“Is that right?” His smile dimmed a bit.
“Not really.” She shot a look of warning to Jane. Thad might not approve of women doing such masculine work. “You remember my brother-in-law, Blake Matthews?”
He nodded.
“We went to visit his family in Cape Girardeau, Missouri, because his father had been in an accident. Blake’s aunt was caring for him, and she showed me some of the basic treatments she used.”
“Don’t be so modest, Camellia.” Jane turned to her brother. “Even Sister Alice was impressed with her today. She has asked us to come back to the hospital again in the morning.”
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” Thad’s face wore a frown as his gaze moved between the two of them. “Now that it’s growing warmer, yellow fever may settle on the hospital. I wouldn’t want to see either of you getting sick.”
“I agree.” Mrs. Watkins pushed back her chair. “I think we should plan an outing instead.”
“That’s an excellent idea, Mother. I can ask for a few hours off tomorrow and take you ladies on a picnic.”
Jane clapped her hands, but Camellia felt little enthusiasm for the idea. “But we promised Sister Al—”
“Don’t worry about that.” Thad put down his fork. “I’ll send a note explaining that you’ve been detained. She ought not be so dependent on you anyway. I’m certain the doctors at the hospital have more than enough experience to take care of our soldiers.”
Unable to protest further in the face of their enthusiasm, Camellia desisted. She didn’t like the idea of disappointing the nun, but she was not free to follow her own inclinations. Perhaps she could at least use the outing to gather fresh herbs and roots to replace what she had used today. As her host and hostesses began to make plans, she made a mental list of what she would need. She was determined to use her time wisely and continue the work God had set for her to do.
A distant thunderstorm woke Camellia from her troubled dreams. She stretched her hands over her head and wondered if it would rain all day. She was so tired of spring showers that turned the streets into muddy bayous and raised the level of the waterways surrounding the city. The storm would also put an end to the picnic and to her plan to gather medicaments.
Another clap of thunder sounded, this time much closer. She looked toward her window. The thick curtains stopped her from seeing much, but flashes of lightning shone around their edge.
As they faded, someone began banging on her bedroom door.
Camellia sat up and pulled the sheet up to her chin. “Who’s there?”
“Camellia, wake up.” She recognized Thad’s deep voice. What was he doing outside her bedchamber? “Get dressed quickly and come downstairs.”
She heard his footsteps as he walked away. What was going on? She pushed back the covers and put her bare feet on the floor.
Another knock on the door heralded one of the maids, who entered with a lit candle. “I’ma help you dress, ma’am.” The girl sounded terrified. “We’s all going to the caves.”
More claps of thunder sounded, and Camellia realized what she was hearing was not the sound of nature. The city was under attack. The house shook as a mortar struck somewhere nearby. Would the next one land on top of the Watkinses’ home?
The maid used her candle to light a three-pronged candlestick on the mantel. The additional light chased away some of the shadows in the room, making it easier for the two women to work.
The maid picked up the navy blue skirt she’d worn at dinner the evening before and shook it out. Camellia started to untie the collar of her dressing gown but realized it could serve as a chemise. The skirt went on over it, and she thrust her arms into the matching blouse, buttoning the cuffs with trembling fingers as the maid addressed the back closures Camellia could not reach. In record time, she was presentable, even though her hair was in a single braid and her nightcap was still attached to her head. The screams of the mortar fire made her head pound as she grabbed her bag of medicines and ran down the stairs.
Thad was pacing in the foyer.
“What’s happening?” She had to raise her voice to be heard over the noise.
Thad looked grim. “It looks like the whole Yankee fleet has decided to converge here. But don’t worry. We’re too high above the river for them to be able to send soldiers into the city. The poor fellows would be mowed down by our boys before they got halfway up the bluff.”
His reassurance brought her some relief. “Then what are they doing?”
“Probably just trying to rob us of a good night’s sleep.”
