Moving through the house with soft footfalls, she made her way to the kitchen. What foodstuffs could she carry in her satchel? Some bread, a small bit of cheese, and a few apples. Not much. But it would sustain her for a little while.
What more was there to prepare? Maneuvering toward the servants' entrance, she steeled herself. This was it. Her moment of truth. Did she have the courage? An image of her mother’s face came to her. Yes, she would be devastated. Her father would be sad. Would her younger brother even understand? But John… She did this for John. Placing a hand on the latch, she opened the door and slipped into the night.
As she came back around to the front of the only place she'd called home, Elizabeth stopped to soak it in. Would she ever return? That evening when she hugged her parents goodnight, she'd fought the urge to linger in their embraces. Would she ever see them again?
Yet even as she gazed at the only home she'd ever known, she couldn't look upon the house without thinking of John and times spent here. In her mind's eye, she saw him as a younger boy standing outside her window on the street throwing pebbles at her window to get her attention. John. She had to be with him. Her resolve deepened and she moved in the direction of the train station to face her destiny.
* * *
John meandered through the train, looking for an empty seat. He spotted one next to a young man. Was he truly old enough to have enlisted? The boy’s eyes darted between him and the window. He rubbed his hands on his pants as he shifted in his seat. Their destination and what they would face when they arrived may forever connect them, but this young man’s demeanor could not be more different.
“This seat taken?” John put on his most charming smile.
“No, sir,” the young boy responded, his voice shaking.
John settled into the seat and took his hat off. Perhaps if he relaxed it would calm the boy. He stuck out his hand. “John Taylor.”
The boy shook it. “Jacob Moore.” Even his hand trembled.
John searched for something encouraging to say. What was there to say to a boy so young that John himself couldn’t fathom any reason he should be here?
At last, he found some words. “You're doing your country proud, you know.”
Jacob shook his head. But he still had a hollow, haunted look in his eyes.
Facing forward, John took a moment to think. The silence between them became thick and uncomfortable. He felt the need to get a conversation going.
“I'm a doctor. I signed up because I wanted to make a difference. Thought I could do a lot of good for the soldiers getting wounded if they could get good medical attention sooner. What about you? What made you enlist?”
“M-my older b-brother enlisted a couple of months ago,” Jacob struggled through his simple explanation.
A brother. Perhaps they could talk about him. “What’s his name?”
“Benjamin.” Jacob's voice was already stronger. Talking did seem to calm him somewhat.
“Did he send a lot of letters from the front?”
“Yeah! They were incredible. The stuff he wrote about was amazing, and I wanted to be right there beside him.” The young man’s eyes brightened.
“Oh?”
Jacob nodded. “When we were kids, we did everything together.”
“That sounds great.” John could only imagine the antics of two young boys. He had always wanted a brother.
“It was. We would play pirates, or cops and robbers, or army. We’ve always been there for each other. Do you have brothers?” Jacob's eyebrows rose.
“No, I have a younger sister. But she never wanted to play any of those games. She just wanted to play princess.” John laughed a little.
“I have a sister, too. I know what you mean.” Jacob's gaze turned forward and John feared the conversation might dwindle.
“I think girls get better as they get older.” John stretched out his legs as much as the tightly spaced seats would allow.
“Yeah?” Jacob quirked an eyebrow.
John stifled a laugh. “Sure. Don't you have a girl back home? Someone you care about in a special way?”
“I don't know.” Jacob's words came out slow and hesitant. His tone betrayed that he didn't, but his eyes shone his interest. After all, what boy of age wasn’t?
“I do.” John laid his head back on his seat. “Her name is Elizabeth and she is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.”
“That is special. Does she like you back?” Jacob tilted his head.
John leaned toward him as if he were about to share a deep secret. “Oh, it's more than that, Jacob. We're in love.”
“How do you know?”
John paused. This was a deep subject to get into with someone you just met. But it would keep Jacob's mind off what awaited them on the other side of this train ride. What could it hurt to share with this young man what he knew of love?
