by Ann Rinaldi
"Don't be blasphemous, David," Mama told him sharply. "God had nothing to do with Jennie's being shot." And she would hear no more of it, not of God's part in it anyway, if indeed He did have a part in it.
It was near seven when she got home. Not dusk yet, though it seemed as if dusk had been with us all day. The dusk of something, if not the dim part of twilight. The dusk of civility, I suppose, with us this whole third day of July. We did not know what to call it.
We ate the supper Josie had made for us, in near silence. There seemed to be a quiet stillness out in the street. Mama insisted Josie sit at the table with us, and when she did, Josie and my brother scarce looked at each other. We were a sorry group. David was downcast, Mama simply worn down, Josie wary and giving David sidelong glances. Corporal Halpern was quiet, too. I picked at my food and continued to gulp back tears. Marvelous was the only normal one at the table, and she kept giving me encouraging looks to keep me going.
"You are not going to the funeral tomorrow," Mama said quietly to me.
"I have to go," I said.
"You are not," Mama said firmly. She could be worse than David when she wanted to be.
My voice quavered. "But I never got a chance to say goodbye."
"None of us did," David reminded me. "Now bide what Mama says. No arguments." His voice was low but firm.
After supper there came a knock on the front door, and when David answered, a Reb soldier stood there, bedraggled, humble, and gloomy.
He looked at the musket in David's hand, which had the barrel pointed to the floor, then at all of us, who stood a distance behind David, and took off his hat. He had a head full of yellow curls. "Sir," he said. "I'm from South Carolina. I don't wanna fight no more. I don't wanna be a soldier no more. Sir, all'st I want is some civilian clothes an' to run off. Please, sir, could you all give me some civilian clothes?"
David paused for a moment before answering.
"Sir," the soldier went on, "I saw Pickett's Charge this afternoon. All those godforsaken soldiers marchin' across Seminary Ridge into those Union cannon. I can't, I just can't, sir, be part of an army that does such to its men."
I saw my brother nod his head. Heard him say, "Come on in."
His name was Rucker, Private Allen Rucker. His family owned a plantation right outside Charleston, he told us. "My two brothers are officers, but I would not go to war at first. My pa was one of the leaders who made the pledge that if a Republican was elected president, the state would leave the Union. Because I wouldn't go for a soldier, Pa near threw me off the place. So I went and joined up as a lowly private. I didn't want to be made an officer because of his influence."
"But what will happen to you now if you run away?" David asked. "You can't go home to your pa's plantation."
Mama had rustled up some civilian clothes for him and was feeding him at the kitchen table.
Allen Rucker just looked at us. "You all gonna win the war," he said. "I could see that today. There won't be a plantation left to go home to."
He left a short while later. He would not stay awhile to rest, as Mama had asked him to. Rebs were trickling back into town, he pointed out to us. Didn't we see? He showed us, out our own front windows. Sure enough, he was right. We saw stray soldiers in tattered gray, not prancing about confident and overbearing as they'd been in the last two days, shouting orders, but almost slinking, muskets at the ready, ducking into doorways or forcing open cellar doors.
Mama fixed Allen Rucker a cloth bag of vittles and David gave him some Yankee greenbacks and directed him a safe way out of town, and he left. I stood at the back door, watching him go. For some reason I started to cry again, and David came over to lead me back to the couch.
"What have you got for her, Ma?" he asked.
Whatever she "had for me" she gave me with a cup of tea, and David sat over me while I drank it. The last thing I remember was him saying, "So they've already got a name for it, have they? They're calling it 'Pickett's Charge.'"
Next thing I knew he was carrying me upstairs to bed and taking off my shoes. I awoke the next morning in all my clothes.
***
FIRST THING I heard through my open window was somebody in the street yelling.
"Move, move, hurry up, we are retreating!"
