Jewel of Promise

by Marian Wells

  ****

  Dawn colored the windows across the aisle from Beth when the train finally began to move again. Slowly they traveled down to the river and crept forward. Beth leaned against the window and stared curiously at the mass of dark huts and tents obscuring the view of the river.

  The uniformed man across the aisle stood, stretched, and sat down beside her. “That’s the Yankee camp.” He shook his head sadly. “Sure having a time. Gone through three generals, and they’re still bumbling. I’m of the opinion they’d do better without a general. Might be they’d all go fighting off in different directions, but at least they’d feel like something was done when it was all over.”

  He grinned down at her. “Guess I shouldn’t complain; it’s their men getting killed.” Then he sobered. “But friend or enemy, it’s a shame to see people getting killed like this. There ought to be a better way.”

  “Do you suppose if people followed God this wouldn’t happen?” She nearly bit her lip when the surprising words slipped out.

  His eyebrows slid up. “Ma’am, they are. At least in the South. In the North they’ve got the abolitionists telling them what to believe. But in the South, we take the Bible as our guide.” He grinned as he said, “It tells us slavery is God’s will for some people.”

  Beth frowned. “I thought the war was because the South wanted to be free, not because of slavery.”

  “Where do you come from?”

  “Tennessee,” she replied hesitantly. “Up in the mountains.”

  “Honey chile,” he murmured, “I’m surprised to see you wearing shoes!” She flushed, and he chuckled. “That’s all right. But you people up there don’t get in on a good share of what’s going on.”

  She noticed the buildings beyond his shoulder. With a nod toward the window she said, “This must be Richmond.”

  He chuckled again. “Now you tell me this is the first time you’ve been to Richmond.” Beth gave him a curt nod and turned to look out the window.

  The train slowed and puffed into the depot. In a cloud of flying ash and hissing steam it stopped. Beth stood up and found the soldier beside her. With a mocking smile, he reached for her valise. “I feel responsible for a baby sister.”

  She followed him out of the train and claimed her bag. “Thank you, sir,” she murmured, turning smartly and walking quickly toward the street. A hack driver sprinted to her side and she surrendered the valise. “To the Claremont Hotel,” she ordered.

  As she signed the guest register, the clerk handed her an envelope. It’s all happening just as Mr. Stollen said it would.

  In her room upstairs, she closed the door and leaned against it. Her heart began a slow, heavy thump. Beth pressed her lips together and walked to the window to look out across the city. She could see stately trees on broad avenues lined with buildings of brick or sparkling white. “Quite different from Tennessee’s hills,” she murmured. “So feast your eyes, Beth. Hopefully it will all sink in. Maybe someday people will think you’re a lady.”

  She turned to pace the room. Frowning over the memory of the brash soldier, she bit her quivering lip and finally dropped into a chair. He sure didn’t treat me like a lady. Baby sister! She picked up the square vellum envelope the clerk had given her and pried it open.

  It was an invitation to a reception for a name she didn’t recognize. A carriage would call for her. Eight o’clock. “Two hours,” she mused. “Then I’ll meet this man, my ‘contact,’ and day after tomorrow I’ll go home. Never, never again will I do this,” she vowed.

  Cynthia had said something about helping the South, of being honored. Beth contemplated the idea. She walked to the window and looked out at the graceful white mansions and the dignified brick. “I’d be respected, welcome in those places. Perhaps, if they see me often enough, when it’s all over, I’ll be invited there,” she murmured, standing back in the curtains to examine the houses, the carriages, and the group of young ladies strolling down the street.

  At the appointed hour, Beth was handed into a carriage as large as any she had ever seen. She quickly ran an admiring hand over the velvet and walnut appointments before she turned to look out the window. The carriage went down one of the broad avenues she had seen from her window.

  Her destination turned out to be a white house situated at the end of a long curving lane. The inside was filled with music, flowers, and softly pitched voices. She was handed down the reception line, from one gloved hand to the other, murmured over, and pressed out into the large ballroom where clusters of people with subdued voices and dignified clothing drifted in and out of groups.

