A Simple Singing

by Leslie Gould

  Annie wasn’t used to any sort of praise and simply said she was relieved that Harriet and Nathaniel were all right. The truth was, she couldn’t imagine being a midwife. Thankfully the delivery had been fairly easy. Even though it had been a breech and Harriet had bled so badly, Annie hadn’t had to make any difficult decisions.

  Kate arrived as the two talked, and George handed the baby to Annie and went out to feed and water Kate’s horse. As Kate reached the porch, she handed Annie a letter that she’d picked up in town.

  Annie led the way into the house, the baby in one arm, and sat down at the kitchen table. The letter was from Samuel.

  Dear Annie,

  Please come home. You need to be with your parents and closer to me at this time, not in the pathway of the Confederates. I’ve spoken with your father, and he agrees with me.

  Samuel

  She reread his words and then counted them. Thirty-seven. He’d communicated no concern for Harriet. Or George or Noah. Or the new baby. And no question as to what Annie wanted to do.

  On the other hand, she knew his heart was good. He wanted her safe. But could any of them truly be safe in times like these?

  She folded the letter and slipped it into her apron pocket, not intending to tell Harriet or George about it. She wouldn’t hold the letter against Samuel—she knew his intentions were good—but she wouldn’t respond right away either. She couldn’t leave Peach Bottom now, not when her sister-in-law still needed her.

  Kate came out of Harriet’s room and took the baby from Annie. As she examined him, Annie made a cup of tea for the woman and buttered a slice of bread.

  As she checked Nathaniel’s umbilical cord stump, Kate asked who the letter was from.

  “A . . . friend. Back home.”

  “A young man?”

  Annie nodded.

  “Was it a good letter?”

  Annie shook her head. “He thinks I should go home.”

  Kate met Annie’s eyes. “I take it you don’t want to.”

  “Not yet,” Annie answered.

  “Perhaps he’s used to people doing what he wants.”

  Annie shook her head. “I think he’s just worried, is all.”

  Kate smiled. “That’s good. Some men think a woman should fall in line with their thinking, no matter what. I’ve been married twice. The first wanted more than anything for me to use the gifts God had given me, which was caring for others. I blossomed, but then he died. The second man I married put me to work behind the counter of his store. I thought I was going to die from boredom.” She grimaced. “As much as I hated his store and at times thought I’d made a mistake in marrying him, I didn’t want him to die. But he did anyway. I sold the store as soon as I could and began working as a midwife.”

  Annie gave her a questioning look, not sure what Kate was telling her.

  “Being a wife is fine. In fact, I highly recommend it. Just choose carefully. You don’t want a husband who doesn’t see you for who you are and doesn’t acknowledge your gifts and desires.”

  Kate obviously didn’t know Samuel, but before Annie could say anything, the midwife handed the baby back and took a bite of the bread.

  Annie decided against saying anything. There wasn’t any need to, but Samuel wasn’t trying to keep her from doing anything. He was just concerned about her safety. Besides, Annie didn’t have any gifts, especially not medical.

  Over the next week, Annie cared for Harriet, giving her the tea from Kate and making sure she ate. The baby seemed strong and had a hearty cry. Annie also cooked and cleaned and watched over Noah too. Mamm had trained her well to run a household, and although it wasn’t always easy, she was certainly able to do the work. Day by day, Harriet regained her strength until she finally left her bed and said she felt better than she had in months. Kate checked on her one more time, stopping by late in the evening on the last day of June, and declared she was pleased with Harriet’s progress.

  Annie served Kate a plate of leftovers from dinner, and after the woman said a silent prayer, George asked how Ira was doing.

  Kate picked up the piece of bread and said, “He headed west with his regiment.”

  “Did he have any new information about the Confederates in the area before he left?”

  Kate took a bite and then leaned back in her chair, as if deciding what to say. After she swallowed, she spoke. “I’ve heard from a reliable source that the Confederates have taken York.”

