Thundering footfalls on the stairs gave her pause. And cause for alarm. She opened her mouth to call for the maidservant. Was there an intruder in the house? Surely none of the staff would be rushing about so. The loud thumps drew closer to her room and she attempted to scream, but nothing came forth.
The door to her room flung open. And Thomas walked in, heaving, bearing a paper in his hand. His eyes were wide and wild.
“She's alive,” he said, closing the distance between them and falling to a knee in front her.
“Alive?” Abigail found her voice. Had she heard him correctly?
“Yes! Alive and well.”
She didn’t have to ask who. Or when. Or why. Abigail shrieked for joy, tears falling as she reached for her husband to embrace him.
He lingered in her embrace, attempting to catch his breath. “I received a letter today.”
She pulled away and sat back in her chair, hand over her heart, which beat faster than she thought possible. “Read it.”
He opened the folds of paper and began to read.
“'Dear Sir and Madam,
“I apologize that you are hearing from me again rather than your own daughter. But there is news I thought you would want as soon as possible. Elizabeth has returned to us! She is in good health. She had been captured by Confederate troops and was being held in one of their camps. But she escaped with the help of one of our doctors, Dr. John Taylor, who had also been captured. I assure you that all is indeed well and she will write to you soon. Regards, Melanie'”
“She was captured with John?”
“As it would seem.” Thomas met her gaze.
“So all this time…they've been together?” Her voice trailed off. It was not a question.
“And he helped get her back to safety.”
All was happiness and joy for they and their friends. Their children were alive, well, and together.
The doorbell rang, interrupting her thoughts.
Thomas looked toward the door. “That will be Franklin and Charlotte. Would you like to dress?”
Abigail nodded.
Thomas leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the side of her face.
She smiled at him. Their daughter was alive. The world was right again.
Thomas made his way down the stairs.
Soon after a maidservant came to assist Abigail in preparing herself for company.
But Abigail’s mind was elsewhere. It seemed as if she could fly! Her daughter was whole and well. And they had renewed hope of bringing her home. If she was with John, he would find a way to get her back to Boston. She was sure of it.
Chapter Ten
Wounds
JACOB SAT ON the edge of his hospital cot gathering a few things and putting them in the crate his family had sent him. The time for him to be transported back to the train and returned to Boston was fast approaching. He had grown eager to be home again, but he loathed leaving Melanie. How could he tell her? Figuring himself too timid to take the direct approach, he had not yet said anything. But as time passed that seemed the only way it was going to happen. The right moment just wasn't presenting itself.
It wasn't for lack of opportunity. Melanie continued to visit him daily. She came to check on him and bring him the camp news. These last couple of days, she seemed sad. Daniel had gone back out to fight, and he knew that Daniel and Melanie had developed a friendship. And Daniel was one of the soldiers who had yet to return. Perhaps that made her sad. He had not yet ventured to ask.
Even now, she was overdue for their visit. He watched the tent opening. It was all for naught. Willing her presence no more produced her than his attempts at pulling a rabbit from his hat after seeing a magic show when he was ten. Yet he kept his eyes on the entrance to the hospital.
Several more minutes, perhaps a half hour even, passed before she appeared. She moved to his bedside, pouring him more water before greeting him. Melanie neither explained nor apologized for being late, she just started chatting.
“How are you feeling today?” She handed him the glass.
“I am well, and you?”
She nodded.
He watched her as she moved around his bed fluffing pillows, straightening sheets and his bedside table, before finally taking her seat.
“Are you?”
She looked at him, eyebrow raised.
He gathered the courage to broach the subject he had avoided. “You haven't seemed yourself these last couple of days. Is something the matter?”
She continued to meet his gaze for several seconds, as if gauging her response. “I'm just worried about the soldiers gone to battle is all.”
“And Daniel in particular?” he guessed.
“Yes.” There was a hesitation in her voice. “He has become a good friend to me.”
Jacob nodded.
A silence fell between them.
Jacob spoke into it. “Melanie, there's something I've been wanting to talk with you about.” He shifted to sit straighter.
She raised her other eyebrow.
“I know my time at camp is short. And while I am excited about going home, I also know I'm going to miss some of the people here.”
“I can understand that. With what we've all been through together, it's like a second family. It will be bittersweet whenever it's time for me to move on from this camp,” she chattered on.
“Yes, of course.” He stopped her, his voice coming out a bit harsher than he’d intended. “But, what I mean to say is that there is one person I will miss more than all the others. Someone who has become quite important to me, someone I care for.”
“Oh?” Melanie's eyes were on him then.
“It's you, Melanie. I think…that is, I've come to…I truly…” he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “That is, I think I love you.”
Melanie took a deep breath, allowing the long pause to hang in the air.
“Jacob, I love you, too.” She took his hand in hers. “But, not in the way that you want me to.”
He looked at her. What could she mean?
“There are different kinds of love, Jacob. And the love I have for you is the kind of love friends have for each other. It is deep and meaningful, but not, I fear, what you are hoping for.”
