by P A Minyard
The private nodded and seemed relieved at his response.
“Well, at least they gave you your uniform,” the private said. “Most don’t get them right away.”
“Kind of makes me look like I know what I’m doing,” Jonathan said, grinning.
The private returned his smile and left Jonathan alone in the barracks.
Jonathan pulled the letter from his pocket and stared down at it. He’d have to leave it where they would find it immediately. And it wasn’t unusual for a courier to leave messages at the front door.
He remembered a time when he was 4, maybe 5. Daniel and Beth had grabbed him and took him along on one of their adventures, either trekking to the creek or picking blackberries for their mother. They never seemed to mind that he slowed them down when he stopped to watch a caterpillar cross a leaf. They’d just drop what they were doing and watch too.
Jonathan stepped away from his cot and walked back to the door of the barracks. He stared at the metal handle as he ran the memory through his head again. The gate opened before him, and Jonathan’s eyes moistened a little before he walked through. He was in the woods behind his house, far enough away that he could keep himself from being seen. He stopped when he came upon a growth of periwinkles, Beth’s favorite flower. He remembered her telling him that a gentleman always brings a lady flowers, so he would stop and fetch them for her. He reached down to pick a small bunch and carried them to the house.
Jonathan cautiously approached the back door, looking back and forth, listening for signs of anyone home. He could always hear his mother from here if she was in the kitchen, making it that much easier to sneak in through the front door if he had gone too far with his mischief. But there was no characteristic clatter coming from the inside. He walked over to the stable and saw that the mare and cart were gone. That meant no one was home. His heart sank when he realized he had missed them. He didn’t even know what day it was, for that matter, making it that much harder to discern where they might be.
He walked through the back door and was pleased to see nothing had changed. Jonathan hadn’t realized how attached he was to this house until now. It was the only house he had ever lived in, and he knew every scratch on the wooden floors, every dent in the walls and every tear on his mother’s favorite curtains and the stories behind how they got there. He was tempted to duck into the pantry and help himself to his mother’s canned goods, but that thought quickly passed.
He walked into the front of the house near the stairs and hesitated momentarily. He listened carefully once more for the smallest sign that maybe Beth had stayed behind. Part of him wanted to run into her ‘by accident’. That same part was still clutching tightly to the periwinkles. He walked up the stairs and then down the hall to Beth’s bedroom. Again he waited and listened at her door before gently twisting the handle and entering. He laid the flowers on her pillow, having no better way to say goodbye to her now. Before going back downstairs for the last time, he stopped off in his own room. Jonathan always loved looking out the window and dreaming of places far away that he would one day visit. But now he realized that no matter how amazing the sights and sounds of the rest of the world were, there would never be a more perfect view than this.
The visit had turned far more melancholy than he’d anticipated, and he didn’t wish to see any more of the house. He exited out the back door and walked along the side to the front. There was still no sign of his family. Maybe it was Sunday, he thought. Jonathan wedged the letter between the doorframe and the handle. He walked away from the house without looking back, opening the gate that would take him back to the barracks just before he would have reached the road out front.
Back at the empty barracks, Bernard waited for him. “I’m sorry they weren’t home,” he said sympathetically.
“I think it was better that way,” Jonathan replied.
“You would have shown yourself.”
“If I had seen Beth, I would have lost all resolve.” Jonathan turned his eyes away from Bernard, ashamed.
“Do not turn from qualities the Father holds dear,” Bernard reassured him. “It is why you were chosen and why, I believe, you will triumph.”
Without further thought, Jonathan threw his arms around Bernard and hugged him.
The angel was stunned. He was familiar with the custom but never understood its power until now. He felt the love in Jonathan’s heart as if it were his own.
Jonathan let go, embarrassed about letting his emotions get the better of him.
“The boys are gathering for dinner rations,” Bernard said, playing it cool. “Would you like to join them?”
“I think I’ll spend this night by myself,” Jonathan replied.
“Then, I shall see to it that no one disturbs you,” Bernard answered.
“Thank you.”
Bernard stayed outside the entrance the entire time, invisible to those inhabiting the camp.
The early morning brought more than just peace and quiet. A well-groomed young man in a three-piece suit strolled up to the barracks, twirling a cane in his right hand. He was the same young man whom Daniel had spoken to; the one Benedict referred to as Nick. He was an all-too-familiar figure to Bernard and definitely unwelcome.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Bernard demanded, showing himself.
“Bernard?!” Nick said, feigning surprise. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Run along now. I have business to attend to.”
“None of this is any of your business,” Bernard said firmly.
“Come now,” Nick replied. “You know that you are not to intervene on this boy’s behalf.”
“I know many things,” Bernard said.
“There is the balance to consider.”
“You’re one to talk about balance,” Bernard scoffed, “as it is currently in your favor.”
“But if the boy behind that door succeeds, that will no longer be the case,” Nick countered. He rocked from side to side on the balls of his feet, getting ready to dodge past the angel.
“It pains you to think of such things, doesn’t it?” Bernard said. He was less than sympathetic.
“I will have my prize,” Nick said, his voice hardening.
