May I presume upon our family ties and ask one more favor of you? If I do not survive this war, please see to her well-being, especially if the South should win. I do not mean to tie you to her. I only want to make sure that she will never return to slavery, as there is considerable doubt I will be able to see to it. I have contracted measles, and though I have recovered from the initial disease, complications have landed me in a Washington hospital where I am expected to either die or be discharged following my recovery. Either way, I will no longer be fit for service.
Emily paused in her reading. Her hands began to tremble. She had prepared herself for death on the battlefield or capture and imprisonment. But to die of something so common as measles? It knocked the air from her lungs. She read to the end of the letter and scanned it a second time in its entirety, but Jeremiah made no mention of the nature of his complications.
She flipped the envelope over and studied the return address: Freedman’s Hospital, Washington, DC.
Washington was only forty miles away. She would go there and find out for herself.
Within half an hour she was boarding a train. She carried a sandwich, hastily prepared by Mrs. Calkins, as well as her homework, which she managed to finish during the ride, though she wouldn’t vouch for its accuracy. Another hour and she was asking for directions in Washington. As she made her way through the approaching twilight, she was glad she had remembered a sweater.
The hospital was a complex of tents and low clapboard buildings in an undeveloped section of the city. Bordered on one side by a thick stand of trees, it took up most of a city block. She chose one of the buildings to enter. Every face she saw was black.
“Excuse me,” she said, catching the attention of one of the nurses. “I’m looking for my brother, Jeremiah Preston.”
The woman looked her up and down, barely concealing her skepticism.
“Do you know where I can find him?”
“No, miss. Go through this building to the next. They can help you.”
“Thank you.”
The man in the office gave her directions to a specific building. The hospital serviced not only soldiers but the entire colored community. When Emily passed through a ward of women and children, she knew she’d made a wrong turn. An orderly finally led her to a building at the rear.
Daylight had faded, making it difficult to identify the ward’s occupants, though her nose recognized the many odors of sickness and the pungent smells of remedies. She walked down the long row of beds and searched each face, looking for her brother’s familiar features. Dark eyes peered back at her. She passed down one side of the room and back up the other without finding him.
“Jeremiah?” she asked in sudden panic. The orderly said he was here. Had he been moved? Had he…died? “Jeremiah Preston?”
“Emily?”
Relief poured over her. His voice came from one of the first beds she had passed. He sounded strong and awake. How had he not noticed her? The only white person in the ward, she stood out like a polka-dotted elephant. As she hurried to his bedside, the reason became abundantly clear. Thick bandages wrapped all the way around her brother’s head, completely covering his eyes. He hadn’t been unobservant.
Jeremiah was blind.
23
Even as Emily acknowledged the devastating loss of her brother’s vision, she dropped beside the camp bed and grasped his hand with thanksgiving. “Jeremiah, I’m here.” His skin felt hot to her touch. Apart from the bandages and some mild scarring on his arms, he looked better than most of the men in the ward. He certainly wasn’t at the edge of death as his note had led her to believe. “I received your letter and came immediately.”
“Emily.” It was the only word he could manage. His fingers clamped tightly to hers.
“How did this happen?”
He had to swallow three times before he could answer. “The infection spread to the nerves in my eyes.”
“Do you have any sight left?”
“We won’t know till they take off the bandages.” His voice quavered. “I’ve marched into artillery fire without flinching, but the thought of being blind terrifies me.”
“I’m here, and I’m not leaving.” She touched his face. “I’m just so glad you’re alive. I don’t think I could bury another bro—” Her voice broke on the word. She cleared her throat, conscious of the many stares being directed at them from neighboring beds. “How long have you been here?”
“Seven or eight days.”
“When’s the last time you’ve been outside?”
“Not counting ambulance rides? Weeks.”
“It’s a beautiful autumn evening. Would you care for a walk?”
He hesitated. No doubt the idea was daunting. “I’ll try. If you’ll pass me my boots.”
As Jeremiah sat on the edge of the bed tying the laces by feel, she could see now how much flesh had wasted off him. She helped him rise, offering her strong shoulder to support him. His legs trembled, but they didn’t buckle.
A colored nurse hurried over to confront them. “Miss, this man shouldn’t be out of bed.”
“Why not?”
“Only the medical staff are allowed to move patients.”
Emily continued guiding Jeremiah’s faltering steps toward the door. “I have served as a nurse in both Union and Confederate wards,” she said coolly. “This is my first time in a Negro hospital, but I’m sure the concept is the same.”
She felt Jeremiah’s soft snort.
“If you’ll excuse us, I’m going to take this man outside for a breath of fresh air. I promise I’ll bring him back when we’re finished.”
The woman stepped back uncertainly and watched them pass.
Hers wasn’t the only attention they drew. A fashionable white woman mashed beneath the arm of an injured black soldier wasn’t a common sight anywhere. It prompted some laughter and a few racy remarks from the bedridden soldiers. Jeremiah fired back some choice insults of his own, but Emily ignored them completely. Her entire energy was focused on keeping them both upright.
