A Sound Among the Trees

by Susan Meissner

  I wish my mother would stop whispering to ghosts. I wish my papa had not died. I wish there was no war.

  Missing you dreadfully,

  Susannah

  P.S. Eliza returned last night before we all retired to our beds. She didn’t say where she had been. She came to my room and asked me if I had any letters I wished to send to you. I told her I did. This one. But she said she will not be able to arrange any more deliveries after this one. Not for a while. I will write anyway, Eleanor, and keep the letters safe until a day comes when I can send them. I shall go mad if I cannot write you.

  15 March 1862

  Holly Oak, Fredericksburg, Virginia

  Dearest Eleanor,

  Lt. Page called on me today. He told me he has spoken to Grandmother about courting me and would I do him the honor of thinking of him as my beau? My face felt as if it were on fire when he said this, and I am certain he saw my cheeks turn crimson. I think he found it endearing. My blushing made him smile. He reached for my hand and kissed it and told me I was the sweetest of angels, and then he touched my burning cheek. I did not know how to tell him he mistakes my embarrassment. I did not know how to say there is a young man from Maine who I can’t stop thinking about and that it is this young man who makes me blush. And that although I am fond of the lieutenant, Will alone has my heart. I could summon no words to tell him this. Lt. Page is a kind man. A good man. But he took my bashful silence as agreement. He said he could not wait to tell his parents about his lady. And I had no courage to tell him he was misguided.

  Grandmother so wished to have Lt. Page to stay for supper though we had nothing to serve but ham and potato soup and cornbread. Our few remaining chickens we cannot eat or we will have no eggs or chicks to replace them. Most of the preserves are gone, and there will be no fresh fruit or vegetables to eat until after the summer months produce a harvest. There are jars of beets in the cellar. And molasses. There are only so many things one can put molasses on.

  But Lt. Page did not stay. He told us there is much activity in the area and we are to be very careful. It seems the Yorktown Peninsula is soon to be attacked. He also gave us more fabric than usual and told us it may be several weeks before anyone from the quartermaster’s office would be calling on us. The roads in and around Fredericksburg are not safe.

  When he left he kissed my hand again, and this time his lips lingered.

  Susannah

  11 April 1862

  Holly Oak, Fredericksburg, Virginia

  My dear Eleanor,

  I do not feel a year older; I feel a hundred years older. Once there was a time when I dreamed I would be married at eighteen and sewing infant smocks and living in a lovely house in Maine and Will would be coming home at night smelling sweet of wood and sap and we’d spend our summers at the seaside looking for shells and playing with our little ones. That dream seems so far away.

  Eleanor, I can barely express to you what has happened since last I wrote. Lt. Page has asked me to marry him. He wrote to me from Richmond, wished me a happy birthday, told me he fears the war shall keep us parted, and he asked if I might agree to marry him at Christmastime and join him there in Richmond. I received his letter two days ago. He must have told Grandmother of his intentions, because she knew when the letter came by courier that it was from Lt. Page. When she informed me that the courier was waiting for me so that I could send back a letter of response, she told me I was a very lucky girl to have won the affections of a Virginian gentleman.

  “He comes from a very prominent family,” Grandmother said. We were alone in the parlor. I was sitting at the table where we sew.

  “I cannot accept!” I said to her, and her face clouded with disappointment so fast that I quickly added that I hardly knew Lt. Page and that I could not leave my mother in her present state and that I did not wish to marry anyone during the uncertainty of the war.

  “It would be very unwise of you to decline this proposal,” she said. “What do you think will happen if the war continues and the food and money runs out? Have you thought about that? Have you wondered how I can be expected to provide for this family when that happens? You’re not a child anymore, Susannah. I cannot be expected to care for all of you as if you were.”

  She delivered this effortlessly, but her eyes misted with tears she did not shed. I saw fear in her eyes, something I hadn’t seen before. Ever. Fear for us, I think—the women at Holly Oak. I have not missed my papa as much as I missed him at that moment. I knew he would not want me to do what Grandmother wanted me to do. He would not. Even if it meant we would be hungry.

