by Naomi Finley
“Maybe you should return to the field in my place, Henrietta,” Bowden said with a chuckle. “You would give the Union a real fight. I reckon we got our own Harriet Tubman right here.”
“I never be de Moses ’oman. She got more courage dan a whole army of Confederate or Union soldiers. Yes, sah.” Admiration shone on her face.
“Indeed she does.” Bowden gazed down at Mammy with an equally admiring expression. “I must say, I’ve missed your dictatorship.”
She grunted and said, “Ef us older folkses ain’t ’round to talk sense into you younger folkses, I don’t know what dis world would become. Most lakly fall apart.”
She gestured at Jones and Pete to take Bowden upstairs. As we followed behind, she continued to ramble. I smiled to myself, wondering as I often did if she nattered constantly because she fancied the sound of her own voice.
My steps felt lighter than they had for some time, and joy sprang in my heart.
Upstairs in our chamber, Jones and Pete sat Bowden in a chair.
Mammy marched to the bed. “Help me git dis blanket spread out. Don’t need de masa messing up de bes’ linens we got left.”
Not wanting the happiness in my soul crushed by her disapproval, I rushed to do her bidding.
“Now you menfolk go and git de tub. Bring et in here. Missus Hendricks and Tillie are heating de water.”
Later Pete and Jones returned carrying a copper tub and placed it in the middle of the room. They returned several times with steaming buckets of water.
Bowden sat with his eyes closed and his shoulders slumped forward. I looked back at Mammy, whose gaze also rested on him, concern in her dark eyes, and when she turned back to the task at hand and found me studying her, she quickly replaced her worry with a smile.
“Sure is good to have de masa home,” she said. “Evvything be jus’ fine now.”
I smiled, appreciative of her effort to calm my distress.
“Mister Jones, you and Pete git de masa in de tub. When my John finishes tending to Mister Tucker, he help wid de masa.”
When Jones and Pete clutched Bowden’s arms to lift him, he pulled from their grip and stood. Unbuttoning his shirt, he guided his scowl from Mammy to me. “I will undress myself and accept help to get into the tub, but I won’t have anyone bathing me like I’m an infant.”
“Bowden…” I said.
The harshness in his gaze silenced my plea.
“It’s best you womenfolk go on now. This is man’s business.”
“Yes, Masa.” Mammy took my arm and led me toward the door as I fought to blink back rising tears.
Outside in the corridor, Mammy closed the door behind us, and we moved a short distance away before I turned to face her. “He is so…cold.” I wrapped my arms across my chest and glanced at the closed door.
“De masa in pain, is all,” Mammy said. “Why don’t you go wash your face and change into your bes’ frock.” She graced me with a bright smile. “Dis is a blessed day. De masa is home, and et would do him good to see his wife in all her fineness. Tillie and I will fix a meal dat will warm his belly and show him how thankful we are for his safe return.”
I left to wash up and returned as Big John climbed the stairs to attend Bowden. Knowing I would only be in the way, I descended the stairs to the main floor to go and check in on Knox.
I found Whitney on her knees by Knox’s cot, holding his hand against her forehead, lost in prayer. Tears stained her cheeks and darkened the front of her dress.
My throat thickened.
Sensing my presence, she opened her eyes and looked at me. “Willow…” Grief and worry shattered her voice.
I moved to her side and knelt beside her.
She placed her husband’s hand on his chest and turned grief-stricken eyes on me. “What a fool I’ve been. I have put him through so much, and now God seeks to punish me for my sins.”
“No, He doesn’t. He understands our human flaws.” I gathered her in my arms, and she broke, her fingers gripping the fabric of my dress. I’d never witnessed such vulnerability in her before—not when her father’s plantation burned to the ground, nor when Knox went off to war. “He is home now. Big John will see he recovers. What he needs now is your love and support. With you at his side, he will recover.”
She pushed back and brushed away her tears. “But he will never hold me again. I’ll never feel the comfort of his embrace.”