Jeremiah’s strength gave out not far from the doorway. She helped ease him to the ground where he could prop his back against the hospital wall. A mild breeze teased them from the corner of the building. “These legs haven’t seen much active duty lately,” he apologized, rubbing at one of his calf muscles.
Emily collapsed her hoops beside him, remembering how weak she’d felt after her last bout with fever and ague. And how Jeremiah had been strong for both of them when she’d journeyed to Jack’s bedside so soon after her recovery. It was her turn to repay him in kind. “Have you told Sarah?”
He shook his head. “I couldn’t take it if she gave up on me now.”
“Oh, Jeremiah, she loves you more than that.”
“I hope so, but I’m too afraid to risk it.”
“You’ll have to tell her eventually.”
“I know. And I will. Just not until we know more.”
Perhaps it was better that Sarah didn’t receive an emotional letter full of half-truths when she was too far away to judge their authenticity. Emily had best write to Sarah herself. “When will they remove the bandages?”
“After the doctor is certain the infection has run its course.” His hands clenched into fists. “Emily, what if I really am blind? What if they take off the gauze and I can’t see anything?”
“We don’t know that will happen.”
“The doctors think so.” His voice began to quaver. “Where will I live? How will I support myself? How can I ask Sarah to marry me if I can’t provide for her?”
“Jeremiah, you’re worrying well into the future. Let’s take it one day at a time.”
But his fears had begun roiling from their deep confinement and had to be exorcized in full. “I can’t ask others to care for me. I refuse to be a burden someone else has to labor under. If I can’t work, I might as well be dead.”
She pinched his arm hard. “I never want to hear you say that again.”
He was so quiet, so still, that she wasn’t sure he’d even heard her. “Do you remember Old Jim?” he asked.
“Should I?”
“He was an old, old slave on the plantation when I was very young. Completely blind, with eyes as milky as the clouds. He’d sit on a little stool in front of his house day after day. My friends and I thought it was great fun to throw pebbles at him and watch him flinch when one struck him. You have no idea how much I regret that now. It’s horrible, not knowing what’s next to you, not seeing what’s coming. And the humiliation…” His chin quivered. “I wish I could go back and apologize.”
“You were a child, Jeremiah. If you were as young as you say, he probably knew exactly what you were doing and played along.”
He didn’t seem to hear her. “I don’t want to be another Old Jim. I would give anything, anything, to see again.”
She shook him gently but firmly. “That’s enough of this. You’re going to fret yourself into a state of melancholia. We’ll face trouble when it comes but not one minute before, do you understand?”
Though she’d witnessed the effects of war on hundreds of men who passed under her care, she’d been unprepared for Jeremiah’s deep insecurities. As his only family, she realized he was going to need her greatly in the days to come.
He turned his face toward her. “Emily, I’m sorry. You’ve come all this way and I haven’t even asked about Mr. Jovie. How is he?”
Emily pressed her lips together before answering. “I haven’t found him yet.”
“You’ve tried along the waterfront?”
“I’ve looked everywhere. I located the company he was delivering for when you spotted him last spring, but he’d already moved on. I haven’t given up though.”
Subdued by her misfortune, he fiddled with the laces on his boot. “I’m awfully tired. Would you help me back inside?”
While they talked, the sun had uttered its last few gasps and drowned beneath the surface of the trees. Emily tugged Jeremiah to his feet and guided him back through the ward, careful not to let him knock into anything. He settled onto his bed with a rueful grimace. “Hard to imagine I was marching twenty miles a day only a few weeks ago. I feel as weak as a kitten.”
“You’ll gain back your strength. Especially if they keep feeding you like this,” she said as the same nurse delivered a tray of food. The other soldiers were already eating.
The nurse eyed Emily primly. “Excuse me. I have to feed Mr. Preston.”
“I can do it.” Emily took the tray from her hands. “I’m sure you have other tasks awaiting your attention.”
The woman hesitated before nodding and walking away. Clearly she was speculating at the relationship Jeremiah and Emily shared, and she wasn’t approving of her conclusions. Emily tucked in a neat little smile. Let her imagine.
“I’m going to set this tray on your lap,” she warned Jeremiah. “Are you ready?”
He jerked his hands back in surprise. “All right.”
Emily had no intention of feeding him. She figured the same principles she had employed with her father would also work with Jeremiah. If he was blind, he’d eventually have to learn to live with his disability. Teaching him sooner rather than later might actually be a kindness.
She set the tray down carefully and moved the cup of coffee aside. “Give me your hand.” Placing his fingertips on the tray, she ordered, “Pick up your fork.”
He caught on to what she was doing and jerked his arm away. “I’m not so sure this is a good idea.”
“It’s brilliant.” She put the fork in his hand and touched the tines to each item of food. “These are green beans. These are boiled potatoes; careful, they’re round and slippery. You may need to chase them down with your fingers. And this is a slice of roast beef. I’ve cut it for you this time.”
“This time?”
“Tomorrow I might make you cut it yourself.”
“You’re coming back?” he asked hopefully.
