by Becky Lower
“You and the colonel seem to be hitting it off quite nicely. I’ve noticed how he slows down long enough to do a bit more than say hello when you’re with me.”
Pepper smiled. “I don’t know about hitting it off, but I know he enjoys my cook’s meals. He works tirelessly, and I fear for his health. So, whenever I go there now, I pack a meal for him and make sure he takes time to eat it. I figure if he’s sitting and talking to me, at least he’s getting some rest from the demands he places on himself. There’s nothing else to the relationship, Mother, so stop trying to work your matchmaking on me. The man is hungry, that’s all.”
“Yes, but perhaps he’s not merely hungry for food,” Charlotte said.
Pepper glanced at her father, whose eyes held a glimmer, and his lips were curled in a smile. She emitted a groan at her mother’s comment, and her father could no longer control himself. He began to laugh. It took only a second for Pepper to join in.
Charlotte harrumphed. “Do not laugh at my matchmaking efforts! I’ve done quite well in that department with my children.”
“Yes, Mother.” Pepper’s laugh became harder to control, and her uneasy stomach began to cramp. “I remember how you managed for Michael and me to be alone together. Such underhandedness.”
When the joviality simmered, Pepper wiped the happy tears from her eyes and placed her hand on her heart as she caught her breath. “We should not be so jolly when there are men dying on our behalf.”
George stopped laughing, too, and picked up his paper again. “On the contrary, Pepper, we should laugh at every opportunity. Spit in the eye of the Confederacy.” Before he buried himself between the pages of his newspaper once more, he glanced at her. “You didn’t come here today to get the latest war news, I’m sure. What are you planning?”
“I want to take Matthew and Mark to the cemetery to visit their father, so I wondered if you’d be interested in entertaining a little baby while we’re gone. If not, I can leave him with the nanny.”
“You’ll do no such thing!” Charlotte’s head snapped up. “Usually the boys visit all at the same time, and the two older ones run me ragged. I’d love to be able to concentrate on little Luke by himself for a few hours. But you haven’t been to the cemetery in months. Why now?”
Pepper shrugged before she replied, “Something Colonel Williams said the last time I was at the hospital has prompted this outing. He mentioned we are so focused on fighting the war and caring for the injured that the dead are virtually forgotten, left to lie on some faraway battlefield, for the animals to pick over or, at best, placed in a hasty shallow grave. We were lucky to have Michael’s body shipped home, so he’s buried in a proper cemetery. I want the boys to remember who he was and his sacrifice for them.”
Charlotte’s eyes shimmered with tears. “I think that’s a capital idea, Pepper. I’m sure what few memories the boys have of Michael are growing dim. Luke won’t be so lucky as to have any firsthand experiences to remember, since he is so young and never even got held by his father.”
“Yet Luke is the one who most closely resembles Michael. Don’t you think it’s kind of ironic?”
Charlotte reached out for her daughter’s hand. “I’d say it’s a blessing. Luke is the last gift Michael gave you. Every time you look at him, you’ll remember the good man that was his father.”
“Yes, I’ll admit, Luke’s similarity to Michael is wonderful, since it’s all I have to hold on to. It’s getting harder and harder to remember his physical stature, although I have so many wonderful memories of him.” Pepper’s eyes filled with tears as she talked.
“That’s to be expected, dear, and it’s not disrespectful. You’ll never forget him and the life you shared. You have three fine sons to show for it. But Michael would not have wanted you to live the remainder of your life alone, either. You could do worse than to bring a doctor into our family. Especially one who’s a head surgeon.”
Again, Pepper groaned at her mother’s outrageousness. “Quit pushing, Mother. Michael may not have wanted me to live alone forever, but my life is full trying to keep tabs on three rambunctious boys. I’m nowhere near ready to consider another man in my life. I may never be. I’m content to fill my days with work at the pension fund and the hospital. And raising my sons. Speaking of which, I need to get back home to them.”
“I’ll ring for Kendall to fetch Molly for you.” George tugged on the bell in the room, which was connected to the servants’ quarters downstairs. The butler was at the door to the parlor within seconds and then dispatched to fetch Pepper’s maid.
While they waited, George glanced over at Pepper. “Despite our laughter over your mother’s overt efforts to push you into the arms of the good doctor, she does make a point. Your boys do need a male hand to guide them to adulthood. Halwyn and I will do our best, but we can’t be a father to them.”
“Right now, Papa, that’s good enough. You and Halwyn have been terrific with the boys. I only put away my widow’s weeds a few weeks ago.”
She rose, shook out the folds in her navy skirt, and gathered her reticule. “I’ll bring Luke over in the morning before the boys and I head out. Thank you, Mother and Papa, for your support. I don’t know how I would have made it through this past year without you.” She leaned over and kissed each parent on the cheek.
“We all must do our part in the war effort.” Her father raised his eyes to her. “Halwyn stepped down from his position at the bank to become an officer in the Army and train new recruits. Unfortunately, Michael had to give his life in the early days. You and Charlotte must continue your good work at the hospital and the pension fund, and you must make certain your sons never forget their father. You’re doing the right thing by taking them to visit.”
