“I wish I could have gotten to him,” Daniel said.
Jonah looked at him.
“I was at Cold Harbor, too. I saw him lining up with his regiment. If I could have gotten to his commanding officer, I would have made sure he was sent home.”
“Who was he with?”
“A Pennsylvania unit, best I could tell.”
“He went that far east to join up?” Jonah’s brow furrowed. “Why?”
Daniel ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know.” His eyes took on a haunted look, and he sat back down in his chair. “Cold Harbor. That’s one I wish I could forget. That and Fredericksburg.”
Something about the look on his brother’s face made Jonah blurt out, “I was at Shiloh.” For as long as he lived, he would never be able to erase from his mind the horrific carnage of that early battle of the war.
The first day had been a bloodbath. The whole Union line hadn’t been prepared, plain and simple. The clear spring morning had suddenly given way to a full onslaught of Confederate fire. Incredibly, he’d found himself in a peach orchard, their blossoms falling all around him and the other men as they fought and died. Eventually darkness fell, and the cries of wounded and dying men punctuated the night, so much so he couldn’t sleep. He’d taken his rifle and tried to walk away from the sound and couldn’t. When he came home, he cut down every peach tree in the Kirby orchard.
Jonah raised a hand to his face and realized tears were streaming down his cheeks. He shook, and his knees buckled.
Daniel rose, caught him by the forearms, and lowered him into his own leather chair.
Through his tears, Jonah heard his brother praying for him and found himself silently doing the same. As much as he wanted to stop himself, he couldn’t. Help me—please help me, his heart begged.
Calm slowly spread over him, and eventually Jonah looked up to find Daniel watching him, his face full of concern. Jonah took a sip of his coffee and found it was cold. Hadn’t Daniel just poured it? He stared at the brown liquid, wincing at the thought that he’d lost control of his emotions in front of his brother. “I guess you’re about ready to have the asylum come and fetch me,” he said.
“No,” Daniel replied, and Jonah looked up at him. “But I’ll be honest with you. Last week when Adele was here, I almost did. I even went so far as to write out the telegram.” Daniel dropped his eyes. “But that night I had a nightmare.”
Jonah glared at him. “God send you a message?”
“I haven’t had one since before I got married,” Daniel went on, ignoring his brother’s words. “I woke up screaming. Scared Kat to death.”
Jonah wondered just how bad it had been. Judging from the look on his face, it must have been at least as terrifying as his own.
“I ripped up the telegram the next morning,” Daniel said after a minute or two. “I’m sorry. I forgot what you were going through.”
“You had nightmares?” Jonah asked.
Daniel nodded. “And loud noises used to spook me.”
“How did you get it to stop?” The question spilled from Jonah’s lips before he could stop it.
“I talked about what happened to me.” Daniel leaned forward in his chair. “I talked to friends, and more importantly I talked to God.”
Jonah looked away. He didn’t want to admit God might be the key to the peace he saw in his brother’s eyes. But he couldn’t deny the sense of calm he felt since silently wording his desperate prayer. He didn’t feel whole, and he was still angry with God, but something had changed. He’d talked to God, and God had answered—just not in the way Jonah had come to expect.
He glanced out the window, and the sight of the sun starting its descent in the western sky made him realize how worried Adele must be. He had never told her where he was going.
“You, who are so wrapped up in your own pain, can’t even take a little boy under your wing or let go of the past. You can’t even walk the length of a room without that terrible gun.”
He bit his lip as the truth of her words stung at his heart, and he rose. “I need to get home.”
“Of course,” Daniel said, rising with him.
They walked through the parlor and into the vestibule where Jonah picked up his rifle as Daniel opened the door for him. He paused and turned toward his brother, extending his hand.
Daniel took it, and Jonah held on a moment or two longer than needed. Their eyes met, and Daniel gave him a small smile and nodded.
Jonah turned and walked down the porch steps to his wagon in the street.
