Her Hesitant Heart

by Carla Kelly

  “Tonight everyone will unpack what should have arrived weeks ago?” Susanna asked.

  It was simple to turn these good tidings of great joy into a composition, with older children to speculate on what might be in the boxes, and the younger ones to draw possible gifts. She let them out twenty minutes early; to have kept them would have been inhumane, in her mind.

  “When you come back tomorrow, be prepared to tell me whether you were right or not,” Susanna called after them. She corrected the morning’s work, humming to herself. When she finished, it was still early enough to hurry to Private Benedict’s classroom in the commissary storehouse.

  He was doing what she had just finished, if the stack of slates on his desk was any indication. He looked up, his smile genuine.

  “I sent mine home early, too,” he told her. “Who can think about adding and subtracting when there is greater game afoot?” He sighed. “You never know about the army. One day it’s a ten-year supply of raisins or foot wash, and another it’s Christmas presents only a month late.”

  “I sent my students home early after they wrote a quick composition on what they are hoping to receive, with the challenge to share it, in writing again, in the morning,” Susanna told him.

  He nodded. “I did something similar, but don’t quite know what to do with the young ones who don’t read or write.”

  “They can draw. Tomorrow, while the older ones are writing their compositions, you sit with your little ones and put together one composition, with all of them contributing something to the writing.”

  “I should have thought of that,” he replied, shaking his head.

  “You’ll learn.”

  She stayed in the storehouse a few minutes more, but the private was obviously eager to return to his own quarters and see what might wait for him there. She knew there was nothing coming for her, so she walked up the hill to the hospital, where Major Randolph stood in his office, reaching deep into a crate filled with wood shavings. As she watched, he pulled out a black box.

  “From your relatives?” she asked.

  “Oh, no. They disowned me after I decided to stay with the Union,” he reminded her. “I bought myself a present.”

  He set the box down carefully on his desk and unhooked the latches. He lifted up the sides to reveal a microscope. Susanna gasped and clapped her hands.

  “Would you even consider letting me bring my older students up here to look through the microscope at something disgusting?”

  He laughed out loud. “With pleasure. I’ll find a pair of my old socks. Maybe what I had for breakfast.”

  “I was thinking more of water from the Laramie River when the ice breaks,” she said.

  “Killjoy.”

  He looked in the eyepiece and promptly forgot she was there. Susanna left the hospital and started down the hill, pleased that the wind wasn’t blowing so hard, and wondering what compositions she would get tomorrow about overdue Christmas presents.

  She was planning the rest of the week’s lessons in her mind and nearly overlooked Nick Martin, trudging up the hill. He looked so cold that her heart went out to him. She touched his arm as he passed her.

  “You need to be indoors,” she said.

  “That’s where I’m going,” he replied with considerable dignity. “Major Randolph tells me to clean out the ashes in your classroom and sweep the floor.”

  “I wondered who my benefactor was,” she told him, pleased to see him smile.

  He shivered and she waved him on, wondering how his mind worked. She stood still a moment after he passed, thinking of Maeve Rattigan with her own sorrows, and the cheerful Katie O’Leary, inured to snubs from other officers’ wives. Everyone bends and we try not to break, she told herself, looking back at the hospital and thinking about Major Randolph and the heartbreak of his life.

  “I suppose no one is immune to misfortune,” she told the wind as she hurried down the hill and into the Reeses’ quarters, where Stanley was riding a new hobbyhorse, and her cousin was looking through a stereopticon, her mouth open with the wonder of it. Susanna smiled to think that in homes all over the garrison, Christmas had finally arrived.

  Every student had a story to tell the next morning. Susanna set aside her routine and gave everyone an opportunity to describe new dolls with eyes that blinked, and a wind-up train with enough track to stretch from the front hall to the kitchen in a standard four-room quarters.

  She wanted to compliment the Dunklins’ son on his excellent drawings of yesterday, but he was not present. She remarked about that to Emily over luncheon on new china—only three pieces arrived broken—that Captain Reese had ordered for his wife.

