“But I'll get to wear a uniform and carry a gun?”
Henry nodded. “Yes, you will.”
Henry’s stomach churned. The thought of his young son who used to play with wooden guns carrying a real weapon into a fight…it made him nauseated. He turned away lest Jacob see his sickened expression. Jacob was so eager. And he hadn't a clue. War was a game to him. The reality had not yet set in.
What could he say to help Jacob realize? He needed to give his son some words.
Looking up at her son, Martha motioned for him to come closer to her.
He did so, crouching in front of her so they were eye-to-eye.
“Just promise me one thing, Jacob,” she said, taking his face in her hands.
“What, Mother?” his eyebrows went up.
“That you won't go rushing into any fight. That you will stay back and watch out for yourself.”
His brows furrowed, but he nodded all the same.
Even if he didn't understand now, Henry hoped that at that critical moment, he would remember and heed her advice.
And so, Martha smiled at him and leaned forward to kiss the side of his face.
He accepted her affection, smiling back at her.
And Henry’s heart beat strong once again.
* * *
The doorbell rang, disturbing the Thompson family's lunch. In the dining room, Elizabeth exchanged looks with her parents and brother as their conversation came to a halt. Who could it be? No one gave any indication they expected a guest. All they could do was wait until a servant came to announce the unexpected visitor. Each member of the family set their silverware down, dabbing at their mouths, each readying him or herself to receive the guest. They didn't have to wait long until the butler appeared at the doorway.
“Mr. John Taylor is here to see Miss Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth's heart tumbled. Why would John be here? He was much too early. Because he would be shipping out tomorrow, they had agreed he should spend the day with his parents. He and Elizabeth had planned to meet later in the afternoon. Had something happened? Fighting a wave of dread that rose from within her stomach, Elizabeth waited for her mother to excuse her.
“Go ahead.” Abigail motioned for her to follow the butler to the parlor.
Elizabeth stood and fell in step behind the tall man who looked after their home.
The parlor, adjacent to the dining room, was a short walk away. But today the hall stretched for miles as Elizabeth anticipated what news John might bring.
Stepping through the doorway, Elizabeth was unable to catch her breath for a moment. John stood tall and proud in his Union uniform. A question bubbled to the surface, but her emotions overtook her and she could not form it into words.
John nodded to the butler before the man quit the room, leaving the door open and positioning himself on the other side as a chaperone. Only then did John speak.
He moved toward her, placing his hands on her arms. “We're shipping out tonight, Lizzie.”
She held back from his embrace, moving a hand across her face in disbelief. “What? But you are supposed to leave tomorrow.”
“I know. Things have been expedited. I have been informed that our train leaves tonight.”
The room began to spin and Elizabeth’s knees became weak.
John pulled her into his arms, but she couldn't gather her thoughts enough to embrace him.
Tonight? She wasn't ready! Her plans were not fully set in place yet…
“I know it's a little sudden, Lizzie. But we knew this was going to happen. It's just a little sooner is all.” He pulled back to look at her and brushed away the tears she didn't know she had shed.
“I…I can't…” she tried.
“Can't what, Lizzie?” His voice was soft as he tucked that errant curl behind her ear. The touch of his fingers on her skin was gentle, soothing.
“I can't say good-bye.” How could she? She could hardly form a coherent thought.
He wrapped his arms around her again. This time she clung to him and sobbed. It didn't seem possible, but he held her even tighter.
“It will be all right,” he soothed.
She trembled.
He leaned back, only far enough to capture her lips with his. When the kiss broke off, he held her to himself again.
“I need you to be strong for me now, Lizzie.”
She wanted to. Breathing deeply, she attempted to rein in her emotions.
All the while, he continued to rub her arms, her shoulders, pressing kisses to her forehead and her hair.
Why did he have to be so wonderful? Tears threatened to break through again, but she held them back.
Once she calmed, he used his finger to tilt her chin so she looked up at him. “Can you be strong for my parents?”
She knew what he meant. He spoke not only of today, but also if something were to happen to him. “Yes,” she lied.
“I know you can, even if you don't,” he assured her, cupping her face.
She hung her head, fighting more tears.
“Write to me?” He hooked her chin with his finger so she had to look at him.
“Every day.”
“Wait for me?” he asked, his voice as tender as she’d ever heard it.
“Forever.”
John's face broke out in a slow smile at that.
Elizabeth allowed herself to get lost in his eyes. They belonged together. In that moment, she knew…that's why he wasn't afraid. He would return to her because he had to.
His lips met hers again in a gentle kiss. She returned his kiss with everything she had, longing to communicate all of her love, all of her hopes and dreams in that one kiss.
When John broke contact, her head still spun.
“I must go.” He blinked, moving toward the door, his step wavering. Was the room spinning for him, too? “I carry you with me, Lizzie. Always and forever, remember?”
“Always and forever.” She fought down a fresh wave of emotion, refusing to cry in front of him again.
He reached over and pulled her to him for another quick kiss. Then he was gone, and she was alone.
