This Time Forever

by Linda Swift

  "I hate the war and I hate the Confederacy," Clarissa stated dully as she watched her brother’s body being taken away.

  "It’s grief you feel," Philip said quietly.

  "No." She shook her head emphatically. "I hate the Cause that took my brother’s life from him. Boys like Lawton are dying because of a silly argument over owning slaves."

  "Slavery is wrong. And your brother knew that. It’s why he wore the blue."

  "He was too young to care about beliefs!" Clarissa protested. "It was just an adventure to him. What did he know about war?"

  "Come with me, Clarissa," Philip took her arm and guided her toward the kitchen. "You need to rest. Polly can help me here."

  Devon O’Conner sat at the table with Angeline; when she entered the room both of them stood and walked toward her. Now, she knew why the dust-laden soldier had looked vaguely familiar.

  "Oh, sister, Devon told me." Angeline fell into her arms, weeping and she held her close.

  "I’m so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Wakefield," Devon said softly.

  "You brought my brother here, Lieutenant."

  "It was the least I could do for Giles," he told her with a tremulous smile. "We’d got to be good friends after I left here and joined back up with General Thomas. And yesterday near Reed’s Bridge, your brother saved my life when I fell in front of Forest’s cavalry. I’d‘ve been trampled ‘ad he not risked life and limb to save me."

  Angeline stepped back and put her hand on Devon’s arm. "Devon says that Thomas’s men are still holding the road to Rossville, though the other Union troops have fallen back. They’re the bravest of them all, and our brother was one of them."

  "He fought with honor, Mrs. Wakefield," Devon added.

  She looked at the battle-worn Irishman as if seeing him for the first time, and held out her hand. "Call me Clarissa, please." She took a shaky breath. "We’re in your debt for bringing our brother here. Is there anything we can do for you?"

  "Aye, your sister has already seen that I’ve ‘ad my fill of water. We were near to dying of our thirst with Chickamauga Creek that close." He closed his eyes a moment, then went on. "They say the name is Indian, means river of blood. Aye, and for sure it was today and yesterday."

  "Sister, we were wondering—Devon and I—if we could bury Lawton here, perhaps beside the gazebo, at least until the war is over and we can take him back to Mimosa Manor?"

  "I’ll dig the grave myself," Devon offered. "If you give permission."

  Clarissa thought of the bodies of the dead, piled in wagons and disposed of in common graves and nodded. It would be a comfort to have her brother’s resting place so near. "But first, won’t you have a bite of supper with us? You must be hungry."

  "And that I am, come to think of it."

  Clarissa looked at Angeline. "I’ll send Polly to help Harriet with supper for the men. There’s bound to be many more wounded arriving soon and Captain Burke will need me."

  In the dim hallway, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes for a moment. Her brother was dead. But in his dying, he’d brought Angeline and the man she loved back together. And if Devon O’Conner, unlettered Irishman that he was, could make her sister happy again, who was she to judge him?

  • ♥ •

  The hour was late, and a full moon hung over the gazebo where the mourners sat, listening to the words of a wounded army chaplain who had been pressed into conducting the impromptu funeral for Lawton Giles. True to his word, Devon O’Conner had dug the grave that now waited to receive the crude pine box the Wakefield servants had hastily put together.

  Clarissa sat stiffly erect facing the makeshift coffin with Angeline sobbing softly beside her, leaning heavily on Devon’s shoulder. Clarissa’s dry eyes stared straight ahead and Philip, sitting in the row of chairs behind them with Polly, Betsy, Harriet and Luke, longed to comfort her. He could feel her pain as if it were his own and the urge to reach out and touch her was so strong he clenched his hands together until they were numb.

  "In my Father’s house are many mansions. If it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you..." The chaplain, awkwardly holding a worn Bible with his one good arm, continued to read.

  Philip thought of all the soldiers like Lawton Giles who had died in the fighting along Chickamauga Creek the past two days. More and more, he had come to doubt the need for it. Why couldn’t civilized men sit down at a table together and peacefully work out their differences without spilling the blood of the nation’s youngest and best?

