“What a gentle and caring man Mr. Finney is,” Mrs. Boyd reflected. “And so free of malice. I can’t believe he’s the man I’ve heard so many terrible things about.”
Elise could have said, “I told you so.” Instead she said, “Your description of him is so true.” She carefully didn’t look at Verly.
Aunt Ella had gotten word to Mama and Papa of Elise’s whereabouts. When Elise finally got home, both parents were relieved to see her. Berdeen had hot potato soup on the stove, and Elise downed two bowls. The family was gathered in the kitchen, sitting at the table with her, firing questions in volleys.
“Weren’t you scared being with those deserters?” Peter wanted to know. She assured him she was not.
“How did you convince Dr. Harvey to accompany you?” Mama asked.
“And how did he act?” Papa put in. “Was he clear-headed? Your aunt Ella’s been so concerned about him.”
So Elise told them the story from the beginning, in as much detail as her tired body and mind would allow. When she came to the part about the amnesty, Papa said, “Many people were upset when the president put that plan into action.”
“It’s so like our forgiving president,” Mama added. “Think of the young men it will help.”
“But,” put in Samuel, “think of the men roaming around the countryside, not knowing. They stay away from towns so as not to be caught, so they aren’t aware they’ve been forgiven.”
Elise nodded as she remembered Duffy, Gettler, and the others. They were in such a sad condition—cold, weary, footsore, and hungry. They would be overjoyed at Milt’s news.
When she told of how Milt met them along the way, Mama smiled. “Sooner or later that man will receive his reinstatement to society. He’s been treated so cruelly, and yet he’s maintained his dignity.”
“Mama, Papa,” Elise said, “may he go with us to Alexander’s funeral? I mean ride right in our carriage? It would show folks that we believe in him.” Elise’s papa was respected in the city, and his vote of confidence might make a difference in how people treated Milt.
“You invite him, Elise,” Papa said. “If he accepts, I will be proud to have him ride with us.”
Gladys Boyd had become well known in the community during the years since her husband had marched off to war. Her excellent seamstress skills had put her in touch with a wide variety of people. In addition, her friendship with Ella Harvey had widened her circle of friends. Therefore, her son’s funeral was attended by a large group of people.
To her credit, Mrs. Boyd never tried to hide the fact that Alexander was a deserter. She held her head high and managed to conduct herself with dignity. Close by her side, Verly was having a difficult time. From where Elise sat in the church, she could tell Verly was hurt. Surely she must feel more alone than ever.
Milt had accepted Papa’s invitation, and he was sitting in the pew with them, right between Samuel and Papa. Even Peter took a liking to the big man.
Papa made sure Alexander Boyd received full military honors, with a volunteer militia company standing at attention outside the church. Papa said, “The boy might have died not knowing he was forgiven, but we know and will act accordingly.”
Mrs. Boyd was deeply grateful and voiced her thanks many times to Papa, Uncle George, and Milt for all their help.
Following the funeral, the drums rolled and fifes played as the coffin was borne on a horse-drawn cart to the graveyard. The mourners followed on foot.
Mrs. Boyd and Verly wept as the coffin was lowered into the freshly dug grave. A bugle sounded taps, and the melancholy notes floated on the early spring air and reminded each of them of the thousands of others who had died because of the long war.
When the burial service was over, people broke up into tight little knots in the grassy area, talking softly among themselves. Elise felt someone touch her arm. It was a red-eyed Verly.
“Oh, Elise, I was such a fool—blind and full of bitterness. I’m so sorry for the way I acted toward you. I called you a traitor when all the time my own brother was a deserter. Can you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?”
Elise flung her arms about her friend. Through her tears, she said, “I forgave you long ago, Verly. Just like with Mr. Lincoln’s amnesty, sometimes it takes awhile for the news to catch up.”
“I’m grateful to see you two becoming friends once again,” Mama said with a smile.
“Look there,” Peter said, pointing. “Mr. Finney is making a friend, too—it’s Mrs. Boyd.”