  Annie gasped.

  “And two days ago the Union burned the railroad bridge across the river, from Wrightsville to Columbia, to keep the Confederates from being able to go to Lancaster.”

  “Oh, thank the Lord,” Harriet said.

  “How many were injured in York?” George asked.

  “Funny thing, the mayor gave up the town to prevent any damage. Instead of putting up a fight, they paid the Confederates not to attack.”

  Annie stifled another gasp.

  “It was a wise thing to do,” Kate explained. “They would have taken it anyway—there wasn’t enough of a Union presence in the town to make any difference. However, there was a battle, a small one, at Hanover today. The Confederates sacked the train station and destroyed the telegraph wires.”

  George shook his head. Annie was sure he believed Kate, so she decided he must have been disgusted by what the Confederates had done.

  “What now?” Annie managed to ask.

  “We wait and see,” Kate said. “But most likely the battle will be west of here. There are rumors that it will happen in Gettysburg.”

  Annie had heard of the town but of course had never been there. She said a silent prayer for the safety of the Union troops and for the civilians in that area.

  “Is Ira headed there?” George asked.

  Kate shrugged. “He said he didn’t know where he was going.”

  “I wonder where Cecil is.” Harriet put her hands to her face, clearly upset.

  “We must all be brave,” Kate said. “War has come to our land. We must trust the Lord to protect those we love.”

  Everyone murmured in agreement. Annie thought of Cecil, Richert, and Ira. She felt clammy even though the day was hot and humid.

  “Oh,” Kate said, reaching into her pocket. “I have another letter for you, Annie.”

  She handed it across the table. Annie expected another missive from Samuel, but it was from Sophia. She slipped it into her pocket to read later.

  It wasn’t until after Kate had left and Noah was down for the night that Annie sat on the back steps to read the letter by the light of the fading sun.

  Dear Annie,

  We were so happy to hear of Nathaniel’s birth and that Harriet is recovering.

  I have been feeling well and am hoping this is the miracle we’ve been praying for. Surely God will heal me and bring Richert home too.

  I am doing so much better that I believe you shouldn’t come home anytime soon (unless you wish to). Please continue to care for Harriet and Noah and the baby. With Mammi and Aenti here, we are all doing fine.

  Please do pray for Richert, and if by chance you hear of his unit traveling through the area, would you please let me know?

  Your loving sister,

  Sophia

  Annie couldn’t help but guess that Samuel had told Sophia what he’d written in his letter. Sophia instructing Annie to stay was her way of contradicting him in a subtle manner.

  Annie stood and went back into the house to clean the dishes. She’d write Sophia back when she could, and of course she’d let her know if she found out anything about Richert’s unit. She just couldn’t imagine why in the world she would.

  It turned out that Kate was right about the site of the battle. The next afternoon, on July 1, a day that was even hotter, a neighbor stopped by to see if they’d heard the news. George was in the field, and Annie and Harriet both assured the neighbor they’d heard nothing since the day before.

  “There’s a big battle going on at Gettysburg. And the Rebs a
re winning.”

  A soft moan escaped from Harriet’s lips, and Annie immediately felt ill. What would happen if the Confederacy won a battle in Pennsylvania? Would they take control of the state?

  Harriet sat down on the front steps and then said to Annie, “Go tell George. He’s in the far field. Ask him to come to the house.”

  As Harriet continued to speak with the neighbor, Annie hurried out the back door, the hot afternoon sun beating down on her. It took a bit to reach him, and by the time she did, sweat ran down the back of her legs and the sides of her face.

  He worked his scythe on the top of the bluff, and in the distance she could see the wide river, making its way toward Maryland.

  He glanced up from his work, an expression of fear on his face. “Is Harriet all right?”

  “Jah,” she answered, “but there’s bad news about the war.” She told him what the neighbor had said. “Harriet wants you to come to the house.”

