John stared at him, heaving a weak sigh. “I don't know anything.”
“What is in your stock of ammunition?” Wallace started, as if John hadn't said anything.
“I am a doctor, not a tactical officer,” John insisted. He tried to put all the force he could into his statement, but even he knew it came across weak. His body was so tired.
“Where are your weapons supplied from?” The colonel blotted his mouth with a napkin.
“I don't know anything.” John pled. “Why won't you believe me?”
“Who does your unit commander take his orders from?” Wallace neither rushed nor raised his voice. His tone remained neutral, but he continued to throw out questions with force.
“I only know who I report to: Dr. William Smith.” John hung his head.
Colonel Wallace took one last, long look at John. And John knew. The colonel didn't like the answers he was getting. He also knew, because his jailers made sure he knew, that the colonel would like nothing more than to torture him to death.
Finally, the colonel knocked on his desk. Three loud raps. The soldier who had dragged John into the interrogation room stepped back into the office.
“Yes, sir?” The soldier’s gruff voice sounded in the silence.
“He doesn't know anything. Send him back to the front lines. Perhaps they'll find a way to make use of him as a physician.”
The Confederate guard nodded and took hold of John's uniform again, all but jerking him to feet.
As they were almost out of the door, the colonel called out, almost as an afterthought, “And give him some rations.”
John felt as if he could cry he was so happy to know he would have food soon. Half-dragged, half-walking back to his cell, he landed hard on the floor. But he didn't care. All he could think about was the food he would partake of soon.
The Confederate guard returned soon after with the same rations he had received the first day: pork, beans, and bread. This time, however, John was sure that it was the most delectable meal he had ever eaten. He had to force himself to eat slowly lest he upset his stomach.
What would happen next, he did not know. But he was getting out of here. And as long as he didn't have to trade information he didn't have for food, cooperating by using his skills as a physician, even to save Confederate troops, would not be something he had a problem with.
* * *
Hazy shapes took form. That was the first thing Elizabeth noticed as she opened her eyes. What had disrupted her sleep? Shapes became clearer and she recognized the form moving next to her as Suellen. She placed a bowl next to Elizabeth's cot.
Elizabeth drew a hand across her face. How long had she been sleep? Oh no! She drew herself up on her elbow. Had she missed dinner again? Sighing, she released her weight back into the pillow. It wasn't the end of the world, but she enjoyed being around everyone and having the opportunity to spend more time with Matthew.
As she turned, Suellen's eyes caught hers. “I'm sorry. Did I wake you? Seems I can't ever drop off your dinner without waking you.”
Elizabeth smiled at her, shifting in the cot to move to a sitting position. “It's all right. I'm a light sleeper.” Reaching for the bowl, Elizabeth spotted a note next to her spoon.
“Somebody dropped that off for you,” Suellen started, then leaned closer to Elizabeth and continued. “Actually, it's from Matthew. He wants to meet you at your 'special place'!” Suellen seemed unfazed by the fact that she had invaded Elizabeth's privacy and read the note.
“Oh?” was all Elizabeth said.
“Yeah. He was real upset at dinner that you weren't there. But he didn't let on, not one bit, that he had planned a secret meet-up.”
Elizabeth rubbed her head. It was a little soon after such a deep sleep for all this chatter. She still worked to pull herself out of her dream. That man had filled her dreams again. The one with the dark hair and dark eyes. He visited her every dream. Who was he? Someone from her past? Shaking her head, she tried to pull herself back to the present. Looking up, she found herself staring into Suellen’s expectant gaze.
“Thank you, Suellen.” She reached for a piece of bread.
“You'd better hurry up, now. He said he wants to meet you just after dark.” Suellen folded her hands by her face. “So romantic!”
Elizabeth yawned and nodded, picking up the note and opening it for herself. As she read its contents, Suellen slipped out of the hospital. It did not matter. Suellen had told her everything in the note. So Elizabeth set to eating her dinner. She was quite hungry after her deep sleep.
