My Daughter's Legacy

by Mindy Starns Clark

  The next morning, the cook was nowhere to be found. Apparently, she’d escaped too. Perhaps she overheard Mr. Galloway urging his wife to take the girls back to Louisiana and guessed her time left in Richmond, and closer to freedom, was short.

  As the days passed, she devoted herself to Mrs. Galloway and tending to the children as best she could. She went to the market each day and scrounged for food. A few vegetables. An old squash. A half dozen eggs if she was lucky. She cooked and cleaned and cared for the baby, enlisting the older girls to help her. Once a week she tackled the laundry, and when she could come by enough flour, she would bake bread.

  Mother wrote occasionally, begging Therese to return home. Auntie Vera was keeping up with the cooking, and having Miss Amanda stay at River Pines to help with Warner was an absolute blessing, but every day was difficult, and Mother longed to have Therese by her side. Old Joe was doing fine but slowing down. She feared Sonny had run off because no one had seen him for a few days, and Mr. Porter was as surly as ever. Warner grew weaker with each day.

  “We need you,” Mother wrote at the end of every letter.

  Toward the middle of March, almost a month since the hospital closed down, Mr. Galloway came home from work seeming agitated. With barely a nod, he went straight down the hall to the sick room.

  Therese had managed to make bread that day. They didn’t have any butter, but she decided to slice pieces for the couple. When she neared the doorway, she stopped in the hall and listened.

  “General Lee endorsed arming slaves,” he said. “And the Confederate Congress passed the legislation. Black soldiers will be enlisted soon.”

  “Will it make a difference?” Mrs. Galloway asked.

  “I doubt it. It’s too late.” He paused for a moment and then added, “The Confederate Army is turning west to flee the Union advance.”

  So much for Therese’s spying days being over. Both facts seemed important enough to tell Polly. Therese waited until Mrs. Galloway changed the subject to the children before entering the room.

  “Ah, thank you.” Mr. Galloway took the plate of bread. “What would we do without you?”

  Therese smiled and then asked if they minded, once she fed the girls, if she strolled around the corner to say hello to Polly. “I haven’t seen her for more than a week.”

  “Yes, please go.” Mr. Galloway gave his wife the largest slice. “The fresh air will do you good.” He looked up at Therese. “Could you take the older girls?”

  “Patrick,” Mrs. Galloway said, “all she does is serve me and the girls all day. Let her have a few minutes of peace.”

  “Sorry.” He nodded toward the door. “Go ahead and go now if you like. The bread will tide us over.”

  Therese made sure the three older girls were settled at the table with their bread, telling them she wouldn’t be long, and then she hurried out the door and began walking toward the Baxter home. As she neared the house, she saw a driver pulling an army wagon to a stop out in front.

  She froze, certain it was Michael. Polly ran out to greet him, and her smile broadened even more when she spotted Therese. She called out a hello.

  Therese kept moving forward, knowing she couldn’t turn around and leave now that she’d been seen. But she also couldn’t tell Polly what she’d overheard in front of Michael.

  He jumped down from the wagon. Therese’s heart fluttered against her better judgment. Perhaps Michael Talbot would always make her feel as if she were still a schoolgirl.

  He waved and asked, “How have you been?”

  “Fine. And you?”

  He shrugged. “I’ll see. Rumor has it we’re to be on the move soon.”

  “Oh? Do you know where?”

  He shook his head. “I’m heading west tonight on a supply run. But after that I’m not sure. How’s Warner?”

  Therese patted the latest letter in her apron pocket. “Not well. Mother’s worried about him.”

  Michael’s brown eyes filled with compassion—genuinely, she was sure. He truly cared about Warner. “When can you go home?”

  Tears stung Therese’s eyes. “Hopefully soon, but Mrs. Galloway still isn’t well enough to care for her family. Things are a bit of a mess all the way around.”

  “Not entirely,” Polly said, stepping forward. “I can go to River Pines to help Mother and Auntie Vera care for Warner.” Polly turned toward her brother. “Aren’t you headed that way?”