“I know, Papa. I’ve been putting it off for months now, for my own selfish reasons. It’s past time for us to pay a call.”
• • •
With a child holding tightly to each hand, Pepper walked slowly through the large, peaceful cemetery until she came to the gray stone marker for her husband. Both seven-year-old Matthew and five-year-old Mark carried a colorful bouquet of flowers to adorn the grave. Pepper knelt while the boys deposited their flowers, then put an arm around each silent, somber boy.
“There’s no need to be quiet. Tell your papa hello,” she encouraged them, and gave a gentle shove to each boy, propelling them toward the marker.
“Hello, Papa,” Matthew stared at the marker blankly as he spoke.
“Hello, Papa,” Mark followed his brother’s actions, although Pepper noticed he had reached for Matthew’s hand before he spoke.
“What do you want to talk to your papa about today? Do you want to tell him what you miss most about him?”
“I miss riding piggyback,” Mark whispered.
“I just miss him.” Matthew’s eyes welled up with tears.
Pepper put her arm around Matthew and brushed a kiss on his temple. Her chin trembled as she did so. “So do I. Your papa was a very good man, and I don’t want either of you to ever forget him. Your baby brother was born after your papa died, and he won’t have any memories to hold on to. So it’s up to the two of you to explain to Luke, when he’s able to understand, how wonderful your father was.”
Matthew’s tears spilled over and cascaded down his cheeks. “I don’t remember anymore what Papa looked like.”
Pepper sighed softly and brought her hand to her heart. She was having trouble remembering, too. She guessed memories faded over time in order to allow the living to move forward. But the knowledge of why they faded didn’t make it any easier.
“We have his picture at home for you to see. And you have his eyes, Matthew. Mark is built similar to your father, and Luke is a spitting image of your papa when he was little. Remember the picture we have of him when he was a baby? I think Luke will grow up to be most like your papa. So all you need to do to remember him is look at yourself and your brothers. Now, tell me, what else do you miss?”
Matthew w
iped his wet cheeks with his sleeve. “I miss us doing things together, just me and Papa. He used to take me with him to watch the big ships come into the harbor, and we’d take walks in the park afterwards and eat hot peanuts.”
“You know your uncle and your grandfather are more than happy to spend time with you.”
“I know, Mother, but it’s not the same.” He ran his fingers over the name carved into the marker.
“No, it’s not, is it? But it’s all we have. And it’s so much more than so many other little boys and girls who have lost their fathers have. Now, tell your papa what a nice day it is here in New York, and about how you’ve been going riding out at your Aunt Jasmine’s.”
Pepper stood and took a few steps back, leaving her boys to talk privately to their father. She had maintained control of her emotions in front of the boys, but now, when they weren’t paying attention to her, she allowed the tears to cloud her vision. She too, missed Michael terribly. She was able, with the help of the nanny, governess, and her parents, to care for the three miniature versions of her husband. But the ache she got every night when she crawled into their large bed alone was something she didn’t think she’d ever get accustomed to.
The pain had lessened in the past year from the full roar that had sliced through her mind and body when she first was informed of her loss. It now was a more manageable whisper, and she was grateful her mourning period was over so she could volunteer at the hospital and the pension fund and help the war effort in some small way. It took her mind off what a shallow existence her life had become. Pepper had thought, more than once during her year of mourning, how grateful she was to be hidden away from society and not to have to talk about her premature loss. More battles were coming, and more men would be killed or maimed before this hideous war ended. And many more families would mourn. Perhaps it was now time for her to become a voice of the war and help other war widows as they attempted to move forward.
Her thoughts drifted as she listened with half an ear to her sons telling their father about what they were learning from the governess, and what their favorite colors were. She thought about all the men who were right now lying in MacDougall Hospital, trying to recover. They were each someone’s son, someone’s husband, someone’s father. It had been hard enough to send her husband off to fight. How could she ever prepare herself if she were to send a son? She stared at the two small boys. Love clouded her vision for a moment. The Civil War might end before they grew old enough to fight, but there would be other battles to come. Mankind didn’t seem to learn from its past. She’d do whatever it took to keep her boys from experiencing the horrors of the battlefields.
As if they were reading her thoughts, Matthew and Mark glanced up from the grave. They stood as one and walked over to where their mother was waiting.
“Are you done?”
They nodded somberly.
She hugged each one. “You were both very brave today. Your father would be pleased. Now, I want a quiet moment alone with him, too. Can you wait for me in the carriage?”
As the boys hurried back to the carriage, Pepper knelt at the grave and ran her fingers over the stone. Her voice broke as she whispered to her husband, “You’d be so proud of your boys, Michael. They’re becoming more like you every day. I wish you could see what fine young men they’re turning out to be. We all miss you so much, but we will do justice to your memory and forge a new path for ourselves. Rest easy. We’ll be fine.”
