“I must admit, it is peculiar indeed to be a Sutherner, here in the North. Sentiment is so strong here against South Carolina as well as the other states of the so-called Confederacy. Fort Sumter’s Major Anderson is almost a national hero. One cannot help being swayed by the talk and the pro-Northern sentiment. And yet, as I say, it is peculiar in that by heritage I am a son of Virginia and the South. If war comes it cannot be but tragic, and doubly tragic in that it is so unnecessary. We are a nation of law, of mutual commitment, of duty, a nation ruled by a Constitution which cannot be set aside.
“These things dominate discussion here, on every street corner and at home. Jeffrey and Cynthia and I talk of little else. How much would I give to be able to speak to the two of you face-to-face, my dearest friends and worthiest counselors in the world! Alas, I am here. But I am grateful to be with Cynthia during these troubled times.
“Jeffrey, of course, is full of the military perspective. The threat of potential hostilities worries Cynthia terribly. And this brings me to the real news of this letter, and the urgency with which I write and am desirous of a reply.
“New orders arrived yesterday for Jeffrey’s crew to be dispatched. He has no definite destination as yet, but they have been put on alert to sail on twenty-four-hour notice. All expect hostilities. Wherever he goes, they will be leaving New Haven. Cynthia, though anxious, is expending her energy packing things away for a move. Whether it will be a few days, a week, two weeks, or a month, no one knows. Jeffrey says it could come at any time.
“This places my life, too, suddenly up in the air. I have no particular allegiance to New Haven and cannot imagine staying once Cynthia and Jeffrey are gone. I would have to find new lodgings and that is not an appealing thought. Most of the young men my age are all talking about enlisting.
“Such talk turns my thoughts immediately inward in reflection upon my own loyalties. Am I or am I not obligated to fight for a cause I do not believe in? I cannot be said to be completely loyal to either side. My sentiments of right or wrong are clearly on the side of the North. But am I to take up arms against my countrymen, especially my own native Virginia should she side with the Confederacy? Perhaps the larger question is, could I take up arms at all… on either side… against anyone? I seriously doubt it. Whether I believe in war in a larger sense, I cannot now say. But I do not believe in this war, if it comes, for it is an unnecessary war, in which, as I see it, principle is not so much involved as people think, but stupidity. Lincoln would allow slavery to remain. Therefore, there is no reason for war.
“I am very much in a quandary about my own future. Thus, I covet not merely your prayers, which I know I have in abundance, but your advice and counsel.
“Perhaps I should return home. In light of these national matters of such import, those factors I felt driving me away four months ago—Wyatt, Scully, and all the rest—seem far away and unimportant. Only you can advise me on the current state of affairs there, and what you would wish me to do.
“Desirous of posting this as soon as possible, in haste, I am,
“Your loving son,
“Seth”
“22nd March, 1861
“Dear Seth,
“Be assured, of course, as you know, you have our constant prayers. We appreciate the trust you show in still desiring our counsel and advice.
“The situation here is tense and uncertain. Virginia’s newspapers are full of inflammatory talk, mostly pro-Confederacy here and in the east and south, and, from the reports, decidedly pro-Union in the northwest of the state. So heated has the debate become that there are some who call for Virginia to split into two states.
“I must say, as I read the situation, if hostilities break out, I see no other possibility than that Virginia will side with the Confederacy. Some of the South’s loudest voices in favor of secession are coming from Virginians. With Richmond and Washington so close as two such important cities and centers of power, it is possible that Virginia itself will become the chief battleground. My heart breaks at the thought of it.
“To return here would put you in the middle of all that, and in the middle of strong pro-Confederacy sentiment. You must follow your convictions and your conscience. I would simply say that this may not be the best place for you to wrestle through the matter of loyalty, especially since, as I read your words, they are not of a secessionist, pro-slavery bent.
“Speaking as your father—and I admit a strong bias in favor of keeping you out of harm’s way!—my recommendation is that you remain where you are at present. Being here, as you presently feel, would make your situation even more untenable than before. All the locals are talking of nothing but enlisting and killing as many Yankees as they can. It is distressing to see how quickly pride turns American against brother. Things are volatile. Nothing will be lost by your remaining in the North a little longer.
“If you should fight, my prayers will go with you. But my earnest prayer is that as God’s man you will not. Christians in both North and South are invoking God as on their side. It both saddens me and angers me. Where is the unity of the brotherhood! Few wars have been fought where right and wrong did not exist on both sides. Perhaps there are just and necessary wars… but not nearly so many as men suppose. If war between the North and South comes, it will certainly be neither a just war nor a necessary one.
“As to your immediate plans, might I recommend you consider paying a visit to our friends the Waterses in Boston? I am sure they would take you in for a week or two if Cynthia should leave abruptly. It may be that James would have a recommendation, as Jeffrey did, for potential employment. Not knowing the economy or work situation there, I am at a loss myself to advise you. Of course, everything hinges on whether war breaks out. A visit to Boston would not solve your greater quandaries, but might give you some breathing room to see how circumstances develop.