Elise looked to where Peter pointed. Sure enough, the two were talking together in the shade of a towering oak tree. In spite of her black widow’s garments and her saddened countenance, Verly’s mother looked quite attractive.
“They make a handsome couple,” Papa said.
Verly smiled. “Right handsome,” she agreed. “Right handsome.”
CHAPTER 14
Verly’s New Family
The boardinghouse sign had been taken down the very day Dr. Harvey arrived back in the city. But the sign that read GEORGE HARVEY, MEDICAL DOCTOR was still stored in the back of the family carriage house. The week after Uncle George helped the deserters in their camp, Aunt Ella told Mama that he went to the carriage house himself and retrieved his business sign.
He scrubbed the old sign, touched up the paint, and hung it on the hinges in the wrought-iron frame out front. Aunt Ella also told Mama that he seemed more like himself with every passing day. The patients who’d known and loved him in the years before the war slowly but surely began to come by the office again to see their doctor.
Melissa at long last received word of her husband, Jeremiah Baird. He was recovering in a hospital near Washington, D.C. He’d lost a leg, his letter said, but he was all right otherwise. His letter was cheery as he wrote:
They’ll be fitting me with a cork leg here in a few days. That means if I ever tumble into the Ohio River, I’ll float to safety and perhaps even carry a few folks along with me.
Later in the letter, he added:
My dearest Melissa, just think of the money we’ll save on shoes and stockings, seeing as how I’ll only need half as many.
The family was overjoyed not only that Jeremiah was alive, but that his sense of humor was intact. The entire Harvey household was in an uproar as they prepared for Jeremiah’s homecoming.
School was fun again now that Elise and Verly played together every recess. The mood of all the students seemed to have changed for the better. Everyone was certain the end of the war had to be very near. The war map that Mrs. Myers followed closely now showed Sherman’s march across the Carolinas.
Elise studied the map and wondered how the South could hold out much longer. So much of their food and ammunition supplies had been cut off. How could they be so desperate to continue fighting? Why should any more lives be lost?
Just as Miss Earles had done in fifth grade, Mrs. Myers had created a list of soldiers—friends and relatives of the students in the sixth-grade classroom. Each morning the students prayed for their safety and well-being, and they prayed for the long war to be over.
One day when Elise was visiting Milt, he said he had a favor to ask of her. From a shelf, he took down a nice bowler hat. Bringing it to the table where she was sitting, he handed it to her and said, “Might I ask you to take this to the hatter’s to be steamed and shaped? It’s been sitting for a number of years now, and it’s in pretty bad shape.”
Elise looked at her friend. “Many people saw you at Alexander’s funeral, Milt. No one was unkind to you then. I think you should go to the hatter’s yourself and see what happens.”
He smiled and sat down at the table opposite her. “I had an idea you might say that.” Raking his fingers through his dark, thick hair, he said, “That’ll take some doing.”
“You’ve come this far. By the way, what’s the need of a spiffy hat anyway? Are you going calling?” she teased.
Milt’s face colored a bit and he smiled. “I’ve thought on it. And t
hat will take even more courage!”
“But you can do it.” She folded up the newspapers they’d been reading together. “It’s probably time to unlock your shop again, as well. I mean, you’ll need an income if you’re thinking of courting.”
“Elise Brannon, you are the most candid child I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Very much a compliment.”
“Well?” “Well, what?”
“When are you going to unlock the shop? How about today? We could pack up your tools and carry them down there today. I can help you clean up and straighten things.”
Milt didn’t take her bait right away. “It’s not as easy as that, I’m afraid. Things have changed. During the war, factories turned out shoes for the soldiers by the hundreds, Elise. I’m not sure there’ll be any market for custom-made shoes anymore. Everything is being manufactured these days.”
“But people will always need their factory-made shoes repaired. And there’ll always be the few who prefer your custom-made shoes.” She paused. “The truth is, you’ll never know unless you try.”