I jumped out of bed. From my window I saw Confederate soldiers running up the street, hurrying toward the Diamond, the central square in town. A Rebel officer on a horse was yelling at them. "Let's get the hell out of here, before we're captured. Can't you see the damned Yanks?"
There was a lot of confusion and cussing and shouting.
The courthouse clock chimed six. As I ran downstairs, my mind felt like a picture puzzle, and I shook it to put the pieces into place.
Today is the Fourth of July.
Jennie Wade was killed yesterday.
Her funeral is today and Mama is not going to let me go.
By the time I reached the kitchen I had a reasonable scene of events before me, and I hoped I did not look as confused as I felt.
They were all dressed and at the table for breakfast already—Mama, David, and Marvelous. Even Corporal Halpern. Josie was serving coffee. All looked up as I entered the room.
"Tacy, how are you?" Mama asked.
"I'm tolerable," I told her. "I heard the soldiers in the street say they were retreating." I slipped into my chair. "Is it over? Is it all over?"
"Just about," David answered. "But we can't run about the streets just yet. There are still Reb snipers about."
Well then, I wondered, if it is over, if we won, why is he so solemn? What is it he isn't telling me? Is there more? Something terrible more I don't know about?
"What time do we go to the funeral?"
"We go at nine o'clock," Mama answered. "You aren't going. You are staying here."
"But I told you, Mama, I'm tolerable fine."
"You aren't going! I'm still in charge around here and that's that!" David's voice was as stern as it ever had been to me.
I bit my bottom lip and looked down at my plate. "You mean I have to stay here alone while you all go?" I felt tears coming. His rough voice could always do that to me.
"No," he said. "I'm staying with you."
Mama gasped. "You're not going, David?" She could not believe it.
"No." He would not look at her.
Josie stared at him now.
He would not look at her, either. And then it came to me then. He was in a foul mood this morning. Not even the Yankee victory over the Rebs here in our town could cheer him out of it. Why?
Josie and I exchanged a secret glance across the table.
Nobody said much of anything through the rest of breakfast. Afterward I saw Mama go over to David as he stood looking out the window in the parlor.
She touched his shoulder. "Darling," she said.
He turned his head toward her. "I'm sorry, Mama. I didn't mean to be rude."
"It isn't that. I worry for you. I think it would be better for you if you go."
"I can't, Mama. I can't bring myself to go."
I was drying dishes and Josie was washing, her back to this scene. Marvelous was wiping off the table. Only I was privy to what was going on. And listening when I shouldn't be.
I turned away from them then, but I still heard Mama say, "All right. I'll make your excuses. But do this for me. Be kind to Tacy, will you?"
"She needs discipline," he said. "Why can't she just obey without making a fuss?"
"Not today," Mama said. "Not today, David."
He said something, real low. I don't know what it was, but it sounded like some kind of a promise.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE FIRST THING David said when Pa had told him he was in charge of me, responsible for me when Pa left for the war, was "I don't know if I can do it, Ma. I don't think I can do it."
I heard him say it. I was listening when I shouldn't have been, like I always do.
"Of course you can, dear," Mama told him.
&nb
sp; "But what if something happens to her? I'd be responsible. You know how Pa cherishes her. His only girl. The youngest. The baby. I'd have to answer to him."
"What could happen to her, David? You're being silly now."
"You know how capricious she is. Always running about and getting into things she isn't supposed to be getting into. She never listens to you. I tell you, Ma, she's spoiled. You and Pa and the boys and I—yes, even I—spoiled her. And now I have to take over. It isn't fair."
"You'll just have to be firm, David. Set boundaries. She adores you; you know that."
He'd groaned then. And ever since he worried that something was going to happen to me. And he'd have to answer to Pa. I told myself that's why he was so mean. That, and because it ate at him that he was not able to go for a soldier. I told myself that all the time.
***
SOON AS WE finished the dishes, David had to take Josie home to fetch some black clothing for the funeral and to check on her mother. They were quick about it, and when they returned she asked me to come upstairs and help her do up her hair.