Adele rebuked herself for the hundredth time since Jonah left and looked down the road for the millionth time to see if he was coming back. She was working in the kitchen garden now, but earlier Cyrus had come looking for Jonah. She couldn’t even remember the excuse she had given him as to why Jonah had left in the middle of a workday. But Cyrus had been satisfied with whatever it was she said and took the switchel she made back out to the fields.
Wanting to do something other than mend clothes, Adele had grabbed her hoe and started in on the kitchen garden. How could I have said those terrible things to him? she thought as she overattacked a weed. What was I thinking?
The fact was she hadn’t been. Going through her brother’s things, lack of sleep, her worry for Jonah, and everything that had happened in town that morning had stretched her to her breaking point. The words had spewed from her mouth before she even knew what she was saying.
But where could Jonah have gone? When would he come home? Would he even come home? Please, Father, guide him home. Soon.
Feeling a tug on her skirt, Adele whirled around to find Sweet Pea standing next to her. The relief she felt at the sight of the little girl was so intense she immediately set aside her worry over Jonah. Her visits to the farm had been less frequent. In fact, this was her first appearance since the end of June.
“Kleine!” she said. “Sweet Pea, I have missed you.”
To her surprise, Sweet Pea buried herself in Adele’s skirts and refused to let go.
“What is it? Are you all right?” She wasn’t crying but seemed scared of something. Adele looked around and saw nothing but blue summer sky and trees waving lazily in the breeze. She gently disengaged the child from her skirts and carried her into the house.
Sitting on a small stool in the kitchen, the little girl became calmer as she munched on a molasses cookie and allowed Adele to check her for bruises or scrapes. She found neither, and since she was unlikely to get anything out of her—the little thing never spoke except for the occasional yes or no—Adele was forced to give up.
She did notice the child was still barefoot and still wore the same worn dress. It was clean, however, and still fit at the bodice but was beginning to get a little short. Fingering the hem, she noticed there was still a tuck left that she could let out, and she might even find a piece of ribbon to disguise the worn edge.
But she hesitated. If the little girl went home—wherever that was—what would her family think of her clothing being altered? They probably will not notice. She goes off for hours at a time, and no one has ever come looking for her. She would never have let Jacob out of her sight at such a young age.
Glancing out the window, she saw the sun was more than halfway across the sky. She needed to get supper ready. She began chopping carrots and potatoes, and as she checked on the chicken she had put in earlier, the events of the morning rushed back over her.
She wiped her hands on her apron and, sinking into a chair by the door, reached into her pocket and pulled out her brother’s letter. He had been trying to come home to her. She wished she’d been able to thank him for bringing her to Ostrander and taking care of her when all the while his heart longed to move on to somewhere else. She wished she had gotten to tell him she loved him one last time. Tears formed, and as a sob rose in her throat, she heard little feet rush over to her.
Wide brown eyes looked up into her own. “Sad?” Sweet Pea’s voice was sweet and clear.
Adele nodded, and the little thing leaned in and wrapped her small arms around Adele’s waist. She returned the embrace, laying her cheek on her head. They stayed like that for several minutes before Adele realized she had to finish getting supper ready. She gave the little girl a kiss on the top of her head. “Thank you, little Sweet Pea.”
The girl lifted her head and looked at Adele for a moment. “Anne,” she said, pointing to herself.
“Your name is Anne?”
The child nodded.
Adele smiled as she wiped her face on the edge of her apron, gratified by the trust the child had placed in her. Determined to keep her from running off until she could get a decent meal into her, she led her into the parlor. Her brief examination had also shown Adele the little girl wasn’t being properly fed.
The sight of Jacob’s wooden toys delighted the child, and she sat down on the floor and immediately started to play. Adele prayed she wouldn’t slip away as she had on previous visits. Anne played until she heard Jacob and the men walk in. Then she made for Adele like a frightened rabbit. She eventually warmed a little to Jacob, but Will and Cyrus had to sit at the end of the dining room table before she would eat. She was particularly afraid of Cyrus, who simply gave his usual shrug and paid the little girl no mind.