After polishing off her stew, Elizabeth smoothed over her dress and wrapped herself with a shawl. Then she headed out of the hospital and toward the stream. What could Matthew be thinking? Did he truly just miss her? Or did he want to conjure up a romantic setting for their first kiss? She smiled at that. Unsure what his intentions were, she decided she trusted him enough to come when he requested.
The stream's banks were empty when she arrived. So much for rushing here to meet Matthew. He was nowhere in sight. Maybe he got held up somewhere along the way. She sat down and waited where she had been earlier that day when Matthew had kissed her hand.
Several minutes passed before she heard something. Standing and cocking her head in the direction of the sound, she discerned it to be rustling in the bushes nearby.
“Matthew? Is that you?” she became worried. Something wasn't right about this. Was it some wild animal?
More shuffling, but nothing came for her. She gathered her shawl around herself.
I shouldn't be out in the night like this. It was a mistake to come looking for Matthew. He clearly had not sent her the message. Turning back toward the camp, she moved in that direction.
A movement in her periphery came into shape. The bushes. Something jumped out of the bushes and tackled her to the ground. Her gut reaction was to struggle against whatever had attacked her. It wasn't long before she distinguished that she fought not against an animal, but a man. Soon enough, he had her hopelessly pinned. She looked up into his hate-filled eyes. It was Tommy.
“I got in a heap of trouble because of you, Union tramp,” he said, grabbing her roughly and slamming her against the ground.
Pain pierced her from the back of her head and spots filled her vision.
“And you prance about the camp as if you own it.” There was a lilt to his voice when he said 'prance,' but his voice took on a menacing quality soon after.
“Please, stop. You're hurting me,” she screamed.
“Are you scared?” he sneered.
“Yes,” she said, nearly breathless.
“Good, 'cause I'm gonna finish what I started.” He pulled out a knife from his belt and held it against her throat.”
“Please,” she pleaded, shutting her eyes tight as tears welled.
He laughed in her face.
“Is this what you call sport?” A man's voice interrupted from above. “Attacking a defenseless women in the dead of night?”
Elizabeth craned her neck. Matthew!
“Leave us be, Matthew. You know she has this coming to her.”
“C'mon, Tommy. You know your fight is with me. Let her go and we'll do this man-to-man.” Matthew's voice was strong and firm. How was that possible? Elizabeth shook all over.
Matthew drew his knife and moved into a threatening posture, indicating that if Tommy shed her blood, his would be next.
Tommy got to his feet, pulling her up with him.
The movement made her dizzy and she felt as if she might vomit. The blade of the knife was still cold on the skin of her neck.
“And what of her?” Tommy said, not even trying to disguise his anger.
“I'm the only thing standing in your way,” Matthew said, his voice even.
Tommy sneered at him and tossed Elizabeth to the side.
As she hit the ground, her world went dark.
* * *
Zigzagging through the camp, Melanie made her way to the hospital.
She dodged a myriad of soldiers on her route, smiling as she passed them, but otherwise paying them no mind. It was time for her daily appointment with Jacob. Actually, with Jacob's leg.
But today she had a surprise for him. Glancing down at the package in her arms, she imagined how his face would light up when she presented it to him. He wouldn't expect it in the least. Mail didn't come to the hospital until later in the day. But she heard his name at mail call during breakfast and collected the precious bundle so he wouldn't have to wait.
As she entered the hospital tent, ducking to avoid catching her hair on the raised tent flap, she spotted him. He was propped up in his bed. Even from this distance, she saw the piece of paper in his lap, pencil in his hand, his mouth twisted and eyebrows furrowed.
Putting on her brightest smile, she stepped over to his cot. “What are you working on there? A drawing?”
Just the mention of it made her think of Elizabeth and her heart fell in her chest. No one had seen her since that first battle. What could have happened to her? Had she gone off to the front lines for some crazy reason? If that was the case, she must have been killed or captured. Either way, they were not likely to ever see her again.
