Yankee in Atlanta

by Jocelyn Green

  Rascal sauntered between them and leaned into Noah’s leg, groaning absurdly when Noah scratched behind his ear. “You do not need me.”

  “Yes, I do!” Susan ratcheted her voice above the ridiculous canine ruining the mood. “And Ana needs a mother. Have a care, Noah.”

  “Please. Such familiarity is no longer appropriate. If you must address me, you will call me ‘Mr. Becker.’”

  “Oh come now, there’s no need to be so cross.” Susan’s heart galloped after him. He was slipping through her fingers like melted beeswax, when he had been so moldable in her hands when she met him. Her father had played him like a pawn, and forced her to marry and move away with him to Georgia, a banishment for her wayward behavior and tendency toward scandal. I’ll not stand by and watch you drag our family name through the mud, he’d told her. But nothing could induce her to love Noah Becker when her heart already belonged to another. It was hardly Susan’s fault that her lover was already married.

  Looking at Noah, now, though, his face settled into tense lines, Susan could barely detect the young man she once had eating out of her hand.

  “It is enough that I allow you into my home until you can find more appropriate housing elsewhere.”

  Susan blinked. “And leave Ana? How could I?”

  Noah stepped closer, towered over her. “It is my understanding, Miss Kent, that Analiese means very little to you at all.” His voice was as dark as the shadows beneath his eyes. “So then, how is it that you are here at all? What is it, exactly, you hope to gain from us?”

  “You took me in before, I assumed you’d take me in again.” She held her breath, her ideas of using Ana as a bargaining chip with her father locked safely within her mind.

  “I beg you, do not trample upon my hospitality further. I would hate to cast out a convalescent refugee.”

  Susan gasped. “Is that what you think of me?”

  “That is what you are. I mean no disrespect, but you cannot think to conjure up any warm feelings whatsoever by bringing up our abbreviated history. Now, I believe we are quite finished.”

  “You would not separate me from my own daughter!”

  “You separated yourself from Ana the very day you were strong enough to walk away.” Thunder rolled in Noah’s voice, lightning flashed in his eyes. “She is more my daughter than she is yours.”

  “How dare you!” Susan cried. “She is nothing to you.”

  “She is my very heart. You granted me legal custody of her when she didn’t even know night from day. This conversation is pointless.” He began to descend the stairs, knuckles white on the railing, then turned back to her. “I’ll not evict you while you are still recovering. But please, make a good faith effort to find other arrangements for yourself.”

  “Where, Mr. Becker? Hotels are charging forty dollars per night. On eleven dollars a month, even you could not afford it, and I have no income at all. If you throw me out, I will be destitute. And as my pockmarks will attract no suitors, if there are any out of the army anyway, I shall be forced into an occupation in which one’s face can remain in the dark.”

  Noah dipped his head.

  “Are you bowing to me now?”

  “I am praying, Miss Kent, that I will learn to love grace more than I love the law.”

  “Capital idea, since you broke the law to be here.” If he truly had furlough, Colonel Lee would not have come pounding on the front door looking for him the other day with a telegram from Dalton in his hand. And Minnie would not have shouted through the door that to search the house would mean certain contagion for the intruder.

  “You may stay. For now.” Somehow, he did not look beaten.

  And yet, she had won. “I knew you wouldn’t turn your back on me.”

  But he walked down the stairs and did not look back. Susan was alone with her scars in his wake.

  Atlanta, Georgia

  Thursday, March 17, 1864

  Jack smiled at her, then, but shook his head. What have you done? He flipped the ends of her freshly cropped hair, then turned her face with his thumb to her chin. The smile vanished when he saw the ragged cut on her jaw. Caitlin, what have you done?

  Shhhhh! She cut her voice low. My name is Davis Walker now, and I’ve just enlisted, same as you. Mother will be glad for the income.

  What do you mean you’ve enlisted?

  Caitlin shrugged. You should know. The medical examination consisted of a few questions and a listen to my heartbeat. I’m strong and healthy, and Lincoln has asked for 75,000 volunteers.

