With tender care, Mama Ivy took the child, bathed her and swaddled her in a blanket.
Sallie barely had strength to sob silently.
Abby’s heart broke for her, but there was nothing to be said. She was fading. Nothing would make up for the overwhelming loss Sallie felt at the moment.
Lord help her find peace she so desperately needs.
Mama Ivy stilled the baby cradled in her arms by humming a sweet lullaby. “That preacher Hickory done fetched came a while back. If you want, I can bring him in here now.”
Sallie was too weak to speak above a whisper, but she begged to see the minister.
“Send him in.” Doc’s hard exterior was firmly in place.
Abby supposed it was his way of dealing with all the suffering he met with daily.
Still, the weariness in his voice matched the ache in Abby’s heart.
Before morning, there would likely be one more orphaned child in Macon.
“For if our heart condemn us, God is greater than our heart,
and knoweth all things.”
1 John 3:20
Six
The tremulous sound of a baby’s cry pierced the quiet hallway.
Ian pushed away from the wall where he’d been leaning in a dim corridor of Dove’s Nest Brothel.
Two hours past, Hickory, in a near panic, half-dragged him from his bed insisting, “Sallie needs a preacher.”
The brass cross on Ian’s hat was all the evidence the boy needed to come begging on behalf of someone named Sallie. No amount of argument or refusal could deter the kid from his mission to deliver a man of God to the brothel.
Ian hadn’t considered himself a man of God in a long while and was fairly certain the Almighty shared his conviction. Where prayer had once been second nature, he now struggled just to offer grace before a meal.
Unforgiveness, his mother had once written in a letter, if not destroyed, will ultimately destroy you, Son. Thankfully, mercy is free and forgiveness has already been provided. You must find courage to accept.
Dottie Saberton had a gift. She had a sense for the deep things. To see beyond the surface, right into the heart of a matter. Ian once shared his mother’s gift. Naturally, he had pursued a vocation with the church in response. He had a passion for people, a desire to see broken ones made whole again.
Until, in one fateful moment, the gift was crushed. A moment that tormented his mind and haunted his sleep.
“Can’t you make them let us in?” Hickory was beside himself as he tried to peek inside the room. Unable to wait any longer, he pushed the door open and was met by a woman in a crisp headscarf.
“Hickory, you listen to Mama Ivy. I’ll let you in, but you gonna have to be quiet as a mouse, you hear? Sallie needs her rest. Reverend, you can come on in, too.” The door opened wider and Ian let the boy go ahead of him.
While Hickory took a closer look at the tiny bundle in the woman’s arms, Doc Lambert waved Ian over to the side of a dilapidated bed.
Frayed curtains moved on a heavy breeze but did nothing to clear the stale air inside the room.
Death.
The stench was unmistakable. Whether in a field hospital or an open battlefield, Ian recognized the tang of blood and disease that hung in the room like a fetid beast.
A frail woman, pale as the bedsheet beneath her, was far too young to be surrendering to death’s cold grasp. Her tormented expression suggesting she sensed it, too. Her hollow eyes were stark against the ashen features of a surprisingly pretty face.
A vision of another pair of eyes, dead and lifeless, flashed in his mind.
Ian gritted his teeth.
The woman fighting for her life on the bed in front of him deserved his undivided attention. He may not be able to sort through the brambles of his own conscience, but he knew how to help ease hers.
Abby McFadden washed her hands in a basin in the corner. When she turned, she tilted her head as if she was surprised to see him.
No doubt she’d been expecting a minister, not a Cavalryman.
“This is the preacher, Sallie.” Hickory spoke behind Ian. “He has a cross on his hat, so I brought him like you asked.”
“Is that that truth?” The young woman rasped. “You a minister?”
“Credentialed, yes.” Ian’s answer sounded forced.
Sallie turned her attention to Hickory and gave the boy a weak smile. “Hickory, did you see the baby?”
“Yes’m.” Hickory’s voice was thick with emotion. “Mama Ivy showed it to me.”