Elizabeth fell to the floor, sobbing. From the depths of her heart rose a determination to see her plan through. If his leaving was accelerated, so was her plan. She had to get things in motion. Wiping at her tears, she got up. There was much to do.
* * *
Charlotte sat at her small desk writing letters. She had been on a campaign since John enlisted, trying to secure more support for the troops and for the wounded soldiers in the hospital. She was proud of her work on behalf of the soldiers who couldn't help themselves, but it wasn't for their sake she made such tireless efforts.
The floorboard creaked behind her.
Charlotte looked up from her work. Franklin stood in the doorway to the parlor.
“Good afternoon, darling. You are home early. Is everything all right?”
His features unchanging, he closed the distance between them. Now over her, he leaned down to place a kiss on her forehead. “Our son has news for us.”
The pen slipped from Charlotte's fingers. Could her heart take the news?
Franklin stepped to a settee nearby and patted the seat next to him. “Come, my dear. Come sit by me.”
Her movements were slow as she turned in her chair and watched him. What tidings were these he brought? Did he know this news that John would bring? Should she stay where she was? What good would come of that? After some moments, she rose and took the steps to where her husband sat.
“Let us just sit together for a while.” Franklin wrapped an arm around her.
Her brows furrowed as she searched his eyes. Why was his behavior so suspicious? It wasn't as if they had a loveless marriage, but he did not make a habit of coming home early to sit on the couch with her.
He sighed. Taking her left hand in his, he softened his tone. “How are Rose's studies?”
“Quite well. She is in her room even now, busy with schoolwork. Shall I ha
ve her come down?” Charlotte shifted to stand.
“No.” He moved his hands over her arms, stilling her.
They sat in silence for a few moments. What did he know? Was it bad? Charlotte couldn’t help the sense of foreboding that fell upon the room.
“What is this news from John?” Charlotte blurted out after several seconds as she turned to face him again, her eyes wide and her breathing ragged.
Franklin sighed again. He gazed into her eyes but he seemed hesitant to share. Still, he spoke. “John is coming home soon. He stopped by the practice before lunch and had a discussion with me.”
“And?” Her voice rose.
“Charlotte, he is shipping out tonight.”
“Tonight?” All the heat drained from her, and her body became weak.
“Yes, tonight.” Franklin placed gentle hands on her arms. “I know it's not ideal, but we need to be supportive. He's coming here from the Thompson's home where he will have bid farewell to Elizabeth. You know how hard that will have been. We cannot make this more difficult.”
She nodded. Tonight. Her son, her John, was going off to war tonight. How was she going to say farewell to him? What would it be like to hold him for perhaps the last time? Her thoughts began to run away with her. This would not do.
Charlotte took a deep breath, this one more even. Then, when she looked at her husband, her mind was set, determined. No matter what happened, she would face this situation with grace. Even if Franklin had to hold her while she cried tonight, she would be strong for John right now.
A slight smile graced Franklin’s features. He kissed the side of her face. “If you're ready, we need to go upstairs and tell Rose.”
Charlotte nodded, giving his arms a squeeze. “I'm ready.”
And in that moment she was. Ready for anything.
* * *
Would the Moore family ever be the same? If they had been splintered when Benjamin went off to war, as Mother said, would they now be hopelessly split as Father and Jacob left home and headed toward the train station? Mother had not been able to leave her room since news of the early departure reached their home. Had it just become too much for her to say farewell to him?
And so, Father decided he and Jacob would slip out this evening while she napped. Try as he might, Father had not been able to disguise how this whole thing had affected his mother. How could Jacob not know why she kept to her room? How could he not hear her as she cried at night?
“Please help her understand, Father,” Jacob said as Father closed the door behind him.
“I will do my best. She will come to understand in time.”
Jacob nodded, his heart aching.
“Let's get you to the train.” Father turned in the direction of the station, putting a hand on Jacob’s shoulder, clad in Union blue.
He certainly looked rather distinguished in his uniform, perhaps even a bit older. Father even told Jacob as much when he'd first put it on. But he felt a hesitation on this night. He no longer felt the confidence he once had. Yet he obeyed his father and picked up step with him.
They walked much of the distance in silence. Did Father, too, struggle with his own thoughts and emotions about what would happen once they arrived at their destination? Jacob did. How would they say good-bye? What would it be like to walk away from his father for perhaps the last time?
“Did you pack enough paper to write us?” Father broke the silence.
Jacob nodded. “I'll write often and tell you all about what's happening.”
Benjamin's letters had become something the family enjoyed together these last couple of months. Jacob envisioned his parents and Susan huddled around the parlor's fireplace as Father’s booming voice recited his letters from the front. As he imagined this scenario, he remembered the numerous letters from Benjamin that Father read in just this fashion.
However, this time, instead of focusing on the letter's contents, he let his mind's eye take in the people in the room. He saw, for the first time, his mother's reaction to these letters – relief that they had another letter, fear for her son's safety, helplessness. How had he never noticed these things before? Had he been so caught up in the grandness of what Benjamin was doing to see her response?
