead, when he could just as easily be alive.”
“I’m d
isappointing you,” Carrie whispered, fatigue pressing down on her.
“Nonsense!” Aunt Abby snorted. “You couldn’t disappoint me if you tried.” She reached over and lifted Carrie’s chin until their eyes met. “When you told me about your rainbow this spring, you told me you learned that darkness never lasts; that the sun always comes out.”
“Yes,” Carrie murmured, fighting to see the rainbow through the fog of her fears.
“You are not alone, Carrie. No matter what darkness comes, or no matter how long it lasts, you are not alone. And you’re right, the sun will come again.”
Carrie stared at Aunt Abby, and then managed a smile when Rose squeezed in beside them on the swing and took her other hand. She looked at both these women who loved her so much, and who she loved so fiercely in return. No, she wasn’t alone. Slowly, her heart steadied and her mind cleared.
Finally she nodded. “You’re right,” she said, relieved to hear the strength back in her voice. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Suddenly she heard a call from down the road. “Carrie! Carrie!” She turned and shaded her eyes against the rays of the sinking sun, realizing Hobbs was hurrying down the road as fast as he could with his limp.
She stood, shielded on both sides by Aunt Abby and Rose as Hobbs stopped at the bottom of the road, breathing in deep gasps. “Hobbs! What is it?”
“It’s Robert,” he said, leaning over to catch his breath. “He’s at Jackson Hospital.”
Carrie gasped, feeling arms come around her waist from both sides.
Hobbs stared up at her, his eyes wide. “He’s alive, Carrie.”
Carrie didn’t need him to tell her it was serious. “Thank you, Hobbs.” She fought to remain calm, wishing Chimborazo was still in operation. It would take her almost thirty minutes to walk to Jackson Hospital.
“Spencer is coming right now,” Hobbs continued as his breathing slowed. “He went to get the carriage.”
Carrie managed a smile. “Thank you.” She turned to Aunt Abby and Rose.
Aunt Abby squeezed her hand. “We’ll be here when you get back,” she promised tenderly. “If I thought we could help, I would go, but I fear we would only be in the way.”
Carrie nodded, her thoughts already in Jackson Hospital. She jerked her head up as the sound of carriage wheels announced Spencer was coming. “Please have May prepare my room to take care of Robert. He’ll sleep in my bed. I’ll need a cot next to him. I may not be able to bring him home tonight, but I will as soon as it’s safe.”
“Of course,” Aunt Abby replied.
Rose threw her arms around her. “You saved my Moses,” she said firmly. “I’m praying Robert will survive, too. He just has to, Carrie!”
Carrie managed to smile as she stepped into the carriage, squeezed both their hands, and then settled back for the ride.
Carrie forced herself to breathe evenly as Spencer drove into the city as fast as he could, swinging around groups of soldiers mingling on the streets, their eyes glazed with confusion and despair.
“Them poor men don’t know what to do now that they ain’t got nobody ordering their every minute,” Spencer said sympathetically.
Carrie gazed at them, but couldn’t force her thoughts to move beyond Robert. Long minutes later the carriage jolted to a stop. She was out of the carriage before Spencer could jump down to help her.
“I’ll be right here waiting, Miss Carrie,” he said quietly.
Carrie shook her head. “I don’t know how long I’ll be.”
“Yes, ma’am, I know that. I’ll be right here waiting,” he repeated gently.
Carrie gave him a look of gratitude and hurried into the hospital. She gasped with relief when the first person she saw was Dr. Wild. He saw her at the same moment she spotted him.
“Carrie!”
“Robert is here,” she said quickly. “Do you know where?”
He nodded and took her elbow. “He’s right down here,” he said quietly. “As soon as I saw him on the list I had him moved to my ward. He got here just a little while ago. I sent Hobbs to tell you.”
“Thank you,” Carrie whispered, her heart full of gratitude. “How is he?”
“He got here last night with a load from Appomattox Courthouse. He had a high fever but we’re finally getting it down.” He paused. “He has pneumonia.”
Carrie groaned.
“I talked to some of the soldiers from his unit that came in with him. He’s been sick for a long time, but he refused to quit fighting because…”
“…his men were counting on him,” Carrie finished heavily; not sure if the feeling swirling through her was admiration or anger.
“Yes.”
“What has been done for him?” Carrie asked sharply, dreading his answer.
“I got to him in time,” Dr. Wild said quickly. “They didn’t bleed him.”