  A tall, dark, stern-faced man came into the room and the crowd parted around him. “President Jefferson Davis,” someone whispered.

  Suddenly she felt a firm hand under her elbow, heard a voice close to her ear. “Miss Martha Matlock, I presume.” Her heart pounded. This was the contact.

  “Sir, I don’t believe I have met you.”

  “Robert Swalling. May I bring you refreshments? There is a table tucked back in behind the potted palms.”

  “Most certainly. Just fruit punch, please.”

  When the evening was nearly at a close, Beth heard the new voices. Like exclamation marks the excited, strained voices were interjected in the midst of gentle laughter and low-voiced conversation. She turned to watch the crowd. President Davis left with several uniformed men following.

  “It sounds as if there’s been a prison break,” Mr. Swalling said. “Libby Prison. That is the place where the prisoners of war are kept. Union soldiers.”

  Beth looked at Mr. Swalling. “I believe it would be best to give you this packet now.”

  “Yes, I see they are starting to order the carriages,” he murmured. Turning to her, he held out his hand. “Thanks to the palm trees, we needn’t worry about prying eyes.” She handed him the slender packet. He tucked it in his pocket and said with a smile, “It’s ridiculous to think there’s danger in this room, but who knows? I have a small case for you to give our man.” For a minute his hands clasped hers. She glimpsed a small case of delicate gold and slipped it discreetly into the front of her frock.

  He escorted her to the carriage and kissed her hand. “My dear Miss Matlock, I look forward to seeing you again soon.” His teasing eyes mocked her as he stepped back from the carriage.

  Chapter 36

  Beth started down the Capitol corridor, still struggling with her desire to run. At last she stopped at an imposing office door marked DEPARTMENT OF THE ARMY. She resisted the urge to turn back. Official business. Beth, you promised. With her hand on the doorknob, she pondered the heavy weight in her heart. Why do I feel as if I must do this? she wondered. I haven’t done anything wrong. Then why do I feel as if delivering Matthew’s message will somehow make up for my deception? She paused and shook her red curls into place. I don’t care about Matthew’s silly message, but I’ll do anything to get rid of this guilt. Brushing aside her doubts, she faced the door resolutely.

  The door opened, and a uniformed man nearly collided with Beth. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he murmured. He looked at her more closely and said, grinning, “Didn’t have my wits about me. If there’s anyone inside who can introduce us, let me escort you in.”

  “No, but I need to see someone. It’s urgent.”

  His smile disappeared. “Come in then. Are you certain it’s the Department of the Army you want?”

  “I was told to come here; it’s about the war.”

  An older man came out of an office, hesitated, and came toward them. “Sir, this young lady wants to talk to you. Says it’s urgent.”

  “Thank you, Henry. Come this way, Miss.” He gestured toward a chair and sat down behind the desk. “I’m Colonel Samson. Whatever you have to say will be held in confidence, and you’ll be protected if the matter warrants it.”

  “I’m Elizabeth Peamble,” she started. “Colonel Samson, I don’t think it’s such a serious matter,” she said slowly. “I’ve just been in Richmond. It was at t
he train junction north of there where I met Matthew Thomas, a Union soldier. He asked me to come here with a message.”

  Beth repeated Matthew’s message, adding, “It seemed so silly to be concerned about this, but I promised.”

  “Do you know why he sent you here?”

  She shook her head. “I’d guess it’s because he’s a soldier and someone here will recognize his name.”

  The colonel stared absently at his tented fingers, then said, “I’ll see what we can do with the information. As you say, it’s not extremely—sensitive. But the statement about the Confederate Army is encouraging. Thank you for coming.”

  At breakfast the next morning, Cynthia dropped a newspaper beside Beth’s plate and pointed to an article. In a surprise attack against the Federal Army, the Confederates under Beauregard’s leadership were able to separate marching divisions en route to the western battlefields and inflict severe damage on the unsuspecting army. Slowly she refolded the paper and contemplated the hard knot in her stomach.

