Divided Nation, United Hearts

by Yolanda Wallace

  Wilhelmina thought of the first night she had met Clara. When she had looked into her eyes and known she had met someone she wanted to be in her life for the rest of her life.

  “It doesn’t take long once you know something’s meant to be.”

  *

  Clara’s feet felt leaden as she made the short trek from the house to the barn. She had made this journey many times over the years. Tonight, though, she felt like she was taking a trip to the gallows. The first time she had followed this path to see Wil, it had marked the beginning. Her journey tonight felt like the end.

  She had told herself to be strong. She had told herself not to let her feelings show so she wouldn’t make Wil feel bad about leaving. But she felt her resolve weaken as soon as she opened the barn door and found Wil and Jack playing one last game of fetch.

  She set the lantern down and turned away so Wil wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Wil let the ball of twine fall from her hand, came over to her, and slipped her arms around her waist. Clara leaned against her, seeking solace in her strength.

  “I thought we would have more time.”

  “We will. When I come back, we’ll have all the time in the world.”

  “But what if you don’t come back?”

  Clara didn’t want to imagine such a thing, but she had to face facts. They both did.

  Wil had already been shot once, but she had managed to survive. She might not be as fortunate if it happened again.

  “You can’t get rid of me that easily.” Wil took Clara by her shoulders and turned her to face her. “I’m coming back for you, and I won’t let anyone or anything stand in my way. I promise.”

  Most promises were made to be broken, but Clara hoped this one was meant to be kept.

  “Will you wait for me?”

  “Of course, Wil. Do you even have to ask?”

  “Maybe I just wanted to hear you say it.”

  Wil flashed her familiar lopsided grin. The one that made Clara’s heart flutter and her stomach turn somersaults. Lord, she was going to miss that grin.

  Wil pulled her toward the hayloft. Clara allowed herself to be led.

  After they climbed the ladder, they undressed each other and made love. Slowly at first, then with an increasing sense of urgency. Of desperation.

  Clara tried to commit every kiss, every touch, every caress to memory. Because once the sun rose and Erwin returned to escort Wil back to their regiment, memories would be all she had to sustain her.

  “Stay with me tonight,” Wil said afterward as Clara lay limp and sated in her arms.

  Clara started to protest. What would Abram and Percy say if they discovered she had spent the night with Wil? But if this was the last night she and Wil would ever spend together, she didn’t want to spend a moment of it apart.

  She closed her eyes and held on tight. Held on for dear life. Held on because she couldn’t force herself to let go.

  “I wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else.”

  Chapter Twenty

  While Clara fastened her dress, Wilhelmina buttoned her uniform coat and tugged her hat into place. They dressed without speaking because there were no words left to say besides good-bye, and Wilhelmina didn’t know if she could manage it. After she cinched her belt around her waist, she reached for Clara’s hand and laced their fingers together. The connection they had formed was so powerful she doubted anything could break it, but time and distance were about to put it to the test.

  Wilhelmina knew she shouldn’t let this moment pass without remarking on it, but she lacked the eloquence to express her feelings. She couldn’t quote from classic literature like Erwin. All she could do was speak from the heart.

  “Clara—”

  Clara squeezed her hand and let go.

  “Mr. Weekley will be here soon,” Clara said, turning away. “I’ll make you some breakfast before you go. And the boys will be wanting a chance to say their fare-thee-wells.”

  “Clara—”

  Wilhelmina reached for her, but Clara pressed her hands against her chest to hold her at bay.

  “Don’t, Wil,” Clara said with tears in her eyes. “Don’t say you love me. I already know. And don’t say you’ll come back because we both know it’s a promise you might not be able to keep. Just—” She gripped Wilhelmina’s coat, holding the dark blue wool tight in her fists. “Just stay safe. And don’t forget about me.”

  “No chance of that.”