“Of course I’m coming back. As soon as class lets out. Let me know when you want your coffee. I’ve set it on the floor so you won’t knock it over.”
“I’m still not sure this is a good idea.”
“Try or I’ll drink your coffee.”
His lip quirked. “You don’t like coffee.”
He ate slowly and with a few spills, but Emily only had to chase down one potato. When he finished, she set the tray on the floor and praised his efforts. “You’ve earned this,” she said, placing the coffee cup in his hand.
“Actually, I’m pretty tired. May I trade it for a glass of water?”
She located a pitcher midway down the long room. Flinging the coffee out the door, she refilled the cup. After he drank his fill, she tugged off his boots and helped him under the covers.
“I’ve got a long trip home,” she told him. “Do you need anything else before I go?”
“I’m all right.” He groped for her hand, and she let him catch it. “You have no idea what your presence means to me. Will you come when they take off the bandages?”
She gave his fingers a squeeze. “I’ll be here.”
***
Emily spent every evening in the hospital, boarding the train immediately after class and walking home from the depot after darkness had fallen. By the end of the second week, she’d fallen behind in several of her classes, but the dark glimpse into Jeremiah’s soul had stayed with her. She couldn’t leave him alone. Not right now.
As she chose a simple dress from her wardrobe Saturday morning, Missouri studied her quizzically. “You have to work today?”
“I work till noon every Saturday.”
“You’re not going to the Exhibition?”
Emily paused with the garment halfway over her head. “I forgot all about it.”
Missouri laughed. “You forgot? The entire city has been gearing up for weeks.”
“I’ve been a little preoccupied.” She tugged the dress into place and fastened the neat row of buttons.
“Are you attending after work?”
She shook her head. “I’m looking for Jovie.”
“Emily, take the afternoon off. You’re going to wear yourself out.”
“You know I can’t. It’s the only opportunity I’ll have all week.”
Missouri’s expression climbed from disapproval to enthusiasm. “I’ve got a wonderful idea! The Exhibition draws thousands of people. Why don’t you leave a picture of Jovie with your other work. Write a message on it and let Baltimore come to you!”
Emily clapped her hands. “Missouri, you’re brilliant! I need a frame.”
Missouri snatched a painting of spring blooms off the wall. “Mrs. Calkins will never notice. If she does, we’ll apologize later.” Prying the frame from the canvas, she handed it to Emily and tossed the painting in a desk drawer. Emily folded an image of Jovie to fit. Then, with careful strokes, she inked a line of calligraphy: Missing soldier. If you’ve seen this man, please contact Emily Preston, care of the Maryland Institute.
She surveyed the finished product with satisfaction. It would never pass muster with the Exhibition board, but like Missouri, she wouldn’t ask. “Want to help me deliver it?”
“Sorry. Important business this morning.”
“Another stroll past your someday boardinghouse?” It was a habit her roommate had fallen into. Missouri grinned and nodded.
Feeling far less constrained, Emily ate her first full breakfast in a week. Thirty minutes later, she set the borrowed frame between the lamplight photograph and the portrait of the Bowditch girls. No one browsing her display could possibly miss it. And hopefully no one with authority would remove it.
The Great Hall was already beginning to fill with the month’s first visitors. Emily scurried through the exhibits without looking at any of them. The sense of wonder she enjoyed last year had dissipated. This year, more important matters required her attention.
She slipped out of the hall and down the street without pausing to s
peak with anyone. Her shoulder already throbbed from the week’s busyness, but she could manage, especially if she stayed home to catch up on schoolwork after services tomorrow. She hurried on to the studio feeling quite satisfied with herself.
Until she reached the last corner. There, with breathtaking swiftness, her composure crumbled into dust.
A phaeton pulled by a sleek black mare stopped directly in front of her. Emily saw scores of horses every day in Baltimore, but never one so like Chantilly. This was a black Thoroughbred, beautiful in her proportions, with the same queenly bearing and dainty feet that pranced in place when she stopped. The driver moved on, but the brief encounter opened that chamber where affection still lingered without any hope of being returned. She arrived to the studio a sniveling mess.
“Good morning, Emily,” Daniel called from the back room. He pulled aside the curtain. “Mr. Abell will be here in… Emily, what’s wrong? Are your parents—?”
“They’re fine.”
“Then what is it?”
She set her valise down with a thunk. “I’m just tired.” She sniffed. Chantilly was gone and she needed to come to terms with it. “It’s making me ridiculous.”
“I’ve never known you to be ridiculous. You’ve had a couple difficult weeks. Are you all right?”
She nodded, wiping at her eyes.
“Is there anything you want to talk about?”
“Talking will only make me cry harder. Just give me a few minutes, okay?”
He stepped aside as she pushed through the curtain.
She went straight to the bucket of water Daniel used to fill the coffeepot and ladled out a dipperful. After taking a long drink, she splashed the rest on her face. It did nothing for her heart, but it soothed her hot eyes. A deep breath and the replacement of a few hairpins and she felt serene enough to restart her day. She’d save further tears for later.
Ebb Tide (Ella Wood Book 3) Page 25