Songs the Soldiers Sang

by Bette McNicholas

  “At least now you know he was headed back to his brigade.”

  “Yes, thanks to General Sullivan.”

  Holt stretched out his legs and sat up taller on the seat and asked, “What about your mother? Didn’t she have any family?”

  “No. Her parents came from Ireland around the time of the Uprising of 1798, after Napoleon deserted the Irish cause and there were no longer any members of their families who survived. They considered their being able to escape a miracle,” she said, sighing. “They were young and in love and not married, but were wed by the captain of their ship.

  “When my mother was ill, I went to the plantation with Paul one day and came across some journals that my grandfather kept during his life in Ireland. I learned things that my mother never told me. Her father was a descendant from an aristocratic family, his mother was a Carney, and he and my grandmother, Molly Loftus, were fortunate to flee with some gold coins and a few possessions, that allowed them to settle on St. Helena.”

  “What happened to those grandparents?”

  “They both died from smallpox, months before my parents were to wed. That’s the reason my father had Mossland built. Beaufort is above sea level and we lived there most of the summer months. The climate and the fine soil of the low country are great for growing cotton, rice and tobacco, but the mosquito-infested marshes brought debilitating and deadly diseases. Thinking about how both sets of grandparents deaths were untimely, not to mention my Mother’s, makes me doubtful about finding my Father alive and at times I struggle to remain positive,” she said, resting her head on Holt’s shoulder.

  ****

  When they arrived at her grandparents’ home, Laurel was taken aback to see that someone had apparently cared for the lawn and when Holt unlocked the front door, they discovered that the house had been cleaned and smelled like fresh paint and floor wax, and the windows sparkled.

  Holt found an envelope on the floor and handed it to Laurel. “Someone left a note for you.”

  She hurriedly opened the message. “The note is from the attorney who handled my grandparents’ estate. He heard we’d be arriving soon and hired some workers to clean up the mess left behind from the auctioneer, to paint the house and take care of grounds. He says he used some money from the profits that were left after the taxes were paid. How wonderful. I didn’t think I’d have the energy to start that chore today, putting the place in order. What a wonderful and kind gesture.”

  “I’ll unload the wagon, and at least you and Junie will be able to sleep on mattresses tonight.”

  “Let me help…”

  Laurel didn’t have a lot of time to shop before they left D.C., but the day before, Holt had taken her shopping to buy a couple of mattresses, some dishes, glasses and utensils, sheets and towels, and a few other essentials, along with some non-perishable groceries.

  As soon as the wagon was unloaded, Holt said, “I’ll stop to eat on the way back to Washington, and on my return from South Carolina, before I go to Delaware, I’ll bring another horse with me and leave you this wagon and horses.”

  “Holt! I can’t accept them.”

  “You need some way to get around and there’s a barn on the property. You and Junie can’t walk back and forth to town, crossing the bridge, especially in the winter. It’s dangerous. These are workhorses, Laurel, you’ll be able to take care of them. Perhaps while I’m gone, you can purchase some hay and supplies. My mother doesn’t need this wagon, and when I take Catherine and Jacqueline to South Carolina I’ll leave them a carriage and horses, too.”

  His generosity was once again overwhelming and Laurel closed her eyes shut for a few seconds. Then looking at him, sighed, “How would I have managed without you? And how will I survive after you’re gone.”

  Holt looked into her eyes. “You’ll do fine. Don’t cry, please.” He gathered her to him wrapping his arms around her and Laurel found solace in his strength.

  “I’ll be back in a week or two. After that I’ll go to Delaware to look for your father. This isn’t goodbye. I won’t be that far away, at least not until I move to South Carolina permanently.”

  Laurel nodded, but her heart felt broken in half. She didn’t believe she’d be able to handle their final separation that loomed closer each time they parted. Soon she’d have to accept his last farewell. She wondered if he had any idea how much she loved him and how desperately she wanted to be with him, night and day? Forbidden love or not, she never once in all of her daydreaming considered love could cause as much pain as she now felt.

