Without another word, Robert hoisted the chair up and darted out the door.
“What happened?” she lifted her skirts up and thundered down the stairs behind him. “Is he okay?”
“We were past Charlestown, on the pike.” Robert set the chair on the ground and then reached up to grab Poppa’s arm. “They came out of the weeds. I don’t even know how many there were.”
“Who?” He was maddening.
“Soldiers on horseback.” Robert hoisted her up into the wagon. “Help him stand up.”
“Poppa, are you okay?” She brushed some dirt from his shoulders. The side of his face was scratched raw, blood matting his thick gray whiskers. His left eye was starting to swell shut. But looking closer, Adelaide realized his dark brown coat sleeve was soaked in blood. “Your arm! Poppa!”
“Adelaide, calm yourself.” Poppa leaned heavily against her. “It’s just a cut. It will mend.”
Robert continued, seemingly oblivious to her concern. “Roy spooked. The wagon flipped over—Addy steady him—and he was pinned. Bastards didn’t even stay to help me lift the wagon.”
Poppa groaned as he eased a leg down to the chair. “Robert, do try and restrain yourself. It can’t be helped now.”
“Is it broken?” Adelaide jumped down from the wagon and slipped under Poppa’s good arm to support him.
“The wagon landed on him. On top of him.”
“We have to get Doctor Marmion or Doctor Starry.”
Robert shook his head. “We have to get him upstairs first.”
“Would you two please stop talking like I am not here? I’m not a child, we’ll get upstairs and then Robert will fetch the doctor.” Poppa patted her arm gently. “It’s fine, Adelaide, stop worrying.”
“Poppa, just take them one at a time.” Robert put his foot on the first step. “There’s no hurry. Addy go up behind him.”
Holding onto her skirts with one hand, Adelaide carefully followed Poppa up the steps. He seemed to be dragging his left foot behind him, almost as if it hurt to put his weight directly on the ball of his foot. After she watched him for a moment, she realized that he was favoring his whole left side, not just his foot. “Do you want to sit at the table, Poppa? Maybe have some water?”
“No, he should go lay down.” Robert helped Poppa step across the threshold and into the kitchen. “Let’s go into the bedroom.”
Poppa reached out towards the table and unsteadily shuffled towards it. “No, Robert, let me sit down a moment. I just need to rest. I feel like my eyes are spinning in their sockets.”
Reluctantly, Robert helped him ease down to the chair. “I think we should get you into bed before I go get Doc Marmion. You don’t seem to have sure footing.”
“Beh.” Poppa waved his hand dismissively. “I told you, Robert, I’m bruised and just a little lightheaded. Doctor Marmion will be there in a few minutes—I can assure you I’m not going to fall apart in that time.”
Rebekah burst into the kitchen, a sashaying tempest of hoops, blue silk, and lace. “Oh, Eli, what happened?”
Poppa grabbed her hand pressed it to his unscathed right cheek. “Nothing I can’t handle, Bekah dearest. Just a little accident with the wagon, that’s all.”
Adelaide pressed a wet rag to Poppa’s forehead. “Rebekah, can you get Poppa some water? Please?”
Rebekah looked at her vacantly, almost as if she hadn’t the faintest idea where they stored the cups. Or the water.
“That’s okay.” Adelaide shoved past her. “I was headed that direction anyway.”
Sarah scrambled to the water bucket and quickly filled a mug. “Here you go, Poppa.”
Poppa squeezed his eyes closed and then blinked furiously. Shaking his head, he pressed the wet rag over his face and mumbled, “Close the curtains, child, it’s so damn bright in here.”
Adelaide exchanged a look with her brother. The kitchen was anything but bright—especially at that time of day. It was, probably, the darkest part of their house.
She had the feeling it was time to go get Doctor Marmion.
* * *
June 27, 1861
“POPPA, DO YOU want to get out of bed today?” Adelaide pushed back the curtains and forced the window open a little more. “It is a very nice day out.”
It took him a few moments to reply. “N-no, Addy. I... think... I’ll just lie down a little longer.”