“What do you mean?” I looked from her to the scars on Knox’s wan face.
She leaned forward and rolled back the linen to reveal a sight I couldn’t have imagined. I covered my mouth with a hand to extinguish a cry. Dear God. His left arm had been severed at the elbow, gnarly red slashes left his torso deformed, but it was the festering wound in the center of his chest that stilled my heart. How was he still alive? “I’m so sorry.” My words sounded pathetic in response to the fear and despair she had to be experiencing.
Knox’s feverish moans rose and drifted. She covered his torso and pulled to her feet. I stood, and we walked a short distance away and looked back at him.
“I feel helpless.” She lifted slender fingers to brush away tears. “What if he dies? What if—”
“Shh.” I embraced her. “You mustn’t think like that. He is here now, and he will get better. You will see.”
She pulled back, and fire sparked in her eyes. “Easy for you to say. Your husband returns on his feet. Mine came back with two feet in the grave.”
I cringed. “Whitney, I-I—”
“Save it, Willow. Everything always works out for you.” She turned her back to peer out the window at the garden.
“Whitney, please.” I touched her elbow. “I know you are hurting and that you don’t mean this.”
“Oh no?” She spun around, and her lip curled as she delivered words that pierced my soul. “I meant every word. I wish it was Bowden in that bed, not my husband.” As she vocalized her pain, she became aware of what she’d said. Regret and horror shadowed her face. “I-I—” She veered by me and raced from the room.
I stood rooted and numb, not sure what to do or think. When my legs finally moved, I walked to Knox’s bed and knelt beside him. “You are home now.” I swallowed my tears. “Rest and recover. We all need you…she needs you.”
“Come, angel gal,” Mammy said from the threshold, and I looked at her through eyes blurred by tears. I pushed to my feet and walked to her side. She wrapped a comforting arm around my waist. “Don’t fret none ’bout what Missus Tucker said. She hurting, and when folkses are hurting, dey sometimes say awful things dey don’t mean.”
I lay my head on her shoulder. “I know, but it doesn’t mean it hurts any less.”
“No, angel gal, I reckon et don’t.”
In the corridor, I stepped away. “Is Big John still with my husband?”
She nodded.
“I’m going to take a walk.” I lowered my head, attempting to hide my sadness.
“All right, angel gal. De masa needs some rest and time to heal.”
I smiled at her, grateful for her reassurance. “Thank you.”
“What for?” She lifted a brow.
“For always being my comfort.”
Tears pooled in her eyes. “You a good woman. And you know I love you lak my own. I do anything to save you from de ugliness of dis world.”
“You don’t need to worry about saving me. Your love has always steered my feet back on the path where they need to be, and for that, I thank you.”
“Bless you, gal.” She smiled and cupped my cheek before swerving by me and continuing down the corridor. Her rich voice lifted in song, leaving me encouraged.
Gratitude filled my heart for the woman who had loved and accepted me exactly the way I was, without prejudice or judgment.
WHITNEY AVOIDED ME FOR THE next week, devoting her days to Knox, sleeping on a pallet next to his cot, and eating her meals in the library.
A small contingent of soldiers arrived and I arranged to have them
situated in the parlor, allowing Whitney and Knox privacy.
Bowden’s strength increased with each passing day. One afternoon, as he and I entered the house after visiting our son’s grave, Mammy came rushing down the corridor. “He awake. Lard be praised. Mister Tucker awake.” She thrust her hands at the heavens.
My heart leaped, and I looked up at Bowden as he let out a yelp of glee. “I knew he was too stubborn to leave this world.” He charged down the hall and I raced after him, pausing to gather Mammy into my arms and squeeze the breath from her before planting a kiss on her cheek. When I freed her, she stood dazed before a satisfied grin spread over her dear face. “Everything will be fine,” I said.
At the library, I grabbed the doorframe to slow my pace. Inside I found Big John assessing Knox while Whitney stood back, allowing him to do his work.
