by Becky Lower
He helped his father up from the hay bale, and they began the last of their morning chores before heading into the comfortable farmhouse for a hearty meal. Zeke’s heart was heavy. He had no wish to return to the battlefield, even if bullets and cannons weren’t coming at him every moment. He’d spent too many nights tamping down the memories of the God-awful conflict. But he agreed with his father. The bodies of his brothers needed to be brought home and buried properly. Even though the family had clarity as to their fates, and was better off than so many who never were certain what happened to their boys, it was a wound that hadn’t yet closed. Zeke needed to be the one to heal the wound. He was the only one who could.
Once they wrapped up their morning’s chores, Zeke went to his room to wash away the morning’s labors and don a fresh shirt. It was the one thing his mother insisted upon—no manure at the table.
He grinned as he washed the grime from his arms. His hand slid over his flat stomach, and his fingers rested momentarily on the marks left behind by a pitchfork several years earlier. He wondered again whatever had happened to the pretty girl who helped him get out of New York City during the height of the draft riots. The one he’d given a kiss to in payment for her help. His only kiss, to date. He wondered if her lips were still as soft, if she still tasted of peaches, if her hair was still so light and her eyes the color of his momma’s hyacinths, if she’d even recognize him, should their paths cross again.
But they were two people who fate had brought together for one brief, shining, exciting moment, never to happen again. She lived in New York City, the daughter of a wealthy man. He lived in upstate New York, a poor farmer’s son. His mother may have set down the law about no manure at the table, but he was certain the law set by the girl’s parents would be even stricter if he were ever to come into contact with his savior again. It was not exactly a match made in heaven. Even if her lips were heavenly.
CHAPTER TWO
Washington, DC
November 1866
Zeke stood on the sidewalk in front of the imposing, white stone building, one of many on the great mall in Washington, DC. The late November air was crisp but not unpleasant, so he lingered and inhaled deeply. There were no farm smells here, only the faint, musty scent of fallen leaves and a bit of horse dung in the cobblestoned streets. There was no turning back now.
He had made a promise to his father, which entailed putting himself back at the horror that had been Chancellorsville. He took a deep breath as he surveyed the structure housing the Reburial Program headquarters. He could do this. He’d simply tell them he had knowledge of Chancellorsville and could tell them where the bodies of many were buried, he’d make certain the bodies of his brothers found their way back to his father’s farm, and then he’d return home, hopefully before the spring planting began. Before anyone even figured out he’d been gone. Before the niggling feeling he didn’t belong on the farm anymore morphed into reality. The farm had, in Zeke’s mind anyway, always been Adam’s to take over, not his. He was comfortable with farm life, but it sometimes reminded him of a shirt he’d outgrown. He was meant for bigger things, but at this point, he didn’t know exactly what those bigger things were.
Enough of dragging his feet. He squared his shoulders and took another deep breath. The sooner he got it over with and got back home, the better. He made his way inside, removed his hat, and opened the door to the offices. Many people were bustling about, and for a minute, no one paid him any attention. He twirled his hat while he waited. Finally, a man glanced up from the papers he had in his hand.
“May I help you, young man?”
Zeke cleared his throat. “Yes. At least I hope you can. I have some information on the Chancellorsville battle, and I’m hoping to share it with the appropriate person.”
“We’ve only begun to compile all the information we’ve received on that particular battle. Would you care to complete a form?”
Zeke shifted on his feet. “No. I’d prefer to talk to someone. My brothers fell in the battle, along with many of our friends, and I can lead you to a great many bodies.”
The gentleman stared at Zeke for a long minute before moving. It was as if he were assessing Zeke’s validity. Finally, he spoke. “Give me a few minutes to track someone down. Thank you for coming in. Wait here.”
Zeke rested his back up against a wall and crossed his arms. He would rather be anywhere else but here. He’d rather be at the farm, finishing up the last of the chores before winter locked upstate New York in its icy grip. His blood ran cold as images of the battle from years ago replayed in his mind as if it had only happened yesterday. Just snippets from those long days, when the reality of what was happening had sunk in, and he’d screamed in fear and agony. And loss.
He bit his lips to keep the tears at bay.
A door opened, thankfully interrupting his troubled musings. He glanced at the tall, strapping man in uniform emerged from behind the door, adjusting the glasses on his face.
“Hello, young man,” he held out his hand to Zeke. “You have some information about Chancellorsville?”
“Yes, sir, I do. I have knowledge about a lot of the fallen. The battalion from home fought there, so many of our friends and neighbors, as well as my brothers, were lost there.”
“Well, we can certainly use your expertise. We’ve only started to work on all the battles that took place in Virginia. Can you stay and help us for a few days?”
Zeke hesitated before he answered. “Yes, sir. I need to bring my brothers home to the farm.”
“We’ll pay you for your time, of course. We are only hiring full-time employees if they are former military with intimate knowledge of the battles, but we can gather your information over the next couple of days. Do you have lodging here in town?”
“Not yet. I only arrived this morning.”
“Well, then, I’ll make certain you have a few names of boarding houses before you leave here today. But, if you have some time now, come and meet the team assigned to the Chancellorsville battle.”
