Crossing

by Gilbert, Morris

  President Davis has declared a day of thanksgiving, and rightly so. United, we loyal and grateful citizens of the Confederate States of America thank Almighty God for protecting and defending us and our courageous army, and we acknowledge that the praise for not only this, these Battles of Seven Days, but all victories in this life come only from His sovereign hand. Amen.’”

  Lorena finished reading the article from the July 6 edition of the Richmond Report and looked up at Yancy.

  He seemed troubled.

  “What’s the matter, Yancy?” Lorena asked.

  He shrugged a little, with his uninjured left shoulder only, the way that he would probably have to make the gesture for the remainder of his life. “I dunno, exactly. I’m sure no military genius, like General Lee and General Longstreet and Stonewall. But…”

  “Yes?” Lorena prodded him curiously. In spite of his words, Lorena had found that he had an insight into the strategic implications of the battles that was very unusual for a mere sergeant who was only one small stitch in the vast complex tapestry of war.

  “It’s just that I think General Lee would have planned to destroy McClellan’s army, and I think he could have, in spite of being outnumbered. We’re always outnumbered,” he said with an endearing earnestness. “Somehow I just think that this campaign wasn’t as successful as the papers make it out to be. We inflicted heavy casualties on the Army of the Potomac, yes, but it didn’t say anything about our casualties.”

  Lorena sighed deeply. “No, the Richmond Report is always limited to our triumphs, it seems. But the Dispatch reports the casualty numbers daily. They’re not good, Yancy.”

  “Tell me,” he insisted.

  She picked up the Richmond Dispatch and turned to the “Battle Reports” page. “So far, 3,286 killed, 946 missing, and about 15,000 wounded.”

  “What? Oh no.” Yancy groaned and lay back heavily on the pillows. “Fifteen thousand… Richmond must be overrun. No wonder I never see Dr. Hayden. He’s not working too hard, is he?”

  “Yes, and no one on this earth can stop him,” Lorena said with exasperation. “Day and night he’s at Chimborazo. Sometimes he comes home to sleep for a few hours, but more often he’s been staying at the hospital, sleeping in a building they’ve set up especially for the doctors and assistants. They have matrons attending twenty-four hours, providing meals and laundering the cot linens and cleaning the quarters. Still, he can’t possibly be resting for any great amount of time. It’s driving us all crazy, even Elijah and Missy.”

  A small half smile played on Yancy’s face. “Sounds like you,” he said lightly. “You’ve been nursing me around the clock for a week now. Not much you can say to your father, Rena.”

  A surge of joy ran through Lorena as, for the first time, Yancy said her nickname. Only Leslie and Yancy had ever called her Rena.

  In the last week, Yancy’s confusion and disorientation had cleared up amazingly. He still couldn’t recall being shot, and there were still holes in his memory, of times and places. As Dr. Hayden had predicted, he had difficulty sensing the passage of time. Every time he woke up he asked what time it was and if it was day or night. And he had a nagging memory of a short, grizzled man in a red flannel shirt, sitting on a runty chestnut horse, but no matter how he tried, Yancy couldn’t put the man into a setting, and he couldn’t fathom why he seemed so important. The Haydens couldn’t know that he was seeing General A. P. Hill at the Battle of Gaines’ Mill when he was shot.

  Thankfully, two days ago, Yancy had finally remembered the Haydens, including Leslie, which was a big breakthrough since they hadn’t mentioned Leslie to him. Yancy remembered that he was a Union soldier and how Yancy had saved his life.

  However, to Lorena’s bitter disappointment, Yancy seemed to have no recollection of his declaration of love to her eight months ago. It was obvious that he liked her and enjoyed her company. His manner toward her was warm, but there was no sign of the passionate romantic man that Lorena had known last October.

  Until Yancy was wounded, Lorena had held her emotions strictly at bay, in effect forcing them into a far dark corner of her heart, seldom visited. The night that Elijah had brought Yancy home, bloodied and battered, Lorena had suffered anguish she hadn’t known since Leslie had been injured. She felt as if someone had taken a dagger to her heart and laid bare the love she had for Yancy with brutal strokes.

