"Have you heard from Edward?" he asked casually as he placed the box of tin cups on the table.
She blinked, blue eyes wide and uncertain. "Yes. Well, from Stephen. Sally did, that is."
He wondered why she felt it necessary to state Stephen Hastings had not written her personally. He took it as a hopeful sign.
"Are they both well?" He asked.
"Yes."
"Good. I am pleased to hear that."
Sam wanted to act as if there was no division between them, as if Edward and Stephen had simply gone on a fishing trip and would return in a matter of days. He smiled at her.
Julia's face was still as pale as a winter moon.
Sally, on the other hand, was grinning, a conniving expression at that. Sam figured she knew all that had taken place. Julia always told her everything. By the look on her face, Sam guessed Sally was still on his side.
"What kind of bread did you bring?" he asked evenly.
Julia gestured toward the loaf on the table and absentmindedly mentioned strawberry jam.
"She made it yesterday," Sally added.
"Fresh jam," he said. "That will bring the people in droves."
"That is what we are hoping for, isn't it, Julia?"
She nodded politely then gracefully moved to the far end of the table, placing Sally between them.
"
The noon bells chimed and as anticipated, the street traffic increased. Many people stopped by the church table out of curiosity.
It was a wonderful sight to see'yet Julia moved about in a daze, feeling out of place and ineffective.
Samuel ladled out the water and Sally smiled sweetly as she offered each person something to eat. The pair invited everyone to join those in the sanctuary for prayer.
Most declined.
"Oh, I'm on my way to such and such," they would say, "but thank you."
Undaunted, Sally responded politely in kind, promising to pray for the person's well-being. No one chaffed at her promise. They thanked her for her kindness.
Julia envied her. Sally was lifting heavy spirits, showing God's love. She was doing what Julia longed to do.
As for Samuel, a smile filled his face and his voice held its usual warmth. Little children giggled at the jokes he made. Laborers going about their tasks stopped to ask him to pray for specific requests.
"My cousin's joined up. Pray he will come home safe when all is said and done."
He would do so on the spot. Samuel never mentioned politics; he just offered a simple prayer for the one in need or the loved one they had mentioned. The person then usually went away with a smile.
A cloudless sky stretched over them. His hair shone reddish-brown in the midday sun. Julia marveled at the effect he was having on others until she thought better of it. More is needed than prayer. Even Jesus told his disciples at one point if they didn't have a sword to sell their cloaks and buy one.
Time marched on. The bonnet covering her head was beginning to feel like a bread oven. Though the emerald green dress she wore was made of light silk, the fabric clung to her uncomfortably. She took out her lace handkerchief and blotted her face. There was a lull in the traffic and Samuel mentioned Edward.
"Did your brothers say where they are camping?" he asked.
"Indirectly," Sally innocently answered. "They are in'"
Julia quickly caught her best friend's arm. What was Sally thinking; ready to report Edward and Stephen's activities to him?
"They have gone south," Julia said.
"Yes," he chuckled. "I suppose they would."
His lightheartedness was infuriating. "What do you find so amusing?" she asked.
"Forgive me," he said, though still chuckling. "It was the look on your face, just now. Don't worry, Julia, I have no intention of reporting your letters or your brother's activities to the Provost Marshal."
His promise gave little comfort. "Then what are your intentions?" she wanted to know.
"The same as yours. I would like to send Edward a letter."
Her anger brewed. Her head felt even hotter. "And just what would you say to him, Samuel? Would you condemn his actions? Would you argue your so-called abolitionist views?"
Her emotions had gotten the better of her. She had raised her voice. Samuel looked embarrassed. Sally did, as well. Her face was three shades of red.
A woman with a baby carriage and two small youngsters had approached the table. Julia felt her own embarrassment rising. She tried to remember why she was here, the mission of kindness she had undertaken. But as Samuel took her hand and steered her to the nearby maple tree, all thoughts of Christian charity evaporated.
"Julia, I have nothing against your brother. I pray daily for his safety."
"But not his victory," she said.
"I pray that God's will, that right, will prevail."
"Right will prevail? I suppose that means the Federal Army?"
"I didn't say that."
"You have by your actions."
"You have misinterpreted them."
"Have I?"
He stepped closer, his brown eyes full of intensity. "I would give my life for you, for your family if necessary."
"Would you?" she scoffed. "Where were you the night my brother tried to keep the army from invading this city? Where were you when those soldiers approached me yesterday at the market?"
"
Sam's heart filled his throat and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Julia's jaw was clenched but the emotion in her eyes had shifted from anger to fear.
"What soldiers? What happened to you?"
"They were watching me as I was shopping. They asked if I needed help with my basket."
It was obvious that she thought the men had been insincere in their offers of assistance. She looked him full in the face. All her anxieties were openly displayed. His heart ached for her and without thinking, he took her hand in his.