Jane tromped down the stairs, her hair still in a braid like Camellia’s. “Then they are succeeding.”
Mrs. Watkins was right behind her. She carried a candle in one hand and an ornate box that probably held her jewelry in the other. “Are we ready to go?”
Thad nodded and opened the front door.
Billowing smoke made all of them cough. Camellia couldn’t see much through it except for the red and yellow flames from a nearby house that had caught fire. She climbed into the carriage after Mrs. Watkins and Jane, moving far enough over for Thad to sit next to her on the rear-facing bench.
“I can’t come with you.” He stood for a moment in the opening to the carriage, his face drawn.
Mrs. Watkins put down her jewelry box and reached for her son’s hand. “You can’t send us to the caves alone.”
“It will be all right, Mother. You know Thad has a duty to fulfill.” Jane pulled her mother back. “We’ll be safe in the cave.”
Thad threw a relieved glance at his sister before turning to Camellia. “I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone our picnic.”
Another mortar screamed overhead as if making fun of his statement. She waited until it sailed past before answering him. “Don’t worry about that or about us. Jane and I will take care of your mother. You need to focus on keeping yourself and your men safe.”
He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “Thank you for being so brave.”
Although she didn’t feel particularly brave at the moment, Camellia summoned a smile. “We’ll be praying for you.”
As soon as he let go of her hand, Thad stepped back and slammed the door shut. They heard his command to the driver, and the carriage moved forward.
She closed her eyes and began to pray that God would protect them and allow them to survive the night.
The ride through town was slow but steady. The shelling seemed a little less constant as they escaped the center of Vicksburg.
Swaying with the movement of the carriage, Camellia finished her prayer and opened her eyes.
Mrs. Watkins slumped in a corner, her handkerchief hiding her face.
Jane peered out of the carriage window, looking for all the world like she was no more frightened than if they were making a morning call. “We’re almost there.” The carriage stopped, and she pushed open the door without waiting for the coachman to dismount. “Come along, Mother. The sooner we’re inside, the better you’ll feel.”
The cave was not as bad as Camellia had imagined. She had to bend over to navigate the entrance, but once inside, she found the roof sufficiently high so that she could straighten. Some of the household slaves must have already come over and lit the candles that glowed from alcoves in the wall. The dirt floor was covered with a rug, and several wooden chairs had been brought from the house.
“The bedrooms are separate from this room.” Jane pointed to a corridor to her right. “We only dug two of them—one for females and one for any men.”
“What about your slaves?”
Mrs. Watkins looked at her as though she’d grown an extra head. “What about them?”
Camellia glanced around for a secondary corridor. “Where do they sleep?”
“Outside. They’re much hardier than you think.”
She cringed at the cold note in the older lady’s voice. Did she think the slaves didn’t need protection, too? They were the ones who had dug the cave sys
tem for the family. It was inconceivable to her that Mrs. Watkins hadn’t thought to provide a safe place for them to shelter. Yet she wondered if Aunt Dahlia and Uncle Phillip wouldn’t agree with Mrs. Watkins’s assessment. Camellia glanced at Jane and saw the same incomprehension in her friend’s gaze. Was she the only one who thought the slaves deserved space in the cave?
Another anchor to her long-held affection for the Southern way of life fell away. Camellia could not imagine thinking so little of other human beings.
Mrs. Watkins yawned. “I think I’ll lie down a little while. Do you have anything for a headache in that bag of yours?”
Camellia considered the question before nodding. “I have some chamomile for a soothing tea. Is there somewhere I can brew it?”
“We have a fire pit right next to the entrance.” Jane took her mother’s arm and headed for the back. “I’ll come out to assist you as soon as I help Mother get comfortable.”
Camellia picked up her bag and retraced her steps, taking a deep breath as she emerged into the cool predawn air. Several of the slaves were sitting around the fire Jane had mentioned, but they scrambled to their feet as she approached. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I need to prepare some tea for your mistress.” Spotting a pot to one side of the fire, she moved toward it. “Is there any water already drawn?”
