Chapter Fifty-two: Truth
Suddenly all pleasure of spending a few minutes in the company of Benjamin left Lucinda as his words sunk in. “You can’t go away, you can’t leave!” Lucinda said, trying to hide her panic and grief.
“It’s best, Lucinda,” he said.
“No, it’s not,” she argued. “Your family is here.” She was feeling panic, a sense of desperation, her mind running wildly with reasons he had to stay, and yet not saying why she wanted him near and not hundreds of miles away where she may never see him. Adding to her disappointment were guilt feelings. After all, she was a married woman and had no right to ask a man to just be there, just in case. That wasn’t fair to Benjamin and she knew that, but the alternative was too painful to think of.
“I know, but it is time to move on, to get on with my life,” he replied. “Get settled somewhere.”
She was grabbing at everything she could think of except what she knew to be the truth. “If you don’t like working at the mill, why not do something else?”
“It’s okay, it’s not that,” he said. “Actually, you might be happy to hear I’ve worked things out some with my father.”
“You have?”
“Yes, I found out he has blamed me for the death of my little brother all these years. He finally acknowledged that was what was wrong between us.”
“You weren’t responsible, were you?”
“No. Sometimes it felt that way. And apparently it did for him all these years.”
“Oh Benjamin, I’m so sorry, for both of you,” she said with sincerity. She studied his face a moment then asked, “If things are better between you, then you don’t have to leave again, do you?”
He shrugged then turned away from her and took a few steps around the school room and then suddenly turned back with harsh words. “Don’t you get it, Lucinda? It’s you, dammit. I have to go!”
His words of truth shocked her and she was speechless as she saw the pain on his face and felt the knot in her own stomach and she began to tremble.
“I will be leaving tomorrow,” he said. “I wanted you to know before someone else told you.”
Sorrow was weighing her down and she could not find words to say. The silence between them was awkward.
She saw the clinching of his jaw and the painful expression in his eyes as he watched her. Then he said, “I’ll be going to Ohio, not sure where, but I hope to land there somewhere.”
Finally she spoke up with a question, one she feared the answer to. “You’re not going to the army, are you?”
He shook his head. “No, don’t want to and I hope they don’t want me.”
Relief swept over her. “Thank goodness,” she said quietly. She moved away from him and sat on the edge of her desk, casting her gaze downward. “I guess you have to do what you have to do,” she said.
“I do,” he said.
When she looked up she saw a defeated man, and she knew this was as painful for him as it was for her. She wanted to cry out, I love you, but forced the three words to silence deep within her.
He moved toward her, pulled her to her feet and into his arms. She rested her cheek against his shoulder, and it seemed like an eternity before he said, his voice husky and heavy, “I’ll miss you, Lucinda. You take care of yourself.”
Finally they broke their hold on each other, and their eyes locked, neither breaking the gaze. And in the same moment they both moved and found the other’s welcoming mouth, and all their pain and passion was there in the one kiss. When they broke the kiss they both had tears. As he let her go, he said, “I love you Lucinda, I always have, I always will.”
Lucinda reached out and softly touched his face, “I know, Benjamin, I know,” she said. Her voice was a whisper as she added, “I’ll miss you.”
He turned and walked out the schoolhouse door, shutting it behind him, and Lucinda dropped to the wood floor and cried, just as she had another time, only this time it was because she had just lost the love of her life, for the second time.
Somehow Benjamin was able to walk away from the schoolhouse without turning back or even looking back, as painful as it was. His heart ached for her and he knew it always would.
As he went to bed that night he had such a restless feeling that he knew sleep would not come easily. He thought about the past, the night they met, the music as he held her in his arms on the dance floor, and all the good times they had in Chicago.
Finally, falling into a deep sleep, he began to dream of her. Lucinda was twirling and twirling, her full dress moving in rhythm to her body movements, her long blonde hair moving beautifully around her glowing face. And before long the twirling dancing suddenly stopped and then he was picking her up from the floor of the schoolhouse after her attack and rape, her clothes torn and tattered, her hair matted to the wet tears of her face, and he cried out, awakening from the terror of the dream that had turned into a nightmare.
He sat up in bed, and for a moment wished he had a shot of whiskey to take away the pain. The pain had become so familiar to him, the pain he was learning to live with, and the pain he did not want to forget because if he did, that would mean he was over Lucinda.
And that was not what he wanted.
Ever.
He wondered if Lucinda’s sleep was any better than his. Was she, too, in pain, and had dreams brought darkness and unhappiness.
The next morning Benjamin went to his parent’s home to tell them goodbye. After a hearty breakfast that Rachel delighted in cooking for him, he got up to say his goodbyes and to leave.
Rachel said to her son, “Benjamin, you take care of yourself and you promise now you will write to us and let us know how you are and where you are.”
“I will, Mama, I promise. Don’t you worry about me, I’ll be just fine.”
Michael had been rather quiet throughout breakfast and Benjamin had wondered if he had told his wife about the anger and grief he had buried for years. He soon found out as his father said, “I told your Mama about the blame I had put on you, son, and how sorry I was.”