"What did you say to them?"
Her fingers were trembling. Her voice was, as well. "I told them no thank you and then I ran away as quickly as I could."
"Did they follow you home?"
"No. I made certain of that."
He had feared such things from the Federal occupation and much worse. The troops were here to keep the peace, to preserve the Union. But at what cost? The memory of what they had done on Pratt Street still made his blood boil, and the thought of one of them harming Julia'or any lady of this city'made him want to pick up a musket and join the Confederate ranks.
But Sam knew that wasn't the way. "My sabbatical from teaching is a blessing," he said. "Next time I will go with you to the market. That way there won't be any trouble."
He lost her on the word blessing. She pulled back her hand.
"The Federal Army is in no way, shape or form a blessing, Samuel. And do not bother to grace me with your presence. My brother will see to it that those soldiers are removed from Baltimore."
She whirled about on her heel and hurried for the front steps. Sam started to go after her but the church doors had opened and people were exiting the building.
The hour for prayer and reconciliation had ended.
"
Julia got as far as the back pew and then froze. She knew she had behaved horribly. Her guilt came crashing over her in suffocating waves the moment she saw Reverend Perry.
He smiled at her then immediately strode up the aisle.
"Julia, my dear, did you have many visitors to the table?"
His hope-filled tone heaped burning coals upon her head. The purpose of the day was to show compassion to lost and burde
ned souls, not to argue with Samuel.
Oh, Lord, forgive me. Had it not been for Sally, not a single passerby would have received a kind word. She did not let herself think of the kindness Sam had shown to passersby, as well.
"Sally spoke with many people today," Julia told the Reverend. "And many asked for prayer."
Reverend Perry's smile broadened. "Wonderful! I knew I could count on the two of you. Will you serve again tomorrow?"
Julia could feel the heat in her cheeks. She wasn't worthy to attend to the duty but she felt she had to make up for the disaster of today. "I will serve graciously," she promised. "You have my word."
He patted her arm in a fatherly way, then moved on to speak with another member of the congregation.
Julia sighed. Turning for the front door, she knew exactly what she must do. She had to apologize to Sally.
Her best friend stepped into the foyer at that very moment.
"I am sorry," Julia blurted out immediately. "Please forgive me."
Sally pulled her toward the belfry. Once inside, she shut the door behind them. Gold dust rays shone through cracks and crevices above them.
"I forgive you," Sally said, "but I must tell you that I believe you are making a mistake with Sam."
Julia's back stiffened. She wanted to make things right for her unchristian behavior but she did not wish to discuss what had driven her to such in the first place. "Sally'¦"
"He loves you. It is written all over his face. Despite your differences I believe he is willing to compromise, to work things out."
Julia shook her head. Compromise wasn't possible. "He says he would give his life for me but I don't believe him."
"If I were you, I would be thankful he hasn't proven that."
"What?"
Sally's hands moved to her narrow, drawn-in waist. "What would you really do if Samuel enlisted? You don't know what it is like to have the man you love more than life itself serving on some unknown battlefield. To know not whether he will live or die."
Julia's jaw dropped. Sally had never talked this way before. The man you love more than life itself? She can't mean Stephen. Then it hit her. Edward. Sally Hastings had never gotten over her brother.
Shame and sympathy flooded Julia's veins. How foolish she had been ranting on about Samuel when Sally felt this way. "Oh, Sally, I am so sorry. I didn't realize. I thought that ended long ago."
Tears squeezed past her friend's golden eyelashes. Her cheeks were flushed. "Edward never showed any interest in me when he was home. I have tried to forget him but I'¦" Her voice cracked.
"You can't."
Sally shook her head then offered a pitiful smile. "Forgetfulness it seems is in short supply these days."
Julia handed her a clean handkerchief.
"Please forgive me," she said, "for everything. I am so sorry. If I had known how you felt, I never would have complained so."
Sally wiped her eyes. She chuckled softly. "Of course I forgive you. You are my dearest friend."
"And you are mine," Julia said as they hugged each other. "Listen, when Edward writes, I want you to open the letter first."
"No. That would not be right."
"Then I will give you the letter as soon as I read it."
Sally stepped back. Her countenance had lifted. "You had better."
They both laughed then Julia turned serious.
"Reverend Perry asked if we would continue sharing our bread."
"What did you tell him?"
"I told him yes."
Sally's left eyebrow arched.
"I promise you," Julia said, "I won't let my anger get the best of me again."
"I believe you but what will you do about Sam? He told me that so far he is the only man willing to help."
Julia sighed heavily. Like it or not, she knew what she was going to have to do. She would have to make peace with him. A greater purpose depended on it.
"I will apologize for my behavior today."
Sally gave her hand a squeeze. "God bless you, Julia."