  It had only grown worse in the last two days, since Yancy had finally remembered her and he had so naturally and carelessly placed her in the platonic position of a sister. She had been overcome with a scalding regret that she had so stubbornly fought her love for Yancy. Indeed, she had triumphed for a time. But now she was afraid that this so-called triumph was, in truth, a grievous defeat inflicted on her only by herself. What if he never remembers he loves me? What if the memory ofthat love has been completely erased? What if that part of his heart that belongd to me is gone forever?

  Breaking in on her agonized thoughts, Yancy said, “You’remaking faces. Leslie said that one day you’ll get stuck that way, and then you can be a sideshow at the circus. ‘The Angry Woman—Look upon Her Dreadful Countenance if You Dare!’”

  “I’m not angry,” she said indignantly, instantly forgetting her dreadful worries at the sight of Yancy’s inviting grin. He did have such lovely straight, very white teeth. “I’m just—thoughtful.”

  “Yeah? Then do you suppose you could think up some food for me? I’m kinda hungry.”

  “Always and forever,” Lorena grumbled, rising.

  “How ’bout some real grub this time, instead of watery soup?” Yancy wheedled.

  “It’s not watery soup; it’s broth. And your physician has ordered that you stay on a light diet,” Lorena said, hands on hips. “In spite of the fact that he knows very well that Missy and Elijah have been sneaking you eggs and bacon and grits and kidney pie.”

  “Busted again,” Yancy said cheerfully. “So how’s about you sneak me some of that roast beef? I can smell it, you know. I have a very keen sense of smell, and it’s starving me right to death.”

  Lorena turned and went to the door, her spine set in a stubborn ruler-straight line.

  Yancy called after her, “Rena?”

  In spite of herself, a swift secret smile played on her lips and she turned. “Yes?”

  “Thanks. For everything. I’m pretty sure that you’re my best friend,” he said innocently.

  Now she smiled happily at him. “I’m pretty sure, too, Yancy. And I’m very glad. One day, perhaps, you may know just how glad I am to be your friend.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY–ONE

  Yancy, there’s a telegram for you,” Lorena said, holding it out to him. He read it quickly then looked up with a glad smile. “My dad and Becky are coming. They left Lexington early this morning, so they’ll probably be here tomorrow—if the trains are running as scheduled.”

  “I’m so glad,” Lorena said. “When we wrote to invite them to come stay with us, I honestly didn’t think they’d come. I mean, travel these days, especially into Richmond, is so complicated, with all the soldiers and supplies traveling everywhere. I had the idea that the Amish are so unworldly that they wouldn’t get in the middle of it.”

  “You’re right about that,” Yancy said, pulling himself up straighter in bed. “I can’t see anyone in the community attempting it right now, except for my father. He’s different from the Amish that have always lived in that world.”

  Automatically Lorena bent over and fixed Yancy’s pillows as he talked. They had done this so many times that Yancy had learned just how to lean forward so she could easily rearrange the three fat pillows behind his back, and Lorena knew exactly how to fix them the way Yancy liked them.

  It was July 9, 1862. Lorena had been taking care of Yancy for two weeks now, and they had slowly evolved into a familiar routine where Lorena anticipated Yancy’s needs, and he was sensitive to when she was tired, when she wanted to talk, when she wanted to be quiet, and when she wanted to read t
o him or write letters for him. They fit together very well.

  Becky and Daniel did arrive early the next morning. The hospital was not quite so urgent now, so Dr. Hayden had stayed home to meet them. He and Lily waited in the parlor. As always, for every minute she was awake, Lorena was with Yancy.

  The knocker sounded, and shooing away Missy, Lily and Dr. Hayden rushed to open the door. They eagerly greeted Daniel and Becky as if they were old friends and brought them into the parlor. “We’re so happy that you’re here. The trains must be running fairly well,” Lily said. “Richmond is like a beehive filled with angry bees these days, with lots of buzzing around and in and out.”

  Daniel replied, “It sure is. But the trains were running, all right, transporting soldiers and lots of foodstuffs and material from the valley. So the trains, it seemed to me, were traveling as fast as they could steam.”

  “Seemed like about two hundred miles an hour to me,” Becky said drily. “It’s the first time I’ve been on a train, and after I get back home I hope it’s my last. They’re like great black, growling, smoky dragons. I may have nightmares.”