Mama Ivy brought the baby over to the bed, but Sallie refused to take her.
“I can’t.” Sallie slowly shook her head.
“The baby will need a home, Sallie.” Doc McFadden was all business. “She can’t stay here.”
Ian watched Abby continue to pack up a doctor’s bag in silence. In the dim light, he thought he saw moisture on her smooth cheek.
“This little darlin’ will have a home. Don’t you worry yourself about that.” Mama Ivy resettled the baby in her arms.
“As much as I know you’d do your best, Ivy, the shanty’s no place for a newborn. Especially not this one. She’ll need monitoring for a bit to make sure the infection has not been transferred.” Doc ran a beefy hand over his jaw. “Weather’s going to be turning cold soon. She’ll need somewhere dry and warm. The hospital’s full to overflowing with men. We haven’t a cot, nor the staff to care for her there.”
“Couldn’t Elizabeth take her in for a short while?” Abby spoke quietly with her back to Sallie, but Ian heard every word. “Eliza Jane could help with her, too. Would give her something to do to help take her mind off of Will.”
Doc Lambert released a long breath and shook his head. “We aren’t equipped to handle an infant.”
“Then I suppose she comes to the hospital. She can stay with me.” Abby stood firm until the doctor gave her a look of exasperation.
“Sallie, it’s best if Mrs. Lambert and I take your baby in for a bit.” He nodded to Mama Ivy to bring the child to Abby. “She’ll be taken care of.”
“Reverend, pray for her first.” Sallie’s plea was barely above a whisper. “I’ll take my punishment. But not the baby. She don’t deserve this.” When she could say no more, she turned her head. Tears trailed down her gaunt cheek. “I need to … make sure she don’t have to pay for none of my wrongdoings.”
“Babies are innocent.” Ian knelt on one knee on the side of the bed to where Sallie wouldn’t have to strain to see him. “They’re all precious in God’s sight. Same as you are. No one is beyond His forgiveness.”
“Pray.” Sallie implored with every bit of strength she had.
Abby stood on the opposite side of the bed holding the small bundle in her arms. Hickory sidled next to her, wide-eyed and somber.
“I’ll pray.” Ian opened his hand to her and was surprised when she placed unsteadily fingers on top of his. “But the most effective prayer for this baby will be from you, Sallie.” Ian’s other hand covered hers. “There’s no sweeter sound in heaven than that of a mother praying for her child.”
“God and me don’t talk.” Her hooded stare told him her time was growing short.
“Good thing He can read what’s in your heart.” A stab of truth pierced his own soul. “And He has a special fondness for broken ones.”
At that, Sallie lifted her teary gaze to his, trying to focus on his face. Clearly, she searched for something solid in his words.
“There is nothing you’ve done that He isn’t willing to forgive.” Ian spoke quietly. “Nothing you do or say will ever make Him love you less.”
Sallie began to weep. “My mama used to tell me He loves me.”
Ian slowly nodded. “Your mama was a wise woman. He loved you then, and He loves you now. He’s never going to stop. It’s just up to you whether you’re going to accept it and love Him back.”
Sallie closed her eyes and trickles of moisture fell to the pillow. “Please, pray.”
I
an prayed for her and for the baby. And when he heard Hickory’s wrenching sobs, Ian prayed for him, too.
He asked for God’s unmerited love and forgiveness on Sallie’s behalf and felt her give his hand a faint squeeze. The smallest of gestures, but one that held great eternal consequence.
Upon the last amen, Ian realized Sallie’s hand had gone slack. She’d crossed into eternity, but not alone. She had a Savior waiting to escort her there.
Ian stood and let Doc check her wrist for a pulse.
Mama Ivy made her way around the room blowing out all but two lamps. A soft rain had begun to fall, and the patter against the window added to the surreal mood.
“Is my Sallie gone asleep?” Hickory looked from Doc to Abby, a rise of panic in his voice.