  “That reminds me,” Emily said. “Mrs. Dunklin has invited you to a meeting at her quarters tonight.” She found the invitation, and held it out to Susanna. “She wants the parents to have a chance to meet you. Isn’t that kind? I don’t think the Dunklins have ever given even a card party before, and now this.”

  “But their boy must be ill, so I wonder why she would do that,” Susanna said. She glanced at the clock. “You’re not invited?”

  “No.” There was no denying the relief in Emily’s eyes, which made Susanna wonder even more. “It’s only the parents of students.” Her cousin frowned. “Does she mean to invite you to a house filled with contagion?”

  “I doubt the matter is quite that drastic,” Susanna said. “Still …”

  She thought about it when her older pupils were preparing their afternoon recitations and her little ones were attempting the alphabet without benefit of any help from the blackboard this time. Her mind was no easier when Major Randolph stopped by the schoolroom after her students had filed out, to invite her to accept his escort to the Dunklins’ that evening.

  After spending an inordinate amount of time trying to decide between green wool and black bombazine, Susanna settled on the black, which struck her as more sober and teacherly. In one of his better moments, Frederick had remarked how nice she looked in black, with the contrast of her blond hair. Perhaps Major Randolph would feel the same way.

  He did, apparently, if the look in his eyes when she opened the door to his knock was any indication.

  “Mighty fine, Mrs. Hopkins,” he said.

  Susanna blushed like a schoolgirl, and turned the conversation, remembering the microscope. “Have you made any earth-shattering discoveries with your microscope, Major?” she asked.

  “No. A few years ago, I read a paper in a French journal about Louis Pasteur’s theory of germ disease. I thought a microscope of my own was in order, after that.”

  “Why should that embarrass you?” she asked, curious because he seemed suddenly shy.

  “I’ll share my little secret. I want to study germ theory in Paris with Louis Pasteur.”

  “How did that come about?” Susanna asked, curious.

  “My interest was always there. I was a long way through medical school before I admitted to myself that my favorite classes were the ones using microscopes, pond water and mold.”

  “But you’re a good doctor of … of people.”

  He bowed elaborately, which made Susanna smile. “Thank you! It’s theory that intrigues me the most, however.”

  “Why didn’t you take that road instead of the practice of medicine?”

  “A sensible question. After the Confederacy fired upon Fort Sumter, no one needed theory. I finished my last year of medical school in six months—we all did—and went into the army.”

  “I think you should go to Paris,” she said, as he helped her into her coat. “Perhaps someone in the medical department would send you there, courtesy of the U.S. Army.”

  He shook his head. “Such plum assignments require patronage in Washington, something a son of Virginia has not. I would have to do it on my own dime.”

  “Well? What is stopping you?”

  He seemed in no hurry to reach the Dunklins’ quarters. He stopped, obviously contemplating her question.

  “I suppose no
thing is stopping me. I have enough funds. Maybe when this summer’s Indian campaigns are over.”

  “Only don’t do it until my teaching term is up, Major,” she said impulsively, then felt her face grow warm again. “I mean, I think you are my only ally.”

  He patted her hand and started them in motion again. “You have several allies, but we could not consider the Rattigans or the O’Learys as possessed of patronage, either, could we?” He stopped again. “What are the Dunklins up to? I own to some uneasiness. You already know your students’ parents. I saw to that.”

  “I’m uneasy, too,” she agreed quietly, and told him that Bobby Dunklin was home from school today, and the Dunklins had chosen to give a party, anyway.

  “Let’s not take one more step toward the Dunklins’. In fact, I …”

  He stopped, because Captain Dunklin opened the door, gesturing them inside. She saw through the front window that the parlor was full of people.

  “No,” she whispered, suddenly fearful. But there was Captain Dunklin, w aiting.

  “I’ll stay close to you,” Major Randolph promised. “What could have changed since yesterday, when you were everyone’s favorite teacher?”