  “Take me…”

  “I can’t take you with me, and I have to get back to Washington, Laurel.”

  “That wasn’t what I meant, Holt. I want you to love me.”

  “No,” he whispered, but his lips were tight. “I never meant for our friendship to bring you to this. I can’t stay with you any longer. If I remain one more hour here with you, I couldn’t promise you’d be safe.”

  Laurel closed her eyelids letting his words wash over her. “I love you,” she mouthed.

  “Don’t, please, don’t do this,” he said, running his hand through her hair and looking at her with great depth, as if committing every feature to memory. “I have a lot of miles to cover, and I want to get Jacqueline as far away from Washington as I can, as soon as possible.”

  “Do those three words, I love you, frighten you? Is that why you’re in a hurry to leave?”

  His brow creased and his pleasant smile faded. “How can you think that? To answer your question, no, saying those words merely weakens my resolve. If parting weren’t so difficult, I’d break your heart, tell you that I don’t have those feelings for you, that I don’t love you, because I think that would be the best way to make you forget me. But I’d be lying.”

  The sting of tears took her breath away. “Why can’t we be together? I don’t care that you’re divorced.”

  “I do. The Fates are cruel and I can’t turn back the clock. I made a mistake as a young man and married Monique, but Jacqueline is not a mistake, she’s a precious gift.”

  “But, do you have to leave now? Can’t you stay with me one night?”

  “Laurel, you don’t know what you’re asking of me. Being alone with you, away from family and chaperones is very tempting, I’ll admit. But I intend to refuse temptation and instead honor you and your innocence because I do love you, and since we can never marry…”

  “Junie’s here, we have a chaperone,” she pleaded.

  Holt shook his head and attempted a smile. “She wouldn’t be able to stop me from taking you to my bed once I made up my mind—besides she sleeps like a log.”

  “Then, you really do love me?” She begged for reassurance.

  “You know I do. More than you’ll ever know. We have to part for now, Laurel. Write me. Keep safe,” he said, his voice cracking. “In the meantime, I’ll let you know if I learn anything new concerning your dad. I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

  Laurel held onto Holt’s hand. She refused to let go, but he broke away, hopped on the wagon, and raced the horses down the road, putting a great distance between them. She stood there like a statue, tears silently trickling down her cheeks, and remained there long after he had disappeared from sight.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chesapeake City, Maryland

  Laurel sat around her grandparents’ home for a couple of days unable to function. She didn’t think of anything or anyone, she simply stared at the empty room. Her mind was blank. Holt was gone. Maybe not for good, yet, but she was unable to fathom life without him.

  Junie fretted and brought her food and hot tea, but mostly she ignored her. She tried to convince herself that maybe she’d be better off if she married someone like Robert Winston. She might not forget about Holt, but at least she wouldn’t be lonely. Eventually time would stop her from missing him and ease the void left inside her by his absence. His kisses; the warmth of his hands around her waist.

  Bored, and feeling guilty that she
caused Junie to worry, Laurel finally moved her stiffened body and threw herself into decorating their new home with Junie’s help. Upstairs, in the old sewing room, they discovered the closet filled with several boxes of articles that had belonged to her grandmother.

  Everything inside the cartons had been tossed around as though someone had gone through them, searching for something in particular. But, Laurel saw nothing of value and doubted her grandmother had owned anything worth stealing in the first place.

  “These must be some of the items that didn’t get sold at the auction, or things the attorney thought I might like to have,” she told Junie. “Souvenirs, nothing of any worth, except to me.”

  They emptied the boxes and were able to use an old mantel clock, some other knickknacks, a lamp, and a few pictures that they were able to place around the house for decorations, after they had cleaned and painted some of the frames.