“But, Poppa, you’ve been in bed all week.” She pulled back the cover and checked the bandage over his arm. It was covered in pus again—and had to be changed right away or else he would start to stink.
Her father sighed but allowed her to lift his tender arm. “You know I have gout in my leg, Adelaide. It is one of the hazards of getting old.”
His voice was weak, like it was an effort to force out the words or for them to make the trip from his brain to his mouth. The robust, iron kettle rumble of his bass voice had been gone for days—she didn’t understand it. How could a broken arm make the rest of him sick?
“Poppa.” Adelaide tried her best to sound cheerful. “Do you want some breakfast? I can make you some oatmeal or maybe a bit of toast?”
He slowly shook his head. “No... no... I’m not very hungry right now. Maybe later.”
“You have to eat something, Poppa, you have to stay strong.”
He was barely audible. “I’m so tired, Elizabeth, just let me sleep.”
Adelaide swallowed hard, her breath catching in her throat. “I’m not Elizabeth, Poppa, that was Momma. I’m Adelaide.”
Poppa studied her closely, his once bright blue eyes now sullen and watery. “Of course, Adelaide, that is what I meant. Forgive me.”
“It’s okay, Poppa.” She forced a smile. “You rest. I’ll go tend to the morning chores.”
He nodded, seeming to not look at her face but past it, like there was some unseen point of interest behind her. She touched his hand—startled at how cold and clammy it felt—and gently squeezed it.
It pulled him out of his trance. He smiled weakly and said, “I do love you, Adelaide. I hope I do not disappoint you.”
A lump immediately formed in her throat. Poppa, although affectionate with them, rarely professed his love. “I know, Poppa. I love you too.”
He didn’t return her gentle squeeze. Instead, he closed his eyes and sighed deeply.
Adelaide could feel tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. Not wanting her father to see them, she turned and quickly hurried out of the room. He would be fine. He was just a little tired.
As she walked down the hall towards the kitchen, Adelaide heard a soft voice call out from the parlor. “Addy!”
She stopped short and took a few steps backwards. “Yes, Rebekah?”
She was seated on the couch, holding Baby Lizzie on her lap. More accurately, Baby Lizzie was sleeping and happened to be on her lap. Rebekah wasn’t cradling her or clutching her—Adelaide had seen people hold blankets with more affection. “He hasn’t used the chamber pot in nearly two days.”
Adelaide frowned. “The sheets aren’t wet.”
“I know.” Rebekah bit her lip. “No water is going in, no water is coming out.”
She pressed her head against the doorframe. “I don’t understand how he got so sick, so fast. He just has a broken arm.”
“Maybe we should fetch Doctor Marmion again.”
“He was just here yesterday. He couldn’t do anything then. What makes you think that he can do anything now?”
“What are we going to do, Addy?”
Adelaide stepped into the parlor and gingerly sat next to her. “He’s strong, Rebekah, he’ll get through this.”
“He’s not strong, Addy, that’s the problem.” Rebekah looked down at the top of Baby Lizzie’s soft brown curls. “I know you don’t think it, but I love him. I really do... and... I’m too young to be a widow.”
Adelaide wasn’t entirely sure what to say to her. Uncomfortably, she gently patted her arm and tried to hold back her own tears.
Out of the corner of her eye, noticed a dark figure step out from the wall. It stood next to her; her cheek was bathed in ice chilled air. Adelaide.
But when she turned, no one was there.
* * *
June 28th, 1861
OTHER THAN CIDER making, there were few other things Adelaide hated more than doing laundry. The stench of the soap, the way her knees ached from squatting on the ground—worse yet, it was perpetual. No sooner were all clothes scrubbed and dried, did a new batch need tended. It was particularly dull that day, as Sarah had volunteered to handle dinner for once. It was about time: she was eighteen for goodness sakes. Adelaide had been in charge of cooking since she was fifteen.