  “You don’t look too happy,” Cynthia said. “Don’t you realize you’ve made a strike for the Confederates?”

  “I don’t think I’d like to be responsible for men being killed.”

  “Someone’s going to be killed anyway; better them than us.”

  “Cynthia,” Beth said slowly, “do you sometimes question whether slavery and the Southern cause are really right?”

  Cynthia was silent a moment, then carefully she said, “I don’t have any doubts. Beth, since you’ve come back from Richmond, you don’t seem happy like you were before. What’s the problem?”

  Beth sighed. “Maybe I’m growing up, changing my mind about some things. To tell the truth, I feel guilty about what I did.”

  It was a long time before Cynthia asked, “You don’t intend getting out of this, do you? Beth, don’t even consider it. Stollen can’t afford a leak. Remember, he’s not the big boss; he’ll be trying to save his neck, too. I suggest you forget your silly little-girl emotions.”

  Beth gave her a shaky smile. “I’ll try.” Inside she thought of Olivia and desperately willed her to come.

  ****

  Two weeks passed, and then three, and still Olivia hadn’t come. Beth dressed for a walk and told Cynthia, “I’m going out. I need the fresh air, and I must check on my friend. I hope she isn’t ill, but at least I need to know.”

  “How will you find her?”

  “She said that the hospital where she works is close by. There are several hospitals in the area; I’ll start with the nearest.”

  “You know Tim and Nat will be here this evening. Kathleen Cogall may accompany them.”

  “I’ll be back,” Beth promised as she left the house.

  After a short walk in the direction Olivia had indicated previously, Beth found the long, drab building with its small sign. “Union Hospital,” Beth murmured as she entered the barren hall. A steep flight of stairs wound upward, while double doors seemed to lead into the hospital itself.

  She pushed at the doors and stepped through. The dim room was lined with cots, two deep. At the far end was a table. Several figures dressed in white were scattered through the room. One walked toward her, but Beth wasn’t aware of her. She saw and heard only the men.

  Some lay without movement, while others tossed restlessly; she saw some who would never rise, and others sitting up. She looked at the expressions on their pale faces. Most turned uncaring from her gaze. She saw blood-soaked sheets and bandages that hid swollen stumps.

  Olivia touched her arm. There was sympathy in her face. “Come outside, Beth.”

  They went into the entrance hall, Beth shaking and breathing heavily. Olivia glanced up as Dr. Whitt came through the doors. “Mrs. Duncan, everything is under control. Why don’t you take your friend out for some air and sunshine? I think you both need it.”

  Olivia nodded and looked at Beth. “I need to change my frock; come upstairs with me.”

  While Olivia removed her soiled uniform and washed her face and hands, Beth looked around the room. “This is your home? Olivia, it’s terribly barren.”

  “I come here only to sleep. You were so pale; do you feel better now?”

  Beth nodded. “How do you stand it?”

  “If it weren’t for the grace of God, I wouldn’t be able to.” Slowly she added, “Beth it’s terrible to see these young men in such agony. At times I hurt for them so badly, I nearly find myself complaining to heaven about the whole war.”

  “If you think this has anything to do with God, how can you not complain?”

  Olivia thought a moment before answering. “I do believe God cares deeply about what is happening, but there’s absolutely no way I can think this tragedy is of His doing. He’s given us the right to choose, even when our choices hurt Him deeply. I know in the end there is righteousness and justice, but now while we humans try to run our world—” she sighed and shook her head. “Apart from Jesus Christ, I couldn’t face life,” she concluded slowly as she sat down on the cot.

  Astonishment filled Beth’s face. “Olivia, why did you say that?”

  “Because we are all sinners. There’s no way possible for humans to please God without His help.”

  “Then how—”

  “Beth, it’s what Christ has done for us that counts. Accepting Him means we are clothed in the righteousness of God. I know you’re not willing to accept this, but don’t say you can’t. If I can believe God’s word, then anyone can. Believing means trusting God’s message to us, and being willing to make Him the most important part of life.”