  He shrugged. “There’s nothing I can do. Tell her I’ll be in for supper soon enough. We’ll talk then.”

  He bent his head down and kept working.

  “George,” Annie said. “Your wife needs you.”

  “Jah,” he said. “But she’s going to need food too. If I don’t get this work done, we’ll have no feed for the animals. Tell her there’s nothing any of us can do. I’ll come in when the sun sets.” He bent down and started working again.

  Annie wasn’t sure how he persevered in the heat and humidity, but it took a lot to make a living from the land. Farmers didn’t get to take any time off.

  Not even when war came close to home.

  Annie couldn’t hear what Harriet said to George that night, but she knew her sister-in-law was frantic about Cecil. Perhaps those who went off to war never considered what it might mean to actually go into battle—and how those left behind would fret and worry.

  The next morning, July 2, dawned humid too. Annie thought of the soldiers on the battlefield, including Ira, and said a prayer for all of them, North and South. As the sun grew higher and hotter through the morning, she prayed over and over.

  She thought of her ancestors coming to America, long before it was the United States, for religious freedom. That freedom had always been harder to come by in times of war. The Amish had been left to worship as they pleased during peacetime, but during war they were expected to serve or pay a tax or a fee for someone else to serve for them. But she guessed that some in the past had gone against their faith and chosen to fight, for one reason or another. She couldn’t help but wonder if they’d regretted it later.

  The day seemed to drag on forever, and no neighbor stopped by with any word. When George was done with his work, Harriet asked him to ride down to the ferry and see what news he could hear.

  “It won’t matter,” he said. “We won’t have news about Cecil.”

  “But it will help me to know if the battle has turned.” Harriet held the baby closer. “If the North has the upper hand now.”

  “Ach, Harriet,” George said. “It’s war. It’s not our business. We must leave it to the Lord.”

  “Please.” Harriet blinked away her tears.

  “All right,” he finally said.

  An hour later he came back and said that from what he’d heard, the South still had the advantage.

  Harriet moaned when he told her.

  “We’ll keep praying,” George said. “Now let’s get some rest.”

  They were soon quiet in their room. As Annie finished cleaning, she wondered if George regretted selling the hay to the Union soldiers. As she went to bed and prayed herself to sleep, she begged God to spare Richert, Cecil, and—after a moment of hesitation—Ira, too.

  The following day was hot and humid too, and as Annie hung the wash, she stopped every few minutes to wipe the sweat from her forehead with her apron. She thought of Ira in his wool uniform. She’d been critical of his fighting when he was—or had been—a Brethren, but then it dawned on her that perhaps Kate couldn’t pay the fee to keep him from fighting. She wouldn’t make much as a midwife. Ira’s father had died and then so had Kate’s second husband. Annie shivered. Perhaps he’d been forced to fight against his will.

  Harriet helped get dinner on the table, but after the meal was over and George went back to the fields, she retreated to her room with the baby. Noah played on the floor with his blocks, and then Annie put him down for a nap. Soon after, a neighbor stopped by with a letter for Annie—another one from Samuel. Instead of opening it, she asked the neighbor if there was any news about the battle.

  He nodded. “I heard at the post office that the Rebs were still winning last night. It could all be settled today. Maybe even by now.”

  The next day would be the Fourth of July. The Amish didn’t celebrate Independence Day, but the Englisch did. It could be that those who felt sympathetic toward the South, as Mrs. Lacey had seemed to, would have something to celebrate. But there would be many who would mourn.

  At least the bridge had been burned across the Susquehanna and Lee’s army couldn’t head toward Lancaster. Then again, the Union wouldn’t be able to use the railroad to retreat or transport their soldiers either. Annie shivered at the thought of how many wounded there might be on both sides after three days of fighting.

  She felt as if she were holding her breath, waiting to know how everything turned out, and not just for the soldiers on the battlefield but for all of them. What would Robert E. Lee command his army to do if they won? Would they head for Washington? Or return to Richmond?