“At what price?” Bernard shot back.
“You would know all about price, wouldn’t you, Bernard?” Nick jabbed. “How many young men have paid the price for your weakness? And now you cower behind a little boy. I wonder what price the Father has on your head.”
“I am willing to accept my judgment,” Bernard said, his lips curling into a snarl, “unlike others.”
“If my crimes are so egregious, why doesn’t the Father hand down my sentence right now?”
“I’ve asked myself that very same question on numerous occasions.” Bernard stiffened his back and puffed out his chest until his body looked as solid as a wall of bricks.
“Tell the Father I expect fair payment,” Nick said as he turned to leave. “Good night, Bernard,” he sang in a mocking tone as he walked away.
“It is now,” Bernard said under his breath. He watched Nick disappear into the darkness. “I have you worried, haven’t I, Nick?” he thought.
20
FAITH AND COURAGE
Beth sat on the front porch as the sun set. The bright, blue sky slowly gave way to a dark grey. The quilt she was mending fell over her legs, reaching almost to the boards beneath her feet. She hadn’t made much progress. The month of May was more than half over, and Beth couldn’t believe all that had happened. The letter from Jonathan devastated all of them. His father was hit the hardest; he blamed himself for sending Jonathan out into the world. Beth kept the flowers on her pillow a secret. It was a message straight from Jonathan’s heart, and she regretted not rising early on the morning he left to see him off.
Three of the four men in her life were now out of reach. And only months earlier, they were all under one roof. She felt like she should have fought harder with Daniel, and made him see her point of view. And she
felt like she had let Jonathan down by nurturing his sensitive side. She thought he would be ill-equipped to function in Daniel’s world. And Duff was caught in the middle, just like she was. The thought that none of them might return frightened her. What then? Her miraculous recovery would be all for naught. The recovery itself weighed heavily on her. What if the price for such a gift was losing the ones she loved? No matter how ridiculous it sounded, she knew she would blame herself if something happened to any one of them.
“It must be hard to sew with so little light,” her father said, opening the front door.
“I’m afraid I haven’t gotten very far,” Beth answered. She looked down at the patch she was working on. Barely a stitch had been added since she went outside two hours earlier.
Her father took a seat on the bench next to her. Taking care not to lose the needle, he pulled the quilt from her lap and folded it neatly.
“Where do you think they are tonight?” Beth asked.
Her father swallowed hard, “I suppose Jonathan is at a training camp not unlike where Duff is stationed. And Daniel is with the army moving further into the heart of the South.”
“Do you think they’re thinking of us like we’re thinking of them?”
“I have no doubt that they miss us as much as we miss them,” he said to reassure her.
“I worry for their safety,” Beth said. Her lower lip began to tremble.
Her father reached over and put his arm around her shoulder.
“Your brothers are far more capable than any of us realize,” he said. “I believe they will return to our door safe and sound.” He smiled and nodded.
“And I believe Captain Duffy will not be far behind them.”
Beth tried to act casual, but she could feel her face getting hot.
“I actually like the lad,” he continued, “despite all the things Daniel has told me about him.”
“Father…” Beth gently scolded.
“A son is a son until he finds a wife, but a daughter is a daughter all of her life; at least, that’s what my mother used to say.” He paused and turned his attention back to the quilt briefly. “He is as welcome here as if he were my own.”
“Thank you.” Beth let out a sigh.
“But do not for one minute think I won’t make him work for it.” Her father winked and then stood and extended his hand to her. “Let’s join your mother. She’s not allowed to enjoy so much peace and quiet.”
Beth entered the house as her father held the door for her. She shook her head at how easily he had lightened her mood.
Jonathan crawled into bed with the same weary look the rest of the boys had. They had marched all morning and then again all afternoon. And just for good measure, they marched some more after dinner. The sergeant refused to let them move forward in their training until each and every one of them got it right. The discipline was severe but was meant to bond them. They would one day have to trust each other with their lives.
He stared at the beams over his head. He wasn’t really as tired as the rest of the recruits, but staying with his bunkmates seemed far more important than opening the gate that night. The power gave him confidence, and he did everything he was asked without complaint. Respect grew for his quiet strength.
The training and constant drilling was monotonous, but he really didn’t mind. It was the rifles he wasn’t looking forward to. He’d never liked guns, never liked what they were capable of, and he knew the minute they handed him one, his thoughts would turn to Joshua.
The first and only time he had gone hunting with Daniel, he was 8 years old. He was excited that day. Daniel was good with a gun, and Jonathan wanted to be just like him. Together, they went looking for rabbits, and that day they found quite a few. As the hunt wore on, however, Jonathan began to feel sorry for the little animals. They were helpless and defenseless; most of all, they were unaware of what was coming. He never forgot the last one Daniel killed. The shot had only wounded the rabbit, and it struggled and writhed in pain. The squeal it made was heartbreaking for Jonathan to hear. Daniel rushed to the animal, grabbed it up and wrung its neck, silencing its cries. He then handed the body to Jonathan to carry home. It was still warm and soft, and except for the blood, looked as though it was sleeping. From that day forth, Jonathan chose to avoid guns. He knew he didn’t have the stomach for it.
