In the Shadow of the Moon

by Karen White

  Stooping to gather up the smoldering torch and take it out of harm’s way, I turned around and began to walk back to the house. I felt rather than heard the rush of air behind me.

  The impact knocked me facedown in the dirt and temporarily took the breath from me. Someone was lying on my back and I could smell his stale whiskey breath while his rough beard stubble chafed my cheek. I felt my assailant get off of me and roughly grab hold of my shoulders and flip me over on my back. My almost-healed wound screamed in pain, but I had no time to think about it.

  I tried to scramble to my feet but his hands held me down.

  “Look here, boys. See what I got.” His hat had fallen off in the scuffle and the sweat dripped down his forehead and cheeks.

  His hands groped at my breasts and I started fighting him in earnest. Drunk or not, the man was too strong for me and was able to pinion both hands above my head with one hand while the other one tried to reach under my nightgown. Luckily, the other two were either too drunk or too stunned over what was happening to join their companion in his obscene dance.

  Fighting panic, I struggled with renewed vigor. I opened my mouth to scream, only to have a callused hand smother any sound. He moved his hand off my breasts and began to fiddle with the top of his pants. He shifted his weight and rose on his knees. Seeing my chance to knock him off balance, I sat up, shoving both hands at his chest. He fell backward.

  No longer captive, I clambered to my feet and began stumbling toward the house. I hadn’t gone very far when I heard the distinctive sound of a pistol cocking. I stopped and turned around slowly. My attacker was on his knees and was unsteadily pointing his pistol at me.

  “It takes a brave man to shoot an unarmed woman in the back!” I shouted with false bravado as I turned around and began walking slowly toward the house.

  An officer on horseback raced around the corner of the house, but I continued walking, not wanting to stop until I had reached the sanctuary of my room, with the door bolted securely behind me.

  The sound of a gun firing made me jump. I could hear the blood rushing in my head, but I forced myself to remain calm. Without turning around I shouted over my shoulder, “You missed!” and kept walking.

  The officer dismounted and walked quickly toward me, shouting at the soldier to drop the gun. He grabbed my arm as I tried to make my way past him. “What is going on here?” he barked.

  I knew this face—I had seen it many times in history books. The broad forehead, dark wavy hair and beard, the affable Scottish looks. General James B. McPherson.

  I looked him squarely in the eye. “Three of your gallant soldiers just tried to set fire to my house. Failing at that simple task, they then decided that a good game of rape would be a fun thing to do. Luckily, for me at least, they failed at both attempts. Now, if you would be so kind as to let me go, I would like to go inside. I’d appreciate it if you could keep your men under control while they are on my property.”

  Other soldiers had run to restrain the man that had attacked me. General McPherson examined my disheveled state, the charred shawl flung over my shoulders. “My apologies, madam. But these men have been given orders to burn this house and its surrounding buildings. The owners are not only major stockholders in the Roswell Manufacturing Company, supplying the Confederate Army, but they are also known rebels.”

  I yanked my arm from his grasp. “No, that can’t be! Who gave those orders?”

  “I did, ma’am. And I received my information from a reliable source—Captain William Elliott on General Sherman’s staff.”

  I began to shake. How could he do this to his own family? “That son of a bitch,” I muttered under my breath.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  I looked back at him and shook my head. “Never mind. It’s not important.” My mind began to race, conjuring up possible solutions to this nightmare.

  “I will need you to evacuate this house as soon as possible.”

  “Wait!” I felt my face crease into a wild smile. “I have a letter from General Sherman himself, protecting this property. Hold on.” I ran to the back porch and took the letter from Sarah, then handed it to General McPherson.

  He held the deeply wrinkled letter up in the fading light, scanning the words. He lowered it slowly. “My deepest apologies. I do not know how this misunderstanding could have happened. I will ensure you are protected. When my troops depart, I will leave a guard.”

  He handed the letter back to me and I clutched it to my chest. “Thank you. I’m going inside now. I trust you will see to it that the man who attacked me is duly punished.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Again, my deepest apologies.”

  I started walking but turned back, thoughts of lost love heavy on my mind. If my memory of my history book was correct, this man had less than a week to live. “General McPherson.”

  He stopped, surprise registering on his face that I should know his name.

  I continued. “I have a strong feeling you should write your fiancée soon. Perhaps tonight before you retire.” He opened his mouth to say something, his expression quizzical, but was interrupted by shouts behind him from the man who had attacked me and who was now being restrained. I walked to the house without turning back and collected Sarah from the porch.

  The foyer was in a shambles. Feathers from chair cushions floated about the floor like snow. Deep gashes marred the wallpaper, leaving it to hang in large sags. But the soldiers were gone and the house had been saved. From the bottom of the stairs, I saw an orange glow in the sky from the upstairs hallway window, and I knew someone else’s house had gone up in flames. Again, I heard Mrs. Cudahy’s voice in my head. She was saying something about how no one knew why Phoenix Hall had been spared destruction. And now I did.

  I put Sarah to bed and she soon fell sound asleep, untouched by the nightmare of the world around her. I stared at her sleeping face, this child that was mine but not mine. This was her home, her time, her people. How could I take her with me? Yet how could I leave her?

