A Widow's Salvation

by Becky Lower

  “This war has been awful in so many ways, but it brought you to me. And for that, I am a happy man. I’ll try for the rest of my days to make myself worthy of your love.”

  • • •

  President Lincoln visited the battlefields of Gettysburg in early November and gave what would become his most famous speech, the Gettysburg Address. The newspapers reported on the visit and the speech, but no one talked about the bodies which were still strewn in the fields, rotting in the elements. In late November, the rebel siege of Chattanooga ended as Union forces under Grant defeated the Confederates. Although the end of the war had not yet been declared, the Confederacy was in shambles.

  Elijah made his hospital rounds and hoped for a quiet winter. After all, he had a baby to spoil coming in another month or so. Matthew, Mark, and Luke were adjusting to their new home and to their new father figure. They were a tightly knit family unit, and the addition of a new child would strengthen them even further. There had been way too much upheaval in their young lives as the great Civil War exacted its pound of flesh, and Elijah wanted the boys to know peace and tranquility. They’d suffered far too much as it was. He hadn’t been able to spend too many nights in their new home yet but hoped the coming winter would change that. He longed for his wife and family.

  He worked his way around to his office and found a basket of fragrant food situated on top of his desk. There was only one person who delivered meals to him, who took care of him, and she shouldn’t be here. Not in her condition. She was expecting a baby within weeks. He blinked his tired eyes and slumped into his chair.

  He must have dozed off for a few minutes, because he didn’t hear Pepper enter the room. Pleasantly surprised when he opened his eyes and took in her countenance, he rose to greet her. He laid a hand on her ripe belly and caressed the child inside as he kissed Pepper’s full lips. His heart rate sped up as he held her in his arms.

  “Although this is a delightful surprise, what are you doing here?”

  “Well, my husband is here, and he needs sustenance, so where else would I be?”

  “You need to be home in bed.”

  She laughed as she wrapped her arms around him. “I’m not some invalid, Elijah. I’m merely having a child.”

  “But what about your confinement? Aren’t you flaunting the rules of convention by being seen in your condition?”

  “I suppose I am, but we are in the midst of a war, and the stringent rules of decorum have no place in our lives. I’m becoming more comfortable with ignoring the dictates of well-heeled society.”

  “And you are your mother’s child.”

  Pepper rolled her tongue into her cheek and grinned. “Yes, there is that.”

  “Your feminist sisters would be so proud of you.”

  “As well they should be. I’m proud of myself.”

  “But promise me this will be your last visit until after the baby comes.”

  “I had one more soldier to get fitted for his prosthetic leg. I got him up and walking about this afternoon, so my work here is done.” She left his embrace and walked to the desk. “Now sit, eat, and let me tell you what the boys are up to.”

  “And we must start thinking about Christmas presents for them.”

  “You don’t think a new brother or sister will be enough?”

  “It will be hard to top, that’s for certain, but they do need some presents. They’ve been through a lot this past year.”

  “Haven’t we all?”

  Elijah kept an eye on Pepper as she took a seat. He noticed how she ran her hand over her stomach and clutched the small of her back. He had a feeling this baby would be born before Christmas got here. His heart skipped a beat.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  New York City, December 1863

  Elijah let himself into the brownstone quietly. One of the servants had ridden out to the hospital to tell him Pepper had gone into labor. Silently, he thanked the war gods for keeping the battles to a minimum this month, so he could take time off to witness the birth of his first child.

  A small scream ripped through the air, and he glanced up at the ceiling. His wife was upstairs in their bed, her body racked with labor pains. He rushed up the stairs and tore down the hallway to the bedroom at the rear of the house. He knocked once before he yanked on the door handle and opened it, his heart in his throat.

  The scene before him was almost tranquil. Pepper lay in their bed, propped up by an assortment of pillows, her face serene, even with the lines of pain around her mouth. The midwife they had hired to help with the delivery bustled around the room, fetching cloths and Lord only knew what else. They both turned to him as he stood in the doorway.