“No, it's a letter,” Jacob's response broke through her thoughts.
Melanie's eyes shifted to once again meet his. Did he read her momentary lapse? She could not see it in his expression if he did. He seemed focused on his paper.
Moving around his cot, she glanced over his shoulder. 'Dear Mother, Father, and Susan,' was scrawled across the paper. “Not far along, are we?”
Jacob groaned and, tossing the pencil down, rubbed his hands over his face. “I just don't know how to tell them about the battle or about my injury. You know, I don't want to worry them.” All of this was muffled as it was spoken from behind his hands. Shaking his head, he released his face, plopping his hands down on his legs and looked up at her.
“Hmmm,” was all Melanie could offer. That was a problem. But she didn't have any words of wisdom. Her own relationship with her parents had been strained at best.
There were people who were meant to raise children and people who weren't. That's what she had concluded anyway. And her parents definitely fit into the second category. They never seemed to be the right fit for the role. Maybe that's why she was the only child they had. Even then, they found a way to let her know she was an accident. Unintended. She knew what they meant. Becoming parents was never part of their plans. Her birth was a mistake.
“Melanie?” She was startled out of her thoughts by the feel of Jacob's fingers on her arm.
“I'm sorry, what?” She attempted to gather her wits about her.
“I said, 'What have you got there?'”
Looking down at him, she saw that his eyes now held concern for her.
He opened his mouth, perhaps to ask her what had disturbed her so, but she cut him off.
“It's for you,” she plastered a smile on her face. “Isn't it wonderful? Someone sent you a package.” She maneuvered around the small space next to his cot—moving the pencil and paper to the side, setting the small crate on the cot with him. “I picked it up at the mail call for you. You don't mind, do you?”
“Mind? Why should I?” Moving his hands over the lid, he worked to open it.
Melanie reached over to help, and with some effort, they got the top off.
Now that their only obstacle was out of the way, Melanie peered with him into the crate. Melanie gasped at the treasures that lay within. Someone had filled this care package with biscuits, cookies, hard candies, sweet bread, and letters bearing names that Melanie didn't recognize. Were they Jacob’s family members?
He reached into his precious cargo with hands that trembled slightly and touched the envelopes. Then his hands drew back.
Stealing a glance at him, Melanie saw him wiping at his eyes.
“Your parents must miss you a lot.” She laid a hand on his shoulder. In many ways, she was glad for him, but she could not deny the ache in the middle of her chest at the thought of his sweet parents whose thoughts were with him as they were apart.
Jacob managed a nod, but remained silent.
Melanie swallowed past a lump in her throat that she didn't expect. “Would you like me to read these letters to you, or do you want to wait and read them yourself?”
Jacob's eyes were on hers again. This time she knew that he saw. How, she did not know. But he did. She turned away so he wouldn't see more than she wanted him to.
“I would like if you would read them to me.” His voice was soft.
Melanie sniffed. Why was this affecting her so? Focus. There was a job to do here. “Before or after your cleaning treatment?”
“One before, um, Susan's. The others after.” He lifted the letters out of the box and placed the lid back over the prized contents.
“All right.” Melanie offered him a smile she didn't feel.
He glanced at the writing on the envelopes and handed her one that bore the writing of a young hand. She pulled out the paper covered in more of the child-like script and began to read.
Susan shared childish thoughts—wishes that he was well, stories about things going on in the neighborhood with people that Jacob must know. A sweet letter. This young girl cared about her brother and his well-being. Something Melanie would never know. Pushing that thought to the side, she finished the letter. When she looked over at Jacob, he smiled ear to ear.
“That brightened your mood,” she observed, placing the letter back into Jacob's possession with great care.
“Yeah. She's a lot of trouble, but she's a good sister.”
“Seems like it.” Melanie stood and walked to a nearby shelf to gather the things she would need to clean his leg.