  He nodded. “I’d like to have you along.”

  “But what about the Baxters?” Therese asked.

  “I just found out that Mrs. Baxter is leaving tomorrow with the children. I needed to find a ride out of here anyway. I may as well go with Michael.”

  Therese was glad for her friend, but she now felt more alone than ever. “May we speak privately for a moment?”

  “All right.” Polly’s eyes sparkled as she stepped to the back of the wagon, leaving Michael on the bench.

  Therese quickly whispered both things she’d overheard Mr. Galloway say. “Can you pass the information along?”

  “Yes,” Polly said. “On the way out of town, in fact.”

  “Without Michael knowing?”

  Polly’s eyes sparkled again. “Of course.”

  “What if I hear more information after you’re gone?”

  “It won’t matter,” Polly said. “I’m one of the last to leave Richmond. Most everyone else is already gone. You should go too. The Galloways will understand.”

  “I’ll leave soon.” Therese hugged her friend goodbye and thanked her for caring for Warner. Polly hurried into the house to pack her things, and Therese stepped back toward the wagon. Michael jumped down and tipped his hat to her.

  “I’ve been hoping to talk with you, about that night at the hospital—”

  “It’s better if we don’t discuss it,” Therese said.

  “No, I think we should.”

  Therese shook her head, not wanting to feel disappointed in Michael again. “Thank you for taking Polly to River Pines. Please tell Mother and Warner I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

  “Of course,” he answered.

  She started to say goodbye, but the words stuck in her throat. Instead, she waved her hand and turned around quickly, rushing forward.

  She could hear Michael’s footsteps behind her. “Therese, wait!”

  “I can’t,” she called out and kept going.

  His footsteps stopped. “I’ll find you when all of this is over.” His voice was raw. “I promise.”

  She kept on going. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t the man she thought he was. Perhaps he would return to France to his sweetheart. Or take over the family’s paper mill. If he stayed, she doubted she’d see him often, except maybe in passing at church.

  Therese spent the next week wondering how she would get home. As the Union Army grew closer, droves of people fled Richmond, including Jefferson Davis’s wife and children, who left on the train for North Carolina. Therese began packing the Galloways’ belongings as best she could, readying them to leave too. Mrs. Galloway was up longer and longer each day, and it seemed perhaps she could make the trip back to their home in Louisiana.

  On the first Sunday of April, Therese and Mr. Galloway took the three older girls to St. Paul’s and sat in their usual pew, halfway toward the front. Not too long into the service, a messenger slipped down the side aisle and handed Jefferson Davis a note. Mr. Galloway craned his neck. A moment later, the president slipped up the aisle, and Mr. Galloway followed him out. The girls gave Therese alarmed looks. She smiled and pointed toward the priest, indicating they should concentrate on the sermon.

  A few minutes later, Mr. Galloway returned and motioned for the girls and Therese to follow him. Once they reached the street, he whispered, “The Union Army is near. Anyone working for the Confederacy needs to leave. You should too.”

  A few blocks from the church, he hired a driver. Once they reached home, Therese tied hunks of cheese and bread in a cloth for the family and a port
ion for herself while Mr. and Mrs. Galloway chose what to take and what to leave. Soon they were all back in the hired wagon, bags and crates stacked around them. Therese had her two bags, including the books she’d brought with her and the two cartes de visite, the one of the black man with the lattice of scars across his back, and also the one of Alec, Polly, and Therese in the hospital. Both would forever remind her of the significance of her time in Richmond. As they pulled away from the row house and the linden trees, she imprinted the image on her mind.

  She was sure her time in Richmond would be one of the most memorable periods of her life. She’d done everything from reveal state secrets to contribute to the survival of the Galloways, a family as staunchly Confederate as any she’d ever known. The two seemed contradictory—and yet they weren’t, not at all. In the end, caring for the family had been no different than caring for the soldiers at the hospital. All of them had been swept up in a system of sin and oppression that forced them into roles that seemed unforgivable. And yet, God could still forgive them. Her family too. She hoped all would repent and seek reconciliation in the time to come.