  I bolted the door and crawled under the covers with Sarah, listening to her soft breathing, as I fell asleep.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Love knows not distance; it hath no continent;

  its eyes are for the stars.

  —SIR GILBERT PARKER

  Less than a week later, the soldiers were gone—creeping ever southward toward the prize of Atlanta. The end was near. General McPherson was true to his word and left a guard and plenty of food to get us through the next several months. He also mentioned that William had disappeared, probably deserting the army. I hoped that he had fled west and that I would never see him again.

  I was out by the well, drawing water, when I heard the unmistakable sound of wagon wheels. I had grown accustomed to this sound as refugees continued to move out from Atlanta and seek shelter from the invading army in the Georgia countryside. But this wagon was approaching the house, coming to a halt on the front drive.

  Dropping the bucket, I walked quickly to the side of the house to see who my visitors might be and wondering why I hadn’t heard the guard.

  Turning the corner, I spotted the guard sitting on the front porch steps, busily munching on hardtack and oblivious to the wagon that had pulled up in front of the house.

  I opened my mouth to speak when I heard my name. I stopped in disbelief as Julia and Zeke appeared from the other side of the wagon.

  “Zeke! Julia!” I ran to them, my arms outstretched.

  Sarah bounded out the front door, her small legs almost flying as she threw herself into Julia’s arms. “Mama!” she shouted. Their heads bent together, and they cried and laughed at the same time. I turned to Zeke, unable to watch the reunion between mother and daughter.

  He embraced me, and it felt good to have somebody’s arms around me again. I wept on his shoulder as he stroked my hair.

  “You are le
aving us.”

  I nodded, wiping my eyes with my sleeve.

  Julia stilled, her arm around Sarah. “Please, Laura. Stay with us.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t, Julia. I’m going to have a baby.”

  Julia gave a shriek of delight and threw her arms around me, catching me off guard. “Zeke told me you had married Stuart. I am so delighted for you. Now there is even one more reason for you to stay.”

  Tears, which always seemed near the surface every time I thought of Stuart and of leaving this place, spilled down my face. “I have to go back. I can’t survive childbirth here. Besides, Stuart doesn’t think the baby’s his.” My voice hitched on my last words.

  Zeke and Julia both wore stunned expressions. “It’s a long story—but of course it’s his. Suffice it to say that William contributed to the seed of doubt in Stuart’s mind.”

  Julia grabbed my arm. “You’ve seen William.”

  I looked into her warm brown eyes and knew she could handle the truth. “Yes, Julia, I have. And Pamela, too.” I saw the panic in her face just as I realized that we were missing someone. “Where is Willie?”

  “I left him with the Holcombs. I didn’t want to bring him until I knew it was safe. I will send word to let them know they can come home now.”

  I threw my arms around her and Zeke again. “Why don’t we go inside and have some coffee—the real stuff—and we’ll talk about everything?”

  We talked long into the afternoon until the low rays of sun faded into dusk. Sarah sat at Julia’s feet, never letting go of Julia’s skirts, as if she were afraid they would be separated again. Eventually, the little girl fell asleep, and I was able to speak more freely about what had happened in the months since we had seen each other.

  As darkness grew, Zeke lit the lamps while Julia and I prepared supper. Julia had listened in silence as I told her about Pamela’s death. She had not thrown accusations at me, but I still needed her forgiveness.

  I broached the subject amid the clatter of china and silverware. “Julia, I’m sorry for your loss. But I can’t say that it wasn’t for the best.”

  She let the remaining silverware in her hand drop on the mahogany table and walked over to me. “I owe you so much. I am not one to question your motives. You have shown incredible strength and courage, and I shall always be grateful for that.” Her hand swept the hair off my forehead in a maternal gesture. “You rescued Sarah and saved my house—there is nothing to forgive. You did what few of us would have had the courage to do.” I felt an inner peace as she reached for my hands and squeezed them. We returned to our chores and didn’t speak of it again.

  Zeke and Julia stayed with me through the long days of August. Julia and I talked of babies while Zeke whittled or just sat in comfortable silence next to us. I half hoped for word from Stuart, but none came, and I buried my hope deep inside me.

  On the last day of the month, I put Sarah to bed, and the three of us sat on the front porch, watching the fireflies dance across the lawn. Julia told me that Eliza Smith and many of our Roswell neighbors had also taken refuge in Valdosta, making the desertion of their homes a bit easier. Charles had joined the Roswell Battalion and hadn’t been heard from since. I told them a little about the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. Except for washing machines and air conditioners, they weren’t too impressed. I somehow agreed with their sentiments. As we talked, my fingers clutched the key around my neck, thinking of things to come.

  “Julia, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. When this war is over, times will be really tough.” I continued rocking, my toes tapping lightly on the floorboards. “And I want to try to make things easier for you.” I took a deep breath, trying to decide where to start. “First, forget about cotton. Try peanuts instead. You may have to buy some land farther south for a better growing area, but peanuts should make a profitable crop. Peaches, too.”

  She looked at me like I had lost my mind. “Peanuts?”