Zeke nodded. “I have time. The sooner I get started, the sooner I can get back home.”
The uniformed man held out his hand. “I’m Halwyn Fitzpatrick. Who might you be?”
Zeke’s scalp began to prickle. He recalled the man’s name. It had been mentioned during a meeting with two soldiers on the road out from New York. There couldn’t be too many officers in the army with the name Halwyn. After a moment’s pause, he stuck out his hand.
“Nice to meet you, Major. I’m Ezekiel Boone. Zeke.”
Halwyn gripped his hand hard for a moment. “Come on back. I’ll introduce you to the team.”
Major Fitzpatrick turned and walked toward the doorway he’d emerged from. If Zeke followed, he’d have to go back to the field his brothers had been buried in and relive the tragedy once more. There was still time to escape, to run away. He tried to control the full-body tremor coursing through his frame. But, if he stayed, even for a few days or weeks, he could maybe find out whatever happened to the pretty girl who was probably the major’s sister. He stood still, uncertain which path to take.
The major turned back to make certain Zeke was following, and lifted an eyebrow, since Zeke had yet to take a step.
“Come along, Zeke. I’ll take you to meet my sister, Saffron. She’s been working on the Chancellorsville battle for years. She’s about your age, so you two should get along fine.”
Zeke couldn’t breathe. It was as if he’d been punched in the gut. He ran his hand over his stomach, where the puncture marks from the pitchfork remained. There could only be one Saffron as well. He couldn’t decide whether to thank or curse the head of the Fitzpatrick family for giving his children such unique names. His heart began to gallop, and his palms got sweaty. He glanced at the major and wiped his hands on his pants.
“I’m eager to meet her.” If the major only could glean the extent of his statement, Zeke probably would be shown the door instead of being escorted down the hall. Zeke
wondered if Saffron’s lips still tasted of peaches. If she still sighed when she was soundly kissed.
He pushed himself away from the wall and followed Halwyn Fitzpatrick through the door and down the long hallway. He had a feeling his life was about to change, to begin. But instead of a feeling of dread about the days to come, he now had a feeling of hope. Why Saffron was here in DC instead of in New York was a mystery but whatever the reason, fate had given them a second chance to become familiar with one another. And he was going to take full advantage of it.
• • •
Ever since the impulsive ride three years prior, with an impulsive boy, which resulted in an impulsive kiss, Saffron had dedicated herself to the battle at Chancellorsville, where so many died. The four brothers, with their alphabetized names, were always in the back of her mind. Now, all her hard work was paying off. She was no longer a volunteer at the Sanitary Commission in New York. She was a paid employee of the Reburial Program, still dealing with the fallen at Chancellorsville. Her brother may have paved the way for her to be hired, but she’d already proven her worth in the month she’d been here in the beautiful city of Washington, DC.
She had her own room in her brother’s home and helped Grace take care of the three children: little George, who was now seven; Rebecca, a sweet five-year-old; and the baby, Emily, who had just turned two. Saffron was as eager as Grace and the children were to explore their new surroundings, so whenever she had a day off, she could usually be found in a museum or strolling near the gardens that surrounded the impressive buildings on the mall, as she had done today after finishing her lunch. Washington, DC, was everything she had hoped for in a new city. It bustled and crackled with importance. The grand Washington Monument had been halted halfway completed due to the war, but Saffron could envision the obelisk it would ultimately become, and she was impressed with the forethought of the city’s designer. The huge mall rivaled New York’s Central Park in scope—although the buildings surrounding the mall were more architecturally appealing, at least in her mind. She could envision a pool in the center of it all that reflected these beautiful structures.
Saffron shook her head to clear away the images from her lunchtime stroll, and picked up some new documents that had found their way to her desk while she was out. More responses to the circular, which asked for knowledge of where the dead were buried. She glanced at the top letter and found the name of the fallen and the name of the individual who reported it This particular letter contained a new name to her, so she needed to start another file to add to her quite impressive total for Chancellorsville. The first files she had started with years ago were labeled with the names of four brothers.
A frisson of excitement shot down her spine as she opened a new file folder. Maybe it was wrong to feel excitement over dead men’s bodies, but in this job, she sometimes compared herself to a detective, working with clues and piecing each conflict together. Every new tidbit of information brought her one step closer to the goal of retrieval.
Her wayward musings were interrupted by the sound of a man’s voice and footsteps coming down the hall. She recognized her brother’s voice but there was more than one set of footsteps. Before they even cleared the door, Halwyn’s voice boomed.
“Saffron, I’ve brought you a volunteer. He has information about the battle of Chancellorsville and can be of some help to you.”
She turned and stared at the two men as they cleared the doorway. Eyes as green as emeralds stared back at her, surrounded by a headful of wheat-colored hair that had been kissed by the sun. The same eyes and hair that had invaded her dreams for a long time. The papers and the file folder she’d been holding slid to the floor from her numb fingers.
The man leaned over and picked up the fallen papers, then handed them to Saffron. When their fingers brushed one another, Saffron gasped at the contact as a bolt of white-hot current ran between them.