Jacob looked down at her hand holding his, not able to meet her gaze.
“One day,” she continued, “You will meet someone who does feel that way about you and you'll understand.”
Jacob pulled his hand away. “No, I won't. Look at me.” He motioned in the direction of his amputated leg.
“I am looking at you. And I see an intelligent, warm, caring, handsome young man that any girl would be crazy to pass up.”
His eyes met hers again. Did she have to be so kind? This would be a lot easier if she would just turn him down and walk away.
“Trust me, Jacob.” She squeezed his hand again.
She waited for him to say something, but in his hurt, he had nothing to give.
“I'm going to go for now. But I'll stop by tomorrow.”
He nodded.
With some reluctance, she extricated her hand from his and moved away from his bed. Giving him a long look, she then turned and left the hospital.
Jacob leaned back in his bed, hand over his eyes, wishing he hadn't said anything at all.
* * *
Stirring and coming around to full consciousness, Elizabeth blinked her eyes open. Where was she? Boston? A Confederate camp? A plantation house? Her back ached as she sat upright. She had been leaning over onto a cot. Stretching out her back, she gazed down at the resting face of her beloved. John. Yes, they were back behind Union lines in their own camp. And John had been in and out of consciousness, mostly out, these last few days as the nurses and doctors continued to work on him. They never stopped reminding her it was out of their hands, that they were doing everything they could to save John's life. Only time would tell.
Elizabeth ran a hand over her hair. She didn't like the odds they were giving John. And s
he didn’t like being so helpless. Still, she did what she could, keeping to his side. His bouts of consciousness thus far had been utilized to consume water and broth for his strength. He said precious little, and nothing coherent. But she waited.
Melanie volunteered to stay by his side from time to time if Elizabeth would go back to their tent for a nap. It took some work, but she reasoned to Elizabeth that it did John no good for her to become sleep deprived. Yes, Melanie could be quite convincing when she wanted to be.
Turning her head, Elizabeth looked for what might have roused her, her thoughts first on John. She leaned over, as she often did, and clasping his fingers in hers, pressed a kiss to his strong hand. His breathing changed and he shifted.
“John?” She pulled back from his hand so she could move closer to his face, running her hand over his forehead, brushing his hair back.
He blinked his eyes open. It took him a while to focus, but he did seem to look at her face. “Elizabeth?” he croaked.
“Yes, John, I'm here,” she said, a tear escaping her eye. She was thrilled to hear him say her name. This was surely a good sign.
His eyes lingered on hers for a few moments.
“Water,” he managed.
She turned toward the pitcher they kept by his bed and filled a small cup. With gentle hands, she held his head up, bringing the brim of the cup to his lips.
He lay back and his lids slid closed. Then his eyes flew open and he tried to sit up.
Elizabeth attempted to still him.
“Are we out of danger?” His eyes were wide.
“Yes, we are behind Union lines and in our old camp. Dr. Smith and Dr. Young have been taking care of you.”
“What happened to me?” He looked at the bandage on his shoulder and chest.
“You were shot.” It was hard for her to speak the words.
He grimaced as if he were just then feeling the pain.
“Dr. Smith and Dr. Young have done a good job. You gave us quite a scare, but I think it's a good sign that you seem to be yourself again.”
He nodded, agreeing with her.
“Would you like me to find one of the doctors for you?” She started to stand.
“No.” He reached out to still her. “Stay with me.”
She nodded, sitting again.
He closed his eyes and settled.
“How do you feel?” She ran her fingers through his hair.
“Like I've been dragged through a field by a team of horses.”
“That rough?”
He nodded again.
Elizabeth spotted a nurse passing nearby.
“Excuse me, nurse?”
The young woman stopped.
“Would you see if one of the doctors is available to speak with Dr. Taylor?”
The young woman nodded and moved on after her errand.
“There, John, you'll have all of your questions answered.”
He was unmoving. She couldn't discern his chest rising and falling. Her heart stopped.
“John?” she placed her hands on his arm, shaking him.
“What?” he jerked awake.
She hugged him as best she could in the bed. “For a moment, I thought I'd lost you!”
“I'll take this wake up over the screaming and shaking any day.”
When she pulled back, his eyes were serious on her face. And she felt tears escaping her eyes. As they began to fall, he used the pad of his thumb to clear them. “It's all right. I am well.”
“No, you're not, John,” was all she managed before she pulled away. It was no use. Why weigh him down with her worries? With how difficult and scary her life had been these last several days? Even when she closed her eyes, she saw the movement of his breathing. And she couldn’t escape the fear. What if he stopped? What if the end came? What would she do then?
“Elizabeth, don't pull away from me. Talk to me.”
“It's not fair to burden you.”
“I want to share your burden. Remember what we said? Together through everything? Don't shut me out.”
“Your prognosis hasn't been good, John. I have been here, by your side, day after day, night after night, waiting for you to wake or waiting for you to die, knowing that each breath could be your last.”
His eyes glazed over. “I can't imagine how horrible that must have been.”
