by T. Novan
"That is life, General. The life of your son or daughter."
Tears filled Charlie’s eyes. He took Constance’s hand in his own and raised it reverently to his lips. "You give me a gift for which I can never even begin to express my gratitude. I pray daily for your survival, dear lady. Please know that should you survive this birth, you have a home and my protection for the rest of my life."
"That is a very kind offer, but all I ask is that my children have a home and a family to love and care for them."
Charlie laid his right hand on the Bible that was still lying on the covers beside Constance. "Ma’am, I swear on all that I hold holy and sacred, I will love them, care for them and raise them as I would children of my body. Em is already the daughter of my heart; this child," he reverently placed his hand on her belly, "I think, will be my firstborn son."
Constance could not help but smile. "Then I hope for you, it is a boy. A fine son and heir for you and Rebecca."
Charlie looked very serious. "And if it is a girl, can we name her Constance? For you must know, whether it is a boy or a girl, this child will be greatly loved."
"I would be honored, and yes I do know that. But tell me, General, if it is a boy, what will you name him?"
Charlie could see in her eyes she was teasing him. "I have always thought Charles to be a fine name. However, I suspect that Rebecca may have some thoughts on the subject."
"So it is. Tell me, General, what has brought you to my side?"
"You asked me to handle all of the appropriate legal issues so that adoption of these children would be very clear. I have done so. For Emily, all we need do is fill in her date and county of birth, have you sign it, and have it witnessed. For this little one," he gestured at her distended belly, "we will have to fill in the name, date of birth and county when the time comes."
Charlie laid the two documents at her side, then rose and retreated to the window. Looking out, he continued in a quiet, determined voice. "I want you to look over the papers before you sign them. There is a third document I want you to examine as well." He pulled the papers from his pocket. He had set up a trust fund in Constance’s name, which would automatically be split between the two children in the event of her death. "I wanted you to know that you, and they, would be taken care of financially, regardless of what may happen to me in the upcoming campaign."
"General, that really is too much. I am sure you will be fine. However, if something were to come to pass, I am certain Rebecca would still stand with the children."
"I know she would. But if you survive, you will not be dependent on her or anyone. And if you do not, you can rest assured that they have their own means, regardless of what may happened here. I just wanted to be –– complete and let you know how serious my commitment to them is."
"You are indeed a kind man. Thank you for your generosity."
Constance looked at the papers beside her and then at the fidgeting man at the window. "General, I have faith in your honor and the completeness of these documents. Will you go and find witnesses so that we can finish this now?"
Charlie nodded and stepped to the bell pull, summoning Tess. He asked her to fetch Dr. Walker and Sergeant Jackson. As they waited for those two old and trusted friends to join them, they sat together in silent companionship, all that needed to be said, had been. When Elizabeth and Jocko entered the room, Charlie quietly explained what he needed from them.
"We will be glad to help you, Charlie." Elizabeth sat on the bed and took Constance’s hand. "And you are sure? You trust Charlie and Rebecca to raise these children?"
Constance smiled, her face lighting so that for a moment, she looked almost healthy. "I cannot think of two people who deserve children more than the General and Rebecca. And besides, we could not pry Em away from the General if we had to. Now, let us get the legalities out of the way."
Charlie laid the papers out while Elizabeth helped Constance sit up in her bed and positioned a lapboard across her knees. The signing of the adoption papers went quickly. The final document, the trust fund, brought raised eyebrows from both Elizabeth and Jocko.
"Hmmm, Gen’l C. You are bound and determined to cover all bases. Would you consider adopting me?"
--*--
Dinner had been comfortable but slightly subdued after the signing of the adoption papers. Constance’s confinement and probable death hung like a cloud over what was otherwise a festive occasion. As the meal finished, Jocko and Mrs. White excused themselves. With a bit of teasing and smirking on the part of the other folks at the table, they made a laughing exit from the dining room. Courting couples were always fair game for teasing.
