Another concern was Zechariah. Upon his return home, Emma desperately wanted his approval and felt guilty for having been deceitful to both him and Eleanor. When Zechariah returned from his mission aboard the ship, he brought home his own news. In early March, the steamer he was aboard encountered the CSS Virginia, a Confederate ironclad. Zouave's firepower proved useless against the frigate. Virginia damaged Zouave with a shot to its rudder-post and propeller wheel, but the Union ship held its own and assisted other ships in the Hampton Roads area until USS Monitor arrived and engaged in the first-ever naval battle with Virginia. The ships' historic battle ended in a tie after many hours of exchanged firepower, and Zouave was towed to the Baltimore Navy Yard, where Zechariah de-boarded, and the ship was repaired.
Eleanor sat astonished and speechless, hearing of Zechariah's adventures for the first time.
Zechariah showed little surprise at Emma's revelation but hesitated upon hearing her desire to resume her duties and disguise. A long discussion followed over supper that evening, and by the time their plates were empty and their stomachs satisfied, the chaplain gave his blessing, and the trio prayed.
Unfortunately, Emma did not have the chance to inform James of her revised decision. The lieutenant, along with the rest of the company, had gone to Yorktown. Zechariah also headed to Yorktown, where he was needed most, and though Emma fiddled with the idea of sending a letter along with him for James, she abandoned the notion. Composition, as her governess would agree, was not her strongest skill, and she believed the news would be best coming from her. That is, if it were of any importance to James. Now, Emma knew he had too much on his mind, including Lily, to bother with a thought about her.
To a degree, Emma was now homeless. Graham had taken the tent with him to Yorktown, but in truth, Emma was glad. Feeling too compromised now to continue with the arrangement she moved her belongings to Eleanor's and split her time between there and the hospital.
As she healed, Emma eased back into shifts at the hospital as her strength allowed. With most of the staff gone and beds empty, Emma and Eleanor oversaw the hospital on their own.
Late one evening, as Emma was about to collapse on a cot for a few hours of sleep, Eleanor appeared.
"James is here," she said anxiously.
"Is he hurt?"
"No, but he came on the ambulance with more wounded. I think some of them are from your company."
Emma grabbed a stretcher and followed Eleanor to the wagon. She hadn't spoken to James since the incident at Eleanor's home. She wasn't sure he'd want to see her, but she ignored that nagging thought. When Emma's eyes met James', he froze with perplexity. He jumped from the ambulance. Blood covered his jacket.
Emma gasped. "Are you hurt?"
James glanced at his jacket. "Ain't me. What are you doing here?" he asked in a lowered voice.
"I didn't want to leave." Emma fixated on his bloody jacket. "I'm needed here."
"Emma," James said under his breath as he took her by the arm. "You were almost killed. I don't want to see you end up like this." He nodded toward the men in the ambulance.
"The war isn't over yet. My place is here."
"No."
"Lieutenant," called one of the ambulance attendants, "help me with these men!"
James turned to assist and carry a stretcher into the hospital tent.
Emma stared after him, even after he gave her an angry glare.
Eleanor spoke into Emma's ear. "He's worried about you. That's all. You can't let it upset you. We have too much work to do."
****
Emma worked into the night, administering morphine, stitching wounds, and packing holes of flesh with bandages. Supplies ran low as the staff tended to thirty men. Five had died, mainly from the long boat ride and transport back to the encampment. The dead bodies were placed outside of the tent until they could be buried in the morning. The stench of blood and death permeated Emma's every pore. It was a smell she couldn't get used to.
According to James, he had been in charge of leading a unit on a surprise attack to permeate the Confederate's defenses. Unfortunately, he and his men encountered an ambush of Rebels. A skirmish broke out, though both sides were eager to retreat. James insisted on bringing his wounded men back to the encampment, despite the distance, since their makeshift hospital unit on the Rappahannock was still skeletal at best.
In need of more bandages, Emma went to the rear of the tent to check and see if Dr. Hillman's secret supply had been discovered yet. She lost all concentration when she saw James. Shirtless and using a pair of forceps, he plucked miniature balls of lead from a groove in his shoulder.
"You lied to me about being hurt." Emma rushed to his aide and took the forceps from his hand. She brought over another lantern and told her commander to sit still.
"Plenty of men worse off than me." He grimaced as Emma removed another pellet and tossed it into a bowl.
"You're so stubborn!"
"That, comin' from you? Ow!"
Emma poured water in the gash before sewing it shut. She administered a dose of opium, though James claimed he didn't need it.
"You need to get some rest," she said. "Come on. Let's put you in McClellan's tent."
Emma wiped off his chest and found a distinct pleasure in doing so, her typical nervousness around him gone. She liked taking care of him, and not as Tom Edmonds. Then she shouldered James and led him to McClellan's tent.
As the opium took effect, James became groggy. Emma eased him onto McClellan's bed and made sure he was set for a long sleep. She picked up his jacket, determined to wash and mend it herself, when an envelope slipped to the ground. It was a letter, addressed to James and dated a month ago. Curious, she helped herself to its contents.