More tears came. “It was horrible, John. It was a nightmare I couldn't wake up from.”
He took her hand in his. “I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere.”
She smiled at his efforts, but the truth was that he might not be out of danger yet.
Movement behind her drew her attention.
Dr. Smith walked toward them.
Elizabeth had no desire to hear the whole story again, nor did she want Dr. Smith to see her cry yet again. Grabbing the water pitcher, she said, “Looks like we need a refill.”
“What? Let a nurse take care of that, Lizzie.”
“Nonsense. Besides, Dr. Smith is here to keep you company. And far be it from me to become the third wheel,” she smiled and stood, not giving John further opportunity to protest. She moved away just as Dr. Smith greeted John.
Elizabeth stepped out of the hospital tent and moved toward the stream. Why should it be so strange to be back in the Union camp? This should feel like home, and it did to some extent, but the Confederate camp had been like home, too. Why was this so strange to her? So difficult? There were people here who made her feel cared for and missed, like her tent mates. Was that home?
Passing the laundry, she nodded at Melanie who worked to clean uniforms. As Melanie looked up, Elizabeth saw that she had been crying. And Elizabeth paused.
“Melanie, what's troubling you?” She veered off course and stepped closer to the wash bin.
Melanie rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “It's nothing.”
“Don't tell me that,” Elizabeth scolded gently. “I see that something is upsetting you.”
“It's just that…” Melanie started then seemed to think better of it. “No, you have enough on your shoulders without my problems too.” She pulled the pants out of the wash and hung them.
Elizabeth came around the bin and placed a hand on her arm. “Please. You've been so supportive for me. Let me at least be an ear for you.”
Melanie studied her for a handful of seconds, and Elizabeth doubted she had convinced her friend. And then Melanie teared up again and started talking.
“I've made a real mess of things.”
“I'm sure that's not true. Tell me what happened.”
“It's Jacob. The boy I told you about that had to have his leg amputated?”
Elizabeth nodded.
“He told me he was in love with me.”
Elizabeth felt her eyes widen, but she tried to keep her face neutral.
“And so I had to tell him I wasn't in love with him. But you should have seen his face. It hurt him!”
“I know it feels like it's your fault, but it's not.”
“It's not?” Melanie sniffled.
Elizabeth shook her head. “No. Matters of the heart are nearly always difficult, and as long as you're honest, you have nothing to be ashamed of.”
Melanie nodded, but tears came anew and she put the back of her hand on her mouth to keep from sobbing.
“Tell me.”
“There is a man I care for deeply. He went off to battle several days ago and hasn't returned.”
“Oh, Melanie!” Elizabeth hugged her friend. As she pulled back, she continued, “I know your heart is aching and fears the worst, but listen, you know for a fact that some of the men have to stay behind sometimes to hold the line. Trust. Have faith.”
Nodding again, Melanie calmed and gained control of her emotions.
“So when you have those fears, maybe write him a letter, even just a few lines, and imagine how happy he will be to get the letters when he returns.”
“Thank you,” Melanie said, wiping away the last remnants of her tear
s.
“Of course.”
“Oh, look at me. I must be a sight! And I must seem so silly to you.”
“Not at all. You seem like a girl who's in love.”
Melanie smiled at her. Then sighed. “What I truly am is a girl who will get in a heap of trouble if these uniforms aren't cleaned and drying within the hour.”
Elizabeth looked at the pile, too. “I'd best let you get to it.”
Melanie moved back to the wash bin, placing another pair of pants into the water as Elizabeth grabbed her pitcher and moved off in the direction of the stream. She glanced back at Melanie when she heard humming. There was a smile on her face. Elizabeth could only imagine that Melanie was thinking of her beau.
* * *
Daniel watched the scenery around him. He was battle-weary and ready for a good night's rest on his mat. Had he truly just thought that? His body ached from being on alert for so long, but he'd gained a renewed sense of energy when they had been relieved of their stations. The battle was long over, but some of the men stayed behind to reinforce the line.
Camping under the stars was not nearly as glamorous as it had been when he was a kid. Especially when you had to take turns on watch, knowing that when you did sleep, you put your life in someone else's hands. It didn't take more than one night for that to wear thin.
All of it was behind him as he returned to camp. And to Melanie. Thoughts of her had been what pulled him through on many a lonely night watch when his body begged for sleep. Visions of her helped him persevere when he wanted to give up on those long days on his belly on a dirt mound, ever watchful for Confederates. Remembering the feel of her lips on his kept him going through the whole ordeal. It gave him the determination to press on that he might see her again, that he might hold her again. And now that day had come.
By now, they were able to see the camp on the horizon and his step quickened. The other men with him followed suit. Whether they took their cue from him or had their own reasons to hasten their return to camp, Daniel did not know. His body begged him to take it easy, but he ignored it, his thoughts only of Melanie's face when he walked into camp. Would she be expecting him? Were the women of the camp privy to the change in orders? He doubted it. What a delightful surprise it would be.
Off To War (War Between The States) Page 24