  Olivia got to her feet. “Beth, I’m sorry. I can see you’re troubled. Want to talk?” She touched Beth’s shoulder. “Forgive me; it’s just the only way I know to deal with the difficulties we face. Only the dear Lord knows how much misery we’ve pulled in upon ourselves.”

  “Your nice doctor suggested we walk,” Beth said with a shaky smile as she stood up.

  “Fine. Let me brush my hair,” Olivia said, going to the table. She picked up the brooch and pinned it to her dress.

  Beth touched the brooch. “You’re thin and you look tired. Why do you stay? You know Sadie would love to have you come back.”

  “Right now I can’t,” Olivia whispered. “The only thing that makes much sense to me is being useful.”

  Outside Olivia took a deep breath of air. “There’s music in the park this afternoon. Shall we walk that way?”

  “A band?”

  Olivia nodded. “Army band. I understand there’s a new piece of music they’ll be playing. I haven’t heard it, nor do I know the words, but I’ve been told President Lincoln is very fond of this song.”

  “It’ll just be good to hear something lively,” Beth said.

  When they reached the park gate, the band was playing and the grounds were filled with people. “Let’s stand up here on these steps,” Beth said. “We’ll have a better view.”

  “It’s like looking down on a stage,” Olivia whispered. “The audience has become part of the play. Look at the tiny flags the people are wearing pinned to their lapels.”

  Abruptly the drums began a heavy, rolling beat. The band stepped back. While the sun flashed from the horns, a troupe of uniformed men surged forward. Marching in position, they began to sing. Olivia felt the force of the words striking her, and she wiped away tears as she listened: “Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord…. I have seen Him in the watchfires of a hundred circling camps…. Glory, Glory, Hallelujah!…In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea…. As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free….”

  The wind off the Potomac chilled the tears on Olivia’s cheeks as she lifted her face. She whispered, “His truth is marching on!”

  The setting sun drew a final flash of light from the brass. The wind swept the people, stirring them back to life. When the soldiers marched from the park, Olivia saw the new spring in their step. From the crowd a wavering voice rose as an elderly
man waved his hat. “God bless you soldier boys; God bless.”

  Then Olivia saw Beth’s face. “It’s so scary,” Beth whispered. “It’s like being whirled, tossed with nothing to catch me. Oh, Olivia, there’s nothing steady and certain anymore. It seems everything I grab slides away from me.”

  “God doesn’t slide away.” As Olivia spoke, Beth turned to listen. “He’s the only thing that won’t change or disappear. Beth, sometimes you remind me of a child chasing rainbows. You can’t look at the sky forever; you aren’t heeding your feet. Beth, my dear, I don’t want to see you fall.”

  The girl was shivering, clasping her arms around herself. Olivia pulled open the bag she carried and took out a sheet of paper and a pencil. She wrote on the paper, stopped, wrote more. She nibbled at the pencil, brushed at her eyes, and wrote again. Finally she folded the paper into a tiny square and handed it to Beth. “Here, take this. It’s scriptures; you’ll have to find a Bible and look up the references. Someday, somewhere, these verses will be more valuable than gold. Please keep them until that day.”

  Olivia stood up. “It’s nearly dark. We both need to go. Please come see me again. I’ve missed you.”

  Olivia watched Beth hurry down the street. She turned back toward the hospital with a deep sense of loneliness. The damp wind made her shiver and she hurried inside and entered the long corridor filled with beds.

  She saw the nurses and Dr. Whitt rushing from one bed to another. Mattie ran up to her. “Help us, please! They’ve just brought more patients, and some of them are critical.”

  Olivia dropped her shawl and rolled up her sleeves as she hurried to the far end of the room. As she turned, Olivia saw the dark curly hair, the beard. She gasped and reached for a chair. It can’t be!

  “My husband, that’s my husband!” Olivia gasped, running across the room, throwing herself to her knees beside the cot. The man’s face was bloodied, raw with festering wounds. “Alex, Alex!” Then she saw the man’s ear—smooth, unblemished, with no sign of a gold ring. Slowly she stood and turned, staggering as she walked toward Dr. Whitt.