She always wore her hair the same way, Josie did, and so I knew there was something amiss. The only reason she was attending the funeral in the first place was because she'd offered to help out with the refreshments afterward.
David hadn't wanted her to go. They'd had quick, quiet words about it before he'd agreed to take her home, but she was going anyway. I was glad to see him give in, glad to realize that he could not always get his way with her. That no matter how much she loved him, and I know the boundaries of her love went far, that she would not let him dominate her. She is good for him, I thought. He needed that.
Upstairs, I found that she needed more than help with her hair. She needed, desperately, to talk.
"We scarce spoke a word all the way to my house and home again," she told me. "And it wasn't anger on his part because I'm going to the funeral. It had nothing to do with that." She was fussing with her hair. Now she stopped, dropped her hands to her sides, and looked at me.
"Oh, Tacy, he still loves her. He still loves Jennie Wade!"
"She's dead," I reminded her.
"But it's all come back to him, how much he loves her. And I don't think he loves me anymore, if he ever did!"
I did the only thing I could do. I put my arms around her. "He loves you, Josie," I told her. "He's just being moody right now. It'll pass. David is nothing if not moody. And you are the only one I've ever met who can pull him out of it."
She looked me in the eyes. "May I confide in you, Tacy?"
"Of course."
"You won't ever let on to him that I told you?"
"I promise. As you can see, David and I don't get on the way we used to anymore."
"He had best love me, Tacy. Oh dear Lord, he had best love me. I've given myself to him. Do you know what I mean?"
I told her yes, I knew what she meant. And I told her then that if David had given himself to her in that way it surely meant that he loved her. Because my brother David seldom gave of himself, with his feelings, to anyone, ever, if at all. And as for the heartfelt love, the physical love, I doubted whether he had ever bestowed it upon any other woman at all.
She quieted down then. "Do you really think I haven't lost him, then?" she asked. "Do you really think that he'll come back to me?"
I did not know, for I did not know if I would ever get my old brother David back again, either. I seriously doubted it. But I lied and said yes.
***
AFTER MAMA and Josie left for the funeral, Marvelous wanted to go to the church to see her mother, and so David said he would take her. He was torn between allowing me to stay home with Corporal Halpern, who was intent on going back to his unit as soon as David returned, and taking me with him and Marvelous.
"I want to stay with Corporal Halpern and say good-bye," I told him. "We've become friends."
David was not about to give me anything I wanted this morning, despite any promise he made to Mama about being nice to me.
"You come with me," he said. He said it right in front of Halpern. I don't know where my brother got his boldness sometimes. I know he liked Halpern, too.
"I'm staying," I told him firmly.
It was chancy. He raised his eyebrows at me. "You going to mouth me now?"
"Yes."
He sighed, wearily. "You want to spend the day in your room?"
We were in a deadlock, which Halpern broke.
"I promise, sir," he said quietly, "I'll be on my honor with Tacy. I think too much of her. And you, to act otherwise."
The "sir" business gave David a turn. Nelson Halpern was scarce two years younger than David.
Taken aback, David said all right, I could stay. He knew Nelson had his musket, in case any runaway Reb wandered in. And so he left with Marvelous.
When they were gone, I got some paper and pencil and invited Corporal Halpern to sit with me on the couch. "The first thing is, we exchange addresses," I told him. And so we did. I took the name of his unit, and then I ran upstairs and found a likeness of myself. My brother Joel had sketched it and it was true to life. It was in a locket.
"I've been keeping this, hoping to give it to someone someday," I told him shyly.
"You sure you want to give it to me? Maybe there's someone else you should be saving it for."
Because he had made the promise to my brother to be honorable and I knew he would not break it if a hundred Rebs were at the door, I kissed his cheek when I gave him the locket. "I'd rather give it to you than anybody else in the world," I said.
He'd just shaved this morning. His face was smooth and soft. So were his lips when he turned to kiss me.