  Men. Jack shot back. He asked for 75,000 men. This is not a game of dress-up, you know.

  But she did not back down. I am not the first woman to serve and I certainly won’t be the last. Deborah Sampson, Revolutionary War. Lucy Brewer, War of 1812. Eliza Allen, Mexican War.

  Jack rolled his eyes. Save your history lesson for your students.

  But Caitlin had no students. She only had regret for opportunity lost, and guilt for a murder she did not intend to commit. She also had Jack. She would not fail him the way she had failed her mother. I am my brother’s keeper.

  I am a man.

  You are seventeen.

  I don’t need a keeper.

  Then accept me as your friend.

  They shook hands then, but an earthquake split the ground between them. Caitlin tightened her clutch on Jack’s hand, but it was slipping. The earth plunged beneath him, even as it surged up like a cliff under Caitlin.

  Release me! Jack yelled, wiggling free of her grasp. I can take care of myself!

  The world groaned apart, an abyss dividing them in mere seconds.

  Jack! She splayed herself on the ground, reaching down into the void but could not see him. Where are you? Are you hurt?

  Get back from the edge!

  But she could not see him. I won’t leave you!

  The decision is not yours to make! We are already parted. Have faith! God will not waste this great divide.

  The cliff began to crumble beneath her, and she scrambled backwards to keep from falling in. She should never have let him go. Jack! She cried again, tears glazing her cheeks.

  Caitlin. The name rumbled on someone else’s lips, calling her back from the brink. Where was the voice coming from? Wrapped in darkness and pressure, she was suddenly standing on the ocean floor, yet somehow able to breathe. All was madness.

  Caitlin, it’s all right. Come back to me. Please. Please don’t go. Noah was with her. Why could she not see him? His hand was on her brow. Her cheek. Brushing her hair from her face. Gently pressing her hand.

  She caught it, squeezed it, would not let go. It was an anchor, pulling her up through leagues of muddied coherence.

  I’m here now. And I’ll help you find Jack.

  With a gasp, Caitlin broke through the surface and splashed back into wakefulness. Shock jolted her weary heart. For there was Noah Becker, kneeling beside the bed, his bowed head atop her hand.

  Please, Noah prayed, bring her back. Flames licked in the fireplace, but did little to thaw his weary body. Stubborn winter had poured half an inch of ice on Atlanta yesterday, and the chill probed every corner of the house. Would spring never come? Would Caitlin never awake?

  Noah kissed the top of her hand, then held it against his cheek. When her slender fingers twitched, he looked up. Her face blurred in his vision before he could blink the moisture away.

  “Caitlin,” he whispered. “Thank God.”

  She reached out and patted the empty bed beside her. “Ana …”

  “She’s fine.” He still did not release her hand. “You did well caring for her. I thank you.”

  “Naomi? Susan?”

  “All recovering. It is you we are most concerned with now.”

  She pushed herself up to sit and lifted trembling fingers to her face.

  “Just a few tiny bumps is all. You are just as beautiful as you ever were.” The words slipped out before he could catch them. His face burned. It was Jack she wanted. Not him. />
  Caitlin licked her lips, and he handed her a cup of water, then sat on the chair near the bed. After taking a drink, she cradled the cup in her hand. “I—I’m sorry I tried to shoot you.” She cleared her throat. “That was you, wasn’t it?”

  Laughter rumbled in his throat. “I was not in much danger, despite your best efforts.”

  “But you are now—aren’t you? Have you had this disease before?”

  Noah shook his head.

  Panic flared in her eyes. “Then why on earth are you here?”

  “My daughter was in trouble. Did you think I would not move heaven and earth to come to her side?”

  “Of course. I know why you would come for Ana. But why are you here in this room with me? Has Minnie collapsed?”

  A smile tugged at his lips. “Miss Taylor is fine, although exhausted from her monthlong vigil. I insisted on caring for you myself, with minimal help from her.”

  Logs snapped in the quiet between them. Until, “How long?”