And so Jacob determined that he would write without fail, but also that he would guard his words to give his mother comfort and not cause unnecessary worry.
“Will you write to me and tell me of Benjamin?” Jacob turned toward his father. As difficult as it was to see in the dimness of the evening, he thought he caught the shimmer of moisture in Father’s eye. Had he?
“Of course,” came Father’s strong, deep voice. “We'll send word of your brother as often as we have it.” Father flashed him a half smile.
Jacob could not think of anything else to say the remainder of the walk to the station. So they passed the time in silent companionship.
When they arrived, they met with ordered chaos. Supplies were loaded and soldiers said their farewells to all manner of family. Women who joined the regiment as part of the Sanitary Commission, as well as a myriad of other passengers, milled about, saying their goodbyes and placing their luggage amidst the soldiers' things.
Jacob's gaze wandered across the platform at the many family farewells. There was no shortage of tears. His heart ached to not have a final moment with his mother, but he told himself to be glad she had not come. He had no desire to cry in front of the members of his unit. And his mother's tears would inevitably lead to his own.
Father clapped a hand on Jacob's shoulder, turning toward him. “This may well be the worst part of it,” his father said, his voice soft and low.
Jacob nodded, a lump forming in his throat. How was he to do this?
“I wish I had some great words of wisdom to impart to you.” Father looked toward the ground. The shaking in Henry's voice was almost imperceptible. Almost. After some moments Father met his eyes again. “You are your own man now, and we are so proud of who you have become.”
“Thanks, Father.” Jacob attempted to swallow past the lump. It was not easy.
Then Father's eyes became serious as he laid a firm hand on Jacob's other shoulder. “Be mindful of yourself, son. Be careful. Come home.”
Jacob nodded, and with a confidence he didn't quite feel, said, “I will, Father.”
Father pulled Jacob forward into his embrace, and Jacob allowed himself to stay for just a moment. How long would it be until he would be with his father again? But it was over all too soon when Father clapped his shoulder again and pulled back.
Offering Jacob a small smile, Father’s lips quivered, but he didn't speak as he indicated with a wave of his hand that Jacob should check in with his commanding officer.
Reaching for his bag, Jacob then turned and moved away from his father. A prickling sensation pinched at him behind his eyes. He would not cry.
“Jacob! Jacob!”
He whirled around, eyes scanning for the source of the familiar voice. At last, he spotted his mother running through the station, barreling straight for him. Father reached out to stop her, but Jacob moved around him. He and his mother crashed into each other.
“Jacob, how dare you try to sneak out like that?” his mother’s sobbing voice admonished him. The tears rolling down her face wet his neck, and the tears forming in his own eyes wet his face. But in that moment, it didn't matter who saw him crying.
“I'm sorry, Mother, I didn't want to…I thought…I shouldn't have.” He buried his face in her shoulder.
“It's all right.” She stroked his back.
He rested for a few moments more in her embrace. Strong arms encircled both of them. Father’s. If only Jacob could stay in this perfect peaceful cocoon. But after some time, his father pulled back, tugging on Mother to do the same. She wiped Jacob's tears away as she did so.
“I love you, Jacob. Take care of yourself,” she said, choking back more tears.
“I will, Mother. I promise.”
She nodded, straighten
ing his jacket.
“You are so handsome in your uniform.” She offered him a smile.
One side of his mouth curved upward.
“I'm certain your commander is waiting,” his father interjected.
With slow movements, Jacob took a step back from his parents, gathered his bag once more, and, turning, walked toward his commander. After he had taken few steps, however, he turned and saluted his parents, wanting to show them all the love and respect he felt for them in that moment.
Smiling, they dipped their heads.
With that, he turned toward his commander and did not look back.
Chapter Two
Shipping Out
NIGHT FELL UPON the grand house the Thompson family called home. All within lay in the comfort of their beds, in peaceful slumber. All but one. Elizabeth strained her ears, listening for any sounds outside the walls of her bedroom. The time had come to put her plan into motion. It pained her to leave like this, sneaking off under the cover of night. But her parents would never let her go if they had any idea. Still, she could not sit idly by if John was in harm's way. She had to be with him…somehow.
Grabbing her bag, she packed the few things she needed: clothes, shoes, paper, and writing tools. How was she to know what she would need for such a journey? But one thing was clear – her current wardrobe would not do. There weren't many simple dresses in her collection, so she had bartered for some from a young maid in the house she supposed to be about her size.
Slipping into one of the simple frocks, she thanked God for the provision of the darker blue fabric. Perhaps it would make her disappearance into the night easier. She adjusted the skirt into place. The dress was a bit loose in the waist and bust, but it would do.
A knot twisted in her stomach as she set out the letter for her parents. It wasn't fair.
They would shake their heads despite her best explanations. And they would try to find her and bring her back. She prayed they wouldn't be able to. Gathering the money she had collected over the last few days, she frowned. There wasn't much. Would it be enough to buy her passage closer to the front lines? It would have to do.
Off To War (War Between The States) Page 2