“When you're in love, you want to spend all your time with that person. You get a happy feeling inside when you think about her. It's hard to explain. Trust me, you'll just know.”
Jacob remained quiet.
“Being in love isn't always easy, though. Because the women we love won't always understand the decisions we have to make. We just have to hope they have the courage to support us.”
John’s gaze drifted toward the window and became lost somewhere off in the distance. Elizabeth had tried so hard to understand. But in the end, had she been able to? Their farewell ran across his memory. Her face, her eyes, her lips were so vivid he could almost reach out and touch them. Would these images haunt him over the weeks to come? It had been but a handful of hours yet, and already, he couldn't deny that he missed her terribly.
* * *
A sharp blast from the train's steam whistle pierced the air. The train jerked and began its forward momentum. Elizabeth grasped for a handhold. Her body thrown off balance, she knocked into another young woman who had been sliding past her.
“Pardon me!” Elizabeth apologized, mortified at her clumsiness.
“It's all right.” The woman struggled to right herself amidst the rocking motion. “There’s not much room to move around in here.”
“No, not at all.” Elizabeth glanced from side to side and frowned. Would she find a seat? It did not look promising.
A hand fell on her shoulder. She jerked from the contact then stilled herself. There was likely to be plenty of that in such close quarters. Turning her head toward the intrusion, she spotted the same young woman standing behind her.
“Do you have a seat?”
Elizabeth shook her head.
“There's one available in my car. You are welcome to join me.”
She wanted to throw her arms around the stranger, but stopped herself and smiled her thanks instead. Nodding, Elizabeth then followed the young woman into the next car. Toward the end of the car, there was an unoccupied bench. Two middle-aged women sat facing the vacant seats, both dozing. The young woman moved toward the bench and indicated for Elizabeth to sit beside her.
“I'm Melanie.” She extended her hand.
Elizabeth shook it. “Elizabeth.”
“This is Louisa and May. Both of their husbands are on this train. Enlisted. Myself, I'm not married. I'm just looking for some way to assist with the war effort. I thought I'd come along and do laundry and mending and cooking and whatever else the men needed. Why, I'd fight if they'd let me.”
Elizabeth nodded, trying to take it all in. She had a lot of respect for Melanie's passion even if she didn't share it. Take up a weapon? Unimaginable.
“You?” Melanie's eyes were bright and earnest.
“Same as you.” Elizabeth plastered a smile on her face. She had not been prepared to answer questions about her presence. “I'm ready to help out wherever I can.”
“That makes us kindred spirits,” Melanie said, her voice elated. “Which is just as well. We'll be seeing a lot of each other, I'm sure.” Melanie smiled at her.
Elizabeth didn't know about kindred spirit
s. Melanie seemed a little chatty for her liking.
“I don't mean to interrupt your tea party,” Louisa spoke up, opening one eye. “But we will have a long day tomorrow. I advise we all get some sleep if we can.”
Melanie and Elizabeth apologized, sharing another smile, and Melanie quieted down.
Elizabeth leaned her head back and gazed out the window, watching Boston fade out of view. She still couldn't believe she had done it – left her home and everything she had known to join a Union camp's Sanitary Commission. Not just any Union camp – John's camp.
How was she going to keep John from finding out? As much as she needed to be near him, she had no doubt he would have her sent home if he found her, out of fear for her safety. That was the last thing on her mind. She cared little for her own well being as long as she could be near her beloved.
Women that traveled with the troops were either wives coming to help out with the cooking and laundering or nurses for the most part. Elizabeth would have to stay away from the hospital and blend in with the wives as much as she could. Which appeared to be Melanie's plan.
The rocking of the train and the lateness of the hour began to work on Elizabeth, causing her eyelids to feel heavy. In a matter of minutes, she was sound asleep, dreaming of what the next day might bring.