  Neither of them seemed anxious. He, on the other hand, had sweaty hands, a palpitating heart, and a shiver of dread creeping up his spine.

  “Elijah, I’m so glad you were able to get away.”

  He swallowed the lump in his throat and spoke in a hoarse voice. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

  He leaned over the bed and kissed her. She took hold of his hand.

  “Why, you’re nervous!”

  “Of course I am. It’s not every day I become a father.”

  “You’ve been a father to my sons for months now. This will be no different.”

  He glanced toward the midwife. “Is everything under control with the delivery?”

  She bobbed her head. “Yes, Colonel. It’s just taking a while. Yer babe is a stubborn one and wants to stay where it is a wee bit longer.”

  Pepper smiled and put one hand on her stomach. “It’ll be fine, Elijah. You’re a doctor, you know how these things work.”

  “Yes, but my line of work doesn’t really include delivering babies, so this is new territory for me.”

  The midwife turned to him. “Take a seat, then. It’ll be a few more hours.”

  He couldn’t follow the midwife’s advice. Instead, he paced. His footsteps were silent on the plush carpet under his feet, but his heart pounding against his rib cage set up a staccato rhythm that his feet matched. Back and forth, back and forth. The room wasn’t big enough. There wasn’t enough air. He needed a drink. He had to loosen his jacket, or he’d go mad.

  “Elijah, darling.”

  Pepper’s voice brought him back from the edges of a panic attack. He turned to face her.

  “Calm down, please. The babe will be here in no time.”

  He took off his military jacket, rolled up his shirtsleeves, and sat beside his wife in their bed. “What can I do to help?”

  Pepper smiled up at him, brushing a lock of his salt-and-pepper hair from his eyes. “You can calm down and take a deep breath.”

  He grinned. “Yes, ma’am. How is it you’re even more beautiful today than you were yesterday?”

  “You keep talking like that, and you’ll have more than one babe underfoot.” She reached up and caressed his face. Then she turned her attention to the midwife. “I think it’s time to start pushing.”

  Elijah had seen plenty of horror in the operating room as he amputated bloody limbs that had been crushed by cannon fire. He’d also seen some wonderful things, such as a heartbeat when he’d all but lost hope. Yet nothing prepared him for the wonder of seeing his child being born. Pepper’s eyes were shut as she pushed the baby from her womb. His own eyes clouded with tears as he witnessed the miracle of birth. The midwife guided the baby into the world, folded it into a blanket, and immediately placed the squirming, squalling bundle into his arms.

  “It’s a fine little girl, sir. All her fingers and toes are intact.”

  A girl. It’s what Pepper had hoped for. And privately, he’d hoped for the same thing, to please her. They could have a boy next.

  He latched on to one of the baby’s hands, which was punching the air. Five tiny fingers. They immediately curled around one of his fingers. And around his heart. He fell in love with his daughter before he lifted his head.

  He blinked to clear his vision before he walked to the head of
the bed and to Pepper. “We have a girl. Just as you’d hoped.” He settled the baby in her mother’s arms and collapsed into a chair.

  “And is it what you hoped for, too?”

  He glanced at his wife, holding her child in a classic pose. “Yes, my love. All I hoped for and more. There’s just one problem. We can’t finish off the apostles with a girl.”

  “Of course we can. Her name will be Johnna.”

  Elijah’s gaze flitted between his wife and his child. “I guess we could name her Johnna. I was kind of hoping, though, that we could try next for another boy.”

  Pepper reached over to where Elijah sat and took his hand. “The Bible is full of wonderful names, Elijah. Just because we’ve finished off the apostles is no reason to stop having children. Shall we try for nine, as Mother and Papa have done?”

  “Let’s take them one at a time, shall we? But I wouldn’t be opposed to a few more.”

  He leaned over and kissed Pepper. They had all the time in the world. The war would end someday, and their lives could once again return to normal. It would be a new normal for both of them, but they would embrace it with open arms. Just as they did with each other.

