The Lincoln Penny

by Barbara Best

  “This is my favorite room in the house. It makes me feel closer to Mr. Hopkins while he is away.” Anna pulls a cord. “Would you like some tea, dear? It is early in the day and I know we just had dinner, but it is a nice way to relax and enjoy one another’s company, don’t you think?”

  James Isaac quietly stands in the doorway, as if he knows his mistress’ wishes before she voices them.

  “James, please have Cook arrange a tea for us. Phoebe can bring it in. Thank you.” Anna offers Jane one of two wingback chairs on either side of a pretty mahogany table by the fireplace. “I hope you will make yourself comfortable.”

  Although her host and the mistress of the house is the most elegant, gracious and respectful people she has ever met, Jane feels like she has just entered the principal’s office. She braces for what might be the third degree.

  “The books are my husbands, of course. Do you enjoy books, Miss Peterson . . . Jane?” Again polite and considerate to perfection and cleverly worded just in case her guest is illiterate.

  Jane wonders at the reluctance to use her first name. Maybe this will come when they are better acquainted. And the woman certainly has no intension of reciprocating. To Jane, she is unequivocally, Mrs. Hopkins.

  So back to the topic of books, “Yes. I do . . . like books, Mrs. Hopkins.” Jane wishes she could expound on the wonderful volumes her dad has collected over the years and their future value. Instead she remains silent, adjusting the lovely fabric of her skirt to cover her boots, which were somehow cleaned and polished while she slept last night. They don’t go with her outfit, but they will have to do. Jane is pretty sure a women’s size eight and a half is not easy to find in this day and age.

  “Well then, you are most welcome to indulge in what we have.” Anna smiles sincerely. “Have you read Robinson Crusoe? It is a wonderful work of fiction. Then there is, of course, Jane Eyre. And I especially enjoyed, Pride and Prejudice, truly inspiring and stimulating. Do you have a favorite, Miss Peterson?”

  Why this kind lady is testing me. Jane has the hilarious urge to suggest the popular Twilight saga about romance and vampires, but instead, “Jane Austen’s books are classic. Sense and Sensibility was really good too.” It made a great movie and she loved Kate Winslet’s character, Marianne Dashwood. Sorry to say, Jane hadn’t read the book.

  Jane finds speaking two languages in this era can be a distraction, yet unavoidable. There’s the censored language she must use for 1862, leaving out most of the details of her life and who she is. Then, there’s her 2012 speak that is constantly chattering away in her head and dominating her thoughts. Without the 2012 part, there is no sense of normalcy or balance for her. It permits her to be truthful. Reminds her she is real.

  Anna interrupts Jane’s musings by inserting a well-rehearsed quote, “The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid,” she pauses with satisfaction. “Ah, but Jane Austin has a sharp mind. And one must admit, a deliciously sharp tongue.” Anna suppresses what could be a hearty laugh, and folds her tiny lily-white hands that look like porcelain doll hands onto her lap.

  “You’ll find my husband keeps an extensive library. He is totally devoted and passionate about literature. Quite contagious it seems. Reading gives one perspective don’t you think . . . a window into worlds.” Anna waits for Jane to absorb her meaning and then, “You, my poor child, must have quite the story to tell having suffered great peril and circumstance to arrive here on our doorstep.”

  Okay, Jane expects, here it comes!

  The pocket doors slide open and Phoebe enters carrying a tray with steaming hot water. The teapot is flow-blue with a lovely cherry blossom and sparrow pattern on an almost transparent white background.

  “Ah, here is Phoebe with our tea.” Anna calmly pours. “Do you take sugar, dear? This is fine Phoebe. Thank you.”

  Jane balances her delicate cup and saucer with not more than a swallow of tea in it, trying to keep her hands from shaking and not appear too awkward.

  “Mmm, nice.” Anna looks over her cup. “I hope you won’t consider me presumptuous, Miss Peterson, but your family must be terribly distraught not knowing where you are. Is there someone I can send word to?” She suggests gently.

  Distraught? Totally freaked is more like it. “Actually, there’s nothing I can do about that right now. I appreciate your concern though.” It’s not easy bobbing and weaving around the truth, but it’s better than a flat out lie.