After supper, Anne fell asleep in Adele’s lap. Adele had Will and Jacob take Toby’s old trundle bed and set it up in her room, and Anne settled into it as if it were her own. Adele looked down on her with a sense of satisfaction. Someone would surely miss her if she was gone all night and would come looking for her in the morning. Then I will tell them a thing or two, she thought as she took the little girl’s dress downstairs to the parlor to work on letting out the tuck.
Thoughts of Jonah came rushing back as she sat down with her sewing basket, and she prayed for him as she began to snip threads. Father, please bring him home soon and safely. …
Her eyelids drooped and she blinked, struggling to stay awake. The day had been so tiring. She glanced at the little clock on the mantel, determined to stay up until Jonah came home so she could apologize for her harsh words. But before she knew it, she’d laid her head back and fallen asleep.
Chapter 7
It was well into dusk when Jonah got back to the farm. The first few stars of the night had come out by the time he’d put the wagon away and tended to the horses. He saw the light shining from the parlor window and knew Adele had waited up for him.
He walked into the house and stepped into the parlor, ready to apologize for the way he left and for staying away so long. But he stopped short as he saw she had fallen asleep on the high-backed sofa. Softly, he walked over and knelt in front of her.
What should he do? She couldn’t stay here all night. His palms began to sweat as he realized he would have to carry her upstairs. He shifted his weight, and a board in the floor creaked, waking her.
Her eyes flew open. “Jonah!” she exclaimed, and before he could stop her, she had wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him.
He froze for several seconds before slowly returning the embrace. Her scent of lavender surrounded him, and her hair was soft against his neck. He closed his eyes. A lifetime of love for her rushed at him all at once, and he thought his heart might burst it pounded so hard. Had Pa felt like this for Ma? Had Nate loved her this much? Thoughts of his best friend caused him to back away and stand up. “I’m sorry I worried you,” he said haltingly.
She looked up at him in surprise before she spoke. “It’s all right. Are you well?”
“I’m fine.” Jonah turned and, seeing the seat at the secretary across the room, made for it and sat down. It was easier to look at her now that she was farther away. “Daniel told me everything that happened after he came home.”
“Oh,” she said, dropping her eyes. “Then you know how horribly I behaved after Nathaniel died?”
“I’m not sure I would call it horrible,” he said. “Your husband died. How were you supposed to act?”
She paused a moment before she answered. “As a child of Christ, I should have turned toward Him instead of away.”
He felt the anger rising in him. “And that’s how I should have acted?”
“I did not say that.”
He clenched and reclenched his fists. He looked at Adele. She was watching him with careful eyes as if he were a powder keg sitting too close to a flame. Why not? That’s how I feel. All set to explode. Like a gun ready to go off.
He could see his gun leaning against the wall just inside the door, and the sight of it filled him with even more anger. He turned his gaze elsewhere, only to see Pa’s Bible lying on the side table next to the rocker.
All right, God. Addie says You work through people. Pa always said the same. Let’s see how You do. He looked at Adele with blazing eyes.
She looked back, calm, steadfast, and sure.
“Give me one good reason why I should forgive God.”
The demand took Adele off guard, but only for a moment. “I cannot answer that unless I know why you are angry at Him.”
His eyes narrowed. “You know why.”
“Do I? When have you told me? Over the last year since you came home, when have you told me of your anger?” He didn’t answer, so she continued. “If you will not tell me, then I cannot answer you.”
They stared at each other. Eventually Adele started to gather her things. Father, this is hopeless—
“Zach.”
She looked up.
Jonah was looking at her, but his eyes seemed to be in another place.
Her heart began to pound. “Who is Zach?”
“He was younger than Toby, from Mount Vernon. A cannonball took his head clean off. How could God have let that happen to him?”