* * *
Morning had barely broken. Throughout the house, servants moved about their tasks. But Abigail’s corner of the world was quiet and calm, just as she preferred for this hour of the day. She sat at her vanity, watching in the mirror as her maidservant worked to put curls in her hair. What would the day bring? Examining her nails, she sighed. Her days had become so much the same of late. Was the life of a lady of leisure to be so boring?
But today would be different. John had gone. Elizabeth would need her. Abigail gazed at herself in the mirror. A purpose for her day, for her being. One of her children needed her. It had been so long since she felt needed.
Her door flung open. Who? What? She spun toward the intrusion, her head jerked by the iron still in her hair.
Elizabeth’s maidservant rushed into the room without knocking.
Abigail scowled at her. What could possibly excuse such behavior?
“Excuse me, Ma’am,” the young woman said, curtsying. “But I cannot find Miss Elizabeth.”
Abigail’s heart dropped. “Can’t find her?”
The girl shook her head. “She wasn’t in her room this morning. But I found this note.” She reached out a shaking hand, which bore an envelope.
Taking the note, Abigail’s breath caught when she saw ‘Father and Mother’ written in Elizabeth’s hand. What could it mean? She feared the answer. Ripping at the seal, she tore the letter from its enclosure.
Dearest Father and Mother,
By the time you read this letter, I’ll be far away…
Her heart froze.
“Get Dr. Thompson!”
Elizabeth’s maidservant curtsied once again and moved off after her given task.
Abigail’s maidservant moved to make another curl in Abigail’s hair, but she waved the woman off. What should she do? Continue reading or wait for her husband? Waiting for Thomas seemed the wiser thing to do. He would keep a level head. Yes, he would know what to do.
Moments later, he appeared at the doorway, his features twisted in concern. Abigail couldn't form the words, so she held the note out to him, her hand trembling.
He read the first few lines and looked up at her, eyes wide.
“Out loud,” she managed, her mouth suddenly dry.
Excusing the servants, he then closed the door behind them and sat on the edge of the bed nearby.
“Dearest Father and Mother, by the time you read this letter, I'll be far away. I am sorry tell you this in a letter. It's not fair to you. Please forgive me. But I could not risk that you would stop me. What I am about to do is too important.
“I can no longer imagine continuing on here while John is at war, risking his life every day. The thought that I would wake each day not knowing where he is or if he is alive is too much. I have to find a way to be with him. So, I am joining the women who follow the camps. This is the only way. Do not worry so, Mother, I will be away from the fighting. And I will write often. I love you both. Elizabeth.”
How could Elizabeth do this? Abigail's face fell onto her arms on the vanity. “My girl!”
She heard Thomas’s movements behind her. Then his hand was on her back. “There, there.”
Pushing back from the surface of the vanity, Abigail spun on him, grabbing at his forearms. “You must go after her, Thomas. You must bring her home.”
“You know that's not possible. The train left last night, and for where I do not know. She is beyond our reach.”
“No,” Abigail insisted. Was there no hope? No recourse?
When John first announced that he had enlisted, Abigail sympathized with Charlotte. But she could only imagine what her friend went through. Now she knew all too well the emotions that had coursed through Charlotte on that day. And they overwhelmed Abigail. Her breathing came rapidly, chest heaving. The world around her became hazy.
Searching for solace, she focused on Thomas. He grounded her. His arms moved to surround her, pulling her into an embrace. And the tears that pricked at her eyes came full force, pouring from her. But the moisture on her face was not her own. Thomas’s tears mixed with hers. And she knew, he felt it too. Their daughter had gone off to war.
* * *
Just as Louisa had said, the next day proved to be arduous and long. The train took them as far south as Charleston. From there, they walked for miles upon miles before setting up camp for the night. It couldn't come soon enough.
And while Elizabeth considered herself to be in excellent physical condition, only a few hours in, her feet hurt. No doubt she had blisters from her impractical shoes. Why hadn't she thought to exchange those when she bartered for plainer dresses? Her lack of foresight left her with no choice but to suffer.