“You of course know it—you are not only welcome here, this is your home. Our arms ache to hug you again, and I miss our talks about so many things. If the country were not teetering on the brink of chaos, I would say, Come home! in an instant. But I question whether that is truly in your best interest at the present time.
“I hope you will not mind—I intend to send James a letter, which I will write upon completion of this, telling him what I have told you, assuring him that he is under no obligation on my behalf if this is not a convenient time for a visit. I hope by so doing to prevent any awkwardness for either of you.
“Our prayers, affection, and love are with you always. I will write again if I feel I have anything constructive to offer in your situation and the decisions facing you.
“Much love,
“Father”
The prospect of a visit to Boston filled Seth with an immediate surge of optimism. While his second cup of tea still sat warm beside him, he set his father’s letter aside and took up pen and paper to begin a letter at once to James Waters.
He had but begun, however, when a knock at the door interrupted him and preempted the completion of his efforts. He rose to answer it. There stood a uniformed messenger.
“Telegram for Mr. Davidson, sir,” he said.
“I am Seth Davidson,” said Seth, his heart quickening. What could a telegram mean but some ill tidings from home!
“That’s fine, then… sign here please.”
Seth anxiously walked inside a moment later and sat down again and opened the envelope, then removed the single sheet inside. It read:
RECEIVED LETTER GREENWOOD RE: YOUR SITUATION. EXTEND WARM INVITATION BOSTON. LETTER WILL FOLLOW. DAUGHTER ALSO EAGER SEE YOU, ADDS GREETINGS.
J. WATERS.
James Waters’ letter arrived two days later, emphasizing his eagerness to extend to Seth their hospitality and to welcome him for as long as he chose to stay. He might, Waters said, be able to assist him in the matter of work, which he hoped he was not presuming to have gathered from his father’s letter was a matter of some pressing concern. There were always opportunities of interest
available for young men of aptitude who were willing to work hard and he looked forward to discussing one or another of these with him. He himself had not been at the paper every day during recent months, his health having again taken a minor turn for the worse several weeks before Christmas. But he had enough contacts throughout the city that he was reasonably certain of being able to turn something up for him. He concluded by saying that their guest room would be ready immediately and he was welcome at his earliest opportunity and convenience.
Seth put the letter aside with grateful heart that his father could open doors for him, as fathers have done for sons throughout the ages.
He would go to the station this very afternoon and investigate the schedule of trains to Boston.
Forty-Eight
That Cherity Waters had not heard from Seth Davidson in so long was easily enough explained in her mind by the simple fact that he had had other things on his mind. Namely, Veronica Beaumont.
Cherity had scarcely begun allowing herself to build fantasies in regard to Seth before Veronica’s simple statement in town rendered such daydreams foolish and moot.
Then why, she had asked herself a hundred times since that day, had Veronica’s simple, “Yes, Seth and I are engaged, didn’t he tell you?” thrust such a knife into her heart? Seth owed her nothing but his friendship. And that he had freely given. They had been perfect strangers before. He owed her no explanations. Why should he have told her about Veronica? What business was it of hers?
She knew the answers to every such question that plagued her. Why then did every reminder of Seth Davidson twist her stomach in knots?
The letter from Mr. Davidson, though she had not actually read it, did not, from what her father told her, mention either the wedding or Veronica. But why else would Seth be in New England? Why would he be looking for work other than to start out a new life with his young bride?
Why would that make it hard to see him? She should be overjoyed at the prospect.
All Cherity could think of, however, though she kept such thoughts from her father, was that she wanted to run away and hide. She was not at all certain she could face Seth and Veronica together… and staying in their guest room just down the hall—she and Mrs. Porterfield waiting on them along with her father during his convalescence… the thought was too uncomfortable to imagine!
But her father had extended the invitation—what could she do about it?
The orders Jeffrey had been expecting came on April 6.
Earlier that same day, President Lincoln made a momentous decision—he would provision Fort Sumter. This time no Northern vessel would be forced to turn back.
Dispatches went out from Washington in two directions:
To the South he notified the Governor of South Carolina that he would soon send food, but neither arms nor reinforcements, to the men barricaded at Fort Sumter, reiterating that if hostilities came, it would be by South Carolina’s initiation. As president, he would not provoke an unnecessary war. But neither would he abandon the fort or its men.
Lincoln had drawn a line in the sand. He hoped for peace, and would do all he could to preserve peace. But he was willing to risk war.
At the same time, orders went out to federal troops in the North.
When Jeffrey burst through the door late on the afternoon of the sixth of April, one look at his face and Cynthia knew.
“I ship out in two days,” he said.
“Where?” was all Cynthia could ask.
“Fort Sumter,” Jeffrey replied. “The president has ordered us to sail on the eighth for Charleston to provision the fort.”
Cynthia’s face went ashen.
“And… and then?” she asked faintly, groping for a chair.
“I will be stationed either in Baltimore or Washington. Already there is talk of having to protect the capital against an invasion from the South.”