Dear James,
I hope this letter finds you well. I have awful sad news. Lily has taken a turn for the worse. Winston fetched the doctor, but he told Winston and me that he thinks she will not live to see the morning. He said there is no remedy and no hope. The boys are right sad. They both sat with her and held her hands, but I don't think she knowed they was there. They cried long and hard for their Momma. Nathan and I cried for our daughter. We will take care of everything here. We pray for your safe return.
Yours,
Mabel
Emma felt a heaviness in her chest. She looked at James and wished she had not violated his privacy. Quickly, she replaced the letter and tucked it back inside the jacket. She laid the jacket near him, convinced he would want the letter close. Delicately, and with shaky hands, she ran her fingers through his hair and longed for a way to comfort him and to mean something to him.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
She laid her head lightly on his bare chest. Being skin to skin with him enthralled her. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat pounded her ears, and the smooth movement of his breathing made her body tingle in ways she didn't know were possible. She recalled what James had said about the last time he had seen Lily and how he had reconciled that moment to being the last he would see her alive. Even so, Emma suspected James had been lying, and that had been his only way of guarding himself from a deluge of depression.
And at that moment, perhaps more than anything, Emma wanted to know what it felt like to be loved that deeply.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Neither Emma nor James roused at the bellow of reveille the next morning, but the commotion General McClellan created soon after with his entrance into the tent got them both onto their feet and at attention. Emma felt the aches from sleeping slumped in a ladder-back chair, and like the morning, James' pains were fresh and new.
"You may remain at ease, gentlemen," McClellan said. "I've traveled all night, and you're just the men I needed to see. No wonder I had trouble finding you in the camp. I see you've taken good care of my quarters." He stopped and pointed a roll of papers at James. "Lieutenant, are you incapacitated?"
James slipped on a shirt Emma had placed near his jacket. "Nothing worth concern."
"Excellent, because now is not the time for either one of you to be down." He looked at Emma. "I have another mission for you, Edmonds."
Emma and James traded glances.
McClellan unfurled maps on a table and invited them closer.
"Our troops' recent action was a failure." He cast a glance at James, and Emma wondered if the general blamed James for the outcome. "Before we launch a full assault on Yorktown, I need more information. Edmonds, I need you to infiltrate the camp again. I need to know the precise location of their ammunition tent and a log of its contents. I also need you to get a look at their maps, or to steal one if necessary. The same goes for any written documents you may come across, including communications or mention of strategy. We need every advantage we can muster against their forces. Are you up for it?"
Inwardly, Emma fumed. She'd supplied McClellan with exactly what he'd requested when she'd returned from her first mission. Despite his threats and unreasonable expectations, she'd delivered — and nearly died in the process. How could he possibly ask her to do it again? In her opinion, McClellan had rendered the information useless by wasting time and not assaulting the Rebels promptly. Over a period of weeks, it only made sense that the Confederates may have changed their positioning and tactics.
Emma glanced at James, almost in need of his approval. She dared not to think about the difficulties of penetrating the camp again — or the danger of escaping. Her tender side ached at the thought. Plus, there was Big Sam to think about. She knew it would be too risky to return as Cuff, especially not knowing for sure if Big Sam was the one who had shot her as she'd fled. And there was no telling what he had told the Rebels after Cuff's audacious getaway.
Did McClellan really think infiltrating the camp had been that easy?
"Yes, sir." Emma kept from groaning as she said it.
"So am I," James said.
"What?" Emma and McClellan asked simultaneously.
"I'll go in with you, Edmonds, and watch your back."
"I appreciate the offer," Emma chose her words carefully, "but I think it's best for me to handle this operation alone."
"With all due respect to Edmonds, I believe such a mission is best served with two parties involved, General. With the outbreak of a battle likely, someone simply to help cover him might be a good idea."
Emma stepped up. "General, a two-person spy operation only increases the risk for failure. You would have to be absolutely foolish to think that could work."
"Foolish, huh?" James asked casually.
"Foolish," Emma said in his face. "It was hard enough maintaining a cover on my own. Sending in two of us would only jeopardize both our lives! I made it through on my own."
"Barely."
"Besides," Emma raised her voice and turned to McClellan. "Lieutenant Trumball only came in last night with his injury. Infection could set in, and he lost a lot of blood, which may explain his irrational thinking."
"Stitches and missin' flesh is about all it accounts for."
"Hmphf," McClellan said. "The two of you seem to have a penchant for injury."
"As for irrational thinkin'," James continued, ignoring McClellan's remark, "you're the one who's a bit confused, Edmonds. New information has been brought to me."
McClellan perked up. "What new information might that be, Lieutenant?"
Emma and James regarded each other. James gave Emma a hard, warning look. Would he really do it, though, Emma wondered. Would he inform the general that a female had penetrated the ranks? She couldn't take that chance. Understanding his intended threat, she backed down.
"It's just that I've recently engaged with the enemy, General," he said. "I'm better qualified to gauge their position."
"Yes, indeed," McClellan said.