  “Yeah, peanuts. You know, goober peas. Haven’t you ever heard of peanut butter?”

  She shook her head.

  “Well, I’ll tell you about that later.” I slapped at a mosquito on my forearm. “But you also need to find a man in Atlanta by the name of Asa Candler. In about twenty years he’s going to get a patent for a nonalcoholic drink that will make him and all of his investors millionaires. Invest everything you can afford with him. You won’t regret it.”

  “Asa Candler, peanuts, and peaches,” she murmured. “I’ll remember that.”

  “Good,” I said, reaching for her hand. “I’ll feel better knowing you’re all taken care of.”

  I didn’t let go of her hand, nor did I look at her. “And I’m leaving Sarah here. With you.”

  She continued rocking and I felt her eyes on me. “I know.”

  I turned to face her. “How did you know?”

  With a soft smile, she said, “Because she still calls you Aunt Laura. You have never told her the truth. And besides.” She squeezed my hand tightly. “You love her.”

  “I do.” Tears sprang from my eyes, but I did nothing to wipe them away. “I can’t believe that after all I’ve been through to find her, I can’t bring her home.”

  Julia left her chair and kneeled before mine. “Come back, then, Laura. Come back after the baby’s born. We all want you here. With us.”

  I shook my head. “But Stuart doesn’t want me.”

  “Of course he does. I do not know what went on between you two, but whatever he said to make you believe that he did not want you is a lie. He must have been hurt or confused, but I know the man loves you.” She placed both her hands over mine. “Come back, Laura. Come back and stay.”

  I pulled my hands away, unable to look at her, remembering the hateful words Stuart had said. “No. I won’t.”

  She stood and sat back down in the rocking chair.

  I looked out at the red dirt of the drive, committing it all to memory. “Take care of Sarah. Don’t let her forget her aunt Laura.”

  “We will never forget you. Or stop hoping that you will return to us.”

  We continued rocking in silence, until dark descended and the crickets began to cry.

  * * *

  The morning of September 1 dawned gray and misty. The fat clouds hovered in the sky all day, finally breaking out into huge thunderclouds by late afternoon. It had been decided that Zeke would accompany me back to Moon Mountain, so I said my goodbyes to Julia and Sarah at Phoenix Hall near sunset.

  “Goodbye, Sarah.” I knelt, and she walked into the circle of my arms. I hugged her to me for the last time, transferring to her all my love and hopes for the child I had lost and found, and then given up. “You keep up your piano practicing, okay? And don’t fight so much with your brother.”

  She sniffled into my shoulder. “I will.” She pushed herself away. “I have something for you.”

  She handed me a sprig of rosemary, the silvery gray of the leaves almost glowing in the dim light of the day. “Rosemary—for remembrance. So you will remember me.”

  I took it from her reverently. “I’ll treasure it always—not that I’ll need it to remember you.” I hugged her again, feeling one more time the solidness of her small body next to mine.

  I then hugged Julia, who was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. “What shall I tell Stuart?”

  I felt a tremor at my temples. The hurt and anger were still very much alive. “I don’t care. Let him always wonder what happened to me.”

  “I cannot do that, Laura. It would be too cruel. He does love you, you know.”

  “He couldn’t. He so easily believed the worst of me. Just tell him . . . Tell him that I’ve gone back home.”

  Her fine eyebrows knit together. “I will try, Laura. But I think he deserves the truth.” She gave me another tight hug. “Do not forget your key. I promise to write everything down and l
eave it in the secret compartment. I will let you know about the peanuts, all right?”

  “You do that,” I said, my voice cracking. With one last goodbye, I turned away and began the long walk to Moon Mountain with Zeke.

  By the time we reached the base of the mountain, the skies had unleashed their fury. Electrical bursts kept the heavens in constant illumination while the thunder rolled ceaselessly. We could see no comet or moon, but I felt the tingling on my skin reminding me of the time before. They were up there, all right, working their magic and pulling at me.

  Then, mixed in the roll of thunder, the sound of heavy hoofbeats. I turned my ear toward the sound, imagining I heard my name shouted. A flash of lightning opened up the sky and the heavens, making all around us as bright as day. Standing close to me, I saw Endy and Stuart astride him. Stuart slipped off the horse and came to me without a word.

  We stood in the rain, watching the play of light on each other’s faces.

  I turned from him, but he pulled me back. He had to shout to be heard over the din of the storm. “I was a fool, Laura. William always brings out the worst in me—that is my only excuse.”

  My skin tingled. I didn’t have much time. “Why are you here?”

  He moved closer to me. “To ask your forgiveness.” His hand tightened on my arm. “I am risking being shot as a deserter. The least you can do is forgive me.”

  He touched my cheek and I put my hand over his. “I love you, Laura—I will never stop.”

  I hesitated for a moment, feeling the changing atmosphere around me. There was no more time for anger between us. I fell into his arms, the rain cleansing us in its harshness, Stuart’s lips bruising on mine. His hands swept over my back and then to the rising mound of my abdomen. The child kicked, and Stuart jerked back, his eyes wide with amazement. I brought his lips back down to mine, pushing my body into his, the proof of our union guarded between us.