  Laurel and Junie shopped for some used tables, chairs and dressers, which were bought at bargain prices because many people were desperate for money, mainly those women who lost their husbands in the war. They stopped at a hardware store and bought paint and other supplies needed to get ready to open the bed and breakfast. Laurel made the difficult decision to use a good portion of her cash to purchase a sofa and chair for the living room and a couple of beds for the two guest rooms. One day, she hoped to be able to buy a few carpets.

  They hired a man named Elmore, part time, to help them clean the barn, and Laurel ordered hay and oats for the horses once the stalls were prepared. The worker helped her arrange the furniture and to put the bedsteads together after the merchant delivered them, freeing Junie for kitchen duty.

  They removed the shelves in the large walk-in pantry off the kitchen and painted the walls a bright yellow and furnished the room for Junie, so she wouldn’t have to go up and down the stairs as much. Laurel chose the smallest room on the second floor for herself and decorated the other two rooms for guests, as well as the bathroom, after she purchased a washbowl and matching pitcher.

  She received a package from Holt one day, not long after he had gone, and frantically tore the paper off the heavy box. “I can’t imagine what he’s sent us, Junie.”

  Laurel took the lid off the box and opened the envelope sitting on top of a wrapped package. “Hope you know how to use this. See you soon. Love Holt.”

  Junie helped tear the paper off the gift and when they saw what was in the box, they exclaimed in unison, “Oh, dear!”

  “A gun! Well, Junie, I suppose this is a good thing to have. We might prefer to only rent our rooms to women or married couples, but you never know in these destitute times. Thank goodness the soldiers taught us how to fire one of these things when we were on the run from the Yankees,” she said, carefully loading the gun. “Why don’t you put this and the rest of the bullets he sent in the top drawer of your dresser? I’m going to go upstairs and finish the work in the sewing room, if you’ll fix us some lunch, Junie. I’m starved.”

  Junie nodded and smiled, “Youse always hungry, child.”

  There was one box left in the sewing room closet, filled with two brass andirons that Laurel planned to put in front of one of the fireplaces. She knelt on the floor to drag the heavy box out of the closet, and when she did, her knee loosened a wide plank in the flooring and she fell backward.

  She sat up and rubbed her knee, and remembered that her grandmother had shown her the loose plank years ago and allowed her to hide things in there when she visited as a little girl. Her grandmother referred to the space as her hidey-hole. The memory brought a smile to her face as she continued to rub her knee. Looking into the dark hole, she noticed a metal box sitting under the flooring. Pushing the andirons into the bedroom with her feet, she lifted the metal box.

  She hurried downstairs to the kitchen. “Junie, look what I found under a loose board in the closet. I don’t recall seeing a key, but maybe with the screwdriver we can pry this open.”

  Junie was handy with tools and had almost immediate success with the screwdriver. The box contained some papers that Laurel picked up to read later, and when she did, discovered a large stack of paper money, which surprised her.

  “Oh, lawdy, Miss Laurel!”

  “I have a feeling that the someone who searched through the boxes in that closet might have been looking for this. Junie, this is all United States currency, not Confederate.”

  “Whatcha’ gonna do with dis?”

  “Well, Junie, we’re going to save as much as we can to live off of, until the inn starts to earn us money. At least now we can afford to have a sign put out front and then soon we may attract some guests. Bray’s Bed and Breakfast, on one line, and Miss Junie’s Famous South Carolina Cooking, on the other. Something like that…”

  Junie smiled, all embarrassed and said, “I ain’t famous.”

  “You will be.”

  Laurel put a little cash in her pocket, put the rest back in the box along with the papers and said, “I’ll read these later, but for now I’m going to put this back under the floor. We cannot tell anyone about this, okay Junie? This is our secret now.”

  Junie agreed and said, “Maybe we can send for Reba and Paul.”

  “What a wonderful idea, Junie. When Holt stops by the next time, we’ll have him look into that when he moves to South Carolina.”