Pepper stood, wiped the tears from her eyes, and returned to the carriage, where she paused, taking one final look at the cemetery. Her breath caught in her throat. Nothing would ever be the same, and she had to make the best of it. She owed it to her sons, and to Michael’s memory, to carve a new life out of the ashes of the old. She was one of the first war widows in New York City, and as such, needed to set an example for the thousands of others who would follow in her footsteps. Things would never be the same, but being different could be equally rewarding. Possibly.
• • •
When the soldier on the operating table died during the procedure to close his wounds, Elijah turned away in despair and shrugged in an attempt to ease the tension between his shoulders. There was no rhyme or reason why some survived and some didn’t. Yet it didn’t lessen the blow when one he was trying to save got called home, despite his best efforts. Sometimes he was surprised when one he thought would never make it did manage to not only survive, but thrive. So God threw a bone his way every now and again. Right now, it was all he could grab on to, and he did so, wearily. Maybe he could do better with the next one.
While he waited for his assistants to remove the body of the unfortunate man, clean the blood from the table the best they could, and place the next man on it, Elijah went to his small office. He’d been on his feet for two days straight, if he remembered correctly. The wounded were arriving on his doorstep constantly from the second battle of Bull Run, and then from Harper’s Ferry. The battles were picking up their pace and intensity since the fall weather was ideal for marching and fighting, and the wounded were coming in fast and in volumes not before seen.
He wanted to just sit at his desk and think about nothing for a few minutes before starting the next operation. As he opened the door, he spied a welcome sight in the form of Mrs. Brown. He stood on the threshold, not wanting to disturb her as she opened her basket and spread a meal on top of the desk.
As if sensing his presence, she glanced his way. “Good afternoon, Colonel. I brought some food for you from home. I know how much you enjoy Cook’s fried chicken. I’ve got potato salad and dessert … ” Her words trickled off as she turned and studied his face. “My goodness. Forgive me for saying so, Colonel, but you look terrible.”
He smiled slightly. “You do know how to charm a fellow, Mrs. Brown.” He took a step forward into the room and swayed on his feet.
She was by his side in two steps and put one arm around his waist while the other held his elbow. She guided him to his chair and he sat with a sigh.
“How long has it been since you’ve slept?”
“I don’t remember. Two, three days, maybe.”
She bustled around the room, splashing water into a wash pan and bringing it to the desk.
“And I’m guessing you’ve had nothing to eat, either. Wash the blood from your hands, and then clean your face. No one comes to my table unless they’re clean.”
He smiled again, through his weariness, which was taking hold now that he’d sat. “Are you giving me orders, Mrs. Brown?”
“I have three young boys at home, Colonel, so I’m used to bossing men around. Now wash your hands and eat Cook’s good chicken.”
He plunged his hands into the cool water, as directed, and then splashed his face. His tiredness abated slightly, and he tried to get to his feet. Pepper held on to his shoulder and kept him in his chair.
“I must get back to the operating room.”
“No, you must rest for a few minutes at least, and eat. What good will you be in the operating room if your hand trembles because you’ve had no sustenance? How can you diagnose a problem when your eyes are too bleary from lack of sleep?”
He smiled slightly. “You do make sense. And it is Cook’s good chicken, to which I must pay the proper respect. Will you join me while I eat?”
It was Pepper’s turn to smile. “I guess I’d better stay here to make certain you don’t leave before you’re done.” She took a seat, her eyes searching his face. “What do you want me to do first today?”
“What you do so well. Make the dying men feel better. Lord knows there’s enough of them to keep you busy.”
She gazed over at him. “I’d prefer to help you in some way. To lessen your burden slightly.”
“If I know the men I can’t help are being assisted out of this world by your gentle touch, Mrs. Brown, that’s enough.”
“All right, then. I’ll continue with what I’ve been doing.”
Elijah directed his attention from the tast
y, fragrant chicken to the woman sitting across from him. Her gown was silver today and shimmered when she moved. It complemented her coloring and created a lovely picture, but even with its lack of lace or ribbon, it was much too fine for the hospital. Regardless, he appreciated it. And he appreciated her. It had been a long time since he’d enjoyed the company of a woman.
She lifted her eyes and stared at him. “What shall we talk about, Colonel?”
“If you don’t mind, I’m curious about your husband. Did he die in Andersonville prison after Fort Sumter?”
She sighed softly. “No, he was among the first to fall at the battle of Bull Run. The first of the Civil War battles to sustain casualties, and according to reports, he was struck with the first volley. In a way, I’m grateful he went quickly, so he never had to see the horror of this war. He should not have joined up in the first place, since he was a city man, through and through. Until he went for military training, he didn’t know one end of a gun from the other.”
Elijah’s lips turned up into a smile. “So many men who are now fighting are in the same condition. They sign up for duty because it’s the morally responsible thing, or they think it’s going to be some kind of grand adventure, but once the fighting starts, they realize they’re in for much more than they bargained for.”
Pepper nodded in agreement. “My brother is responsible for recruiting and training new inductees from the state. He has young boys lying about their age constantly in an attempt to join the battle now because they think it sounds fun. He has to turn them away all the time, but some still manage to get through. I shudder to think of one of my boys heading off to battle.”