  Anna takes another sip of her tea. This appears to be a most delicate matter. She needs to somehow gain this young woman’s trust. But how? Miss Peterson is about as skittish as the black yearling her father had once given her when she was a young girl. Anna decides to change the subject, being sensitive to the comfort of her guest. “Would you prefer to speak about Fort Pulaski?” she ventures. “One can only imagine.”

  Jane nods, “Sure.” This lady, of course, would want to know more about her son. “The battle at Fort Pulaski was terrible, and hopeless. It lasted a couple of days and I’m afraid the Union had the advantage with cannons that tore a good part of the fort to pieces. The magazine I believe was about to be blown to bits, and us with it, when a decision was made by Olmstead to surrender. A number of men were injured during the siege. I’m afraid your son was one, but not too serious. Luckily I was able to help him. The infirmary had their hands full at the time.” Jane watched the color drain from Mrs. Hopkins’ face.

  “Oh my dear! How horrible for you, but how fortunate for us! My son says he is recovered nicely thanks to your care.” Her tone is a request for reassurance.

  “Yes. Yes, he is fine. I’m sure. Matthew basically said he was in the wrong place at the wrong time and part of a wall fell on him. With the bombardment, it’s no wonder. He had a nasty gash on his brow and a good size bump on his head when they brought him to me. Flying debris nicked his eye. I did my very best to wash it out and clean him up as much as possible to avoid infection. With stitches and some time to heal, I’m sure he is as good as new by now.”

  Anna sets her cup and saucer down on the small table. What a peculiar way of speaking for a young lady of good breeding. It is direct, almost masculine in nature, and at times very difficult to follow. She didn’t fail to miss Jane’s intimate use of her son’s Christian name. Anna moves the conversation to her news.

  “We received word this morning our troops were put on a steamer, the Ben De Ford. They are taken to Hilton Head, in Port Royal Sound. From there it is assumed they will be shipped further north. Where, we aren’t certain. Hopefully my son will send word to us soon. We are still reeling from the news he is taken prisoner.” Anna is forever desperate for news of her loved ones who are off fighting this dreadful war. She spends every waking hour internalizing her concern for their health and safety, “Praise God my son is well enough.” There is a long, emotional pause, “Would you care for more tea, Miss Peterson?”

  “Oh, I’m fine thank you. Well, at least you know where he is. That’s a good thing.” Jane is amazed the people already have some idea about what is going on. Her thoughts quickly switch to, “Mrs. Hopkins, did you know there are Confederate soldiers still there . . . at the fort I mean? The sick and wounded were left behind. Some of the men are in bad shape too. I heard a shell blew one guy practically apart and he had little chance of surviving. He could be dead already for all we know. And I’m afraid others may suffer if they don’t get proper care.”

  One porcelain hand flies to Anna’s mouth in shock. “Good heavens! How can this be? Are you certain?”

  Jane is trying not to be too graphic, though even when toning it down, this gentle lady pales at the slightest slip in words. “Jimmy, the boy private who brought me here, told me about it. In all, I think there may be as many as twenty to thirty of our men left there. I also know for a fact that Colonel Olmstead made arrangements for these soldiers to be returned here to Savannah. I believe that’s not going to happen.” Jane wishes she could recall
more. The men were left behind. They wouldn’t make it home to Savannah. But then, what happened after that? Very frustrating.

  “We must let someone know about this . . . this abomination!” Anna is stunned. How could this young girl speak on such authority? It has been only a few days since the siege. Certainly any arrangements for release would take time.

  “I don’t know who will listen. When I was at Fort Jackson, the Commander, Captain Anderson and his officers seemed to be impressed by the two papers we carried with us. They were very kind and hospitable, of course, yet really didn’t show much interest in me otherwise.” Jane thinks probably because she’s a woman. “They spent quite a bit of time with Jimmy, Private Hickory, but I’m not sure what he told them so I don’t know if anyone knows about this or not.”

  “I wish Mr. Hopkins was here to advise us.”