Benjamin cast a quick glance at his mother and she gave him a nod of approval and a smile.
“I’m glad you did, Pop. You’ve been carrying that with you a long time and it has done none of us any good.”
“You’re right, and I’m so sorry. I wish I could do it over.”
Benjamin said, “I guess we all have things we wish we could do over. That’s life, huh?”
Michael reached out his hand for a shake but Benjamin took his father’s wrist and pulled him, giving him a hug. Michael did not resist but went with it and then patted Benjamin on the shoulder as they broke the embrace. “You take good care of yourself, Benjamin.”
“Thanks, Pop. You take care of Mom, too.”
Benjamin gave his mother a kiss and hug. “I’ve got to get going as I still have to stop and say goodbye to Pap. I’m going to miss him, too.
“You stay strong while I’m away, Pap. I don’t want to hear any stories that you’re working too hard, either.”
Alexander chuckled. “Afraid these bones won’t let me work too hard anymore, Benjamin.”
“Did my father tell you we settled some matters and things are better ‘tween us.”
“Yeah, he told me. Funny how people can hold in those things and hurt so much, isn’t it?” He studied Benjamin intently.
“I know,” he said, aware his grandfather was waiting for him to say more. “I talked to her and told her goodbye, if that’s what you mean.”
He smiled. “You’re a smart boy.”
“Don’t I wish. If I was smart I never would have let her go years ago.”
Alexander reached out and put his hand on Benjamin’s shoulder. “Sometimes life is a mystery and we don’t know why things happen like they do. It just is what it is. We just have to learn to roll with it, take the ups and downs, take the good things and live through the bad things.”
“If you say so, Pap. You’re the one around here with all
the wisdom. Don’t know what we’d all do without you.”
“Ah, Benjamin, you’d all be just fine. You got some strong blood in you, and you’re a Storm man, and we make good, strong Storm men. And don’t you forget it.” He chuckled. “Now, you get on your way and you stay out of trouble, you hear?”
Benjamin laughed and then hugged Alexander. He told him, “Thanks for everything, Pap, thanks for being there for me.”
Alexander chuckled, “Ah, hell, you’re my grandson. Of course I’m here for you.”
Chapter Fifty-three: Sunday, the 18th Day of September 1864
Morganzia Bend, Louisiana
Dear wife,
I seat myself this Sabbath morning to answer your letters. I hardly know what to write as we have been still for sometime. We had general inspection yesterday and company inspection this morning. Although we have been here for some time, we may leave within six hours but are not likely to be gone more than three or four days. Our men have been skirmishing with the Rebs and I understand that the Rebs have retreated across the Atchafalaya River. A force of our men have been sent around to the rear of them to gobble them. Whether they will be successful or not, I cannot tell. I heard that the Rebs had taken seventy-five of our men and our men had taken eighty of the Rebs. I cannot tell if it is so or not but one thing I do know is I heard cannonadering yesterday morning between two and three o’clock. I was on guard and was up in the afterpart of the night and I heard a dozen shots fired. And yesterday while on inspection a gun boat shelled the woods. The Rebel force is estimated at 1,800. Our boys killed or wounded is very light.
Well, Jane, we have an old regular in command of our brigade and he makes us drill twice a day, company drill in the morning and brigade drill in the evening, and dress apparel at night. It is healthy for us but some of the boys growl. Some would growl if the general fed them on sweet cakes and pies.
I just returned from dinner, Jane, and I will go on with writing my foolishness. I said some boys would not be satisfied fed on sweet cakes and pies but I am satisfied with hard tack and worms in them half-an-inch long and bugs that would weigh a pound.
Since I have went so far here I will explain myself. We have had the poorest grub here at Morganzia that we ever drew. Our meat and coffee is as good here as any place we have been but our crackers are pretty nigh all wormy. We draw some flour and get it, but baked beans, rice, and sugar is the same here as any place else. It’s not the government’s fault that we get such grub, it is the Quartermaster’s fault. Our General says we shall draw flour while we stay here but cannot get potatoes and onions at present. They are very scarce yet. Potatoes are worth $7.20 cents per bushel here. But I am hearty now and I can eat whatever grub we have, but when I am not well it is hard to eat such grub.
The greatest trouble with us now is tobacco. We have no place to buy and we have not been paid for some time. We have to do the best we can. I think we will be paid soon.
This is the pleasantest day I have seen this side of Texas. This year we have had tolerable cool nights but generally warm days. It is foggy in the morning and that you know is August weather.
Please send me a dollar’s worth of stamps on receipt of this and you will oblige me.
I must close by saying our regiment will go for Lincoln by a large majority.
Tomorrow will be two years since we were sworn into the United States Service. One year from today if I live I will think considerably of seeing my Janie and my two children.