“Do you have brothers or sisters?” Jacob called over to her.
Melanie's hand froze over the fresh bandages. She recovered quickly. “No.”
“No siblings?” came Jacob's surprised voice. As if it were a novel idea that one could be an only child.
“Nope. Just me.” Melanie sighed and brushed a stray hair out of her face. She would not let these emotions drag her down. So that famous smile went back up before she turned toward him again. “But I was never lonely. I had my friends and always plenty of dolls and whatnot.” Yes, I always had plenty of things. She sat and began opening the bandages already on his leg.
“Girls and their dolls.” He rolled his eyes.
“Boys and their guns.” She rolled her eyes.
He laughed. “If you don't like boys and guns, you're in the wrong place.” His laugh became a wince as she began cleaning.
A valid point. “There are plenty of boys that don't have guns,” she retorted, attempting to take his mind off the discomfort brought on by the cleaning.
“Who? Dr. Smith and Dr. Young? They're hardly what I'd call 'in your age category'.”
She frowned at him. “You know what? I admit defeat. I can't deny that there are plenty of rather handsome men here that do like their big guns.”
“Muskets.” He corrected her.
“Pardon?”
“Muskets. We don't call them 'guns.' They're 'muskets'.”
“Ah. Muskets.” She nodded, eyes back on her work.
“And who might you be referring to?” He ribbed her. “These 'handsome men'?”
She gave him a sly smile. “That man, Daniel, who visits you often for one. He's quite handsome.”
“Oh?” Jacob's voice became a little quieter.
“And I've got my eye on that bugle player, too.” She leaned in and whispered as if she were sharing a great secret.
“I see.” His tone was flat now, as if he didn’t like what she was saying. Or maybe it was the pain. Soon enough he was gritting his teeth as she got deeper into the process. This part was hard for Melanie, but necessary. And almost as soon as it began, it was over and she worked to reapply his bandages.
“What about you?” Melanie shot a glance his way. He needed to think about some
thing other than his leg. “You ever going to tell me about those girls back home?”
His cheeks colored.
“Ah, see! There are girls chasing you. I knew it!” She chuckled.
“I don't know if 'chasing me' is the way I would put it.” His eyes were on her face; she could feel it. But she remained focused on her work.
She sighed. “The good ones never can see the forest for the trees.”
“What?” His question came out a bit sharp.
“Oh, nothing,” Melanie said, shaking her head. “Just something my mother used to say.” And she again fought to keep from being swept into memories she'd rather keep locked away.
At last, she finished tying off his bandage.
“There. All set. Now shall we get to those other two letters?” she injected all the cheerfulness into her voice she could manage.
Jacob nodded, leaning back on his pillows. He seemed much more relaxed, but she knew better. The cleaning always took something out of him. Reaching over into the box, he picked up another letter and passed it to her.
This one, it turned out, was from his mother. She reiterated how proud she was and what a fine man he had become. Martha, as Melanie came to know her, also wrote about how missed Jacob was and how eager they were for him to return. Melanie feigned a sneeze when her emotions got the better of her. What was with her today? His mother gave him a piece of advice—look out for yourself, be safe, and the like.
As Melanie handed the letter back, she noticed more color in Jacob's cheeks. Why was he embarrassed? Surely he must be glad his mother cared so much for his well-being. Perhaps he didn't like for Melanie to read about his mother fawning over him so. It was sweet.
The final note was from his father. It seemed Henry had been elected to pass along what the family garnered from Jacob's brother, Benjamin's, last letter. He was alive and well. His regiment advanced and had apparently taken on a homeless dog as a mascot of sorts. Henry shared in earnest about how things were at home, about Martha's good days and bad days and her renewed purpose these last weeks thinking of ways to reach out to her boys, such as these care packages. The letter closed reminding Jacob that he, too, was proud and wished him safety and good health.
Off To War (War Between The States) Page 11