When her mother turned the talk to household matters, Sallie stood and addressed their guest. “Mrs. Whiteman, I’m so glad you were here tonight. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to retire to my room.” She kissed her mother’s cheek then gave Grandma a hug.
The murmur of the women’s voices and the low hum of the men’s discussion followed her upstairs. Hannah lay sprawled on the four-poster bed, already sound asleep. Sallie marveled at how quickly the child could fall into slumber. She pulled the covers gently around her sister and kissed her forehead.
She undressed quietly then sat in her white cotton gown and chemise at her desk. The middle drawer held Manfred’s letters. She drew the pink-ribbon-tied packet to her cheek and breathed in the sweet scent of the lilac sachet she had placed with it earlier. Seeing his letters brought the shadow of another memory to mind. A chill skittered down her spine. She shook her head and fingered the satin ribbon.
Someday soon he would be home. He’d work with Dr. Andrews and learn what he needed to know to have his own practice someday. What a fine doctor he would make. He’d be the best one in town. She placed the letters back in the drawer, electing not to read them tonight. Doing so brought more sadness than happiness into her heart.
Hannah murmured in her sleep, and Sallie pulled the covers back over her slender form. So much had happened in the past four years. She’d been a girl of fifteen when Manfred first left, and now she had grown into womanhood. Although they had been apart for so long, somehow love had grown in Sallie’s heart.
Although he hadn’t come right out and declared his love the last time they’d been together, his letters since spoke of how much he cared for her and how he prayed she’d be waiting for him when he returned. Only then would he be able to declare his intentions and speak with Papa. That’s what she’d cling to in the days ahead.
Then the shadow of what happened in Woodville crossed over her heart. A tear trickled down her cheek as she slid between the sheets next to Hannah. She had never intended to kill a person, but would Manfred understand?
CHAPTER 8
* * *
Grayson Farm, Virginia, Saturday, April 15, 1865
MANFRED AWAKENED AND gazed about the strange room, letting his eyes become adjusted to the dim light from the windows. Then memory kicked in. They slept in the Grayson farm home. He shoved back the covers and reached over to shake Edwin. “I hear stirring downstairs. We best be getting ourselves down there.” He washed his face in the basin and urged Edwin to do the same.
Delightful aromas of bacon wafted up the stairs and accentuated his hunger. Yesterday’s meal had proved that Mrs. Grayson was an excellent cook, and Manfred looked forward to the breakfast this morning.
When he and Edwin entered the kitchen ten minutes later, Mrs. Grayson motioned for them to sit where the other family members now gathered.
She placed a plate of biscuits on the table then sat down by her husband. After Mr. Grayson returned thanks, she passed a bowl of scrambled eggs to Manfred. “We have chickens to give us eggs and slaughtered a pig last fall, so we have more than many people around these parts.”
Manfred helped himself to the eggs. “Did you have much fighting here?” The land around the house looked much better than some they’d passed through on their way north as prisoners.
Mr. Grayson frowned. “Not much, but enough for us to know the war was much closer than we’d like. Of course, after what General Lee gave up in his home at Arlington, we have nothing to complain about. I was sorry to hear he surrendered to Grant, but at least the fighting will stop around here and we can get on with our lives.”
From the corner of his vision Manfred noticed the grim set of Rachel’s mouth. This talk must be hard on her. “Your little boy is a handsome fellow. How old is he?”
Her eyes brightened as Manfred had hoped. “He’s just a year now, and trying his best to walk.”
Mrs. Grayson smiled and reached over to pat the child’s head. “He’s our pride and joy.” Then she turned her gaze to Manfred. “Now tell me exactly where Bayou Sara is and about your family. You mentioned three other brothers.”
Manfred nodded and swallowed a bite of biscuit. “Yes, ma’am. We have five boys, no girls, in the family. Bayou Sara is the landing down the hill from St. Francisville, and that’s about fifty or so miles north of New Orleans. Father runs a shipping company.”
“My, my. Five sons. Did all of you join the army?”