Your husband, Silas
Chapter Fifty-four: Twilight
James Garrison had not allowed himself to think of his wife, Lucinda, for some time since he brought Rebecca into this life. For many months he had missed Lucinda, missed their lovemaking, their teaching together, missed her smile and her laughter. Early on after leaving Iowa he often cursed each mile that was between them, usually five hundred, six hundred, seven hundred or more as the crow flies. Although he loved her, somehow the memories of her had begun to slowly fade away and were being replaced by his time with Rebecca.
Two women had his heart. He was in love with Rebecca. There was much to love about her. He loved her open sexuality, her beauty, her humor, and even the war had not satisfied his sense of adventure, but Rebecca fueled it, excited him, and he loved protecting her, not only from the present but from her past.
She had shared the pain of her early childhood with him, telling him details of the sexual madness of the preacher man who was said to be her grandfather. She told him about the man who saved her from that and showed her how love could be. She told him of the other men she had pleased, most without any emotional attachment, and James and to admit to her he loved hearing the stories. Actually it turned him on, gave him an odd sense of being her protector now, and she turned him on with her sexual knowing. He did not care where she had learned all she had learned about sensual ways to please him and to please herself. She was good at it and his sense of adventure was fulfilled every time he reached out and drew her close to him.
With Rebecca constantly on his mind, there no longer was room there for Lucinda. It had been quite some time since he had written a letter home to his wife, or to his mother, and he did not allow himself any guilt. And to keep the guilt away, he had not even opened the last few letters Lucinda had written. In his quiet moments he wondered why. Had it been the rape of his beautiful wife that had done something to his psyche, or was it living in the present, living on the edge, with the new woman in his life. He didn’t know, and he really did not want to spend time trying to figure out the answer.
There also was not a lot of room in his mind for the war and his safety.
He did not see the attack coming. The bullets found their mark and threw him backward onto the hard ground.
And that was the last thing he remembered for much longer than he realized.
Rebecca went with James when he was transported to the field hospital where he had surgery to remove several bullets. The worst of his wounds was his left leg. Apparently the bullet had hit the artery in the lower leg, and they were able to stop the bleeding but it was likely the lack of circulation below the wound would kill the lower leg and foot and he would undergo an amputation of his leg, but the doctor held off on that until he felt James was more stable. The doctor told Rebecca there was danger in waiting as James may well get gangrene and an infection, and the next twenty-four hours were going to be a critical time for his welfare.
James awoke from surgery and even though his mind was still clouded by the effects of the chloroform anesthetic, and he felt waves of nausea, he was glad Rebecca was with him. He reached out to touch her.
“You’re going to be just fine, James,” Rebecca told him. She had a wet cloth in her hand and placed it across his forehead. “This should help,” she said. “Just close your eyes and be still.”
He followed her advice and in a couple of minutes his eyes opened big. “What happened to me?”
She told him about the shooting, about the bullets that were removed but did not tell him what the doctor had said about his leg. They would know soon if circulation was blocked or if infection set in and if it would be impossible to save his leg. She did not want to think about it nor did she want him to know.
But she knew he would know soon enough that something was wrong with this leg as the pain would come as the effects of the anesthesia wore away.
And it wasn’t long until he was in pain, tremendous pain. He was given opiates and Rebecca prayed it would dull his pain soon.
The next day the swelling from infection had already done damage and James was running a fever, and it was climbing higher. The doctor decided he had to amputate James’s leg before the infection spread throughout his body and gangrene set in, and it would, very soon.
James’s pain was so intense that he knew very little else, and the whiskey and opiates he had been given in the hopes of averting pain had not helped much. He had tried to sleep to get away from the pain, but he could only doze off a few
minutes and then the pain would force him awake again. No matter what position he was in, the throbbing nearly sent him out of his mind. And although he was not sure what the surgeons were about to do, he welcomed the chloroform cone over his nose and mouth, anything to take him away from the extreme pain.
Rebecca had to leave as she could not be close by as they sawed off his leg. She found a spot to be alone, away from the others, and cried. She felt helpless, and almost overcome with fear that James might die. She had no idea how long she had been crying but she wiped her face on her skirt, got up and went back to the hospital tent.
She was met by a nurse. “Rebecca honey, he is out of surgery but is sleeping. We will keep him full of pain medication for now.”
“Thank you, Hanna. Where is he?”
Hanna patted Rebecca’s arm, “The last cot on the right,” she said.
As Rebecca approached James, she saw the blanket no longer raised where his lower leg should be. He was asleep but she touched his face softly, hoping not to awaken him. She stayed with him well into the night and then returned to their tent and fell into a hard sleep.
She awoke to voices outside the tent and realized someone was calling her name.
“Rebecca honey, wake up.”
She sat up immediately, realizing it was nurse Hanna. “What is it,” she called out as she got up off the cot and pulled on her clothes. “Is it James?”
“Honey, he’s gotten worse this morning. His fever is high, and honey, I hate to tell you but he may not make it much longer. I thought you’d want to be with him.
“Oh, no!”
Corn Silk Days: Iowa, 1862 Page 28