The little maid who had helped her dress stepped forward. “Yes, Miss Anderson. I can fill that from one of the buckets.”
“If you’ll show me where they are, I’ll be glad to do it for myself.” Even as she spoke, Camellia realized how much she had changed in the months since she’d left New Orleans. The haughty student at La Belle Demoiselle was gone. Hopefully, she would never return.
Chapter Thirty-nine
Jean Luc wanted to turn and run from his parents’ house. His throat was tight with fear. Why had he come? Why hadn’t he said no to Anna?
Because she was right. The answer in his head didn’t quiet his fear, but it did give him the strength to raise his hand and knock. They had talked about this moment several times during the voyage from Cape Girardeau, and he’d thought he was ready. But now he wasn’t so sure.
“I’m right here with you, and so is God.”
Anna’s whispered reminder buoyed him. He reached for her hand, squeezing it to show his appreciation.
The door opened a few inches, and the familiar face of their butler appeared. “We have a side entrance for tradesmen.”
“I’m not a tradesman.” Jean Luc turned his head so the man could see the unscarred side of his face.
The butler gasped. “Master Champney? Is it really you?”
Jean Luc nodded. The butler pulled the door open the rest of the way and bowed. “Your ma and pa are in the library, sir. And they’re gonna be so happy.”
The welcoming look in the older man’s eyes warmed him further. “Thank you, Carson. I hope you’re right.”
“Oh yes, sir. You’re gonna be the prodigal son for sure.”
Offering his arm to Anna, Jean Luc stepped over the threshold. “I’ll announce myself.”
Carson bowed once more and reached out a hand for Jean Luc’s hat.
The house seemed unchanged, as though frozen in time. Ornate furniture from Europe clogged the hall, and his long-dead ancestors stared down at him as he escorted his fiancée toward the room the butler had indicated. He stopped for a moment and faced Anna. “Let’s say a prayer.”
“Of course.” Her smile was as slow as ever, dawning with the stately radiance of the sunrise.
He took her hands in his own and bowed his head. He didn’t know exactly what he wanted to say to God, but after a moment the words seemed to flow out of him. “Lord, thank You for this woman who is lending her strength to me. Please help my parents forgive me for deceiving them, and help them understand why I did what I did. I know how wrong it was, and I’m sorry for hurting them. Please help me to be the son they deserve, one who honors them in the way You always intended. Thank You, Lord, for hearing me…. Amen.”
“Amen,” Anna echoed. She stood on tiptoe and planted a feather-soft kiss on his cheek. “I’m so proud of you.”
Jean Luc took a deep breath and pushed the library door open. His father was seated at his mahogany desk, a pile of papers in front of him. He looked up as the door opened. “What is it?”
His mother, seated in her favorite chair next to a southern-facing window, gasped and dropped the needlework in her hand.
“Papa? Mama? It’s me, Jean Luc.”
His father rocked back in his chair as though blown back by a high wind. “Jean Luc?”
Mama sprang from her chair and took a step forward before crumpling to the floor.
All three of them rushed to her side. Jean Luc picked up her head and shoulders and placed them on his lap. Anna bent over him and waved a handkerchief in front of his mother’s face.
Papa fell to his knees on the other side of Mama. He picked up one of her hands and chafed it, but his dark eyes devoured Jean Luc’s face. “Is it really you, my son?”
He nodded, overwhelmed by so many emotions he could not speak.
His mother’s eyelids fluttered open, and a beautiful smile swept across her face. “You have come back to us.”
Both of the men helped her regain her feet and led her back to her chair.
“Your mother never truly believed you were dead.”
“I am so sorry. I didn’t want to bring more shame to you,” Jean Luc blurted out, forgetting the speech he’d practiced. “I almost died in the explosion of the Hattie Belle. When I came to, I was so ashamed of what I’d done. Of the pain I had caused my friends and family…. I didn’t know what else to do except disappear.”