  Wilhelmina kissed her. Like it was the first time. Like it was the last time. Because once she abandoned the refuge she had found on this farm, in this drafty barn—and in Clara’s arms—she might not be able to find her way back to it.

  “Stay here,” Clara said after she climbed down the ladder. “I’ll be back.”

  So will I, Wilhelmina thought, though she didn’t dare say it out loud. Doing so under these circumstances would feel like inviting disaster.

  She grabbed her rifle and looped her cartridge box over her shoulder.

  “I guess this is it, Jack.” She bent to scratch him between his ears as he leaned against her legs. “Take care of yourself, okay? And don’t forget everything I taught you.”

  As if he understood her words, Jack picked up the ball of twine and dropped it at her feet.

  “Last time,” she said sadly. “Let’s make it a good one.”

  She tossed the ball of twine and watched him run after it. When he brought it back, he held it in his teeth instead of letting go. Then he batted the air with his paw as if waving good-bye.

  “I’m going to miss you, too,” she said, giving his head a final scratch.

  “Are you sure you can’t stay, Mr. Wil?”

  Wilhelmina turned to find Abram and Percy standing behind her. Their faces were puffy from sleep—and unshed tears.

  “Yes, I’m sure, Abram. I gave my word and I intend to keep it.”

  “But don’t you love us no more?” Percy asked.

  Wilhelmina bent so she could look him in the eye.

  “I love you, Abram, and Clara more than I can say. Don’t ever forget that.”

  “We won’t, Mr. Wil,” Abram said, putting an arm around Percy’s shoulder. “I’ll make sure he understands.” He held out his hand. “Be careful now, you hear?”

  “I will.”

  Wilhelmina shook Abram’s hand. She could tell he would become a good man one day, and she was grateful she was able to see a glimpse now in case she didn’t get the chance later.

  Erwin showed up as Wilhelmina was finishing a plate of biscuits, sausage, and scrambled eggs.

  “Are you ready, son?”

  Wilhelmina finished the rest of her coffee, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and rose from her seat.

  “Yes, sir, I think I am.”

  She let her eyes linger on Abram’s and Percy’s faces, taking them in one by one. She saved Clara for last, basking in her beauty. Reflecting on the memories they had made—and fervently wishing they would be lucky enough to make more.

  “Wait,” Clara said. “Don’t go.”

  Wilhelmina’s heart was already heavy. Hearing Clara’s plea made it grow extra weight.

  “Clara—”

  “I’m not trying to stop you,” Clara said, a panicked expression creeping across her face. “I think I hear someone coming.”

  After Clara fell silent, Wilhelmina strained to hear what had caught her attention. The faint sound of hoofbeats gradually grew louder.

  Abram ran to the door and peeked out.

  “It’s Jed. And he’s dragging Solomon behind him.”

  Wilhelmina moved closer to the door but made sure to remain out of sight. She saw a man with dark brown hair riding a chestnut stallion. The horse was moving at a canter. Not very fast, but too fast for the man trailing behind it to keep up.

  Solomon, his wrists bound by a rope attached to the pommel of the horse’s saddle, coughed and spat as he was dragged face-first through the
dirt.

  “I’ll kill him.”

  Abram grabbed for Wilhelmina’s rifle, but she lifted it over her head and held it out of reach.

  “You’ll do no such thing,” Clara said. “Let me handle this.”

  “What do you intend to do?” Wilhelmina asked.

  “I don’t know how I’m going to finish, but I’m going to start by asking Jedediah what he wants.”

  *

  Clara walked out of the barn with Abram and Percy trailing behind her. She could feel Wil’s eyes on her, watching her from the shadows.

  She didn’t know what was about to happen, but she felt like her whole life had been building to this moment. Now that the moment had finally arrived, she knew nothing would ever be the same.

  She wished she had the pistol Wil had given her, but she had left it in the house. She had left it behind because being with Wil made her feel safe. Even if she had the pistol on her, she didn’t know if she would be able to use it on Jedediah. He had been a thorn in her side for years, but she couldn’t compel herself to bring harm to him or anyone else.