Carrie sagged in relief. Many of the doctors still believed in treating pneumonia by cutting open a vein in an effort to cleanse the body of diseased blood. It didn’t seem to faze them that the cure often proved fatal. Other common treatments were alcohol and quinine, but when the blockades stopped the drugs Carrie had created different treatments that had resulted in higher cure rates in her ward than anywhere else. Unfortunately, many of the doctors ignored the results because she was a woman, and continued their methods.
“I want Robert moved to my house where I can care for him.”
“Yes, I already knew that was what you would want. I have a wagon ready to move him.”
“Is it safe?”
Dr. Wild hesitated. “I don’t know. He hasn’t regained consciousness so I don’t know exactly how sick he is. His breathing is very shallow, and he still has a fever, but it is starting to come down. We were able to get him to swallow a little garlic, onion and honey mixture, but there’s not a lot we can do until he wakes up.”
Carrie nodded, weighing the risks of moving him against the benefits. “Please have the wagon brought around,” she said. “I want him at home. I’ll have more control of what he is eating and I’ll have someone with him twenty-four hours a day.”
“I believe it’s the best place for him,” Dr. Wild agreed, and then hesitated again, his eyes full of compassion. “He doesn’t look good, Carrie. The fever and pneumonia burned him up.”
Carrie took one look in his eyes and knew it was going to be bad.
“He doesn’t look like the man you remember,” he said kindly.
Carrie took a deep breath. “No matter what he looks like, he’s my husband.” Tears filled her eyes. “I love him. Please take me to him.”
Dr. Wild nodded and led the way to Robert’s bed.
Carrie swallowed her gasp and only stared down, her fists clenched, as she stared at the caricature of her husband. His face was skeleton gaunt. Saggy skin hung on his body. His skin was a chalky gray and stringy black hair hung limply. Shallow gasps came from him, along with an occasional shudder as his eyes twitched in what Carrie was sure were horrific nightmares.
Suddenly she was down on her knees, her cheek pressed against his chest. “I’m here, Robert,” she said softly. “I’m here.”
Was it just her imagination, or did his breathing ease a little? Pushing herself up, Carrie watched as several men came down the aisle with a stretcher. “Move him carefully, please. And,” she added firmly, “I will be riding in the wagon with him.”
No one bothered to remind her it was against procedure.
Everyone was waiting on the porch when the wagon pulled up. Carrie managed to give them a tremulous smile before she jumped down from the wagon. No one said a word as Robert was carried into the house, though several of their faces whitened in disbelief.
Matthew gasped and groaned softly as he stared down at his friend. Carrie exchanged a long look with him before she followed the stretcher up the stairs, trying to push away the memories of her mother’s face after her fever. She had saved Moses; surely she could save Robert. She pushed away the thought that Robert had
been sick for months, letting the pneumonia sap all his energy and strength until he had nothing left to fight with.
“Miles, please bring up lots of water and rags,” she ordered from the stairs. “And, May, will you please make a broth of onion, garlic, carrots and celery? Add in some radishes and some of the parsley. When you bring that up, please bring me some garlic cloves, onions and honey. It will help fight the infection.”
“Yes’sum, Miss Carrie,” May responded immediately. “It won’t take me long to make it.” She spun around to where Matthew was standing, looking helpless. “Go on out to that garden and get me everything for the broth,” she barked.
Matthew nodded, obviously relieved to have something to do and disappeared out the back door.
Rose, Aunt Abby, and Janie closed rank around Carrie as she moved up the stairs.
“You don’t have to…”
Aunt Abby held up a hand. “You’ve done enough alone,” she said firmly. “It stops here.”
Carrie swallowed back sudden tears as her throat tightened with gratitude. She gazed at the three women gazing at her with so much love and compassion. “Thank you,” she whispered, and then turned to run up the stairs to do battle.
It was almost midnight before Robert’s fever was completely gone; the result of hundreds of wet rags wrapped around his body, removed when they were hot, and then replaced by cool rags. Even though he was still unconscious, Aunt Abby had managed to get him to swallow several spoons of broth, holding his emaciated body up as tenderly as a baby’s to allow him to get it down.
As they worked through the night in tandem, love flowed like a bubbling stream through the room. It chased out despair and replaced it with a relentless hope that pulsated in the air. Carrie could feel it; she knew the others could too. She almost couldn’t believe she could look at Robert and feel such complete peace, but she couldn’t deny the reality flooding her heart.
“He’s going to be alright,” Rose whispered.