Doc didn’t answer, he simply shook his head.
“No! Mama, no. Don’t leave me. I’ll take care of you.” The boy’s cries felt like a punch in Ian’s gut. “I’ll be good, Mama, please come back.”
Hickory threw himself across Sallie pleading for God to send her back.
Abby handed the baby to Mama Ivy and slipped an arm around the boy’s shuddering back.
Without a word, Ian placed his hat upon his head and prepared to return to his troops.
Three years of theology and honors at the top of his class. Still, nothing had prepared him for this. When he left Yale, he thought he knew all there was to know about ministering.
But tonight proved he had much to learn about loving and caring for people.
Glancing back, he watched Abby hold Hickory in her arms, rocking him as his tears were spent. Renewed admiration for her soared through him. He’d been humbled beyond belief by the tender way she cared for Sallie—a woman who would have been shunned by most of his colleagues at seminary.
Abby’s honest care for her was a crucial reminder that Sallie was every bit as valuable to God as anyone else in this city. He’d mastered Yale’s academics and was skilled to the teeth in hermeneutics. But it took the unconditional love of a nurse with green eyes to show him how to tend to a real heart.
“I try to avoid looking forward or backward,
and try to keep looking upward.”
~ Charlotte Brontë
Seven
An array of summer color splashed up against raised porches all along Mulberry Street. Abby had come to love that about Macon. The gardens were vibrant this time of year. Towering trees canopied over residential drives providing just the right amount of shade against the sweltering sun.
Most Sundays she enjoyed her walk to church, but barely a week had gone by since Sallie passed, and her heart was still heavy. Hickory hadn’t come around the hospital like he usually did, and his duties had gone to others.
Abby missed him.
Since the Confederates suffered a decided defeat up in Northern Georgia, the hospital had been inundated with casualties. Her days, and some nights, had been occupied with tending to the wounded, preparing those able to be moved for transfer to Alabama.
She’d had no opportunity to go out to the shanty town to check on him.
Hickory’s new little sister was thriving with the Lamberts even though Elizabeth had, at first, been hesitant to accept Sallie’s baby into her home. As lovely and genteel as Elizabeth Lambert was, she feared the stigma of embracing the child of a public woman. Her sparkling reputation could ill-afford such a scandal.
Eliza Jane, however, had been smitten with the tiny infant from first sight.
One look at the baby’s cherub face and she’d embraced her as if she were her own. Abby put together a special formula devised from a recipe in the latest medical journal to keep the baby fed and healthy. Eliza Jane provided the snuggles.
Abby hoped word had gotten out to the shanty children that the church was having dinner on the grounds today. Hopefully, they would gather down by the creek to meet her, in hopes of garnering a few leftovers.
She hoped to lure Hickory out of hiding as well.
Passing the General Store where the postmaster was located, a familiar sadness settled over her. There was no use going inside to check for news from home. She’d stopped expecting any months ago. Her correspondence had all but ceased since Farris put her every move under constant scrutiny.
The last letter she’d written to Mrs. Pearce was back in February a year ago after finding record that Malcolm had been stricken with smallpox, treated at Ocmulgee Hospital in Macon, then shipped back home.
Whether his mother had ever received the letter, or had simply chosen to disregard it, remained to be seen. As far as Abby knew, the woman still blamed her for the boy’s disappearance in the first place. A source of uncertainty she struggled with, herself.
Since following Malcolm’s trail to Georgia, Abby had been given no choice but to stay. Most of what she earned at the hospital was in the form of room and board. With only a few coins of Confederate currency, she was unable to travel home without a pass issued by General Farris or his Provost Marshal.
The general savored what limited control he had over her. He’d made it perfectly clear that as long as she was within his jurisdiction, he, alone, held the keys to her fate.
Abby wasn’t willing to pay the steep price he wanted in return.
Until she could find another way home, she was stranded behind Confederate lines.