  The slaves’ voices lifted in song brought him back to the present. "Go down, Moses..." He thought of the meaning of the words they sang. "Let my people go." Did these people look on men like him as their Moses who would deliver them from their bondage?

  "Now let us pray "Our Father who art in Heaven..."

  Philip mouthed the words, stressing fervently a second time "and lead us not into temptation."

  His eyes remained on the unbending head of the woman he loved. He had never thought her more beautiful nor desirable than now as she sat close enough to touch, but as unattainable as the moon, whose silver glow fell on her like a benediction.

  Then, Lawton Giles’s pine box was lowered into the gaping hole, as dry clods of dirt fell like muffled drumbeats to cover it.

  Clarissa stood and with eyes straight ahead passed Philip as he fought to keep from reaching out and pulling her into his arms, and silently cursed the invisible wall that separated them as surely as death separated her from her beloved brother.

  • ♥ •

  The day was as still as death except for the occasional sound of distant cannon, the sky a calm, cerulean blue as Clarissa knelt to place the yellow chrysanthemums on her brother’s grave. She walked the few steps to the gazebo and sat staring at the river as she often did since Lawton’s funeral. Whitehaven had been hospital to countless wounded from the battle that had claimed his life and she welcomed a few minutes alone, away from all the chaos. But today, her solitude was interrupted by a visitor.

  "Clarissa?"

  She turned as the young woman in a fashionable carriage dress came toward her. "Why, Mary Jane, what a surprise!"

  The two women embraced and then seated themselves together, facing the bare mound of dried brown earth.

  "I’m so sorry about your brother. And everyone at Fleur-de-Lis sends their sympathy, too." Clarissa nodded. "And how dreadful for you and Angeline to be surrounded by all these horrid Union soldiers. Mister Wakefield is beside himself with worry."

  "We’re perfectly safe," Clarissa assured her. "Captain Burke has seen to that. But tell me, how did you get into the city without being turned back?"

  Mary Jane laughed. "Oh, the soldiers didn’t seem to mind a lone woman entering their territory in a carriage flying a white flag, especially after I gave them one of the baskets of apples I had with me."

  Clarissa laughed, too. "You bribed the guards? I’m really surprised they didn’t suspect you of being a Confederate spy, especially since everyone else has been going the other way. Why, even our newspaper has moved to Atlanta."

  "This place is a ghost town," Mary Jane agreed. "Practically all of the people have evacuated, and a lot of the houses have been torn down to make room for the soldiers’ tents. And there are works thrown up everywhere until the whole city looks like an armed fort. They’ve even dug rifle pits through grave yards."

  "I think from your report you really would make a good spy, Mary Jane."

  "Not me," she shook her head. "I’m not courageous like you and Angeline. But I did persuade Mister Wakefield to let me come for Robert, if you’ll allow him to go back with me."

  "That’s very brave of you, Mary Jane. And I’m willing for Robert to return to Fleur-de-Lis since there’s no telling when the siege will end, and nobody knows what will happen next."

  "We’ve heard the Army of the Cumberland is starving and General Bragg is just going to wait them out till they surrender like our Confederates did at Vic
ksburg."

  "He may have a long wait. General Thomas has sworn to hold the line until his troops starve."

  "I’ve brought a whole carriage of food for Whitehaven just in case that’s true."

  "I’m sure Harriet will be grateful for that. Our meals have been a little scant lately."

  "Harriet? We thought since the Yankees had given our slaves their freedom, they’d all be gone by now."

  "Betsy and most of the others left after the battle. Harriet and Luke chose not to leave. And so did Polly."

  "Well, Lydia says if the Townsend slaves keep running away there won’t be enough left to put out our crops next spring. And Mister Wakefield seems more worried about forming a Citizen’s Brigade to protect the plantations against the Yankees than he is about raising cotton."

  "I guess he needs something to keep him occupied since the mill was captured."

  "I suppose. And it’s a good thing he was laid up from his injuries after his carriage overturned, or he’d have probably died defending it."

  "What do you hear from Talmage?" Clarissa asked.