  Every night, by the time Laurel and Junie went to bed, they were exhausted and usually fell asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillows. But now, with the secret nest egg, Laurel was even able to sleep more peacefully without worrying how she would manage on what little money she had until they opened the inn.

  She would still have to budget, but decided to use some of the money to buy some curtains and some new clothes for her and Junie. The carpets would have to wait.

  ****

  On the day of the formal opening of the bed and breakfast, Laurel stood outside and admired the new sign and looked at the window boxes she had installed and imagined how they’d look during the spring and summer, filled with bright, fragrant flowers.

  She and Junie were dressed and ready and hoped they wouldn’t have to wait long before their first guests arrived. The pantry was full and Junie was ready to start baking and cooking. The handyman built a chicken coop and the hens were already laying eggs.

  Feeling a little chilled, Laurel turned to go back indoors, when she heard someone call here name.

  She turned in the direction of the sound, and responded, “Robert?”

  “One and the same,” he answered, smiling, hurrying toward her from the road. “My parents’ home is just down this road. Did you forget?”

  Laurel laughed. “I suppose. I haven’t been here for over five years and the trees and shrubs are terribly overgrown, I didn’t think. Although I wondered about you, but didn’t give a thought that you might still live at home.”

  Robert approached Laurel and kissed her on both cheeks. “How wonderful to see you again, all grown and beautiful.”

  “Thank you. I worried about you from time to time during the war. Looking at you, I’d say you survived well.”

  “I was in England for most of the war. My parents sent me to a boarding school and I stayed to go on to college. How about you? Where are your folks? Are they with you?”

  “No,” she said, opening the front door of the house. “My mother died early in the war. She had malaria.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, “I heard about your grandparents dying—so close together.”

  Laurel nodded. “They say that happens when elderly couples who loved each other and were close—the one left behind usually dies shortly afterward. Come in the kitchen. I want you to meet Junie, my mammy I used to mention all the time. She and I escaped the Sea Islands the night before the soldiers arrived on Beaufort and now this house is all we have left. Junie?” She called.

  Laurel introduced Robert and before Junie scurried off to fix them some hot tea, she said, “I baked some biscuits. You go sit down an
d I’se be back in no time.”

  “Thank you, Junie.”

  Robert sat on the sofa next to Laurel and asked, “How about your father? You haven’t mentioned him.”

  Laurel lowered her head and closed her eyes. “He left home right after we buried Mother, to resign his commission, but he never returned. I’ve been searching for him.”

  “Any luck?”

  “Not much. We discovered that he was beaten and robbed before he returned to his troop, was captured by Yankees, and sent to a prison hospital in Delaware. Chances are he died in prison—he isn’t listed anywhere and he hasn’t written home. I went back to Mossland looking for him after the war but no one there has heard from him either.”

  “That’s too bad, Laurel, I’m sorry. Where did you go after you escaped from your home? Did you come here?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head slowly from side to side. “Junie and I were refugees in our own state. We had no way to acquire passes to travel north and we went from town to town, house to house, staying with sympathizers at first. Then pretty soon they were homeless too, and by the end of the war, many of us all lived together hiding out in a forest.”

  “What did you do then?” Robert asked, as Junie entered with the refreshments.

  While they enjoyed the biscuits and honey butter, Laurel told Robert about the rest of their journey, leaving out the information about Holt. She really had no reason to disclose all of her story, nor would she mention the money she found.

  She listened while he told her about the time he spent in London and how he sometimes felt guilty he hadn’t returned home to fight, but his mother insisted he remain there with her cousins and now, after all he’d heard, he was glad he didn’t have to fight.

  Laurel agreed with him that the war was a tragic mistake.

  “My parents are having a party on Saturday afternoon, Laurel. I’d like for you to come; they will be delighted to see you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive,” he said, smiling.

  “You may bring Junie if you’d like. There will be food and drinks and she can join the servants in the kitchen.”