Edwin stabbed another slice of bacon. “Yes, ma’am, I’m the next to the youngest. Theo joined up too, but he got sent home ’cause he was too young. We don’t know where the other two are now except that they were taken as prisoners at Port Hudson because they were officers. They let the enlisted men go back to their regiment.”
Mrs. Grayson nodded sadly. “Your poor mother. How worried she must be about you.”
Mr. Grayson placed his napkin on the table and leaned back in his chair. “The South lost some mighty fine men. She’ll never be able to replace them. After we learned of Matthew’s death, Mark here came home with his leg busted.”
He rose and stood behind his two sons. With a hand on each boy’s shoulder, Mr. Grayson said, “We thank the Lord for bringing home these two and rejoice in knowing Luke will be here soon. John here is like your Theo. He joined at sixteen but didn’t get to see much fighting. His regiment stayed close by.”
Manfred searched his brain for another topic to get away from the talk of war that so upset Rachel. “Did you say last night you have a vegetable garden?”
Mr. Grayson returned to his seat. “Yes, we do. Several farms were destroyed, but ours survived. We praise God for that. As long as we have ground to grow food, we’ll never go hungry.”
Rachel jumped up and threw her napkin on the table. “Well, I don’t feel grateful. I’m sick of this war and talking of death and prisons. Nothing can bring Matt back to me, and I just wish you all would hush. I don’t like little Matt hearing all this neither.” She grabbed up her young son and fled from the room.
“She’s right. Talk about something else. I’ll go to her.” Mrs. Grayson shoved back her chair and hurried to console her daughter-in-law.
Manfred sympathized with the young woman. He didn’t want to talk about the war, but it was what interested those not actually involved in the battles.
He pushed back his plate. A good meal to start the day filled him with satisfaction. Too many months had passed since the last hearty breakfast he had enjoyed. A few more meals like this, and he and Edwin would be healthier for the long journey home.
He must think of a way to repay the Grayson family for their kindness. With the meal ended, he followed the men out to the front porch where a gentle breeze wafted through the trees.
The elder Grayson puffed on his pipe and gazed into the morning sky. The leaves danced a jig in the soft wind, and the smell of lilacs filled the air.
Mark Grayson broke the silence. “How long will it take you to get home?”
“I’m hoping we’ll be home by early June.” Manfred leaned back against the railing and rested his arm on it.
Mr. Grayson tapped his pipe in the palm of his hand. “We’re finishing up the spring planting. Looks like we’ll have good weather for a few days to get it done.”
Manfred glanced at Edwin. The boy sat with his head bowed. He raised his eyes to Manfred and nodded. Manfred breathed deeply. “Mr. Grayson, I think we can spare a few days or so to help. We want to repay your kindness.”
The farmer shook his head. “You boys don’t need to do that. You want to get on home.”
Manfred stood and leaned toward the older man. “But a few days won’t make that much difference. It’s the least we can do for food and shelter.”
“He’s right, Mr. Grayson. We’d be hungry and worn out without your help,” Edwin said.
“If you really mean it, we’ll get started early Monday morning. With tomorrow being Easter Sunday, we’ll go to church and worship and rest up for the week ahead. We
can work all day Monday and Tuesday. With your help we should get it all done by then. Of course we’ll be happy to have you join us for Easter services tomorrow.” Mr. Grayson stood and stretched.
Easter Sunday? Manfred had lost track of the days in prison. How nice it would be to worship in an actual church after so many months without. Easter Sunday would be the perfect way to acknowledge their freedom by worshipping and celebrating the resurrection of Jesus.
“What can we do today to help out, Mr. Grayson?” Manfred gazed about the well-kept lawn and outbuildings.
“I’ll be working in the barn making sure all the equipment is ready for Monday. You two can help load the wagon with the seed and equipment. That way it’ll be all ready for our trek to the fields.”
“Sounds good to me, Mr. Grayson. Edwin and I are more than happy to help in any way we can.” He stepped down from the porch and followed Mr. Grayson to the barn.