  “I cannot accept,” I whispered.

  Grandmother walked over to her writing desk, drew out a page of stationery, ink, and her pen, and handed them to me. “You will kindly thank Lt. Page for his proposal, and you will tell him that you are hopeful of seeing him in person to discuss your future together. I will not allow you to make so important a decision without thinking on it. And we cannot expect the courier to wait until you come to your senses.”

  I felt very alone as I wrote those words, Eleanor. But I wrote them and the courier left. My grandmother went up to her room without saying another word to me. Not knowing what else to do, I went to my mother’s room, but she lay asleep on her bed in the middle of the afternoon. I turned and sought Eliza, who I found in the library rifling though the drawers of my grandfather’s desk. I didn’t even care what it was she was looking for. I showed her the letter from Lt. Page.

  “I don’t love him,” I said, needing someone to hear those words.

  “Will that be your answer to him?” she asked. She did not seem surprised that Lt. Page had proposed. I told her about the note Grandmother had me write. She seemed to consider this, and then she told me perhaps that was wise, that much could happen between now and the next time I see Lt. Page. “I won’t change my mind,” I said. “I am fond of him, but I am not in love with him.” And Eliza just shrugged and then asked me if I had seen Grandfather’s keys to the gun cabinet. I told her I hadn’t, and I did not ask her why she needed Grandfather’s guns. I went to my room, alone and so tempted to steal a horse and ride to some faraway place untouched by war.

  Eliza now makes no attempt to hide her excursions at night. She does not announce them and leaves the house after we have all gone to bed, but she doesn’t hide the evidences of her comings and goings since the argument she had with Grandmother. I do not think she does it to be brazen. She merely sees there is no purpose in pretending she has this secret when she does not.

  And since she does not seem to care that we know she slips away after dark, I followed her last night. She went to the river to where she had a little canoe hidden in the rushes. I watched her get in and paddle away in the moonlight to the other side. I waited as long I could, but I became afraid to stand out there alone in the dark. I made my way back to Holly Oak and watched for her from my window. I had to pinch myself to stay awake. When at last I saw her return, I could see that she was not alone. Two men were with her. They wore hats and long dark cloaks. I watched them move soundlessly across the garden and make their way to the slaves’ quarters. They went to Tessie’s door. It was too far away to see if she was the one who opened it. I saw the door open and the three of them disappear inside.

  I grabbed my wrap and flew down the stairs as quietly as I could. I stepped out in the garden. The night had grown colder, and I shivered as I made my way to Tessie’s. I only wanted to listen at the window. I was nearly there when the door opened, and I suddenly realized I had nowhere to hide. Whoever was coming out would see me, and there was nothing I could do to conceal myself. I froze and prayed.

  It was Eliza. She didn’t seem angry, just surprised. She closed the door quietly behind her. “What are you doing here, Susannah?” she said, calm and quiet. “Who are those men?” I asked. I tried to sound brave and curious, but my voice cracked, and I sounded like a scared child. “Come back up to the house,” she said. And she just walked past me as if I would obey her
. “Are those men going to hurt Tessie?” I asked, even though somehow I knew, I knew, those men were Union men. They had no intention of hurting Tessie. Tessie was hiding those men. Tessie was helping them. And so was Eliza. She knew I had answered my own question. She just kept walking.

  I caught up with her. “Are they going to help Tessie escape to the North?” Eliza shook her head, and even in the shadowy moonlight I could see she was smiling at my naiveté. “No, Susannah. Come with me.” We went back into the parlor, and she led me to the finished pile of Confederate uniforms. She took two officers’ greatcoats and trousers and handed them to me. “I haven’t asked for your help before, Susannah, because I did not want to involve you. But I need you to do something for me. I need you to hide these in your room. Will you do that?”

  At first I could not even breathe. Two men were hiding in our slaves’ quarters. Two Northern men. And she was asking me to hide two Confederate uniforms. “What for?” I said, when I was able.

  “For later,” she said.