  Chapter Ten

  Captain Dunklin took their coats and walked away with them, leaving Susanna looking at his retreating back wistfully. Every instinct told her to run, but the last time she had done that had led to total ruin. She tried to swallow, but her throat was dry. The parlor door opened and there was Mrs. Dunklin, her smile as insincere as her husband’s.

  “Mrs. Hopkins, we’ve been waiting for you. Major? How nice to see you.”

  Terrified, Susanna looked around the parlor. Only the parents of her students were there, wearing expressions ranging from curiosity to hostility. Her bowels felt suddenly liquid, so she took several deep breaths.

  Mrs. Dunklin just waited until her husband returned from hiding their coats somewhere. Susanna glanced at his bland face and swallowed again. She waited for him to speak—it was his house, after all—but he only gestured to his wife, who cleared her throat and picked up a crumpled newspaper. Everyone seated themselves and Susanna looked around for a chair before she fell down. There were none. She and the major were left to stand there.

  “Do you have a chair, Mrs. Dunklin?” Major Randolph asked.

  “No chairs. She won’t be here long.”

  “Then we’re leaving,” Joe said.

  Susanna shook her head. “Get on with it, Mrs. Dunklin.”

  Silence. Mrs. Dunklin looked around, a smirk on her face. “I had been racking my brain to remember why your name was familiar, but couldn’t come up with anything. Then when our Christmas box arrived, I found this balled up in the newspapers used as packing material. Take it.”

  She thrust it at Susanna. The newspaper rattled in her hand, so Major Randolph took it from her.

  “You read it then, Major,” Mrs. Dunklin said, “if Mrs. Hopkins is too much of a coward.”

  The look he gave Mrs. Dunklin could have cut through lead. The woman stepped back involuntarily.

  He read it. Susanna watched the blood drain from his face and then surge back. He handed it back to Mrs. Dunklin.

  “You are sorely in need of honest facts, Mrs. Dunklin, before you do something that might ruin a life.”

  “I know what I know!” the woman snapped. She glared at Susanna. “You came to us pretending to be a war widow.”

  “I didn’t,” Susanna said, wishing her voice was strong right now, like Major Randolph’s. “Someone else started that story and—”

  “Liar!”

  “I don’t lie,” Susanna said. She wanted to back up against the post surgeon, but knew that would give this vicious woman ammunition for other charges.

  Mrs. Dunklin thrust the newspaper at Susanna. “To think we trusted our children to a woman who abandoned her own child!”

  The room was absolutely silent. Susanna forced herself to look at the faces staring at her. In this closed society, she would see these faces again and again until she figured out some way to escape Fort Laramie. She was trapped with people she could not escape.

  Mrs. Dunklin snatched the paper back. “It’s all here, how you abandoned your child, and your poor husband was forced to sue you for divorce! And then you come here, playing on our sympathies by posing as a war widow. For shame!”

  Susanna forced herself to look around the room again, knowing she was looking at officers who had fought in the Civil War and seen their friends on both sides of the conflict die in battle. She expected no sympathy and saw none.

  “That rumor was started right here by one of your own,” Major Randolph said.

  Mrs. Dunklin turned her vitriol on the post surgeon. “And who could ever trust a word out of your mouth, you son of—”

  A lady gasped.

  “—Virginia,” Mrs. Dunklin concluded. “I know General Crook doesn’t trust you. Why should we?”

  “Please don’t excoriate Major Randolph because he’s from Virginia,” Susanna said, stung by the unfairness of it. “He’s not your target. I am.” She took a deep breath. “Yes, I fled my home, but only because my former husband, quite drunk, pushed my face into the mantel and I was bleeding. When I tried to get back in, he wouldn’t let me—”

  “That’s not what the paper says,” Mrs. Dunklin interrupted.