Adele raised her hands to her mouth. The image his words evoked silenced anything else she might have said or even thought.
After another moment, he continued on. “And they wouldn’t give us water in Andersonville. There was nothing to drink from but a filthy stream. People bathed and … did other things in it, and we were supposed to drink from it, too. Instead, we’d lay our clothes out in the rain—when it came—to soak up the water, then wring it into shallow bowls later. And the lice never stopped eating us.” His eyes filled with a cold anger. “So many people died who I wanted to live. I can’t even count how many times I prayed, so many times without an answer. How am I supposed to forgive Him for that?”
Tears were streaming down Adele’s face. “You think God is responsible for the sin men do?”
“He’s responsible for not stopping it. Pa taught me God is supposed to be all-powerful, all-good. I’m not so sure anymore.”
“But He is all those things, Jonah.”
“How?”
“You are here.” Adele rushed over and knelt before his chair. “You survived. You came home. Don’t you know how I praised and thanked God when I saw you walking up the drive that day? Yes, many people perished, but you did not. He saved you. He brought you home to me.”
“Why me? Why not Nate?”
“Oh Jonah, I do not know. I only know God is with us through our troubles. He is not the cause of them.”
Jonah turned her words over and over in his mind as he lay in bed that night. He thought about how many times he should have died in the war but hadn’t. On at least two occasions he’d sat down at the campfire after a battle and found holes in the top of his cap—bullet holes. Once, while he’d been reloading in the middle of a battle, one had come so close to his ear he’d heard the whistle of it as it flew by, and he turned to see it had settled into the man behind him, killing him. And Andersonville. How many times should he have died there?
He sat up in bed. The Sultana. I should have died then, too. He had thought it was only by chance that he had been unable to sleep and was standing at the bow of the steamship when the boiler exploded. He had jumped in the water almost immediately. And he’d managed to help at least two other men to shore. They never would have made it if I hadn�
��t. As weak as Andersonville had made him, he’d somehow found the strength to help them.
He looked up at the moon as its light streamed through the window in his room. But why didn’t You do the same for Nate? Then Adele would have a real husband and Jacob a real father.
To his shock, he felt an answer deep in his heart. But it couldn’t be right. No. No, they’re his. They were never mine, never supposed to be mine. But the answer remained. Jonah lay back down and closed his eyes and his heart to it and fell into a fitful sleep.
“Explain to me again why we have to sit clear down here?” Jonah asked the next morning. Will was crowded down at the end of the table with him, while Jacob and Adele sat at the other with Anne perched on his wife’s lap. Jonah couldn’t stretch out his long legs with the others sitting so close. He was glad the little girl had finally told Adele her name and had slept peacefully in her room last night, but he was still trying to grasp why she should be so afraid of men.
Adele looked at him apologetically. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure why myself. I just know she will not eat if you are near.”
“If I may, ma’am, last night I think it might have had more to do with Mr. Morgan,” Will said. Cyrus didn’t come to breakfast on Sunday mornings. He made do in his little place near the creek. Will rose and slid his chair closer. Anne looked at him warily but continued to eat. Will smiled in triumph, and Jonah sighed with relief. His legs had been getting cramped.
He, Will, and Jacob finished up, and while the other two went out to hitch up the buggy, Jonah lingered in his seat for a moment. “She was frightened of Cyrus?” he asked.
“He is wild looking,” Adele pointed out.
Jonah frowned slightly. “Cyrus Morgan is a good man. He just prefers a simpler kind of life.”
“Like Erich had, I suppose,” she said thoughtfully.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories.”
“No, it’s all right. I need to store his things away in the attic.” The crate still sat in the corner of the dining room. Adele leaned her cheek lightly against Anne’s head. “Erich would have liked the memorial service. But he would have hated seeing so many people wearing black just for him. I am glad he did not see how long I wore it when Nathaniel died.”
Brides of Ohio Page 21