“Well,” he said, grinning, “I can’t just sit up here all alone in this cabin, can I?”
“You could—but I don’t think you really want to.”
Milton Finney slapped both hands on the table, making Elise jump. “No, I don’t. I don’t want to sit here anymore. Come on, Elise, let’s load up those tools.”
All Milt needed to know was whether his old customers would return to him. Elise solicited all their friends and neighbors to take their shoes to his shop. Soon his business was moving forward once again. Only then did he come calling at the Harvey home to see Gladys Boyd.
Verly was all smiles as she told Elise about it at recess the next day. “He wore a fine suit and a trim bowler hat,” she said excitedly. “He came riding up looking like a real gentleman.”
“He is a real gentleman,” Elise put in.
“Then he knocked at the door, and when Mrs. Harvey answered, he told her he’d come calling for Mrs. Boyd and could he speak to her in the parlor.”
“And did your mama come down?”
“She did, but you should have seen her flying about our room, worrying about her hair, pinching her cheeks to pink them up a little, then changing quickly into a fresh dress. I wanted to laugh right out loud. She acted as though she were Alicia’s age.”
“Perhaps she felt that way, as well.” The bell was ringing for recess to be over, but Elise hurriedly asked, “So what happened next?”
“What do you think? He’s asked for Mama’s hand in marriage!”
“Oh, Verly.” Elise hugged her friend, and they squealed with delight until Mrs. Myers hushed them.
As they lined up in straight rows with the other students to go in, Verly turned around to Elise and whispered, “I’m going to be in the wedding. Mama’s asked that I stand up with her!”
The Harveys insisted the wedding be held in their parlor. It was a small affair, but there was no lack of excitement. The joy of the day was made doubly so by the presence of Lieutenant Jeremiah Baird. Just as with Uncle George, Jeremiah had aged through the years of relentless battles. But his face was wreathed in a smile, and Elise heard him say how thankful he was to be safely home once again. Melissa sat close by his side and held his arm as though she never wanted to release him again.
The date was April 8. Elise felt it was a perfect time for a wedding, being so close to Easter. What promise and hope it represented. She hadn’t been this happy for a very long time.
Milt had rented a small cottage. Though he had told his bride that she needn’t continue her hard work as a seamstress, she informed all her customers she’d still be available to them. Elise knew Mrs. Boyd would continue to work for a time until Milt could make his way with the shoe shop.
Verly was to stay with the Brannons for a few days so the newly wedded couple could have time alone. That suited Elise and Verly just fine. In fact, it turned out to be perfect.
The girls were just leaving church when a messenger came flying down the street on his horse. “The telegraph lines have been singing all morning,” he yelled out to them. Then he whooped and shouted, “The war is over! The war is over!” Sure enough, Lee had surrendered to Grant at Appomattox Courthouse, Virginia.
Suddenly everyone was crying, laughing, shouting, hugging, and whooping about. No one could stand still. No one could contain the infectious hilarity. Grown men had tears streaming down their faces as they smiled and laughed. Bells began their joyous pealing all across the city.
“Come quickly,” Papa said. “Let’s go downtown!”
They piled quickly into the carriage and joined the throng on Fifth Street. Elise had never seen such a spontaneous gathering. From out of nowhere, the Volunteer Militia appeared in uniform with their fifes, drums, and bugles. Bands were assembled. Music filled the air. Elise and Verly laughed and laughed as they watched people actually dancing in the streets. At the landing, cannons were shot and explosions filled the air. Soon after, echoes came from similar firings across the Ohio River at Newport Barracks and Covington. Rifles were fired into the air, and the fire bells and church bells never stopped ringing. Hour after hour, the celebration raged on at a fevered pitch.
At intervals, another message would come over the telegraph and send the crowds into another round of cheering and shouting. One such message said that following President Lincoln’s remarks made from the balcony of the White House, he called for the navy band to play a rousing chorus of “Dixie.”