If not for favor granted by the Dobbs and Lamberts, she would have fled months ago. Elizabeth and Cora took her in and saw to it she never missed a meal. Eliza Jane had become a close friend who always found a reason to gift her with skirts or blouses whenever Abby wore the same one too often.
The women of Macon lifted a united front against Farris’ harassment and each time Abby had been tempted to run away, they had reeled her back in with an abundance of kindness.
By the time Abby slipped into the back pew of the church, the congregation was well into the second verse of Bringing in the Sheaves. With great zeal they sang, impressing one another with having memorized all the words.
Cora Dobbs ended the hymn with her usual high-octave trill that never failed to give Abby a momentary eye-twitch.
Taking the pulpit, Reverend Baxter gave instruction for the people to be seated as he began his welcome.
Abby wondered if Colonel Saberton would be in service today. Though he’d never attended before, the ladies were providing a special dinner today to honor him and his men.
Before taking her seat, she took a casual look around but didn’t come across him.
Over the past month, all the church ladies had been sure to mention how charming Colonel Saberton was. How likeable and debonair. How he was never out of sorts and had a persuasive way about him.
You’d think the man was straight out of a classic fable.
Abby wouldn’t deny she’d seen glimpses of it herself. He definitely had a charisma about him. But she couldn’t help but wonder about the real man behind the glib tongue and easy grin.
The man she’d been with at Sallie’s bedside. He had been exceptionally comforting and candid. He’d handled Sallie’s imminent death with wisdom and a certain grace that could not be put on.
Maybe she’d misread him.
On the surface, he was every bit the self-assured colonel of a renegade cavalry. Strong and charming as he traded pleasantries with locals on the street. But when given the chance to try her new stethoscope, he’d revealed a curiosity, a hunger for knowledge, which she’d found much more attractive.
Abby wanted to believe she’d only seen facets of the man as a whole. A man she found herself thinking about throughout the day—and sometimes well into the night.
“… and the passage goes on to say, ‘the people in one accord gave heed unto those things which Philip spake and saw great works in their midst as a result.’” Heads nodded all over the building among dozens of “amens” as the pastor closed his sermon.
Precisely eleven fifty-nine. Pastor Baxter was a stickler for routine. Abby imagined he’d done things the same way all eighty-somet
hing years of his life. He certainly wasn’t about to change now.
No wonder Hickory hadn’t been able to summon him or any of the other pastors in town to come pray over Sallie. In the past, they’d made it perfectly clear that the goings on in the red-light district were none of the church’s concern.
Abby traced a finger over the pink satin flower on her hand-me-down bonnet as empathy for Hickory once again tightened her throat. The child had lost his mama. She’d always suspected Hickory was related to Sallie in some way, maybe an aunt or distant relative. But it had been a shock to learn that the young prostitute was actually his mother.
“My Sallie,” she’d heard him say.
Every time Abby had been around them, Sallie distanced herself to the point of pushing him away. Her reasons were understandable. The brothel was no place for a boy of nine years old. Or anyone for that matter.
She’d insisted he call her Sallie for his own protection. If anyone, especially Farris, had suspected the boy belonged to her, Hickory would have been in immediate danger. Everyone was a pawn to Farris to be manipulated until they were no longer useful.
Then again, Hickory wasn’t one to be rejected. Always around the corner, waiting to see if Sallie needed anything or if she might, by chance, want to see him for any reason. In his heart, she was his mama no matter what she wanted to be called.
Hickory had done everything in his power that night, frantic to see her taken care of. Calling upon all three ministers in town, but not one was willing to get out of bed. In desperation, he’d gone for Ian.
And Ian had answered the call.
The weight of his compassion for the boy caused her breath to catch.
Abby closed her eyes against unexpected tears stinging her eyes, still hearing the heart-wrenching wails of a child left with no one. Begging, as if everyone who deserted him did so of their own volition.
“Please stand for the blessing.” The pastor’s voice sounded even more monotone today. Or maybe, in the humor she was in, Abby simply refused to believe the man capable of feeling any emotion at all.
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