Bowden had positioned himself at the foot of the cot and stood with his hands planted on his hips. “You decided you’d grace us with your presence, did ya?” he said with a broad smile.
Whitney glanced at me before swiftly averting her gaze. I swallowed the nerves congregating in my stomach and walked to my husband’s side. We all devoted our attention to Knox, who lay back against the pillows, still appearing ashen and thin.
He attempted to grin but grimaced. “Couldn’t leave you to maneuver this life alone,” he said before looking at Whitney as she drew closer. “The peace of the grave called, but I heard you nattering ‘Don’t you dare die on me’ and figured I wouldn’t find peace if I left.” He offered her a tender smile before his attention went to the arm Big John unwrapped, and the little color left in his face evaporated. He gagged and looked away. After he calmed his reaction, he said, “Don’t know how good a soldier I will be now. Can’t fire a rifle or…” His voice faded, and his jaw trembled. “I’m sorry, wife. I didn’t want to return less than I was.”
Whitney marched forward and knelt beside him. “I won’t hear any such talk. You’re the same man that left here. It’s just an arm.”
He laughed. “It will grow back, ya saying?”
A rosiness touched her cheeks, and she dipped her head. “No, of course not, but I want you to know I see you as no less a man than the one who left. I love you regardless.”
Knox’s eyes glittered with appreciation for the woman who continued to let her guard down and blossom into the wife he had longed for. My heart swelled with happiness for the love between them.
Bowden settled an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into the warmth of his side, and placed a kiss on the top of my head. “I’d hate to see the bastards that did this to you before you went down,” he quipped.
The lightheartedness vanished from Knox’s expression, replaced by a firm set to his jaw. “It was him.” His nose flinched with disgust and loathing.
Bowden tensed, and his fingers dug into my flesh. I looked from him to Knox. “Who?” I asked.
Knox’s eyes flickered as though he and Bowden were exchanging a secret code between them.
“No!” I pulled away and turned to face Bowden, crossing my arms over my chest. “I won’t have it. Out with it now. What is it you two know that you’re trying to keep from us?”
“I’m with Willow,” Whitney said.
Bowden swiped a hand through his hair and gestured for Knox to continue.
“It was Reuben,” Knox said.
“Reuben?” Whitney and I gasped in unison.
“The bastard took down Bowden, and when I saw him go down, I charged in and, well, you know the rest of the story. Hell itself flashed in his eyes. He left us for dead.”
Bowden turned and paced the floor. “But there was something different about him. When I looked into his eyes, it was as though he didn’t recognize me at first, and then, as though suddenly enlightened, he went in for the kill. I saw it in his eyes; he intended to gut me from spine to throat.” He paused and turned back to look at Knox. “I’m guessing it is only because of you that I still draw breath.” His face softened. “I’m indebted to you, my friend.”
Knox snorted. “If I hadn’t, I would never have heard the end from these two. How could a man ever find peace again?” The humor was for our sakes. When he looked at his arm again, his face twitched.
“What side did he fight on?” I asked.
“He wore Union garb. But the man has no loyalty to anyone but himself.” Bowden caressed my arms. “You needn’t worry about him.”
“No?” A sour taste coated my tongue. “The graveyard is full of people because I chose to not worry about him for one night.”
“That isn’t your fault. You can’t control the demons that possess that man’s soul.”
“No, but I do hope that, before this war is over, the entire Union and Confederate armies pummel him into the ground.” My hands formed fists.
“You aren’t alone in your desire. And may God forgive us all,” Bowden said.
“Et’s good you awake, Mister Tucker.” Big John stood. I had almost forgotten his presence in the room. “Et best ef you take et easy. De wounds on de outside are healing, but de damage inside is what we can’t assess.” He scooped up his pouch of herbs and medicine.
“We will leave you in the capable hands of your wife.” Bowden gently gripped Knox’s shoulder, his hand lingering a moment.
Knox lifted his hand and patted Bowden’s wrist. “Thank you for bringing me back.”