  “Maybe there’s someone that can speak for me. I think it’s important to let someone know, don’t you? If the Federal army doesn’t intend to release the men being held, maybe there is at least a way we can care for them. It seems the most humane thing to do.

  “Is there anyone you know with some clout that might listen and perhaps help me put together a medical team to go out to Fort Pulaski? Sort of like the Red Cross.” Jane is probably grasping at straws, but persists, “I met a doctor when Jimmy and I first rolled into town, Doctor Arnold I think. Maybe he can help. I have nursing experience . . .” boy, that’s a stretch, “and would really like to do something. They need us.” Jane is pretty excited with her roughed out plan. Not bad for off-the-cuff. She’d be willing to do just about anything to get back to the fort and this could work.

  My word, what ever is this poor child talking about! What is a Red Cross? Anna decides it is best to appease Miss Peterson for now. “Our family is well-connected, my dear. Perhaps we can find a way.”

  The two women sit quietly for a while, lost in their thoughts.

  Anna can only imagine what this young woman has gone through. How on God’s green earth did she come by Fort Pulaski? No steamship has been out there since the Ida in February. The telegraph lines are cut and Union gunboats patrol those waters. Why would she travel there alone? Anna can only assume she had no chaperone, no husband or relative with her. She appears educated, yet lacks certain virtues and in this instance, practical judgment. To think, Miss Peterson is entertaining the thought of returning to a fort full of Yankees! Why it is preposterous!

  The eureka-moment during her conversation with Mrs. Hopkins had given Jane a startling revelation. If she can convince someone that Confederates are still being held at Fort Pulaski and in desperate need of medical attention, maybe, just maybe she can get support to form a team to go out there. Clara Barton’s concept of the American Red Cross may be premature, but the whole idea of protecting wounded and sick prisoners of war is feasible. Maybe, just maybe she will be able to help these people. And at the same time, get back to the place where she traveled through time. This may be her one and only chance to find the key and portal to get home.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  “What’s the matter? What time is it?” A small lamp burns brightly at the foot of Jane’s bed.

  “Missus say to come.” Shadows dance across Tessie’s drawn features. Why she’s scared.

  “What’s wrong,” Jane shoots out of bed and is up on her feet in a flash. Things had been pretty quiet over the past few weeks. A little too quiet. In two moves Jane grabs her wrapper, a kind of 1800’s robe, and in quick strides reaches the door.

  “She downstairs, Miss Jane.” Tessie is right behind, huffing and puffing.

  Jane hits the bottom landing, two steps at a time, headed for the light ahead.

  “I have dreadful news. Measles.” Anna is having trouble catching her breath. “James Isaac is bringing the carriage around,” she gasps for air.

  This is the first time Jane has seen Mrs. Hopkins in a frenzied state, fighting for composure. This must be bad and she’s terrified. “Here, you need to sit down.” Jane takes her arm and leads her to the closest chair. The poor lady goes without a fight. “Now tell me exactly what’s happened.”

  “Susan sent word the boys may have measles. Measles! I cannot lose another precious child. It would be too much to bear.” Anna presses a hand against her chest and whispers, “Susan is with child.”

  Oh snap! Another complication. Why do things have to be so difficult around here? “Look Mrs. Hopkins, measles is a highly contagious virus.” Jane quotes from her high school textbook. How does she remember this stuff? Measles aren’t much of a concern and seldom mentioned in her time. “I don’t mean to scare you, but have you had measles?”

  “Why, no, I don’t believe so.”

  “Then, it’s not a good idea for you to go over there. Think of Clara. You have to let me go. James Isaac can drop me off outside Susan’s. He can’t even come in. We need to quarantine Susan’s place and anyone who has been exposed if that’s possible.”

  “I won’t let you do such a thing! You have already done enough for this family.”

  “Not enough to let you go over there and be exposed. Besides, I’ve had my shots.”

  “Shots?” Both Anna and Tessie fire back in unison.

  “As in discharging a weapon?” Anna broaches tentatively.