  "General Lee’s Army was still camped near the Rapidan last I heard." Mary Jane shook her head. "There seems to be no end in sight."

  Clarissa stood. "Would you like to come inside and have something to drink? I think we still have tea."

  "No, I really must be going, as soon as Robert is ready. I’m sure Mister Wakefield won’t rest a minute until we’re back safe."

  Mary Jane stepped gingerly around the crowded cots in the hallway, averting her eyes from the mangled men who lay on them, as they went upstairs. "This is so awful," she whispered as they reached the upstairs sitting room. "I do pray that Talmage won’t ever be left like these poor soldiers."

  Polly met them at the door to Robert’s room where she had just put him down for a nap and her face lighted with pleasure at the sight of their visitor.

  "Miss Townsend has come to take Robert back to Fleur-de-Lis," Clarissa told her. "I’d like you both to be ready as soon as possible."

  "Missa?" Polly said softly. "You be needin’ me here. Why doan I get Masta Robert ready and jes send him with Miss Townsend?"

  "I’m sure Captain Burke and Miss Angeline and I can handle the patients now, Polly."

  "I ain’t meanin’ the men, Missa. I mean to hep you, when the time come."

  Mary Jane looked startled. "Clarissa? Are you—"

  Clarissa nodded. "But please don’t tell anyone, Mary Jane."

  "Then you should be coming to Fleur-de-Lis, too. This is no fit place to have a baby. It’s too—too awful."

  Clarissa shook her head. "Our hospital is full of sick and injured men. Captain Burke needs my help." She looked at Polly thoughtfully. "But perhaps..."

  "Oh, yes. If you insist on staying, then Polly must stay with you. I’ll take care of Robert myself. And he and Beau will have such fun playing together again. Beau has missed him terribly, and I’ve practically taken over his care since Polly left. He’s such a clever child, so like my brother Sylvester."

  "It’s settled, then," Clarissa said. "Let me wake him now and say goodbye."

  Clarissa went into her son’s room and looked down at him with a wistful expression. She would miss him, but she knew it was best that he leave. There was no predicting what the future of Whitehaven might be, and his safety was the important thing.

  • ♥ •

  "Missa, you not eatin' hardly nothing no more. How you think that baby gonna grow? And look at you. Still skinny as a rail."

  "I'm not hungry, Polly." Clarissa pushed her plate of grits away. "Save this for breakfast. Maybe I'll feel like eating then."

  "I'll jes eat it now, and cook you something hot in the mornin'," Polly said and picked up a spoon and hungrily devoured the remains of her mistress's supper.

  Clarissa averted her eyes, not wanting to witness the evidence of how bad things had become as the siege lingered on into its second month. Thanks to Philip Burke's influence, they had fared better than the soldiers bivouacked all over the city, but food was scarce and supplies almost nonexistent, even at Whitehaven.

  Wearily, she got up from the table. "I think I'll go outside for a little while. If Cap—Major Burke needs me, you can find me on the veranda." General Thomas had promoted Philip Burke when he'd conferred with him at Whitehaven yesterday, and she wasn't used to his new title yet. Nor to having him occupy a bedroom upstairs, which the general had also insisted on.

  Polly picked up the plate and surreptitiously licked the last grains from it. "Yes, Missa."

  On the veranda, Clarissa felt a crispness in the air that promised winter. The sun had disappeared below the mountains, and the brilliant colors of the thick foliage that softened their sharp contours were a dull gray monochrome in the evening shadows.

  From the music room, she could hear the sound of the piano and voices singing a lively Irish ballad. Philip Burke and Devon O'Conner were providing some mood lifting music for the men, as they did each evening.

  Her son had been gone two weeks now, and every day she missed him more, but she was thankful he was safe at Fleur-de-Lis. And that he had enough to eat. The noose around the neck of the city had been tightened, jerked hard by their own armies in an attempt to starve the Union soldiers into surrender. But so far, it hadn't succeeded, even with the men on half rations and no hope of relief.

  "May I join you?" Philip Burke stood in the doorway, holding his pipe in his hand.