His mother put a hand on his arm. “You should have known that we would rather have you with us no matter what happened. We love you, Jean Luc. Nothing you do or fail to do can ever change that.”
“She’s right.” His father held out his arms to him. “I am the one who should be asking for forgiveness. I realize now how hard I was on you.”
Jean Luc stepped into the embrace, hugging the dear man with all his might. “No, Papa. You were right to expect me to be a man. I’m the one who let both of you down.”
“No, it was my fault.”
“Why don’t you all agree that none of us are perfect except Jesus?” Anna’s calm voice broke through their conversation. “That is why He died for us, after all. We have many things to forgive of one another.”
His parents looked toward Anna as though they’d only just realized she was in the room. Breaking free of his father’s hold, Jean Luc swept a hand in her direction. “Please allow me to introduce Miss Anna Matthews, the reason I finally found the courage to return to you and the woman who has agreed to become my wife.”
A brief pause filled the room. His parents looked at each other and smiled.
Mama pushed herself up from her chair and put an arm around each of them. “Welcome to our family, Miss Anna Matthews. We’ve been waiting for you for a very long time.”
And Jean Luc knew everything was going to be all right.
“Port Gibson has fallen, and still Pemberton won’t send us out to face the Yanks.” Thad paced across his mother’s parlor, pounding one of his fists into a cupped palm. “He’s going to cost us the whole war.”
“Perhaps he thinks you need to stay here and protect the citizens of Vicksburg.” Mrs. Watkins poured warm tea into a cup and offered it to her daughter.
Jane took the proffered cup. “I heard he’s nothing more than a transported Yankee himself.”
Camellia knew she should probably keep her opinions to herself, but she didn’t think the man’s reputation should be shredded by gossip. “I thought he was a hero in the Mexican War.”
“That’s true.” Thad stopped his pacing. “But it’s also true that two of his brothers are fighting for the Union.”
Not wanting to start an argument, she desisted. Sometimes she caught Thad looking at her with a q
uestion in his gaze as if he still wondered exactly when she’d discovered that Jonah was a Union sympathizer. He wouldn’t be happy if he knew the truth. But she had no intention of telling him. Nor did she have any intention of telling him about the time she’d spent with Jonah and his brother’s family in Memphis right before coming here.
“Don’t you agree, Camellia?”
She came out of the fog of her thoughts when she heard her name. All three were looking at her. “I’m sorry. I missed what you said.”
“We were discussing whether or not we should leave Vicksburg.” Jane put down her tea. “I think we should remain here and do whatever we can at the hospital.”
Camellia nodded. She and Jane had spent a great deal of time working with the soldiers. “Besides, you’ve always said we are safe here. With its high bluffs and command of the river, Vicksburg will stand strong until the war is over.”
Thad looked troubled as he considered them. “I don’t know if that will hold true now that Grant and his army have gained a foothold in Mississippi. Especially since our general seems content to remain hiding in his garrison.”
“I don’t want to be so far from you, either.” Mrs. Watkins nibbled at a cookie, one of the last they were likely to have given the rising cost of sugar. “We have our cave to run to in case of need.”
“If you’re certain, I must admit that I like knowing you are close by.” Thad sat down on the sofa near Camellia’s chair. “But I want you to promise that you’ll consider limiting your time with the soldiers at the hospital.”
Camellia’s heart fell to her toes. She didn’t like to cause further worry when Thad had so much on his mind. “The doctors have begun to rely on Jane and me to take care of the cases that are not so desperate. Every day more soldiers are being brought in.” She put a hand on his arm. “If you could see them in such pain and fear.”
He covered her hand with his own. “Your tender heart is leading you astray, Camellia. I know you want to help, and I know you think that you are filling a need, but I want you to consider your health and your reputation, as well as Jane’s.” His gaze was sincere.
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