  As I stood there holding those uniforms in my arms I knew Eliza wasn’t just a frustrated loyalist. She was more than a simple Union sympathizer. She was more than someone who wanted to see the horrible practice of slavery ended. She was aiding the Federal troops. She was out at night meeting with them, talking with them, hiding them. Helping them. And now she was involving me.

  “Who are they for? Are they for those men in Tessie’s quarters?” I asked. But she went on with her instructions, ignoring my questions.

  “Wrap them in a sheet, and put them deep inside your feather bed. Sew up the place where you cut to put them in. Then turn your feather bed over so no one can see the seam. Do you understand?”

  “The man from the quartermaster’s office will know two are missing,” I said to her. “He’s coming tomorrow.”

  “That’s why you have to hide them tonight. I don’t think he will be bringing us more fabric after tomorrow.”

  Her words sent a chill into my bones. I asked her how she could know this. She said it does not matter how she knows. All that matters is keeping the two uniforms safe and hidden until she needs them. I asked her when that will be, and she said hopefully never.

  The next day the man from the quartermaster’s office came and took our finished uniforms. He counted them. He counted them again. He asked for all the unfinished pieces too, and we told him they were all finished. And he counted them again. I dared not to even glance at Eliza. Then he said our count was off. Grandmother told him he was mistaken. The count couldn’t possibly be off. He counted them again. “There are fifteen,” he said. “There should be seventeen.” Grandmother told him confidently that someone must have made a mistake. She opened the cabinets where we keep all our sewing supplies: the thread, the buttons, the braid. The space where the fabric sat was empty. “You have them all,” she said. And he thanked her and left. But he did not look convinced, Eleanor.

  My dearest cousin, I know you will probably never read this letter. How I wish you were here or I was there. I feel so alone.

  Yours always,

  Susannah

  21 April 1862

  Holly Oak, Fredericksburg, Virginia

  Eleanor,

  I am in a daze. Words escape me as I try to describe what has happened. I do not know how to begin. Fredericksburg is occupied. Union soldiers have taken the city. Eliza told us they were coming, and she instructed us to hide whatever food and valuables we could. When she said this, Grandmother glared at her. And Mama just sat in her chair like she didn’t have the slightest care that the Yankees were coming to set up camp in Fredericksburg. Grandmother said to Eliza, “You brought this trouble upon us!” and Eliza looked angry enough to slap her. “I take responsibility for everything I’ve ever done, bad or good. But this is not my doing,” Eliza said. “Now unless you want to let the Yankees have your silver, I suggest you hide it!”

  We spent the night digging up the cellar floor and hiding our jewelry and our coins and the silver in the dirt. I felt like a pirate hiding booty from other pirates, and my dress was covered in earth when we were done. We climbed the stairs to our rooms and stripped to our chemises. Eliza took our filthy dresses. I was too tired to ask her what she planned to do with them. Before I fell into bed, she told me to go into the parlor and remove all the braid, the buttons, the thread from our uniform making. Everything. She told me to put it all in a sack with some rocks and toss it into the river. “It is the middle of the night!” I told her. And she said, “Indeed it is, Susannah. Thank God it is.”

  The next morning they arrived. Soldiers in blue. They poured into the streets. Eliza and I were at the haberdashery when they arrived, more and more and more of them. Some of them came into the store, said hello, then just started taking anything they wanted. Hats, gloves, watches, scarves, pipes.

  Eliza was red faced with anger, but she merely said what they were doing was wrong. They laughed at her. Told her she was a lovely girl even when livid and asked if her husband was away at the war. She told them to get out. And they laughed harder. It was a very strange laugh, Eleanor. It was not a cruel laugh reserved for villains but the kind of laugh a superior might have for a childish fool engaged in something that is doomed to fail. Beyond our shop windows I could see more Yankees in other stores, walking out onto the streets with clothes, picture frames, garden tools, and tins of tobacco. Storekeepers were running after them, yelling at them that they couldn’t just take what didn’t belong to them. And the Yankee soldiers simply ignored them.