  "Certainly, Ca—Major." She walked to the edge of the veranda and stood looking into the distance as he struck a match to his pipe and took a deep draw. Without the sound of music, she could hear the faint echo of musket volleys in the distance now.

  "Polly said you didn't eat your supper." He waited for her acknowledgement but there was none, so he went on. "You must eat; not only for yourself, but for your child."

  "I try," she turned to look at him, "but I'm just not hungry. Food makes me ill."

  "You're overtired. I could get you through to Fleur-de-Lis if you—"

  "No!" she cut him off emphatically. "The siege can't last forever." She suddenly looked doubtful. "Can it?"

  He shook his head. "General Grant has issued orders for a cracker line, as he called it yesterday, to be opened up from Alabama. And none too soon."

  "Cracker line?" she repeated.

  "A route that's making use of steamboats, army wagons, and a pontoon bridge to transport a trickle of goods up from Bridgeport."

  "Will that mean more fighting?" she asked with dread.

  "Since Bragg considers the entire Army of the Cumberland his prisoners, I can't imagine that he and his men will give up their plan to slowly starve us into surrender without a battle. But now with Grant here, and Hooker's forces said to be on the way, I think we'll keep the city."

  Clarissa's temper flared. "You sound so damn smug about it, Major Burke. But after what your soldiers have done to it, the city's no great prize for anyone."

  "May I remind you, Mrs. Wakefield, that I have been a prisoner here until a few weeks ago, and I'm grateful to those men for liberating me. But I'm glad my comment irked you. I was beginning to think you'd lost your spirit."

  "Far from it, Major." Her eyes met his defiantly. "There's too much to be done, no matter who occupies the city. And neither you nor all your Union Army will make me leave Whitehaven." "I never wanted you to," he said softly, "except for your own welfare."

  A thin wafer moon rose over the dark mountain behind her, leaving her gaunt face in shadow, but Philip saw in his mind's eye another night when a full moon's silver had bathed her flowing hair in ethereal light. He took a tentative step toward her and she caught her breath and backed away, placing one hand protectively over the slight swelling in her abdomen.

  And that was the way Philip left her when he said good night and went back into the house.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Chattanooga, October 1863

  The sound of Devon O'Conner's tenor voice carried clearly to the ver
anda where Clarissa and Angeline sat taking a brief rest from their day's labors.

  "What a fitting song that Long, Long Weary Day is," Clarissa said with a wry smile. "It fits all our days lately, for that matter."

  "You shouldn't be working so hard in your condition, sister." Angeline looked at her with concern.

  "I need to stay busy." Clarissa twisted her hands in her lap. "It's been almost a month now since Mary Jane took Robert to Fleur-de-Lis, and I miss him so, and worry, too, now that I've heard of the outbreak of smallpox in Rossville."

  "I'm sure he's fine. But I wish you were at Fleur-de-Lis, too, now that your time is getting so—"

  "Don't you start that, too. Polly and Major Burke have been at me for days, and I'm not leaving Whitehaven."

  "But the hospital is quiet now, and I could help the Major."

  "He's going to need both of us, and Polly too, when the fighting commences again."

  "I don't think General Bragg will have to fire a shot, Clarissa. The men will all be dead of starvation and scurvy and dysentery and heaven knows what else by spring if he maintains the blockade."

  "General Grant doesn't seem to me like a man who'll let his army remain under siege that long."

  "Well, he hasn't done anything remarkable since he took charge here," Angeline complained. "Devon says the soldiers even follow the few supply wagons that get through and scrabble on the ground like animals for anything that falls out. And they're eating spoiled provisions just to keep alive."

  "Which only makes them sick, and then they die, anyway." Clarissa sighed. "If only this cursed war would end, I don't even care anymore who wins."

  "Why, Clarissa, I can't believe you said that." Angeline shook her head.

  "Lawton is dead of a Confederate bullet. And Sylvester died from Union fire. And thousands more dead and dying on each side. Who will be left when this is over?" Clarissa demanded. "A bunch of widows and orphans, that's who."