Emma could breathe again, but James addressed her directly.
"Since I'm your commander, I insist this be a joint venture, with your approval, of course, General."
Fury burned in Emma. She hated that James was taking advantage of the situation. Perhaps this was his measure of revenge on Emma for swiping the courier position from him. She wondered if deep down James was jealous of her and all she had accomplished as a soldier. If he outted her, Emma would be stripped of any honor, and she had to wonder if James would derive pleasure from such a spectacle.
"Permission granted," McClellan said. "For this assignment, I believe you're right, Lieutenant. Both of you working together will double our chances for success." He switched his gaze to Emma. "I appreciate your position on the matter, Edmonds, but this time, I want Trumball to accompany you. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir." She darted her eyes to James and didn't bother to hide her resentment.
"Good." McClellan nodded. "You should also be aware that warnings have been issued to be on the lookout for spies. Apparently there's rumor that our camp has been compromised. Should there be any truth to the allegation, Lieutenant, order your men to shoot such traitors."
James and Emma traded glances at the irony while McClellan rolled up his maps.
****
Outside McClellan's tent, Emma set a fast pace, anxious to put a world of distance between her and James. But he was at her heels. Once they were out of McClellan's earshot, James walked in front of her and stopped her.
"I can't think of the last time someone more pig-headed than me called me foolish," he said.
"Yeah, you're right. You can't think." She pushed him aside, then whipped back around. "What was that all about back there? Are you trying to get us both killed?"
"You got no business goin' back to that camp."
"It's my choice, and I don't need your help. I've managed on my own, and I can do it again."
James snickered. "Not this time. If you do go, there ain't no way I can let you go alone, not now, not knowin' you're a woman. Why, it's senseless enough that you're still in this army."
"I don't need looked after like a child. You're not my father, and," the words proved difficult for her to say, "you're not my husband. You have no say over me."
James reddened. "I can't turn a blind eye, and I can't help feelin' responsible for you now. Dangit, Emma, I care for you."
"That's absurd! Why, the only reason you're being so difficult is because you hate to see me have any favor with McClellan or Reed. You want it all for yourself."
"Have you done lost your mind? That's about the craziest thing I ever heard."
"And how dare you threaten to expose me like that."
James fought back a half smile. "Well, it got your attention."
"You've got no right to act so careless with my life, just because you're willing to get yourself killed now that Lily's dead."
As the words sunk in, so did the expression on James' face.
Emma held a hand over her mouth. She had not meant to let her frustration get the best of her, or to reveal that she had read his letter.
"This ain't got a thing to do with Lily, and now ain't the time for bringin' that up." He set his jaw. "I'm gonna get a few things, you should too. Then we need to head out and get this thing done."
Emma wanted to stop him as he walked off toward his tent, but tears burned her eyes, and her whispered apology was lost in the breeze. As flustered as she felt, Emma knew she didn't have time to waste.
She headed to the hospital tent and found Eleanor.
"I need your help," Emma said.
Taking in the distressed condition of Emma's face, Eleanor dropped what she was doing.
"What is it, dear?"
"I'm going back to the Rebel camp, and I need a disguise."
Eleanor shook her head, baffled by what she heard. "Well, all right. I'm sure we can come up with something over supper—"
"No, it can't wait. I have to leave immediately, but I have an idea."
****
Eleanor eyed Emma and James doubtfully and asked, "Are you sure this will work?"
"No," Emma said as she glanced at James. "But we don't have much choice."
"It'll
work." James held his blue uniform where the pellets had broken through and ripped it more. Then he tore the epaulets from his shoulders that were a sign of rank and honor. He went and stood in front of mirror and removed the bandages from his wound.
"I wish you wouldn't do this," Emma said.
She didn't have a chance to properly apologize for what she'd said about Lily, but she also didn't have the luxury to stay mad at him.
"Gotta be done."
"At least let me," Emma said.
"There ain't no sense in tryin' to be soft about it."
James took hold of the knot in the stitches and tugged with all his might. He gritted his teeth and muffled a groan as the stitches ripped from his shoulder. His wound bled anew. Then, with effort, he put on his bloodied shirt from the night before.
Emma and Eleanor subdued their horror.
Fully composed, James turned to Emma as he fitted his cap upon his head. "All right, Captain, let's go."
****
Emma and James hitched a ride on a south-bound navy vessel and traveled in silence. Emma knew harboring anger wouldn't be good for the mission, but she worked to clear her mind of everything except their assignment. One thing she couldn't get out of her head, though, was James mentioning that he cared for her. She assumed he must have meant that he cared for her like a Commander cares for his men, or the way a brother usually cares for his sister. Still, Emma wanted to plumb that word for all it was worth. Even though James had manipulated his way into the mission, Emma wondered how much his feelings for her had motivated him.
They decided the best way to approach Confederate territory was from the opposite side of the Chickahominy River. They found a canoe, which could've belonged to either side or even a local, and they paddled their way across. At the other side of the river, they roped the canoe to a bush, but put little faith in using it for their escape.
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