On the next day of training, the sergeant chose to mix it up a little. Sensing the boys were becoming restless with drilling, and seeing that they were ready to move on, he began instructing close-quarter combat.
He took them to an open section of the camp where the ground was more dirt than grass. First, the sergeant showed them how to handle a knife and hatchet, and then they moved on to the rifle. He demonstrated the rifle’s versatility by showing how equally deadly it could be even after the shot had been fired.
“Pair up!” the sergeant ordered as he handed out wooden replicas of the rifles. “There’s no need to harm your opponent, simply knock him to the ground or make him yield.”
One of the older and larger recruits pulled at Jonathan’s arm. “Come on, whelp,” he said.
The young man was muscular and stocky; quite the imposing figure. He reminded Jonathan of the bullies back home. Jonathan took his stance, holding the wooden rifle as the sergeant had demonstrated. “Just great,” he thought. The young man rushed Jonathan, swinging his rifle above his head with the intent of crushing him with a downward blow. Jonathan threw up his rifle with both hands, effectively blocking the attack. He barely felt the impact when wood met wood. Jonathan watched as his opponent’s eyes widened in disbelief at the ineffectiveness of the thunderous blow.
“Would you like to try again?” Jonathan goaded. “Why did I just say that?” he wondered. It was the power speaking. It made him feel cocky and self-assured.
“You got lucky,” the young man said, and spit at Jonathan’s feet. As the two squared off again, Jonathan subconsciously began to notice minute details about his opponent’s fighting style; how his eyes gave away his movements and how his feet were too far apart for a quick recovery. They went at it again, and the wood clashed several times and then Jonathan ducked out of the way and sent the butt of his rifle into the young man’s gut. Jonathan took a deep breath and couldn’t believe he was still standing. He stood over his opponent and offered his hand in aid.
“I don’t need your help,” the young man said, slapping at Jonathan’s hand as he rose under his own power. He was flustered, breathing heavily, and began cursing.
The ruckus caught the attention of the rest of the squad. They stopped their training and formed a circle around Jonathan and his opponent. Even the sergeant seemed interested in the contest.
“Now you’re gonna get it.” He rushed Jonathan with all the rage of a caged animal finally freed.
Jonathan tried not to panic. He dodged and flailed about, but his moves were so quick that those watching thought he knew what he was doing. He made it look effortless. He saw an opening and took his shot, striking the recruit first in the gut and then to the jaw, sending him back to the ground. He then thrust with his rifle, stopping just short of the bully’s neck.
“Do you yield?” Jonathan asked.
It had all happened so quickly and almost without thought. The young man had to admit defeat with all eyes upon him. Pushing the rifle out of his face, he scrambled to his feet.
“You see, lads,” the sergeant said. “You don’t have to be the biggest or the strongest to best another man.” He then addressed Jonathan. “Well done, Parker.”
Jonathan just nodded. He shook from the adrenaline racing through his system, but he didn’t want to let on.
“Thank you, sir,” he replied.
“Right, boys,” the sergeant called out. “Pair up again. Let’s give it another go.”
The news of Jonathan’s triumph spread quickly through the camp. By dinnertime, everyone wanted to be his friend. He was invited to sit with a group of soldiers who were almost ready to dep
loy, an honor never before bestowed upon a new recruit. Jonathan liked the attention, although he tried not to go overboard as he recounted the fight to his new friends. Daniel and his father had never approved of boastful talk.
“You were sick when you first got here. Now look at you,” one of the soldiers said. It was the private who had escorted him from the infirmary to the barracks the day before Jonathan’s bunkmates arrived.
“It wasn’t any fun lying in that bed, but at least the company was pleasant,” Jonathan replied.
“What company?” the private asked.
“There was a nice young lady who was very kind to me,” Jonathan said, blushing. “I should go back and thank her when I get the chance.”
“You mean Mattie?” the private asked.
“Mattie? So that’s her name.” Jonathan got a dreamy look in his eye. “Don’t go getting any ideas,” the private said, breaking into his thoughts. “She’s the mayor’s daughter, and he’s looking to marry her off to an officer, not a common soldier like you.”
“I see,” Jonathan sighed. He tried to shake her from his mind by redirecting the conversation and letting the private ramble on about the different rifles he’d shot.
Later that night, after everyone was asleep, Jonathan crept from his bed and exited the barracks. Bernard was waiting outside.
“I’m proud of you,” he said. “You showed great restraint today.”
“Don’t be,” Jonathan replied. “I could have thrown that bully clear across the yard. Part of me wanted to. I wanted to make him run home crying to his mama. I wanted it for me, for Benjamin and for anyone else who’s been picked on for looking weak. But I was so frightened. If it weren’t for the power and my reflexes, he would have had his way with me.”
“There is valor in that as well,” Bernard countered.
“How is that valiant? He’s right. I got lucky.”
“You’re far too hard on yourself. There is no shame in feeling fear.” “What if that fear causes me to fail?” Jonathan asked. His voice was desperate and his eyes pleaded with Bernard.