  She shivered, even though both Lydia and Florence were tucked next to her. Why was she willing to extend grace to everyone except Michael?

  A lump formed in her throat.

  Because she’d expected more from him.

  For so long, she believed his character was similar to her father’s. That was why her disappointment was so acute. She longed for the days at Box Tree Male Academy, for the simplicity of life before the war, and mostly for her friendship with Michael. For how he talked with her and encouraged her. Yes, she’d been young, but she had loved him. Her heart ached at the memory, torn in two by all she’d lost.

  When they reached the train station, the driver stopped in the middle of Broad Street due to the traffic all around the block. Therese helped the older girls down and then loaded them with as much as they could carry, ushered them up the steps and into the station, and found a space against the wall in the lobby. Mr. and Mrs. Galloway soon joined them. She gave them all hugs and asked them to write and let her know when they arrived safely.

  The family thanked her profusely.

  “We’d better see to our tickets,” Mr. Galloway said.

  Therese nodded and hurried off toward the booths, hoping to be able to secure passage to Midlothian or perhaps farther, but the line was long, and soon word spread that all of the tickets were sold for that day, and for the next day too. She looked around for the Galloways but couldn’t see them. She said a prayer they’d be able to secure a way out of the city and left the station. Not sure what to do, she decided to walk west and perhaps catch a ride with someone. As she crossed Eighth Street, she saw Jay Lewis, his camera pointed at the train station and the throngs of people milling about.

  “Hello, Mr. Lewis!”

  He stood straight and waved. As Therese reached him, a distant explosion caused her to turn toward the river. “Is it the Union Army already?”

  Mr. Lewis shook his head. “No, ma’am. The Confederacy is blowing up munitions and other buildings.”

  “But that will start fires.”

  “It already has.” He nodded toward the station. “Why aren’t you in there?”

  “I can’t get a ticket.”

  “What do you plan to do?”

  “Walk until I can find a ride.”

  “You can’t do that, Miss Jennings. It isn’t safe.”

  She glanced toward the river. “Staying here isn’t either.”

  “That’s true,” he said. “Everyone’s leaving. I heard Jeff Davis and his cabinet are all planning to take the train out of here tonight.”

  Therese doubted they’d have any trouble getting tickets.

  Mr. Lewis stepped back to his camera. “Do you have time for me to get one last photo of you?”

  “I suppose so.” A few more minutes wouldn’t make a difference.

  Just as Mr. Lewis took the first picture, someone called out Therese’s name. She turned. An army wagon without a cover came toward them. It was Michael.

  “Therese!” he called out again. “Thank God! I’ve been looking for you.” He pulled the wagon to a stop, set the brake, and jumped down. “I have a load of soldiers I’m taking to the Huguenot Springs Hospital. Can you help me?”

  She stepped to the bed of the wagon. Seven injured soldiers were spread across it. She hadn’t expected God to send Michael Talbot, but she wouldn’t refuse the ride or the chance to help.

  “Yes. Of course I will.”

  “One more photo?” Mr. Lewis asked. “Of the two of you beside the wagon.” He dragged his camera so he could include the three soldiers in the back who had managed to sit up.

  Michael stepped to Therese’s side, and they all held still until Mr. Lewis said the image had been taken. He quickly started to unfasten his camera from the tripod.

  “Where are you headed now?” she asked.

  “Down to the river.” He placed the camera in its case. “I want to photograph those fires before someone puts them out.”

  “I see. Well, be careful.”

  Mr. Lewis latched the case and then said, “Did the doctor give you and your friend your copies of the picture I took at the hospital?”

  “Yes, thank you so much,” she answered. “I have it in my bag.”

  “Nice fellow.” Mr. Lewis glanced toward the hospital. “I can’t believe he stayed all this time.”