  Daniel said affectionately, “My wife exaggerates. She’s got more backbone than I do.”

  Becky looked up at him. “Thank you, husband… I think.”

  She certainly didn’t look as rugged as Daniel Tremayne, but then, no woman would. The Haydens saw in him a man that had experienced a hard life, and it had toughened him considerably. His reddish blond hair was bleached almost white by the sun. He was handsome in a leathery, rough way, with a chiseled jaw, straight nose, and sharp blue eyes. The scars by his mouth and on his jawbone were pronounced and added to the aura of sinewy strength.

  Yancy looked nothing like him, except that he was built like his father. Over six feet, with long, muscular legs, wide shoulders, thick chest, brawny biceps—in this frame they were almost identical.

  Even their hands looked alike.

  Rebecca Tremayne was no fainting flower certainly. Tall and slim, Becky always stood and sat very erect, with a severe grace. With her thick jet black hair, penetrating dark blue eyes and wide, firm mouth, she was the picture of a woman of vitality and fortitude. She was not beautiful, but she was attractive in a magnetic way, even dressed in the sober Amish garments and her modest prayer cap.

  Now Dr. Hayden asked, “Would you like some refreshment?”

  Daniel answered, “Thank you, but we are very anxious to see Yancy, you know.”

  Dr. Hayden nodded and rose, motioning them to follow him up the stairs. “Certainly. I’ll take you to his room, but it’s time for his morning coffee anyway, so I’ll have Missy bring up a pot. Would that suit you, or would you care for something else? Tea, or fresh juice?”

  “We would dearly love coffee,” Becky said gratefully. “Daniel and I are so glad that the Amish don’t regard the love of coffee as a sin. I’m afraid we would be tempted to break that commandment if they did.”

  Dr. Hayden brought them to Yancy’s room. He could sit up now, for Elijah had brought the wing chair that matched Lorena’s up to his room, and he was comfortable in it for long periods of time.

  Now he tried to stand up, but Becky rushed to him and threw her arms around him before he could rise. “Oh, Yancy, Yancy, how we’ve missed you! How frightened we were when we heard you’d been injured!” She released him and stepped back.

  Daniel came and gave him a hug. “I’m so glad you’re all right, son,” he said huskily. “Hearing about you and not being there was the hardest time I’ve ever had.”

  “I’m really all right, you know. Good nursing.” He winked at Lorena then said, “Becky, Father, this is Lorena. Lorena, meet my father and second mother.”

  Lorena held out her hand to Daniel, who took it and held it warmly for a minute, and she and Becky nodded politely, as gentlewomen did upon introductions. Lorena said, “Please, won’t you make yourselves comfortable sitting on the bed? Yancy just got up a few minutes ago, and I have no intention of letting him laze around back in bed yet.”

  Daniel and Becky laughed as they seated themselves on the bed. Becky said, “I see you must be a good nurse for Yancy. Don’t take any of his nonsense.”

  “She doesn’t,” Yancy sighed. “Reminds me a lot of you, Becky.”

  “I regard that as a compliment,” Lorena said primly.

  “It is,” Yancy agreed.

  Becky and Daniel looked Yancy up and down, Becky with narrowed critical eyes. “You look terrible,” she said severely.

  Yancy rolled his eyes. “Don’t waste words or flatter me, Becky. Just go ahead and say what you mean.”

  “I like a lady that speaks her mind plainly, Mrs. Tremayne. I think that is a sign of honesty and therefore is a virtue,” Lorena said.

  “Then you and Becky are the most virtuous women I’ve ever met,” Yancy said with exasperation.

  “Thank you,” Becky and Lorena said in unison, in the same sarcastic tone. They stared at each other in surprise, then both of them giggled like young girls.

  “They are a lot alike, aren’t they?” Daniel observed, bemused.

  Missy brought coffee and served everyone. Becky eyed Yancy again with doubt. “Yancy, I really am concerned about you. Please, how do you feel? How are you progressing?” Lorena had written to them, explaining his injuries in detail.

  “I’m doing well, considering,” he answered thoughtfully. He still had not regained his robust color, and naturally he had lost weight. He hadn’t required a bandage around his head for a few days now, as the incision was healing nicely. But it was still an angry red streak across his right temple, and the stitches weren’t out yet, so the site was thick and still swollen, with the tie ends of the lurid black catgut sticking out.