She pulled a sopping wet chemise from the soapy water and rung it out as tightly as she could. Then, she untwisted it, shook some more water loose, and re-twisted it into a tight ball. Once satisfied that most of the soap was rung out, she tossed the rolled up chemise into the clear water. Doing laundry on her own took twice as long as it did with Sarah’s help.
Sitting back in the grass, Adelaide stretched out her legs and yawned. What a day. Now was as good a time as any for a break.
Her legs ached from squatting on the ground and it look her a few moments to stand up. It felt warmer than the inside of an iron stove. Heat seemed to settle in between the heights and just stay there. She wiped her face with her apron and sighed. It was times like this she wished she could jump into the Shenandoah River and take a swim. With all the soldiers taking pot shots at town from the Maryland shore, though, it was foolish to go down towards the river. In fact, it was foolish to leave the clothes out in the yard to dry—not only did the Yankees want to kill them, but they wanted to steal all of their clothes, too.
From her position in the yard, Adelaide could barely make out movement at the far end of Shenandoah Street. Curious, she walked to the edge of the fence and peered down the street. Whatever it was, it was covering a lot of ground very quickly.
Running as if pursued by the devil himself, lines of gray clad soldiers poured down High Street and spilled down onto Shenandoah Street. The “commotion” at the end of the Street was more soldiers—apparently circling around Harpers Ferry from the pike.
Adelaide felt like she was standing in a still river, frozen up to her knees and unable to move. The wind whipped her skirts around her ankles, but she was too engrossed at the sudden onslaught of men.
A group broke off in her direction.
Her legs sprang back to life. She tried to scream—it came out more like the squawk of a pinched chicken—and darted across the lawn towards the stairs, leaping over the laundry water. She waited to hear the sound of gunfire, to feel the bullets slam into her back. But no shots came. She reached the stairs unscathed.
She had to get inside their house and bar the door before the mob of soldiers reached her. They couldn’t get inside, God, what would they do if they got inside? With no traction on her shoes, she slipped and fell forward onto the steps, hard, and scraped her hands against the boards. Glancing sideways, she finally realized that the soldiers were not in her pursuit, but instead were filing into the Armory yards.
She didn’t hang around to find out why. Jumping to her feet, she thundered up the remaining steps and into the kitchen.
Sarah was waiting on the other side of the door. “Who are they? What’s going on?”
Adelaide couldn’t even answer her. She slammed the door shut and frantically pushed the lock in place. Maybe they could move the table in front of the door; anything to keep the soldiers out. It was like the Raid all over again—but these raiders were sanctioned by the government.
Sarah seemed to echo her thoughts. “Can we push something up against the door? Maybe jam the knob with the chair back?”
“Maybe we should go to the cellar.” Adelaide headed towards the hallway and abruptly stopped. “Do you think we can get Poppa down to the cellar?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Sarah snapped. “Now, do you think we should move the table?”
“Sarah, I don’t know what to do!” Adelaide frantically tugged at her hair. She was panicking. It was hard to think through panic, everything seemed like the wrong choice. “Where’s Levi—he’s not outside is he?”
“No, he’s in the parlor.”
A faint breeze, barely enough to jostle the shades, carried the scent of smoke into the kitchen. Adelaide left Sarah standing beside the table and rushed down the hall to the bedroom. Looking out the window, as she had so many times before, she could see soldiers filing into the Armory. The neat rows of buildings were already engulfed in flames.
Sarah leaned over her shoulder. For a moment, she didn’t say anything, but finally muttered, “There’s nobody left to put the flames out now.”
Before Adelaide could respond, the earth shook with an explosion. She and Sarah both screamed; she dropped to the floor and pulled her sister down with her. She could hear Levi calling her name from somewhere down the hall. “Stay there, Levi! Just stay where you’re at.”
She didn’t want to move. With every ounce of her soul, she wanted to slide underneath the bed and wish it all away.
Levi screamed for her again.
“Come on, Sarah.” Adelaide tugged on her sister’s sleeve. “Get up.”
She shook her head.