  Therese shook her head. “He left for Maine a good while ago. In February.”

  “But you’re still here. Weren’t you two betrothed? That’s what he said when he picked up the photos.”

  She wasn’t sure what to say. She settled on, “Our circumstances changed.”

  “So you decided to stay?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, good,” Mr. Lewis said. “It’s going to take all of us to put this place back together again.” He nodded to Michael. “You too. Thank you for all you’ve done. Sincerely.” Then the two men shared an odd, knowing look.

  Once she was on the wagon bench and Michael had turned the team of horses toward the west, she wondered exactly what Mr. Lewis meant in thanking Michael. He had done a lot—working in a field hospital, transporting and caring for soldiers, and procuring supplies. She couldn’t help but wonder if there was more than that, though.

  “Has Mr. Lewis been out to the front lines?”

  “Yes. Several times. He’s probably seen more of what’s gone on in Virginia during the last few years than anyone else. His camera has given him an unusual perspective.”

  They rode in silence after that, past throngs of people carrying their belongings and shuffling along. Others drove wagons piled high with household goods—beds, crates, tools, tables, and chairs.

  Finally, Michael broke the silence. “So, why didn’t you go with Alec?”

  Therese stared straight ahead.

  “I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “No, it’s fine. It’s just hard to explain.”

  He didn’t respond, and she didn’t attempt to elaborate.

  A few times, Therese turned on the bench to watch the smoke rise over Richmond above the blooms of the dogwood trees and the tender green of the new leaves on the maples. Her heart grew sick at the damage done to the beautiful city. The acrid smell of the fires followed them as they fled, punctuated by explosions. Finally, Michael said, “Don’t look back. Try to remember it the way it was.”

  Richmond had been a place of learning and adventure for her—both times she lived there. But now she was going home to River Pines. To her Mother and brother. “Dear God,” she whispered low enough Michael couldn’t hear her. “What do You have for me?”

  Every few miles, he would stop so Therese could see to the soldiers. They pooled their food—Michael had some old apples to go with her cheese and bread—and tried to make it stretch for everyone, but all anyone got was a couple of bites.

  They mostly rode in silence. One time Michael nodd
ed off, and Therese gently took the reins from his hands. After about ten minutes, he awoke with a start.

  “Don’t tell me I fell asleep,” he said, running a hand over his face while taking back the reins with the other.

  “You did.” Therese felt a pang of compassion for him. “You must be exhausted.”

  He sat up straighter. “I could use a night’s sleep. That’s certain.”

  Again they rode in silence until he asked, “So will you head up to Maine, in time?”

  “Oh goodness, no,” Therese said, surprised he thought that. “I’ll stay at River Pines. Most likely I’ll be in charge of the vegetable garden and the chickens.” She tried to smile. “I think the future will mostly be about trying not to starve.”

  Michael glanced at her. “Your life would be so much easier if you’d go north.”

  “No,” she responded, trying to ignore how his words tugged at her heart. He still cared for her in some way, even if he did think she should marry Alec. “It really wouldn’t make anything easier.” She would have had to ignore her promise to Father while pledging her life to a man she didn’t really love. There would have been no point in doing that.

  When they neared the turn for River Pines, Michael said he’d drop her off but wouldn’t be able to stay. “I’ll come see Warner when I can.”

  “Let’s go on to the hospital.” It was only a few more miles down the road. “Then you can bring me back and get some rest.” She hoped food would be available too.

  Michael agreed and thanked her. By the time they reached the Huguenot Springs Hospital, darkness had fallen, and only a couple of lights shone in the windows of the building. Michael pulled up front, set the brake, and jumped down. “I’ll be right back.”

  It only took him a few minutes. “They’re overwhelmed. The conditions aren’t good, and they hardly have any nurses and not a single doctor.”

  Therese glanced back at the soldiers. “Let’s take them to River Pines. Polly and I will care for them. You can sleep tonight and then find your unit.”

  Michael exhaled, most likely in relief. “Thank you.”