  More from This Author

  (From An Unconventional Courtship by Becky Lower)

  New York City, April 1829

  Charlotte Ashcroft led her best friend, Emma, into her bedroom and closed the door. The lock slid into place with a satisfying click. They fell onto the bed together in a pile of giggles.

  Charlotte put her hand to her stomach. “I thought dinner tonight would never wind up. All that talk from Mother about your brother ‘coming home from college in a month and what a fine catch he’d be.’”

  “Well, he would be a fine catch for someone, just not for you, Charlotte. As much as I’d love for us to be sisters, let’s face facts—Theo’s a boor. All he wants to do is chase after women and drink with his Harvard chums.”

  “That much is true. The couple of times I’ve met Theo, he hasn’t made my heart speed up. Besides, as much as I’d love loads of children, I’m not sure marriage is for me. Where’s the equality in that? A woman becomes a man’s property once she says ‘I do.’ I don’t ever want to become a man’s chattel. It would take a very special man to interest me, and I’m afraid Theo isn’t it. But there is no other man on the horizon, Emma, for either of us. We must do something to rectify our sorry state of affairs.”

  “And how are we to do that, pray tell?”

  “We need to do something exciting.” Charlotte tapped her teeth with her fingers as she pondered.

  “You’re planning something, and I can bet it’s not going to be good. You always come up with outrageous ideas that get me in trouble. Last time, I wasn’t allowed out of the house for a month.”

  Charlotte’s gaze focused, and she gave Emma a shrug of her shoulder as she picked up an after dinner mint and popped it into her mouth. “On the contrary. It will be immensely good fun. You can stay home if you want.” She wanted to draw out Emma’s reaction, so she closed her eyes and concentrated on the taste of the strong mint.

  “Stay home from what? What are you planning?”

  Charlotte moved across the room to her desk and took a newspaper clipping from a cubbyhole. “Here it is.”

  She handed the story to Emma.

  “Frances Wright is speaking on women’s rights in two days’ time, right here in New York City. We must go and see Fanny. I adore her.”

  Emma cast a glance at her friend, her brow furrowed.

  Charlotte smiled. “None of your skepticism, Emma, please.”

  “Well, if ever there was cause for skepticism, this is it. You’re now on a first name basis with one of the foremost speakers for women’s rights? Since when? Besides, our mothers won’t allow it.”

  “So, we won’t tell them.”

  “And how are we going to manage to keep it a secret?”

  Charlotte flopped back onto her bed, her bell-shaped, jonquil satin skirt billowing out around her. She smoothed out all the flounces before she replied. “We’ll tell our mothers we’re going to the park after church is over, and we’ll take Katie with us. After all, the speech takes place at one o’clock in the afternoon, so our timing will be perfect.” They both knew it was perfectly acceptable for single ladies to be on the streets during the day if they were properly chaperoned, as they would be if Katie, Emma’s lady’s maid, could be persuaded to join them. “And Katie’s as much an advocate of women’s rights as we are. It’ll be fun.”

  Emma fanned the newspaper clipping before her as if it were a hot August day and she was melting like chocolate in the sun. “It is a nice idea, if somewhat flawed. If we’re going to see ‘Fanny,’ we’re going to need some sort of conveyance. It’s one thing for us to walk from your house to mine or take a leisurely stroll through the park, but Miss Wright’s event is going to be all the way downtown. How do we get there without revealing to our families what we’re doing?”

  “That’s the only dilemma facing us. And I, of course, have the answer. I think we should try New York’s new omnibus service. I’ve been dying to ride on it. It’s dashing, and exciting.”

  Emma’s mouth dropped open at Charlotte’s statement. “Ooh, Charlotte, we can’t ride the omnibus without a male escort. All manner of New Yorkers ride on that thing. Even with Katie, it’s just not done.”

  “Well, it’s high time it is done! For heaven’s sake, we are going to a rally for women’s rights, Emma. Are we going to slink in with our tails between our legs, or are we going to hold our heads high and walk in as if we own the place?”