Mark walked beside him. “We had a fine crop last fall, and we put up a nice supply of vegetables. The smokehouse has a few things left in it, and we had a new batch of chicks last fall, so the farm is doing better than some others in the area. Pa likes to share as much as he can with those not so fortunate.”
Manfred had noticed the same giving nature in Luke during their days of imprisonment. He had been ready to give up a blanket or a cup of soup if it would make someone else more comfortable. “We can’t thank you enough for your hospitality.”
Edwin stretched his arms to the sky. “I don’t know about Manfred, here, but I slept like a log. Luke sure has a comfortable bed.”
“I did sleep well. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I slept so sound unless it was when we were home last year.” His heart swelled with gratitude to this family who had sacrificed for the war. From this day on he would do whatever he could to help those who needed it. His journey home may take longer, but the reward of helping others would outweigh the delay.
St. Francisville, Louisiana
Sallie hurried downstairs to the kitchen. This day would be busy with preparations for Easter Sunday dinner. Grandma and Flora had worked on the menu all week. Although only limited supplies were getting through to Bayou Sara, the Yankees had settled down toward New Orleans and left this corner of Louisiana to itself. The Whiteman shipping company had survived the Port Hudson attack and now received and shipped some supplies from upriver. Mama and Grandma would be able to take the provisions available and turn them into a feast that would satisfy all of the family.
Sallie found Mama standing in the pantry with a list in her hand. She peered up at the shelves and removed jars of preserved vegetables and fruit. “There you are, dear. Would you take these out to the kitchen for me?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Sallie grasped the jars and positioned them in her arms and hands. She stepped carefully down the steps and across the yard to the kitchen out back. Grandma glanced up from her work and nodded her head toward the table.
“Put them there by those pots, then help Lettie peel those sweet potatoes.”
Sallie set the jars down and sniffed the air. Yeast, cinnamon, and apples filled the space with an aroma that caused her mouth to water in anticipation for the meal tomorrow. “Oh, Flora, I smell those cinnamon buns rising. Breakfast will be wonderful with them in the morning.”
“That it will, Miss Sallie. Along with some of dat bacon from the smokehouse and eggs from de hens, we be having a breakfast fit fer a king.”
Sallie laughed at the cook’s enthusiasm and sat on a stool across from Lettie. “Are these for a pie or for that concoction your mam makes with syrup, sugar, and butter?”
“I’m not sure. Either one will be good.” She halted her knife and peered at Sallie. “You didn’t look too happy yesterday when you came home. Your mam said you were at Miss Miriam’s. Did she have bad news?”
Breath caught in Sallie’s throat, and she could only nod.
“Was it Mr. Manfred or Mr. Stuart?” Lettie reached across and grasped Sallie’s hand.
“Stu . . . Stuart’s fine. Last time he saw Manfred was at Nashville last December. A lot of men died and many more captured and taken to prison camps up north. Stuart was with a small band that escaped.” Sallie swallowed hard to keep a sob from choking her.
“I’m so sorry, Miss Sallie. We’ll have to pray real hard for Mr. Manfred to come home.”
Sallie could only nod again and pick up a potato. Praying hadn’t done any good in the past, so praying would make no difference now. Maybe Mama, Grandma, and Lettie would have more influence.
While her mother and grandma worked in the background, Sallie’s thoughts jumped back to the last time she spent time with Manfred. His last furlough had been the past summer. How she wished they could have spent more time together. What with Mama being sick and the danger of travel in Mississippi, she had missed the opportunity. He had come up for a few hours one day, and what a wonderful time they’d had.
She now remembered that afternoon as though it had happened yesterday. They had walked in the garden back home and held hands. So much had run through her thoughts that day, but her voice could not utter the words she so wanted to say. They’d stood only inches apart with hands entwined.
Her hand went to her mouth. How she’d wanted him to kiss her then, but being the gentleman he was, he had refrained. She’d never forget his words as he said good-bye.