“We fairly captured it yesterday,” the president was reported as saying, “and the attorney general gave me his legal opinion that it is now our property.”
As soon as that message was read, the bands on the streets of Cincinnati began to play “Dixie.” This brought on yet another frenzy of jubilant cheering. Sometimes a person would just stop and say, “It’s over. It’s truly over.” Hearing the words aloud helped to make it more real.
Several ministers of local churches gathered together and mounted the courthouse stairs. Waving the crowd to silence, they each offered up prayers of thanksgiving to God. One pastor reminded the crowd that the next Thursday would mark the fourth anniversary of the attack on Fort Sumter.
There was no school on Monday. The school superintendent said none of the children would be able to concentrate anyway. That gave Elise and Verly a full day for playing in the spring sunshine. Everything seemed so perfect. Almost storybook perfect.
They played with Chancellor in the grassy pasture and picnicked in the orchard. They had a tea party and read books. But mostly they just talked.
“Because of you,” Verly said, “I have a new papa. And now I’ll never have to work hour after hour again as I did for the past few years. You’re a wonderful friend, Elise.”
“And we’ll be friends forever,” Elise promised. “Come what may.”
“Come what may,” Verly agreed.
The cottage where the new Finney family settled was close to town, but Verly would finish out the school year at Walnut Hills Elementary.
“Papa says,” Verly told her, “that by next school year, we may be living in Walnut Hills. Then we’ll be neighbors once again.”
Elise was sure Milt would do just as he promised.
The next Saturday morning, Elise was invited to go to Verly’s new home and visit. Now Verly had her own neat little room. They hadn’t a bed for her yet, but Verly cared not a whit. “I would sleep on a pallet on the floor forever if it meant having our own home again and having my new papa. He’s so kind and good, Elise. And I’ve never seen Mama so happy.” After Elise had seen the inside of the cottage, Verly pulled at her hand. “Come and see the little yard in back. The oak tree is a perfect place for a picnic.”
And it was. There was enough room for Milt’s horse to graze on the grassy areas and a shed for the horse, as well. The girls spread a blanket beneath the giant oak. Just as Verly’s mother wa
s bringing out their lunch, the bells began to ring. Elise looked at Verly. They were stunned. What could it be?
Milt came out the back door. He looked troubled.
“What, Papa?” Verly said, her voice sounding strange. “What is it?”
“I’ll go find out.” He slipped a bridle on the gray speckled horse and started to mount him bareback. As he did, a messenger came by on horseback with the news no one could believe: “Lincoln was assassinated!” he cried. “The president is dead!”
CHAPTER 15
The Giant Has Fallen
Elise felt as though someone had punched her square in the stomach. She sunk to the blanket beside Verly, and both girls burst into tears. “No, no,” Elise cried. “It can’t be! It just can’t be.”
Milt put his arms about Verly’s mother as she buried her face in his great chest. Her weeping made a muffled sound.
“Let’s walk down to the newspaper,” Milt suggested, his own eyes tear-filled. “We’ll get the story firsthand.”
They found a somber group standing outside the newspaper office. Messengers from the telegraph office were running back and forth. Periodically, they received little snatches of news. After a time, the editor of the paper came outside with a dispatch in his hand.
“This is what we have so far,” he said loud enough for all to hear. “President Lincoln and his wife attended a play last evening—Friday—at Ford’s Theater in Washington, D.C. A young actor named John Wilkes Booth, who knew both the play and the theater well, entered into a box near the president’s and shot him at close range. The president was taken to a nearby house, where he died this morning, April 15, 1865, at 7:22.”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd as the reality of the news slowly sunk into their minds. Elise looked at the weeping people around her. Could it have been only last Sunday that these same people had been shouting and cheering? This just couldn’t be. She felt numb, as though she were not really there. As though she were floating about in the midst of this sobbing, forlorn crowd. After all the long years of fighting and death—how could it have come to this?
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