  I stood there unable to comprehend what was happening. I didn’t know war could also be like this. I know there is gunfire and cannons and killing in faraway fields, but I didn’t know it was also this.

  Eliza grabbed my arm and whispered to me. “Use the back door. Get to the house as quick as you can. And lock all the doors. I will follow as soon as I can.”

  “I can’t leave you here!” I whispered back.

  She turned to me, eyes bright with force. “GO!” she rasped. She pushed me to my knees, and I crawled to the back of the store. I heard Eliza yelling at the Yankees to get out, but I kept on my hands and knees. When I was no longer in the soldiers’ line of sight, I rose to my feet and pushed open the back door. I could hear whoops and hollers in the street—more Yankee revelry. I picked up my skirts and ran. I heard voices calling, shouting. They might have been shouting at me. I didn’t stop and I didn’t turn around. I just kept running, tears of dread running down my face. I could hear shouts of anger and panic coming from other houses as my neighbors reacted to the presence of Yankees, walking boldly and uninvited into their homes. But I didn’t stop. I just kept running until Holly Oak came into view. I stumbled up the front steps, crashed the front door open, and fell to a crumple, out of breath, onto the foyer floor. I slammed the door shut with my foot and gulped in air, eyes shut tight.

  Then I sensed movement. I opened my eyes and saw boots approach me. Men’s boots.

  I looked up, and men in blue coats and hats stared down on me. Half a dozen or more of them. One of them stretched out his hand. I covered my head, ready for a blow, already feeling the sting of it. But then the man said my name.

  My hands fell away from my face. Will was standing above me. And Cousin John.

  Eleanor, they were standing in Holly Oak. Standing there in their Union uniforms. The incongruity of them being there, like that, swooped down on me like a crashing hammer. Will’s hand was still outstretched to help me up, but I could not will my arm to lift itself. The world had gone mad. And since I was part of the world, I had surely gone mad too.

  John dropped to his knees beside me. “Susannah, it’s John and Will. Do you not recognize us?” The other men with them snickered, though not unkindly. “Are you all right? You have been crying.”

  Will was bent over now too, his arm now lightly reaching for my arm. He pulled me gently to my feet.

  “You’re here,” I whispered, and all of them laughed.

  John handed m
e a handkerchief. “Cousin, are you quite all right?”

  I suddenly remembered why I had run home. “Where’s my mother? Where’s my grandmother?” I looked for a parting in the group of them, and there wasn’t one. They were circled around me.

  “We were wondering that too,” John said. “We’d like to ask your grandmother if we can stay at Holly Oak while we’re here. Better us than strangers you do not know. And where might your aunt Eliza be?”

  The room seemed to be spinning. Where was my mother? Where was my grandmother? Why were they asking about Eliza?

  Will placed his hand under my elbow. Tender, as a father might. “Susannah, what has happened? Where is Eliza?”

  Behind me the door opened, and Eliza charged inside, the store keys dangling from her hand. Her hair was loose and flying like I realized now mine was.

  “What the devil is going on?” she exclaimed angrily. She glowered at the Yankees standing in our foyer, at my cousin, and at the man I had loved since I was fourteen. Her eyes were blazing.

  I opened my mouth to tell her one of the Union soldiers standing in our entry was my cousin from Maine and the other was a good friend, but they stepped forward and told her that what was happening at the shops and houses had never been ordered by the general. And they didn’t approve of it.

  Eliza turned to Will. “They are sacking the town, Will! There are just innocent women and children left here. And a few old men. We’re not one of your battlefields! This is a town of civilians!”

  She called him Will.

  John shook his head. “And I am telling you Gen. McDowell did not order this.”

  Eliza whirled around to face my cousin. “Well, who’s going to order them to stop? Tell me that, John? Who is going to order them to stop?”

  She knew them both. And they knew her.

  The room began to feel warm and sticky like a late July evening. I felt Will’s arms suddenly around my waist. As I fought to stay conscious I was aware of how close Will was, how solid he felt against my body. Not some distant dream of a man, but here, in my house, guiding me and then picking me up off my feet and carrying me in his arms as I always dreamed he would do.