Charlie assisted Richard from the table and, limping heavily, into the back parlor. A small game table was set before the fireplace and the four of them sat down for an evening of cards and gossip. As Charlie shuffled, Elizabeth started quizzing Rebecca on what they had done and whom they had seen in Washington.
"Well, my friend, I do not think there was a fashionable home in Washington we did not call on. I even had the good fortune to take tea with Mrs. Lincoln."
"Tea with Mrs. Lincoln. I have heard many things of her. So tell me, what is she really like?"
"Oh, she was absolutely charming. I think, perhaps, she is very lonely. There is so much animosity toward Southerners in Washington nowadays, and she is still obviously one. I hear tell that many people do not understand how important it is to maintain appearances at the White House, as well, and do not appreciate what she has done to refurbish the place."
Charlie and Richard sat quietly, neatly arranging their cards and pretending to be part of the furniture.
"I have heard that she has mediums in and out of the White House regularly to try and contact her dead son. She seems to have a reputation as a rather strange bird."
"I think the loss of her son, coupled with all of the horror of this war, has left her with a great sadness and a longing for something she cannot articulate."
"Before I arrived here, I took dinner with a friend of mine who is an aide in the White House. He said there was rumor of a dream that President Lincoln has been having regularly for the last few months and it may also have something to do with her mood."
"Yes, she mentioned it and I think it weighs heavily on her heart. Mr. Lincoln does not expect to survive his tenure. I pray sincerely he does, for if he dies, the South haters will gain control and I fear the aftermath will be very hard."
Charlie and Richard continued their silence. Both were aware, far more so than Rebecca and Elizabeth, just how deeply the desire for revenge ran in some of the Northern politicians.
"I do believe," Rebecca patted Charlie's hand. "That my dear husband was a little stunned when we went shopping."
Charlie had the grace to hang his head a bit. "Well, uh, it was a bit, uh, extensive." He looked intently at his cards. "Will you open the bidding, dear?"
Rebecca sighed and for the first time looked at her cards. After a moment of arranging them she made her bid, then looked to Charlie. "Yes, dear."
For a few moments, the four of them concentrated on their cards. Charlie then commented, "You know, we did have dinner with Jay Cooke."
Richard’s eyes left Elizabeth for a moment. "The banker?"
"Yes. He and I discussed what the business world would be like down here after the war is over. I think Culpeper will be in need of a fair bit of support to recover, so we are beginning to explore the idea of opening a bank here when I get back."
Rebecca's eyes widened. "A bank? Charlie, you did not mention that. That is wonderful."
"Well, dear, we are still at the talking stage. Nothing specific has been set down yet and I did not want to get your hopes up."
"It certainly does not matter to me. We will be busy enough with the farm, but if the opportunity arises for you it would be tremendous."
"Oh, I do not think I will have the day to day running of it, if it comes about at all. I really do not have the skills for it. But several of ou
r men were clerks and such before the war and perhaps one of them will be willing to move here and help us out."
Rebecca nodded and laid a card on the trick. She could tell Charlie was excited. "You would make a wonderful banker. Perhaps Elizabeth will come back and open a hospital. And Sergeant Jackson could come in and run the local tavern," she teased as she watched Richard try to decide which card to play.
Charlie and Richard both laughed. The idea of Jocko as a tavern keeper was most amusing. Richard, in particular, had a history of attempting to drink Jocko under the table –– and failing miserably. "My dear, if Jocko were the tavern keeper, he would likely drink all his profits and then some. I do believe that man has the original hollow leg." Richard thought for a moment. "On the other hand, if he ran out of rum, all he would need to do is tap into his own arm, for with all he has consumed over the years, I suspect he has it running in his veins instead of blood." Richard laid down his card and surrendered the trick to the ladies.
--*--
Friday, February 17, 1865
All through the day, Sarah had been cooking. A birthday –– the first birthday that sweet little girl could really celebrate –– was an important event. Sarah was busy fixing everything the little one liked for dinner and baking a lovely spice cake, decorated with whipped cream frosting. Gen’l Charlie had brought home some fine sugar instead of the heavy brown stuff they got if they were lucky. Sarah was in her element.