  “No, it isn’t.” Susanna felt her courage peeking out again from a dark place where it had hidden, even though she couldn’t stop shaking. “It also doesn’t say how Frederick Hopkins bought up all the lawyers in Shippensburg, Gettysburg and even Boiling Springs, so no one would represent me. It doesn’t say that, does it? The editor of the Shippensburg Sentinel is a drinking friend of my former husband.”

  “You’re being ridiculous. Such a thing wouldn’t happen in Pennsylvania,” Captain Dunklin said, sounding more self-righteous than fifty saints.

  “It happened to me.”

  “Mrs. Hopkins, say no more,” Major Randolph said. “It won’t make any difference.”

  She knew he was right, but she knew this was her only opportunity to speak. “I know,” she told him. “My side deserves a hearing, even if none of you listen.” Little spots of light started dancing around her eyes, and she blinked to stop them. “Whether you believe me or not, and I fear you do not, I had the choice between being beaten to death that night or running away to find medical help. I don’t see well out of my left eye, because there is only so much doctors can do.”

  She didn’t bother to look for sympathy. “All I wanted to do here was teach,” she said simply. “I’m an educator and—”

  “Not anymore,” Mrs. Dunklin said, producing another piece of paper. “This letter states that none of our children will attend school until we have a new teacher, and it has been signed by everyone here present.”

  Major Randolph stepped between Susanna and Mrs. Dunklin. “That’s enough,” he said.

  “This is wrong.”

  It was a quiet voice, a lilting Irish voice, and Susanna looked around to see Captain O’Leary on his feet.

  “Thank you,” she said simply.

  “Rooney will still be in your classroom tomorrow, Mrs Hopkins.”

  “Then I will be there, too,” Susanna said, finally teasing courage out of its hiding place and holding her head higher.

  “He’ll be alone!” Mrs. Dunklin said.

  Captain O’Leary shrugged and headed for the door. “All the better to get the total attention of one good teacher, eh?”

  “When the rest of us withdraw our support for this creature, will you pay her entire salary?”

  “I can’t afford that, and you know it. Rooney will go to the enlisted men’s school then.” He smiled at the gasps in the room. “Should have done that last year. Mrs. Hopkins, come visit Katie anytime you want.”

  He left the room without a word to his hosts.

  “Mrs. Hopkins, what do you say we follow? Witch hunts scare me,” Major Randolph said. “Captain, our coats, p
lease?”

  The sparkles were back around her eyes. She shook her head to clear them this time, which made her lose her balance and stagger. The post surgeon steadied her.

  The room was starting to revolve. Susanna took another deep breath, which ended in a ragged note. She turned to her hostess.

  “Mrs. Dunklin, whether you believe me or a slanted newspaper article is your choice. I can tell you it was death or divorce.” She kept her voice low, deriving her only mite of satisfaction from watching the others lean forward to hear. “I chose divorce because I wanted to live, but you’ll be pleased to know that I chose death, too. Every morning when I wake up, I die when I remember that my son is not with me and never will be.”

  She stood there, silent, wondering if Captain Dunklin had taken their coats to the opposite end of the parade ground. Breathe in and out, she ordered her body.

  After what felt like years, Captain Dunklin returned with the coats. In absolute silence, Major Randolph guided her arm into each sleeve, since she could barely move. He pulled on his own coat and took a firm grip on her, coaxing her into motion in that forthright way he probably used to get patients ambulatory.

  She didn’t think she could manage the steps, but she did. She got as far as the board sidewalk. For the first time in her life, she fainted.

  She returned to consciousness almost at once, embarrassed and terrified to be lying in the snow at the foot of the Dunklins’ porch. Major Randolph had gathered a handful of snow and placed it on her forehead, which did the duty of smelling salts. And there was Nick Martin, helping her to her feet.

  “Can you walk, Susanna?” Joe Randolph asked.

  “I think so. It’s not so far,” she said, embarrassed. “Forgive me.”

  “Don’t apologize for something you cannot control,” he said promptly. “Forgive me for not taking you out of that den of vipers immediately.”