  “You’ve been out ten days. I was so afraid you were slipping from me. From us.” He looked away, lest she see in his eyes the longing that seared his heart. “This is my fault,” he said at length. “I release you from your contract as Ana’s governess. Miss Taylor says she will assume the role if you choose to leave.”

  “You want me to leave?”

  Of course not. “I want you to be safe, and happy. Surely you have—family—or a loved one to whom you can go?” Someone named Jack? “Some place other than Atlanta. The city is the known target of the Federals’ spring campaign.”

  She blinked. “I don’t want to leave you. Or Ana. I told her I’d be with her, and I intend to keep my promise.”

  “Your sense of duty does you credit,” said the soldier who was absent without leave.

  “Not just duty. Love.” She locked eyes with him for a moment. “For Analiese. I love her, truly. I want to stay. But—”

  She should ask about Susan. But the last thing she wanted was to bring another woman—even her name—into the room with them. Through the open window, bitter wind sliced through the room, awakening her senses. Noah knelt beside her, his blue eyes glittering, with a smile on his face she wished was for her alone. Did he feel something toward her, or had it all been a mirage? Her name on his lips, his lips on her hand, his hand on her face … Even if those things were inconsequential to him, he risked his very life by being with her. Surely that meant something. Doesn’t it?

  “You asked for Jack.”

  Oh. Her eyelids dropped as quickly as her stomach.

  “Would you like to tell me who he is?” Noah’s voice was kind, but insistent.

  Caitlin’s mouth felt as though it was filled with cotton. “You’re sure I said ‘Jack’?”

  “Yes.”

  “When?”

  “More than once. Including just now, before you woke up. If you love him, I will do what I can to help you find him.”

  Love him? Of course she loved Jack, but it was not what she felt for Noah. Her fingers flew to her unraveling hair and began braiding the plaits once more. “I was delirious, you can’t trust what I said.”

  “But I trust what you say to me now.” He returned to the chair next to her bed and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. “Jack is important to you, isn’t he? You must want to be with him.”

  Tears bit her eyes. You are important to me. I want to be with you, and Ana. But her tongue refused to say it.

  Noah raked his hand through his hair and sighed. “I must know your answer before I go.”

  Caitlin’s fingers stilled. “Go?”

  “And soon. I must return to my regiment, now that you and Ana are no longer in danger. I took an oath. For better or worse, my word is binding.”

  “So is mine,” Caitlin managed to say. “I’m staying here with Analiese until you return.”

  “I know Ana will be thrilled to hear that, Miss McKae.”

  Formality snapped back into place, an invisible shield between them. Fine. She had no place to go, anyway.

  But you would not leave now even if you could, her heart whispered. You would stay in enemy territory, where food and medicine are scarce but suspicion and crime are rampant, in a city sure to meet with destruction. And for what?

  Maybe Mother was right. Love would be her undoing.

  Atlanta, Georgia

  Tuesday, March 22, 1864

  And then he was gone. Though Noah had been home for two weeks, it felt like only the beat of a heart. The groans tearing from Ana’s throat bent the girl in half. Caitlin’s heart felt as though it was being ripped from her chest. Ignoring the calendar, snow fell as he stole away, and did not stop until the ground was covered with a blanket four inches deep, suffocating the fruit just beginning to grow. Moonlight doubled itself on the thick layer of white, illuminating Atlanta’s night sky with the fairy glow of a million sweet gum globes. Caitlin could not help but think that when Noah left, spring vanished with him, and that this winter would never end.

  Outside Dalton, Georgia

  Saturday, March 26, 1864

  Shirtless, Noah collapsed to his hands and knees on the frosty ground as soon as the officer cut the rope from the tree trunk. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, streaming, it seemed, from both inside and out. His nose was broken, and his eyes so blackened one had swollen shut completely, the other a mere slit. But it was his back that screamed in agony. Every lash of the leather whip filleted his flesh into a map of crimson gullies and streams. His body shuddered with cold and pain.

  An officer squatted beside him, leaning in until Noah could smell the tobacco on his breath. “This is how we treat runaways when we’re playing nice. Next time, you’ll be facing a firing squad.” He stood, slammed his boot into Noah’s ribs before leaving, spiking darts of pain through his core.