“Sallie, I spoke with your father and asked permission to write to you in the coming months until this war is over. When it is and I return, we can speak more about our future. With so much uncertainty in our lives now, it is best this way. I care a great deal about you and pray you return those feelings.”
“I do care, Manfred, and I’ll wait for you.”
“You’ve made my heart glad today, and when I do return, we will have a proper courtship.” With those words he had kissed the back of her hands then mounted his horse and rode back to Louisiana.
Even after all these months the memory of that afternoon filled her with a longing she didn’t quite understand. All she wanted at the moment was for him to return safe. With a heavy sigh she picked up another potato.
A shadow fell across the floor, and a cheery voice called out a greeting. “Hello, everyone. I thought I’d find all of you out here getting ready for tomorrow.”
Sallie jumped from her stool to embrace the woman standing near. “Aunt Abigail, what a wonderful surprise. Is Peggy with you?”
Mama and Grandma both hurried over and embraced Aunt Abigail. Mama brushed a hair from her sister’s forehead. “Why didn’t you let us know you were coming home?”
Aunt Abigail laughed with a light ringing of sound that had always fascinated Sallie. Her aunt pulled off her gloves and glanced about the room. “With the uncertainty of mail service these days it was quicker to just come. I couldn’t stay away any longer. Magnolia Hall repairs are not quite finished, but the man in charge said we could live there while they are working.” She glanced at Sallie. “Peggy had things to do at home, so I didn’t bring her with me.”
Sallie’s heart fell. Spending time with her cousin would be much more fun than peeling potatoes, but the news about the house repairs helped relieve the disappointment. “I’m so happy to hear about your home. I love your great house and its beautiful trees.” So many times Sallie had visited there as a child and been quite taken by the enormous white blossoms on their waxy leaf stems that gave the home its name.
Abigail turned to Mama and Grandma. “I came through town and stopped at Mrs. Tenney’s to place an order for several dresses, and she told me about your birthday party. I want to offer Magnolia Hall as the place to have it.”
Sallie squealed and wrapped her arms around her aunt. “Oh, that would be wonderful.” She stepped back and glanced at her mother. “Oh, Mama, please say yes. It’s such a grand place to have a party.”
“We’ll have to discuss it with your father first, Sallie.” Mama stepped over to her sister’s side and grasped her elbow. “Let’s go into
the house where we can talk further.” She inclined her head toward Sallie. “You stay here with Lettie and finish helping Flora. Your grandmother and I will be back shortly.”
Sallie gazed at their backs as the three women disappeared into the house. Grandma Woodruff’s house was nice and had lots of room, but in comparison Magnolia Hall was magnificent. That and the Rosedown Plantation a few miles farther up the road were the most beautiful homes around. Another home nearer town, The Myrtles, was pretty and well known about these parts, but it wasn’t near as grand as Rosedown or Magnolia Hall.
If Papa said no to the party being at Aunt Abigail’s, it would be disappointing, but there’d be no argument from her or Mama. She plopped back on her stool and picked up the sweet potato dropped a few minutes earlier. “I do hope Papa will accept Aunt Abigail’s invitation. A party there would be grand.” He’d be home tonight, so perhaps Mama could ask him then.
Too bad Manfred wouldn’t be here, but for him to come home, the war would have to be over, and that wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon.
CHAPTER 9
* * *
Grayson Farm, Virginia, Easter Sunday, April 16, 1865
MANFRED AWAKENED EASTER Sunday morning to bright sunshine flooding the room. He poked Edwin in the ribs. “Wake up, little brother. It’s Easter, and we’re going to church.”
Edwin rubbed his eyes and sat up. “Easter and we’re free! What a day to celebrate.” He hopped from the bed and hurried to the washstand. He splashed water on his face and groped for the towel.
Manfred stretched then padded over to his brother. He picked up a straight razor. “Look, Mr. Grayson must have put this here for us.” He rubbed his hand across the beard on his chin. “Well, it’ll feel good to get this off and be clean shaven again.”
Love Stays True Page 8