Bowden awarded him a tight smile and inclined his head at Whitney before taking my hand and leading me from the room. He thanked Big John before guiding me out the back door and down the steps.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Is it a crime to want my wife all to myself?” His merriment returned as he spun me into his arms. I laughed with delight.
“I know just the spot where we won’t be disturbed.” His eyes lingered on my mouth before he pulled me across the yard and away from the plantation.
I STOOD IN THE CORRIDOR holding Bowden’s satchel while he said his goodbyes to Knox. Whitney’s husband would not return to the battlefront for some time, if at all; the extent of his wounds had kept him weak, and he had yet to move from the cot.
Whitney regarded me from her position at Knox’s side, and the awkwardness between us had made everyone uneasy. Sometimes I found myself offering excuses for her harshness that day in the library, and in the next breath I stewed with anger.
I walked down the hallway and stepped out onto the veranda, seeking fresh air and distance.
“Masa’s horse is ready.” Jimmy strode into the front yard leading a chestnut bay, with Jones and his mount following behind.
“Thank you,” I said through rising tears.
“Why don’t you come down here and tell me what be troubling you besides de masa’s leaving,” he said.
“It’s nothing.”
“You can’t fool ol’ Jimmy. I knowed dat face well. Besides, I bin watching you sulk ’round here for a week or more.” He craned his neck to look up at me, and the compassion in his face pulled my feet toward the stairs.
I joined him in the front yard and stood without speaking before he urged, “Come now, out wid et.”
“It’s Whitney.”
“What she done now?”
“She hasn’t really done anything.” I bowed my head. “Well, nothing I didn’t deserve.”
“Let me be de judge of dat,” he said, his tone defensive.
I told him what Whitney had said in the library the day our husbands had returned home, and he gave me a stern look and shook his head in disapproval. “Dat ain’t nothing you deserved. Et ain’t your fault Masa didn’t suffer de same fate as Mister Tucker. No one wants to see anyone hurt. Dat woman do bes’ to quieten her tongue. Can’t go through life spewing off evvything dat comes to mind. No matter what pain or fear you be feeling.”
I understood Whitney in a way most never would. “I know she didn’t mean it, but it hurts nonetheless. She was scared and hurting, but the fact that we haven’t talked since burdens my hea
rt and mind.”
“Let time take care of dat,” he said, and glanced past me. “Here comes de masa. You go on now and enjoy a minute or two ’fore he gone.”
Bowden exited the house with Mammy and Pippa close behind. “I packed you some food for your journey. You be sho’ to keep your strength up and return to us when dis is all over.” Mammy held out a small satchel.
“Much appreciated.” He smiled and took the food before placing his hat on his head.
I ascended the steps to stand beside him.
“If by any chance you see my husband, please send him my love.” Pippa stood with her hands clasped in front of her.
“I will, but I haven’t seen Ben since the start of the war.”
“His letters aren’t getting through. Pippa has only received one in all this time,” I said.
“After lying cooped up in an army medical tent, I see what the doctors and nurses go through. There’s not a moment’s rest. They are stretched too thin, so I reckon there is little time for him to write.”
Tears pooled in Pippa’s eyes.
Bowden’s expression softened. “War leaves one forever changed. A man witnesses horrors and calamities he can’t unsee. Our womenfolk’s letters, the memories of your faces, and the dream of returning home help us endure the dawning of a new day. Don’t lose heart. Keep sending your care packages and letters; hopefully, they get through.”
Pippa compressed her lips and nodded. “Thank you.”
“Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to steal a moment with my wife.” He clasped my hand and led me across the veranda and around the corner of the house.
Once out of view of the others, he pulled me into his embrace. “I shall miss you,” he said. “I pray each night for this war to be over.”
“As we all do. Please be careful.” Reuben’s attempt to kill Bowden and Knox had filled my days with worry. “Keep your eyes open.”
“I will not die at the hands of Reuben McCoy’s insanity.” He cupped my chin before lowering his head to brush my lips with his. Passion heated his kiss, and he drew me closer.