  “No, as in vaccination.” And in seeing their lost expressions, “Never mind. Let’s say I’ve already had the measles, in a way.” Jane quickly explains. “I mean I can’t catch them. You’ll just have to trust I know what I’m doing.”

  Anna slumps back in her chair, at least as much as a lady can slump with a corset bound tight around the middle. “Are you sure? I am undecided. Oh my gracious me!”

  “I am positive. Let me get dressed. In the meantime, they may already have this stuff, but it wouldn’t hurt to round up some of those blankets we were going to donate to the hospital and the softest cloths. Maybe the stuff we were going to make bandages out of. And whatever alcohol you have in the house. The boys, if they do have measles, are going to be uncomfortable for a few days. I’ll need lemon juice and honey if you have any.” Jane heads back up the stairs two at a time; the skirt of her wrapper raised high and with the candlelight following as Tessie struggles to keep up.

  On the ride over to Susan’s, Jane tries to get her facts straight. “James, have you had the measles?”

  “Can’t say, Miss Jane. Ole James, now, he strong as an oak.”

  “Not strong enough to take a chance. I wonder if anyone else around town has measles?” After learning about infectious diseases in school, Jane remembers her mom talking about having measles when she was a little girl. There was no vaccine back then. Once exposed it took a couple of weeks before you knew if you caught it or not. She told Jane her measles story, about how sick she was, and how her nana, God rest her soul, nursed her back to health. At the time, it seemed so unimportant and only remotely interesting. Jane never knew her mom’s mother, but her name was always attached to the four-word idiom whenever mentioned. It was Thelma, God rest her soul, or Nana God rest her soul all her life. Poor Thelma, who raised Jane’s mom without a father, was killed in a car accident when Jane was still in diapers.

  She quickly does the math. If it’s a two-week gestation period, Jane thinks it’s pretty safe to say Mrs. Hopkins and Clara weren’t exposed. Their last visit to Susan’s to see the boys was almost three weeks ago, so fingers crossed. Mrs. Hopkins also mentioned that her oldest had more recently taken the twins to visit their father’s folks in a neighboring town for a few days. They could have picked it up there. The word, epidemic, streaks through Jane’s mind. Oh Lord, a lot of people died from measles in this era.

  The carriage pulls up at a modest white brick home with confederate gray shutters, and a wrap-around porch. A dull light seeps through curtains in all the windows. Everyone’s up. It’s a little after four o’clock in the morning. It will be light shortly.

  Before Tessie had taken the swooning Mrs. Hopkins off to bed, Jane had
asked her if a doctor had been called for Edward and David to determine if they really have the virus. From her broken words in a desperate whimper, Jane gathered that more than likely they are on their own. Doctors are very hard to come by and needed elsewhere with the war raging on. Part of a building in Savannah owned by a lady named Mary Marshall has already been turned into a makeshift hospital filled with Confederate casualties. Jane knows about the building and had heard about its owner.

  What is actually ironic is that the boys’ dad is a doctor. Clara told Jane her brother-in-law is serving with the Georgia Volunteers that is fighting with the Army of Northern Virginia right now. It’s sad he’s not here to take care of his two young sons.

  Jane struggles with a sudden wane in confidence, “God, I hope I am able to help. This may be too much for me.”

  “If anyone can do it, you can Miss Jane.” James Isaac smiles his approval and encouragement as he helps Jane down out of the carriage. Tessie told him this woman has something special. A gift. And that’s good enough for him.

  Against James’ protests, Jane insists on bringing her supplies up to the house herself. “You go home now and take care of the Hopkins’ family. They need you. For right now I think it’s a good idea not to venture out, any of you, until we see if this is an isolated incident.”

  The front door opens and Jane steps into a household sick with apprehension that hangs like a black veil. Stifling heat hits her in the face. The fireplaces are ablaze. All the windows are shut tight as if they are trying to cook the illness out.

  First things first. If the boys really do have measles, Jane will need to separate them from everyone else in the house immediately. Hopefully it’s not too late. The windows in their room will need to be covered to block out light. And somebody really needs to let some fresh air in here to cool this place down.

  Since it appears Jane is going to hang out in 1862 for a while, she might as well be useful.