“What shall I do, Jeffrey?” she asked. “I am mostly packed.”
“I think it best that we put our things in storage here, and that you return to Greenwood. When I am stationed permanently you can join me and we will send for our things. But,” he added, “if war breaks out, I may not be back for some time. My home may be aboard a ship for a few months until it is over.”
Cynthia sighed. They had been expecting it. Yet now that the day had come, hearing the words from Jeffrey’s mouth felt like an omen of doom.
“What about Seth?” Jeffrey asked.
“He has been planning to make sure I am situated elsewhere or on my way home, then go to Boston. He said he would travel with me wherever I go, if need be. But if I am going home, I hardly think that necessary.”
Jeffrey nodded. “As long as he can help you pack our things and get on the train, that would be a great relief to me.”
Seth returned home from work about an hour later and heard the news. He wrote to James Waters that same evening. Whether his letter would arrive ahead of him he couldn’t know for certain. He assured them that he would manage to find their home by cab.
Jeffrey sailed from New Haven on April 8th.
The next day, after seeing to the last of their belongings, Cynthia and Seth set out together for the train station. After still more hugs and tears, Cynthia boarded a train for New York, the South, and home to Greenwood, Seth, an hour later, the northbound to Boston.
As Seth’s train pulled into the station he saw James Waters standing on the platform waiting for him. He was disappointed to see him alone. But his disappointment was quickly overshadowed by shock. He hardly recognized the man where he stood leaning heavily against a cane. He looked so much older than Seth remembered him!
As soon as he stepped from the train, Waters approached slowly from across the platform, limping visibly.
“Seth,” he said with outstretched hand, “welcome to Boston!”
“Hello, Mr. Waters,” rejoined Seth. “It is good to be here, and to see you again. I didn’t expect you to be here at the station to meet me.”
“I wouldn’t hear of you taking a cab. But let’s get your bags! We can talk in the carriage once we get on our way.”
Still unable to accustom himself to the dramatic change that had taken place in his father’s friend, Seth took both bags from the porter himself as they were set on the platform.
“Did you hurt your leg?” he asked, nodding toward the cane as they made their way through the station.
“Oh… this—no, just a precaution. My doctor is forever fussing at me, talking about circulation and worrying about my heart. I feel fine, but I humor him with this cane. He would have me in bed all the time if I listened to him.”
They continued to chat as they returned to James’ carriage. Soon they were seated and bounded into motion.
“How is Cherity?” asked Seth.
“Just fine… very well in fact. I tried to talk her into coming with me to meet you. As you can see I was unsuccessful. But you shall see her soon!”
They reached the house. James led the way inside. Seth followed with his bag.
“Cherity!” called out her father. “Cherity, we’re home… Seth is here.”
No answer came to his call.
“This is odd,” he said. “Where could she have gone? She knew you were coming. Well, the mystery will resolve itself in time… ah, Mrs. Porterfield,” he added as an older woman appeared, “meet our guest, Seth Davidson. Seth, this is our housekeeper, Mrs. Porterfield.”
The two exchanged handshakes and pleasantries.
“Where is Cherity?” asked James.
“She went out, Mr. Waters,” answered Mrs. Porterfield. “I had presumed to meet you.”
“No, I haven’t seen her. This is very strange. Did she say nothing?”
“She and I were adding the last minute touches to Mr. Davidson’s room—a vase of flowers it was. An odd expression came over her face. She said something about thinking they would be more comfortable in Anne’s room, with the larger bed, and I said that you had told me to prepare the gue
st room. She said something softly I could not hear, then left the house.”
“Why did she mean by they?”
“I couldn’t say, Mr. Waters. She has been quiet and has kept to herself all day.”
“Hmm, well… right now let me show you your room, Seth,” said James. “It is the same one your father used when he was our guest.”
He led the way upstairs. A minute later Seth was alone in his new quarters. He set his bags down on the bed and wandered about. He came to a stop in front of a large window opening upon a spacious garden below at the back of the house. He stood in front of it absently. Gradually he became aware that he was staring at the back of a person diminutive of stature walking slowly amongst the shrubbery and trees. The dress confused him at first… but he would know that light auburn hair anywhere!
The next second he was flying back down the stairs. When he hit the bottom, without pausing to look for his host, he searched hurriedly for the quickest way outside.
Seth walked across a short-clipped green lawn half a minute later toward the figure he had seen from the window. His steps were so soft on the grass that she did not hear his approach.
“Cherity?” he said slowly.
Startled, Cherity instantly knew the voice. Heart pounding, she hesitated a moment, then turned to face him.
“Hello, Seth,” she said with a smile.
“I didn’t recognize you at first,” he said, “from the window, I mean. What’s the occasion?”
“What do you mean?”
“The dress and everything—where are your hat and boots?”
“I thought your visit deserved something a little better.”
“I’m honored—you look great!”
Cherity glanced behind him toward the house with a puzzled expression.
“Where is… you know?”
“Where’s what?”
“You know… where is she?”
“She… she who?”
American Dreams Trilogy Page 88