"No. God bless you. You are always my example. You are the lady I want to be."
Sally waved her off with a smile. Her face then darkened with worry. "You won't tell your mother or Edward, will you?"
"Of course not. But I will spend a little extra time in prayer tonight."
Sally giggled slightly. Julia considered it a victory.
"I would appreciate your prayers," she said. "But consider what I said about Sam. He does love you. When it comes down to it, that is really all that matters in this life, to love and be loved in return."
"I didn't know you were such a philosopher," Julia quipped.
"Perhaps I read too much poetry," Sally mused, "but in times like these'¦ Well, consider what I said. Will you?"
Her words carried weight. Part of Julia wanted to find Samuel at that moment. The other part had no idea what to say to him.
"I will consider it well," Julia promised, "and perhaps you could spend a little time in prayer for me."
Sally smiled. "You have my promise."
"
Sam put away the water barrels and washed the tin cups. Then he promptly left the building. He tried not to think about what had happened between him and Julia. He just wanted to keep moving.
He walked up Charles Street deciding to pay a visit to his old employer, Collin O'Hara, a local blacksmith. Sam had no idea how long it would be before classes would resume. He could not sit home and wait. Neither his wallet nor his mind would allow it.
Mr. O'Hara was delighted to see him. His bushy, red mustache rose with a smile. Though when Sam asked about possible work, the man's face fell.
"I thought you would be teaching by now."
"I am. Or at least, I was." Sam explained what had happened with the school. "I thought that perhaps with all of the soldiers in town, you may need a little extra help."
"Sorry, boy. Business isn't that good. Many of my regular customers left for the war and as for the soldiers, well, they have their own smiths."
"I see."
Mr. O'Hara must have sensed his discouragement. "Tell you what," he said, "if business does pick up I will be sure to take you on. You were always a hard worker, trustworthy, as well."
"Thank you, sir. I appreciate that."
They shook hands and Sam turned to go, mentally going through his list of where else he might find temporary work.
Maybe tutoring, though it's unlikely anyone would want to hire me on a short-term basis. I suppose I could always chop firewood. A sad smile moved across his face. What would she do if I just showed up? The thought was tempting but his honor kept him from doing so. I promised her that I would respect her wishes. Perhaps I should speak to Reverend Perry and ask him to find someone else to look after the bread table.
The thought of not seeing Julia filled his heart with a pain he could not bear and the thought of her in danger by Federal soldiers made his stomach roll.
Oh, Lord, why can't there be peace? Why can't life be as it was before?
His mind drifted back to a day last summer on Chesapeake Bay. He and Edward had taken a few days to go fishing.
"Why do you want to marry my sister?" Edward had asked.
At first Sam hadn't been certain if the question was one of curiosity or brotherly inquisition. Knowing Edward, it was probably a little of both. He'd answered honestly, "Because I love her."
The corner of Edward's mouth lifted with a smile. "I knew you would say that. I
just hope you realize what you are getting yourself into."
Sam chuckled and tugged at his line. Neither of them had caught anything yet. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Edward looked at him incredulously. "Have you ever seen her get angry?"
"A time or two," Sam said. "It is usually directed at you."
The boat rocked slightly as Edward let out a hearty laugh.
The water rippled beneath them. The fish hadn't been biting but neither of them seemed to care.
"Jesting aside," Edward had then said. "My sister is a good woman. Stubborn but faithful. She will do anything to care for those she loves."
"I know that." It was one of the qualities that had drawn Sam to her in the first place.
Edward pulled his eyes from the blue-gray water. "I am glad it is you," he said. "I don't think I could let my sister marry anybody else."
Remembering, Sam sighed. The sincerity in Edward's voice that day was a far cry from the night of the Pratt Street riot.
When the city leaders learned that additional Northern troops were en route to Washington via Baltimore, they had sent a telegram to President Lincoln. They'd told of the attack and had advised him to send no more troops through Baltimore.
When Washington failed to comply, Mayor Brown and the police commissioners took matters into their own hands. They'd decided to burn the railroad bridges north of the city. Local militia had been pouring into Baltimore all day. Everyone feared further confrontation with Federal soldiers.
Sam had followed Edward to the armory that night. Members of the Maryland Guard, police officers and volunteers had gathered. The air was charged. A frenzied excitement filled men's faces.
Instructions were given. The group would be divided into two forces. One would burn bridges on the Philadelphia rail line, the other on the North Central Railroad.
"No Yankee will step foot in Baltimore under our watch," one of the police officials had shouted.
Cheers radiated from the volunteers and many of the Guard. Slurs on the Northern troops spilled out. Listening, Sam had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. The impulsive, protective spirit that had caused him to follow Edward to this place was waning. Reason was taking its place.
Her Rebel Heart Page 7