  Gradually, the ring of muddy shoes surrounding Noah dispersed, save one pair. Ross, his old friend, came near and bent down. “Are you all right, Herr Becker?”

  “Ach.” Noah winced as he drew a breath, and spat a mouthful of blood on the ground. In truth, just drawing air was excruciating. “Paper cuts and bruises. I’ve hurt myself worse learning to ride a horse.”

  “Would you do it again?”

  He grinned, though every inch of his face protested the slight movement. “Without question, Ross. Without question.”

  “TIME AFTER TIME had we been told of the severity of General Sherman until we came to dread his approach as we would that of a mighty hurricane which sweeps all before it, caring naught for justice or humanity. Our fear of his coming, however, did not prevent it.”

  —MARY RAWSON, 16-year-old resident of Atlanta

  “WE CAN HEAR THE CANONS and muskets very plane, but the shells we dread. One has busted under the dining room which frightened us very much. One passed through the smokehouse and a piece hit the top of the house and fell through but we were at Auntie Markham’s so none of us were hurt.”

  —CARRIE BERRY, 10-year-old resident of Atlanta

  Outside Dalton, Georgia

  Wednesday, May 4, 1864

  Pine-scented wind swirled Noah’s hair as he watched fifteen barefoot soldiers being tied to the stake. Fifteen coffins lay before them. The blood-red ground yawned expectantly, waiting to swallow their bodies whole.

  Impotent anger flashed through him. They are not the enemy. But they had broken the law, as Noah had. Their crime: attempting to reach families who depended on them for life itself. Their mistake was getting caught before they could return—if they ever planned to. Their sentence: death.

  Now Ross stood along with fourteen others, all uneducated and poor, each of them no doubt thinking of the mouths at home he would never help feed again.

  Fifteen rifles cracked the air, and fifteen bodies jerked and slumped against their stakes. With no loved ones surrounding them, with no tombstones to mark their graves, with absolutely no glory enshrouding them, the earth received their flesh.

 
; With the taste of saltpeter stinging his throat, Noah stepped forward to help shovel dirt atop Ross’s coffin. Each spadeful of soil he dropped in the grave thudded in his own heart, as if he were burying his former self along with Ross.

  New York City

  Monday, May 16, 1864

  “Such a bonnie bride you’ll be!” Emma gushed as she sewed buttons onto a gown for Ruby’s trousseau.

  “Well, the dress will be beautiful, at least.” Ruby glanced at the wedding gown now draped over the ironing board, waiting to be pressed. Since she could not wear white for a second wedding, she had chosen a light violet shade of serviceable linen, not silk, in keeping with the spirit of the times.

  “Aye, but the lass inside the gown is what your Edward will have his eye on, he will!”

  “Emma.” Ruby let the wristband of Edward’s shirt fall into her lap. “I’m terrified.”

  All jauntiness vanished from Emma’s face, then. “You don’t mean he’s hurt you—”

  “No, no, nothing like that. It’s just that—I don’t desire marital intimacy. At all. I have no appetite for it. All those memories come flooding back and I—it just makes me feel sick. I don’t know how I’ll ever be a good wife if I don’t get over this, but I don’t see how I can.”

  Emma nodded. “Aye, I do understand. But surely he does, too. Doesn’t he know why?”

  Ruby slanted her a gaze before picking up the wristband again. “He knows half.” She plunged a needle through the buttonhole. “The half before Matthew went to war.”

  Emma’s eyes widened. She whistled, low. “Bedad, Ruby! I thought you said Edward was a good man, with no reason to fear a life with him!”

  “True enough.”

  “Then why do you fear telling him your whole truth?”

  Ruby pulled the thread through another hole and pulled it taut. “I hate my whole truth. Right now he believes I was wronged, and that’s the end of it. He has no idea how I put food in my belly those awful months after Matthew left. I don’t want him to know. I don’t want to remember it myself, let alone talk about.” Tears burned her eyes. “I don’t want to see the look on his face. I don’t want to lose him, Emma.”