I never forgot Nelson Halpern. He was the first young man who ever kissed me.
***
WHEN DAVID returned I was fixing up a parcel of food for Nelson even as Mama would do, and wrapping it in a brown cloth. Then he and David said goodbye out on the front steps and he was gone.
It was awkward when my brother came back. The courthouse clock struck eleven, and he just stood there for a while out on the front steps. I heard music from a distance, saw our troops ushering some ragged Confederates out of town at bayonet point. I opened the front door behind David and saw dead soldiers in the street, theirs and ours. Dead horses, too. And people coming out, up and down the street, to sweep and wash off their front steps. From a distance I could see wagons rumbling into town, likely farmers bringing in food, eggs and milk and such.
Food. I knew then what to say to David. "Do you want lunch?" I said to his back.
"Too early for lunch."
"Well, I'm about starved. And I'm going to make lunch. You can eat or not. It's up to you."
I started back to the kitchen when he turned. "Tacy?"
"What?"
"You're being damned mouthy to me this morning."
Oh, God. "Do you want bacon or ham with your eggs? We have both."
"Did you hear what I said, Tacy?"
"I'll make both."
The coffee was done. I'd made it earlier, given a cup to Nelson before he left. David came over to the stove just as I was pouring a cup. "What in hell is wrong with you, Tacy?"
I handed him the cup of coffee and he took it. Across it our eyes met. "Same thing's wrong with you. I'm crying inside over Jennie. Just like you are. And outside over Nelson. Same's you are over Josie. Only I'm not afraid to admit it."
"I ought to smack your behind for that."
I shrugged, picked up the bowl of egg mixture, and poured it into the fry pan. "You wanna slice the bread or do I have to do that, too? Last time I cut my finger. It bled pretty bad."
He took the bread board, knife, and bread over to the table and began to slice.
I minded the omelet. "I'm afraid I'm never going to see Nelson again," I told him. "I'm afraid he's going to get killed in the war. And I liked him lots."
"If Meade pursues Lee today instead of letting him get away, the war could soon be over," he said.
He sat down at the table with his coffee. "How much is lots?"
"I don't know. How much is it supposed to be?" I fetched two plates, filled them with omelet, bacon, some ham, and set them on the table.
He commenced eating quietly for a moment.
"You asking me?" he said. "You asking me about love? Is that what you're doing?"
I looked down at my plate. "I figure you must know."
"Oh you do, do you?"
I nodded, but I did not look at him. "How can you be sure when love is real?" I asked. "And when it isn't?"
He took his sweet time about answering. "When it makes you miserable," he said quietly, "that's when it's real. When it makes you want to die one minute and live forever the next. When"—and here he paused to take a sip of coffee, put his cup down, and looked right at me—"when you would do anything in the world for this person. Follow this person into hell and you don't care who knows it. That's when it's real."
He bit his bottom lip. He scowled. He was somewhere else now, not here with me. And he was angry.
And then he was here with me, again. He looked up at me across the table. "What did she say to you before I took her home this morning?"
"Who?"
"You know damn well who. Josie. When she asked you to go upstairs with her and help her with her hair. Josie never needs help with her hair. What did she say?"
"I can't tell, David. I promised."
"The hell you promised. Anyway, you owe your loyalty to me. I'm your brother. I'm the one who takes care of you. Who would fight to the death for your honor if I had to. Tell me, what did she say?"
"You told me not to interfere with you and any woman, David."
"Tell me!"
I hadn't really promised. Josie hadn't asked me to. "She was afraid you didn't love her. That you were still in love with Jennie. She asked me if I thought that you would come back to loving her again."
"And what did you say?"
"Oh, David!"
"Tell me."
"I told her yes, you would."
He scowled at me so that I wanted to duck under the table. He contemplated the whole business for a minute, worrying it to the bone. And then the frown vanished and he said in a low, kind voice. "Would you get me some more coffee, sister, please?"