For the sake of the women, the unit commander did pause from time to time. However, the infrequent stops weren't quite long enough for Elizabeth's poorly clad feet. But as the sun dipped closer to the horizon, the unit came to a stop and set up camp for the night.
Elizabeth and Melanie were assigned a tent with two nurses. How were they to manage that? It was an unnecessary worry. Their tent mates, Sarah and Lily, had far more experience assembling tents. Once the tent was miraculously standing, the girls set out their sleeping mats. The tent only had room for their four sleeping mats to squeeze in, but Elizabeth was thankful for beds and shelter all the same.
After laying out her mat, Elizabeth collapsed on the thinly padded surface. Could she just lie here for the remainder of the day? She shook her head. That was not possible. There were other tasks to attend to. Forcing herself into a sitting position, she then pulled one foot close to herself and tried to remove the shoe.
“You're over there grunting and whimpering about something. What's the matter?” Melanie teased from her sprawled out position on her own mat.
“It's these shoes,” Elizabeth moaned. “I can't get them off.”
“Let me help.” Melanie sat up and scooted toward Elizabeth.
Elizabeth's face warmed. How was it that she couldn't even get her shoes off by herself?
“Where did you get such fancy shoes?” Melanie’s eyes caught hers.
“It's a long story,” Elizabeth looked away, hoping to dissuade Melanie from further questions.
“But, they…”
“It's not important,” she snapped, a bit louder than she meant to. “I didn't mean that.” She turned to face Melanie again. “I’m just in a lot of pain. Please, help me.”
Melanie freed the laces all the way down, and then worked at loosening the leather. She tugged at the shoes with great care. It took some effort due to Elizabeth's swollen feet. But after several seconds, Melanie got them off.
Melanie's breath caught.
“What
is it?” What could have startled Melanie so?
“These blisters. My goodness, Elizabeth! You need to see one of the doctors about these.”
Looking over her knees, Elizabeth caught sight of her lumpy feet even through her foot dressings.
“No, I'll be fine.” The words rushed out. A doctor did need to look at her feet and tend to the blisters, but she couldn’t let John find out she was here.
“Let's take off your stockings.” Without waiting for consent, Melanie’s gentle hands worked to remove them. The angry, red, water-filled blisters on her heels and the pads of her feet were laid bare for them both to see.
Elizabeth reached out to touch one, but drew back.
Movement at the tent opening drew Elizabeth’s attention. Sarah walked in and toward her bag. Melanie beckoned her over to where Elizabeth sat.
“Sarah, I’m trying to convince Elizabeth that the doctor needs to take a look at her feet. What do you think?”
The nurse glanced at Elizabeth's feet and made a small sound. Then she made her way back into the thick of camp before Elizabeth could protest. What was she going to do? Would she return in short order with a doctor?
Elizabeth fell back on the mat, throwing an arm over her face. Her well-laid plan was over before it had begun. All of this…for nothing. John would be here in a matter of moments and he would send her back home.
Two sets of footsteps crunched in the grassy area nearby. A whisk of a breeze flew through as the tent flap opened again. Still, Elizabeth refused to look up into John's face.
“What seems to be the problem here?” a male voice said, but it wasn't John.
Jerking back to her sitting position, Elizabeth sought with her eyes to confirm what her ears told her. The kind blue eyes she stared into were decidedly not John's. Had she joined the wrong unit?
“I have, um, that is…there are some, um…I've got blisters,” she managed.
“Is that all?” The man watched her, smiling, and a little laugh escaped from deep in his throat. He was older than John, but not quite her father's age. And he seemed rather amused at her tongue-tied state. Getting down on one knee, he reached for her feet.
“I'm Dr. Smith. We'll be seeing a lot of each other. There are two other doctors in the unit—Dr. Taylor and Dr. Young. You'll meet both of them in time.” As he spoke, he examined her blisters. “And I'm afraid I'm going to have to lance these.”
Off To War (War Between The States) Page 3