At the same time, Tess had a very excited little girl to contend with. All she could think of was the party that had been promised to her. It was not obvious that Em understood what a birthday was, but she certainly understood the idea of a party. And she wanted it to start immediately.
Charlie came in from his daily rounds and went upstairs to change into his oldest coat. As surely as the sun rose and set, he knew he would be wearing birthday cake before the day was complete.
Rebecca entered their room and slid up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and laying her head on his back. "I love you, Charlotte Redmond."
Charlie stopped breathing. No one had called her Charlotte in twenty years. As far as she could remember, no one had said ‘‘I love you’ to Charlotte since her mother, that blurry figure in the recesses of her early childhood memories. She managed to find her voice. "I love you, Rebecca Redmond."
She drew in a deep satisfied breath and patted his back. "But now, my dashing husband, you have a little girl who is chomping at the bit for her 'pawty' to begin, and I think we should get downstairs before she has a full blown conniption."
Charlie laughed, settled his coat and offered Rebecca his arm. "Well, madam, shall we?"
Arm in arm, they went to the nursery and collected Em and Tess. "Well, little one, it is time. First, we will visit your mama, so you must be very good and gentle."
"Yes, Papa. I be good."
They entered Constance’s room quietly. The fragile woman was waiting for them and beckoned Em to her with open arms. "How is my big girl today?"
"Mama, I am good, Papa say."
Charlie and Constance smiled at one another over the shining black head currently cuddled onto Constance’s shoulder. "So, Emily, what are you going to do now that you are two and a big girl?"
"Unc Wichawd make me count." She held up her hand. "Dis many."
Constance laughed, an act that unfortunately set off a coughing fit. Rebecca lifted the little girl from her arms, while Charlie braced her through the episode. Finally, she regained her breath. "Well, little one, I wish I could come downstairs with you, but I am afraid I have to stay here in my bed. You have a lovely birthday, my darling girl."
"Yes, Mama. I love you."
The little girl was very quiet and solemn as Rebecca carried her downstairs. "Mama bewy sick."
"Yes sweetheart, she is."
"Mama go be with real Papa?"
Rebecca looked at he child, for the first time realizing how much this little girl really understood. "Yes, your Papa Henry and God."
Em thought for a few minutes. "You be my real mama then?"
"If you would like. Yes, I will be your Mama."
"Good. Mama be happy, Em be happy with you. Pawty now?"
Rebecca chuckled and hugged her little girl. "As soon as Papa comes down from tending to your Mama."
Rebecca, burdened with the weight of the rapidly growing child, had walked down the stairs slowly. Charlie, having settled Constance, hurried behind them.
Together the three of them entered the main dining room. Elizabeth and Richard were waiting, along with Samantha Carter and Jeremiah, Jocko and Mrs. White, and even Duncan. He had recently been elevated to the rank of Sergeant and was looking a little uncomfortable, although one could not tell if it was because of the new stripes on his tunic or the basket he held awkwardly in his hands.
Charlie relieved Rebecca of Em and announced for the room. "Ladies and gentleman, may I present the birthday girl, Miss Emily Adams."
Applause broke out as Charlie set the little girl down on her own two feet. "Your curtsy, if you please, Miss Emily."
Emily looked up to him and ran her tongue between her lips. They had secretly been practicing this every morning during breakfast and she knew what she was supposed to do. Very carefully, she held the hem of her skirt and executed her curtsy.
Charlie beamed. His little girl was starting to grow up. If he were very lucky, he would see that curtsy many more times.
Elizabeth called the child to her. "Emily, you are two now, and two year olds are starting to grow up. So tell us, which do you want first –– your dinner or your presents?"
Emily looked at every face in the room. All of which were desperate to hide grins. She looked to her Papa and sighed, her shoulders slumping a little. "Dinnew."