“Thank you.” She whispered the words, then took a step back and found her voice. “I’m not usually so clumsy.”
“Don’t let her kid you, Zeke. Saffy is the queen of clumsiness. You’ll find out soon enough when you two start working together.”
Saffron made a face at Halwyn. “You can leave now.”
“All right. I’m sure you two will find plenty to talk about.” Halwyn left the room, but Saffron waited until his footsteps no longer echoed in the hallway before she made a move. She stared into those emerald eyes. And contrary to what Halwyn said, she could come up with nothing to say.
Saffron’s mind refused to work. She sat at her desk to keep her wobbly legs from giving her away. Zeke, the boy she’d helped all those years ago, was now a man. How many times had she recollected their madcap journey in the past few years? Too many to count, especially in the days and weeks immediately afterwards when she was confined to her bedroom for two months. But when she reflected on him, he was always a rangy boy, all arms and legs but nicely built, even back then.
She risked another glance at him. He’d filled out, his shoulders broad and his torso tapering to a flat stomach that made her mouth water. She brought her fingers to her lips, reliving how they’d tingled when a lanky young man had stolen a kiss from her. Lord in merciful heaven, truth be told he hadn’t stolen it, she’d given it away. And would have given him much more, had his need to escape not been so urgent. She waited for the boy who was now a man to speak.
He seemed nervous as well. Saffron released a little breath when she noticed his fingers toying with the buttons on his shirt. He cleared his throat and continued to stare at her.
“Hello, Saffron. You’re as pretty as ever.”
He recognized her? Had he spent as many evenings reliving their encounter as she had? She needed to find out, and her mind began to work again. Her tongue unglued itself from the roof of her mouth. “So, I take it you were able to find your way home to upstate New York.”
He grinned. “Thanks to you, yes, I did. Daddy was very sick but survived. We’ve been working the farm together since. And I take it you were able to get home safely, as well, and avoided the soldiers who bothered you when we were driving out of the city.”
Saffron shrugged her shoulders and flicked her hands through the air. “Yes, I got home safely, but by the time I arrived back at the house, everyone was in an uproar since I had been gone for hours. I was virtually held captive in my room for two, long months.”
“Did you tell anyone what you’d been up to?”
Saffron shook her head. “No, of course not. I told them I’d been bored and decided to drive out to see Jasmine but got turned back by the guards.”
Zeke smiled. “I’m pleased to see you did get out of your room eventually and now are here in DC.”
“And I take it you’ve come to volunteer your expertise in where to find the bodies of the dead from Chancellorsville?”
He began to pace around the small room. “Daddy thinks my brothers belong at home, or at least on Union soil. That’s my only reason for being here. To make certain the right bodies make their way back to the farm. After I accomplish the task Daddy’s given me, I’ll be done and will return home.”
“Why didn’t you just head back to Chancellorsville and get them yourself?”
Zeke shook his head. “If only it could be that simple. Because of this new program, of which you obviously are part, if I were to merely take the bodies without registering them here, they would show up on the records as being missing, not dead. They deserve to be buried with dignity, and being missing is not the same as dying in combat. At least not to the military.”
Saffron finally placed the folder she’d been holding on the top of the desk. “Of course. And you’re correct. They need to come home and be buried with all the military honors to which they are entitled.”
Her language sounded stiff, even to herself. But the boy who had given her the very first kiss of her life, the boy she’d dreamed about during the months she was not allowed out of the house, the boy she’d worried over, was here
, in front of her, and was a boy no more. As if she’d conjured him up. She would not allow him to see how deeply affected she was by his appearance. She placed her hand on her stomach, which jumped each time she glanced at Zeke, and moistened her dry lips.
Zeke shifted his weight from one large boot to the other. He tried to smile, but failed in the attempt. He cleared his throat before he asked, “Why are you here, in DC? I had an idea about maybe trying to find you again in New York City someday, but never did I conceive that you’d be here. Why are you on the staff, other than your brother is here and managed to get you the job?”
Saffron’s back became as stiff as her conversation. “My brother had nothing to do with it. I’m here because I’m considered somewhat of an expert on Chancellorsville. I started volunteering at the Sanitary Commission in New York three years ago, helping to document the dead. And I was especially interested in Chancellorsville.”
“Why?”
She ran a hand over her hair, even though it was perfectly coiffed. “Oh, because someone once told me a far-fetched story about how four brothers fell in combat on that one field. I couldn’t get the story out of my head. I wondered how many other similar stories there were. How many other heart-wrenching tales were associated with that particular battle. So I started compiling information.”
“So I’m responsible for your fascination with Chancellorsville? I’m touched.” His big grin grated on Saffron’s nerves.
She brushed a finger over her lips as she stared at the wall. The white-hot feeling she had experienced when they touched had faded a bit, leaving behind some sparks that shot from her body when Zeke stared at her or smiled. It was probably best to limit her involvement with him. It might be difficult to do, since they were working on the same battle, and since Halwyn had dropped him here, they probably would be working in the same room, at the same desk, at least for the couple of days he’d be here. She smoothed out her gown, hoping to smooth out the tension she was feeling at the same time.