  After Jedediah directed his horse to stop, Solomon groaned and rolled onto his back. His face was scratched and bruised. His clothes were covered in dust. Clara wanted to go to him, but the strange look on Jedediah’s face convinced her to remain where she was.

  Jedediah looked nearly as bedraggled as Solomon. He had always prided himself on his appearance, but his eyes were red, his clothes were unkempt, and his face unshaven.

  How the mighty had fallen.

  “What are you doing, Jedediah?” Clara asked. “Why do you have Solomon trussed up like that?”

  “I caught him trying to steal a couple of chickens from our coop. I could have shot him, but I refrained because I thought you might be agreeable to a trade.”

  “What kind of trade?” Clara asked warily.

  “I want to exchange his freedom for your land. My father has chosen to give up rather than fight. He has decided to remain in Corinth with Mother rather than return to Shiloh.”

  “Why don’t you join them? There’s nothing left for you here.”

  “I don’t want to live in Mississippi. Tennessee is my home. Always has been. Always will be. My father is too old to make another fortune, but I’m still young enough to make mine.” He looked around the farm. “This place isn’t much, but it will get me started. All you need to do is find the deed and sign it over to me. In return, I’ll hand your brother over to you instead of the Rebs he deserted from or the Yankees who have stolen my family’s land. So which is it to be? Your father’s land or your brother’s life?”

  “Don’t do it, Clara,” Solomon said. “Papa wouldn’t want you to. Let this piece of shit turn me in. I ain’t afraid to die.”

  According to Solomon, Papa had given his last breath to keep him safe. Now it was Clara’s turn to do something similar.

  “I can’t give you what ain’t mine, Jedediah. Papa’s dead, and our land’s already been claimed. Same as yours.”

  Jedediah looked doubtful. Clara had expected him to take her at her word. She should have known he would require more.

  “Claimed by who?” he asked. “I don’t see any Yankees around here.”

  “Then I suppose you haven’t looked hard enough.”

  Clara turned at the sound of Wil’s voice. She saw Wil and Mr. Weekley standing outside the barn with their rifles aimed at Jedediah’s chest. She felt so proud seeing the determined look on Wil’s face—and the frightened one on Jedediah’s. He was so used to pushing people around. Now someone was finally pushing back. Not just someone. Wil.

  “You’re trespassing on private property, Jedediah. My property. I’m well within my rights to shoot you,” Wil said, moving closer. “Untie that man, ride off, and don’t come back.”

  “Or what?” Jedediah asked. “What happens if I don’t do what you say?”

  “I won’t leave it up to someone else to kill you. I’ll do it myself.”

  “You’re just a boy. I could tear you apart with my bare hands.”

  “That scrawny son of a bitch is tougher than he looks,” Solomon said. “I shot him square in the chest and he’s still standing here breathing. Do you really think you can do better, Jed?”

  Jedediah fell silent as he considered his options. The Reserves had scattered, the Rebs were gone, and Yankee troops were everywhere. He had been beaten, even if he wasn’t willing to admit defeat.

  Several long minutes later, he untied the rope attached to his saddle and dug his heels into his horse’s side. Then he rode off without a word.

  “Do you think we’ve seen the last of him?” Abram asked.

  Wil shouldered her rifle.

  “I think I’d better stick around to make sure.”

  Clara looked at her, unable to convince herself that what Wil had said was true. She had finally come to terms with Wil leaving. Now there was a possibility she might stay?

  “Do you really mean it, Mr. Wil?” Percy asked. “You’re not going to leave us after all?”

  “No, Percy, I’m not. If Clara will have me, that is.”

  When Wil looked at her, Clara was nearly undone by what she saw. Wil’s eyes glowed with love. For Abram. For Percy. And for her.

  “I think we already know the answer to that question,” Percy said.