Rebecca was also beaming. Her little girl could think about others, something that was very important, in her opinion. "Well, little one, I think that perhaps our guests could wait for their dinner while you opened one present." Just then, a suspicious little yip was heard from the basket Duncan was holding.
Rebecca turned her head very slowly in Duncan's direction. "Is there something you want to tell us about your basket, Sergeant Nailer?"
"Um, yes, m..m..ma’am. Miss Em, the b..boys found this little g..girl and we thought you wo..would like her." The yipping had grown louder and just then a small head, white with black and brown markings, popped up out of the basket. "Tis a terrier, m……ma’am. A Jack Russell bitch."
Em clapped her hands together and looked to Rebecca for permission. When it was granted with a slight nod, Em joyfully ran across the room to Duncan and her new puppy.
Charlie looked on as Emily clasped the squirming puppy to her chest. "Upstaged by my own men –– again!"
--*--
Monday, February 20, 1865
The weekend had been unremarkable in most ways, other than the challenges presented by trying to house break a puppy and teach a two year old what was and was not appropriate behavior with said animal. Charlie woke early, as normal, and took a morning run in a fine, cold misty rain. Winter was not quite ready to release its hold.
He returned to the house, cleaned up and settled into his office to read the normal dispatches. There on top of the pile of documents that were a normal part of his life was a telegram.
A sense of dread clutched at his stomach. Telegrams usually meant bad news. He sat for a good five minutes with the envelope in his hand, hesitating to open it, knowing what was probably in it.
Finally, he read the dreaded but not unexpected words.
Prepare to mobilize stop Troops to be field ready within seven days stop Sheridan
The flimsy yellow paper drifted from Charlie’s numb fingers. It was time. He sat there in a stupor, for how long, he had no idea. Then the door opened and Rebecca came in with the mid-morning tea.
She stopped as soon as she saw the look on his face; approaching him slowly she placed the tray on the desk. "It is bad news."
S
ilently, he picked up the telegraph and handed it to her.
Her hands were trembling as she took the paper from him, tears forming in her eyes before she had even read the first line.
Chapter 30
Monday, February 20, 1865
Rebecca and Charlie finally shook themselves and set about the immediate tasks before them.
Rebecca left to consult with Reg, Beulah and Sarah. She had to see to her household, making sure she had the supplies, medicines and equipment she would need once the men and the facilities they provided were gone. She knew Charlie would be leaving a contingent of men behind in Culpeper. Some of the men remaining were mustering out because their terms were completed and they had chosen to make Culpeper their home. Others would be left behind to man a key communications center on the always-vital rail line. Housing would have to be found for the new residents as well as quarters for the small detachment remaining behind.
Meanwhile, Charlie sat at his desk and started drafting orders for his men. The daily lunch meeting of officers would be interesting, to say the least, as he would be asking one company commanders to volunteer to stay behind.
Charlie walked into the Officers’ Mess tent and took his place at the head of the table. As usual, the officers were chatting amongst themselves as troopers served lunch under Jamison’s watchful eye. When Charlie joined them for lunch, he usually sat, was served and ate with them, then carried on whatever discussion he wanted to have after the meal was over. Today was different. He stood, silent, at his place at the long table until he had the attention of every man there.
"Gentlemen, we have received orders. We are to be ready to march within one week."
A rumble of sound went around the table, some grumbling, and some eager to be back in the field. Young Avery of Company I spoke up first. "General, do you know where we are bound?"
"No, not yet. I do know we will be heading south, but beyond that, no. General Sheridan always keeps his plans close to his vest. So we go where we are told, when we are told –– as usual." Charlie stopped for a minute. "However, one company is not going to be joining us. We have been ordered to leave a detachment here in Culpeper to guard the railhead from marauders and maintain communications. It is inevitable there will be a number of deserters –– we are already starting to see it happen –– and we will need guards here to maintain civil order as they start to return to their homes, or what is left of them. They will be hungry, probably angry and desperate. It will not be easy service."