  “Well …”

  “Then we’re on. Let’s plan what we’ll wear.”

  • • •

  Charlotte herded her charges—Emma and Katie—onto the large omnibus, which was basically an oversized carriage with room for about twenty hardy souls inside. For a lesser fare, a seat on the top of the bus, open to the elements, could be had. Regardless of the price, no ladies ever rode out in the open. Charlotte stopped and glanced up at the men seated on the top. One young man in particular caught her eye as he tipped his bowler hat to her.

  “Shall we join the merry men on the top of the bus?” she asked her friends half-jokingly. She would appreciate getting a closer look at the nice gentleman with the jaunty, blue hat that sported a small feather at the brim. And all the men sitting on top of the bus seemed to be having fun, unlike those stuffed like sardines inside the conveyance.

  Emma and Katie squealed unhappily at the idea. With a shrug of her shoulders, Charlotte nodded her head and smiled at the young man before she joined her more timid friends inside the bus. An assortment of men and women were crammed into the seats, and the four horses attached to the bus strained under the load. Soon, they were underway down Broadway to lower Manhattan.

  Many stops later, Charlotte and her friends arrived at their destination. As she exited the omnibus, Charlotte cast a glance to the top, searching for the young man who had caught her eye earlier. He was no longer there. She sighed softly. They were ships passing in the night. In a city the size of New York, the chances of running into one person again were slim. He would become merely a fragment of a memory of the day she’d spent listening to one of the premier advocates for women’s equality and being slightly scandalous herself. With a smile on her face, she planted herself between her friends, taking their arms.

  “Let’s move on to the second part of our big adventure, shall we, and hear what Fanny Wright has to say to us. The omnibus ride was fun, don’t you think?”

  Emma laughed out loud. “Which part? The smelly man next to me or the young man who pinched my bottom?”

  “How about you, Katie?” Perhaps Charlotte had been too lost in thought about the man above her to pay close attention to what was going on around her.

  “There was one young man sitting next to me who seemed to take quite a shine to me. He’s a blacksmith. His arms and shoulders were enormous! His name is Carrick McCray, and
I told him I’d be taking a stroll with you ladies in the park tomorrow afternoon, if he were so inclined to join us.”

  “See what an exciting day it’s been already? And we’ve yet to hear Fanny.”

  “Charlotte? Is that you?”

  Charlotte cringed inside her Sunday best, lavender dress. She knew that voice. Accepting her fate, she turned to face the old busybody.

  “Well, hello there, Mrs. Beasley. How are you this fine Sunday afternoon? Are you also planning to attend Frances Wright’s speech?”

  Mrs. Beasley’s spine straightened at the suggestion, and her gaze pierced Charlotte. “Heavens, no. I have no wish to fill my head with such nonsense. Where is your mother? I should say hello.”

  “Mother’s not with us today. We took the omnibus to get here.”

  “What? Without a male escort? Is your mother aware of what you’re doing, young lady?”

  Charlotte glanced around the street where they had been dropped off. Suddenly, she spied a familiar hat in the crowd. A blue hat with a feather tucked into the grosgrain ribbon. Her heart began to race as he came toward her.

  “Ah, but we do have a proper male escort.” She wrapped her hand around the man’s arm, bringing him, if somewhat reluctantly, to her side. “This is our chaperone, Mrs. Beasley.” Charlotte turned her eyes toward the man and held her breath, silently pleading with him to catch on to her plight.

  He executed a proper bow toward Mrs. Beasley, and Charlotte let out her breath a bit at a time. “George Fitzpatrick, at your service, Mrs. Beasley.”

  Mrs. Beasley’s face was still full of disdain. “George Fitzpatrick? I’ve never heard of you. Just how do you know Charlotte Ashcroft?”

  “We’re old friends who love adventure. When I decided to escort Charlotte and her lady friends on their outing today, we thought an omnibus ride would be a delightful way to get there. And it certainly has proven to be so.”