  “You know who these men are, don’t you, Clara?” Solomon asked as Abram helped him to his feet. “They’re the ones who killed Papa.”

  “They’re also the men who just helped save your life,” Clara said. “By my reckoning, that makes you square, doesn’t it?”

  “That depends.” Solomon rubbed his wrists where the rope had scraped them raw. “You still planning to take me in, Fredericks?”

  “No,” Wil said, “I’m not, but I am planning to marry your sister. Is that all right by you?”

  “I don’t know if I cotton to the idea of having a Yankee for a brother-in-law,” Solomon said, making Clara wonder if she and Wil were about to fall victim to the last obstacle in their path after clearing all the others. “But from what I’ve seen, you’re a heap better man than the one that just rode out of here with his tail between his legs.”

  “So what does that mean?”

  Clara needed to hear him say it straight out, not hint around it.

  “If you want him, I ain’t gonna stand in your way.” Solomon rubbed his chin. Dirt and leaves fell from his shaggy beard. “Some folks in town might not like it, but other people’s opinions of this family ain’t mattered to us before. Why should we let it start making a difference now?”

  “Thank you, Solomon,” Clara said.

  “For what?”

  “For not making me choose between my family and my heart.”

  “Seems to me you already did. And, for what it’s worth, I think you made the right choice.”

  “So do I.”

  “I’d better be getting back to camp,” Mr. Weekley said as reveille sounded in the distance. He paused to shake Wil’s hand. “This is where we part ways, son, though I hope we will be allowed to renew our acquaintance after the hostilities conclude.”

  “I hope so, too, sir. You’re welcome to pay us a visit anytime.”

  Mr. Weekley started to walk away, but Solomon called out to him before he got very far.

  “Hold up, Weekley. I’m going with you.”

  “After everything that has transpired,” Mr. Weekley said, “I’m more than willing to look the other way.”

  “I can’t keep running on this bum leg of mine,” Solomon said. “The Federals are bound to catch up to me sooner or later. I might as well do this on my terms. Take me in. I’m ready to serve my time.”

  “Are you sure, Solomon?” Clara asked.

  “You don’t need me to look after you and the boys no more.” He looked from her to Wil and back again. “You’ve got someone else to do it for you.”

  “No,” Wil said, wrapping her arm around Clara’s waist. “We’ve got each other.”


  “Don’t worry,” Mr. Weekley said. “I’ll look after him as best I can.”

  Though Clara was sad to see Solomon go, she was glad he was able to find redemption before he left. When he finally made it back home, he would be whole in body as well as in spirit.

  After Solomon and Mr. Weekley disappeared into the woods, Clara turned to Wil, the enemy soldier who had invaded her heart.

  “Why did you change your mind and decide to stay?”

  Wil laid her weapon aside for the last time and took her into her arms.

  “Because I would rather die by your side than live without you.”

  Clara closed her eyes as Wil kissed her. Though the nation was still divided, their hearts were united. The war continued all around them, but their battle was over. Love had won.

  Epilogue

  June 1866

  Shiloh, Tennessee

  Wil Fredericks woke before the sun rose. She loved this time of day. This odd mixture of morning and night. When the house was quiet, save for the sound of her wife sleeping in her arms.

  Clara’s left hand rested on Wil’s chest, which had been freed of its usual bindings so she could doze in comfort—and Clara could touch her with no restrictions impeding her path. Wil twirled the gold band on the ring finger of Clara’s hand. The ring had once adorned Clara’s mother’s hand. Now it rested on hers. Wil had bought it back from Mr. Stallings at the general store four years ago, and, when she slipped it on Clara’s finger later that same day, she had resolved to do everything in her power to make sure Clara and the ring were never parted again.

  Farm life wasn’t easy. The work was hard—backbreaking at times—but Wil was happy to do it because she had her family by her side to share the load. Her wife, her brothers-in-law, and the Braggs, who treated her as one of their own. Just as they did with the Summerses.