  He continued, “I’m having some headaches, but not so often and the pain gets less every day. And my arm is good. I’ve been using it a little, but Dr. Hayden says that I need to keep it pretty still for another few days. I just started getting up two days ago.” He grinned. “That first time was a real corker. I thought, sure, I canjust pop up out of this bed and walk around the room a few times. I stood up and then sat right back down, thank you very much, with the room spinning around me like a top and my eyes crossing with dizziness.”

  Lorena added, “You can joke, Yancy, but that scared me to death. If Elijah hadn’t been here you would’ve crumpled right down to that floor.”

  “Maybe,” he said carelessly. “Anyway, I took it real slow the next time, and got up a few times, just for a few minutes, day before yesterday. Yesterday I got up and even went downstairs,” he said proudly.

  “Really? Kinda soon, isn’t it? Don’t rush it, son,” Daniel cautioned him.

  Lorena sniffed. “Believe me, he won’t do that again for a while. It took him about half an hour to get down the stairs, and then, of course, he was too weak to climb back up. Elijah had to carry him like a big baby.”

  “He did, too,” Yancy agreed good-naturedly. “Embarrassing, that was. But I was so sure I could do it.”

  “Oh yes, you were so sure, Mr. Smarty-britches, and could anyone talk you out of it? No, sir, not Sergeant Yancy Tremayne, one of Stonewall’s Boys,” Lorena said disdainfully.

  “Yeah, she’s a whole lot like you, Beck. Good thing, too,” Daniel observed cryptically.

  “It is,” Yancy agreed, grinning. “I’m really glad.”

  They talked for a while but it was true that Yancy did still tire easily. Becky and Daniel left him alone, meeting Elijah on the way out, as he was coming to help Yancy back to bed. They thanked him profusely for taking such good care of their son.

  They settled in the guest bedroom and then had a very good lunch with Lily and Dr. Hayden. He explained Yancy’s mental state more clearly to them. “I’m sure Lorena wrote you that memory loss is a very common result of a skull fracture. Yancy’s appears to be fairly slight, but I’ve found that he has a natural reticence and won’t talk much about his feelings, what he’s worried about, if he’s anxious. It�
��s hard to tell the extent of his amnesia, but he does seem to recall all the most important people in his life—you, his family; us, his close friends; General Jackson; his friends in the Stonewall Brigade. He’s very lucid and insightful about the events in the war, so he seems to have retained all of his knowledge of being a soldier and of tactical and even strategic wartime moves.”

  Becky asked rather anxiously, “So it’s clear what he remembers. But what about what he’s lost? What memories?”

  Dr. Hayden shook his head. “As I said, he’s a reserved young man. He doesn’t like to confide in me. He and Lorena have grown close, naturally, but she says he won’t tell her anything about how his memory has been affected. I was hoping, Mr. Tremayne, that he might confide in you. It’s obvious that he respects you, looks up to you, trusts you, and loves you deeply. I believe there’s a better chance of his talking to you than to anyone.”

  Daniel nodded. “I’ll talk to him alone this afternoon. And I hope you’re right, Dr. Hayden. No one needs to go through something like this alone.”

  Later that afternoon—after he and Becky rested for a time in their room—Daniel went to Yancy’s bedroom and saw that he was awake, sitting up in bed, talking to Lorena.

  Lorena shrewdly said, “Mr. Tremayne, if you’re going to visit with Yancy awhile, I think I’ll go take a nap. Certainly, though, come get me or my father if you should need us.”

  Daniel sat down by Yancy’s bedside and they talked, mostly about home and Callie Jo, who was four years old now, and David, who was a precocious two-year-old. Yancy wanted to know all the news about everyone in the community, and so Daniel told him all the gossip he could possibly think of.

  “Hannah Lapp is getting married in November,” Daniel told him, watching him shrewdly. Yancy had been very enamored of Hannah when he was fifteen.

  “Is she? Who’s she marrying?” he asked with no sign of regret, only curiosity.

  With relief Daniel replied, “Nate Raber. You remember him, Sol’s middle son. Big beefy boy like Sol, but seems like a gentle and kind man.”