“Fine, stay here.” She scrambled to her feet, nearly tripping over her skirts, and headed to the door. One step in the hallway, however, and she was halted in her tracks by a horrible, loud shriek of metal on metal. It sent shivers down her spine, rocketing across her shoulder blades like lightning. Instinctively, she covered her head with her arms and then turned back to Sarah. “What was that?”
Sarah stared at her, her eyes wide.
Adelaide heard the thunder of footsteps rushing down the hall and was nearly bowled over by Robert. “Addy, I think we should brace that side door somehow.”
“What in God’s name was that noise?”
“A locomotive.” Robert pushed past her, heading towards the work room. “They pushed it off the bridge. Right into the damn river—it was easy, considering they blew the damned bridge up again.”
“Who?” Sarah piped up, still stretched out on the bedroom floor. “Who are they?”
“The god damned Rebel Army, who do you think?” Robert turned and grabbed Adelaide’s arm. “Help me with this table. Ready? Push!”
She gritted her teeth and pushed as hard as she could. The heavy oak table lurched forward slowly. “Again? This is still Virginia, isn’t it? Why do they constantly attack us?”
Robert shrugged. “I would have guessed the Armory and Arsenals, but they’ve been shut down for months now. Your ideas, for once, are as good as mine.”
Sarah hovered in the doorway. “Shouldn’t we go down to the cellar, Robert? Wouldn’t we be safer, there?”
“I doubt it.” Robert pulled his cap off his head and ran his hands through his thick brown hair. “We’d never get Poppa down there, anyway. Has he woken up at all today?”
Adelaide shook her head.
Robert sighed and stared at the door. They could hear the sounds of destruction outside; crashing and roaring coming from the Armory. Even inside the house, the air was thick with smoke.
Adelaide could feel tears threatening to spill over her cheeks. “Robert, what are we going to do?”
Her brother didn’t answer her.
* * *
June 29th, 1861
A FRANTIC POUNDING on the side door jolted her out of a deep sleep. Adelaide sat up slowly, surprised that she had fallen asleep in the middle of the day like that. After the events of yesterday, though, it was surprising she could nap at all.
Robert beat her to the door. “Who is it?”
“Annie Frankel.”
Robert shoved th
e table away from the door on his own, but it moved only far enough for Annie to squeeze inside. “What are you doing here? You shouldn’t have—”
Annie pressed her lips to his. “Just stop, Robert, you don’t understand. My father is making us leave town.”
“What?” Adelaide stared at her. “You’re leaving?”
Annie burst into tears. “After yesterday, he says it’s too dangerous. He’s been packing a wagon all day. We’re leaving half of the store wares just so we can get out.”
Robert opened his mouth and then promptly closed it, making a soft plop sound with his lips. Finally, he managed to say, “Where are you going? Are you going to come back?”
“I don’t know.” Annie threw her arms around him, pressing her forehead to his shoulder. “But I don’t think that my father wants to come back. Not after that fool John Brown and what happened yesterday…but that’s not why I’m here. You have to come with us.”
Robert and Adelaide stared at her.
“My father says that he’ll help you load a wagon.” Annie rushed. “Grab what you can and leave. Now.”
“We can’t move Poppa.” Robert said slowly, shaking his head. “I don’t think he’d last a trip, especially when you don’t know where you’re going.”
“You can put him in the wagon.”
Robert looked at Adelaide.
“What about Luke?” Her filled with tears. “We don’t know where he is and if we leave…we may never find him.”
Robert was quiet for a moment. Finally, he dipped his head down and kissed Annie’s forehead. “We have to stay. We can’t move Poppa, not as sick as he is.”
“Please!” Tears streamed down Annie’s face. “You can’t stay here. It isn’t safe!”
Robert buried his face in his hands. “I don’t know what to do. Maybe we could—no, Annie, we can’t go. We have to stay. For Poppa. And Luke.”
In that heartbeat, Annie seemed to resign herself to the truth they couldn’t leave Harpers Ferry. Her shoulders drooped slightly, but she recovered quickly and threw her arms around Adelaide. “I will miss you so much, Adelaide Randolph. You are my best friend.”
Paranormal After Dark Page 69