  There was nothing she could do but pray.

  Finally, she opened the letter from Samuel. It reiterated what he’d said before.

  Considering you haven’t replied to my first letter, I’m hoping you didn’t receive it. I’ll repeat what I said. Come home as soon as possible. These are dire times, and you should be back in the safety of your community.

  I await your return,

  Samuel

  She wiped her face with her apron. No doubt she would be home soon, but it wouldn’t be because of Samuel’s demands. She slipped the letter into her pocket. She wouldn’t write him back. They could talk everything through in person.

  That evening when George came in from the field, Harriet asked him to go down to the ferry again, but he said he was too tired. Just as Harriet started to protest, they heard a horse and buggy outside.

  Harriet moved toward the door. She left it open as she stepped onto the porch. “It’s Kate,” she called out.

  George sighed and followed Harriet out while Annie stayed in the house with the children. After a few moments, all three came up the steps.

  “Kate has news,” Harriet said as they came through the door.

  “I wanted to tell all of you at once.” Kate looked as if she hadn’t slept in days. “I just came from town. The battle is over, and the Union has won.”

  Annie’s hand went to her chest, and Harriet gasped in relief.

  “The losses on both sides are horrendous. Thousands have died and thousands more have been wounded. The North has sent out a request for help—and a messenger from Hanover came with a request, specifically for me. An old friend, a Dr. Carson, has a house in Gettysburg and has asked me to come work with him and bring anyone I can to help.”

  “Why are you telling us?” George asked. “None of us have that sort of experience.”

  “Annie does.” Kate turned toward her. “You proved that in how well you’ve cared for Harriet.”

  Annie took a step backward as her stomach dropped. Why in the world would Kate think she was capable of nursing injured soldiers?

  “Taking care of a mother and baby is nothing like nursing those wounded in battle,” George said. “Besides, they wouldn’t want her. She’s just a girl.”

  “No, they’re asking for people with any experience to help. Soldiers will die who could be saved if we don’t rally and come to their aid.” Kate blew out her breath. “We’ve been praying. Now we can do something. Please a
llow Annie to go with me.”

  “Absolutely not,” George said.

  Annie remembered her night of prayer for the soldiers. For Richert. And Cecil. And Ira. She turned toward her brother. “I want to go,” she said.

  He crossed his arms and shook his head. “No. I forbid it.”

  11

  Marie

  The next morning, as I made my bed, I thought of Annie. At seventeen, she was four years younger than I was now. I’d always considered myself capable, but compared to her, I wasn’t. It wasn’t that she was fearless, but her actions and convictions both showed a courage I didn’t possess. I admired her for not giving in to Samuel, although I understood why he wanted her home.

  Thankfully, I’d have no such problems with Elijah. Samuel seemed pretty uptight, while Elijah was as easygoing as could be. Easy. I appreciated that about Elijah. It was natural, easy, for me to be interested in him. Marrying him and living on a farm not far from the original Bachmann farm the rest of my life would be easy too.

  No doubt Annie ended up going back to Lancaster County to marry Samuel. That would make the most sense. But would she go to Gettysburg first, as she hoped? Jah, I admired Annie but was thankful I’d never face the challenges she did.

  David came for breakfast, and the three of us ate dippy eggs, bacon, and toast out on the patio. David identified an eastern meadowlark perched in a type of myrtle tree at the edge of the property. Everything was so different from what I was used to.

  After we’d cleaned up, the three of us took a walk through the neighborhood. David pointed out the Amish church just down the street from us, a stone building with white trim and wide double doors, flanked by palm trees.

  “That’s where we’ll go on Sunday,” Aenti Suz said to me. I’d never, in my entire life, been to a church service that wasn’t held in someone’s home—or barn or shed. I could see why they needed a church in Pinecraft though. None of the houses were big enough to hold church, and with no outbuildings, there was no other option than a church.