Five

A few weeks later, the doctor came into the house just as Nancy finished her work and was putting on her coat to leave.

“Dr. Foster, do you mind if I take one of your Shakespeare books home with me? Your mother told me to borrow any of the books I wanted, but I notice that you read Shakespeare’s works a lot, and I don’t want to take anything you might want.”

Nancy wondered about the expression that spread across his face. Was it humor, compassion, or adoration she detected in his eyes? Or a combination of all three?

“My dear Nancy,” he said, “you can borrow any of the books you want to.” She started to thank him, but he held up his hand. “On one condition.”

“Oh!” she said, hardly knowing how to respond to his change in manner and the softness of his voice. Her lashes fluttered over her eyes momentarily, but she glanced up again as he continued.

“You can borrow any of the books you want to,” he repeated, adding, “that is, if you’ll stop addressing me as Dr. Foster and use my Christian name. It’s Heath, you know.”

Nancy lowered her gaze in confusion, and she felt a blush spread over her face. Her pulse seemed to be spinning out of control. But she sensed a peace and satisfaction she’d never experienced. She would have to wait until she was by herself to assess what had happened to her, but believing that she was on the brink of a closer relationship with Heath, she was determined to take advantage of it.

Her eyes searched his face for a few moments before she said bravely, “Yes, I know that’s your name, and I’ve wanted to say it for weeks, Heath.”

An eager look flashed in his eyes, and he stepped closer to her just as the back door slammed. With a feeling of frustration, Nancy knew that Mrs. Foster had returned from her errand.

When Mrs. Foster entered the room, Nancy was lifting a book from the shelves, and Heath was putting on his coat. “Mother, I’m going to walk downtown with Nancy to get a copy of the Intelligencer. I’ll be back soon if anyone needs me.”

Nancy said good-bye to Mrs. Foster without looking at her. When they stepped off the porch, she didn’t know what she should say after that emotional scene between them, and perhaps Heath was also jolted out of his normal calmness, for they walked in silence to the newspaper office.

❧

The situation in Wheeling had been tense since an over-whelming majority of local votes were cast against the secession ordinance, and Heath waited anxiously for each issue of the newspaper. Only eighty-seven citizens had voted for secession, which caused local residents to eye one another with suspicion.

“Have any more Confederate sympathizers had trouble?” Nancy asked when they stopped in front of the newspaper office.

Heath shook his head. “There have been many demon-strations in front of the homes of secessionists, but since Mr. Campbell denounced those activities as mob rule in his newspaper, there hasn’t been any more overt harassment.”

“I’m upset about my friend Stella. Their house has been pelted with mud, rotten eggs, and vegetables, so Mr. Danford is afraid for Stella and his wife. He has closed his clothing factory, and they’re leaving tomorrow with Pa on the Wetzel. Their home is in Alabama.”

Heath’s eyes registered concern. “I’d heard they were leaving, and I’m concerned for them, too. That’s a long trip, and they’ll be traveling through hostile country part of the way.”

Nodding, Nancy said, “Yes, but he’s willing to risk that rather than to stay here and endure insults or danger to his family.”

“I can understand his reasoning.”

The war was never discussed within the Foster household, and Nancy voiced a question that had worried her for days.

“Are you going to join one of the militia groups?”

Heath gazed at her, surprise on his face. “Why, no! Quakers believe in nonviolence. I’ve dedicated my life to saving life—not killing people on the battlefield. I won’t fight on either side. I assumed you knew that.”

In a meek, quiet voice, she said, “I’m sorry. I had read that in a pamphlet at your house, but I’d forgotten. Excuse me for asking.”

“You’re welcome to ask me anything, Nancy—you should know that by now.”

Momentarily, she has happy knowing that Heath wouldn’t be going off to fight, but unease gnawed at her satisfaction. The majority of local citizens were living in euphoria because of the new state movement, so how would they react to a man who wouldn’t fight on either side? Although he knew it meant war, her father had embraced the idea of a new, pro-Union state with patriotic fervor. She didn’t think he would allow her to work for the Fosters if Heath made it public that he wouldn’t fight to defend the Union.

Heath put his fingers under Nancy’s chin and lifted her face.

“Look at me,” Heath demanded.

She lifted her gaze to study his face. His dark eyes narrowed speculatively, searching her face as if he was trying to reach into her mind.

“Do you think I’m a coward—afraid to fight?”

She hesitated momentarily. She didn’t think he was a coward, but she couldn’t bear for other people to say that he was.

“No, I don’t believe that for a minute.”

He squeezed her chin gently and released her.

“Violence never solves anything,” he said as they leaned against the building that housed the newspaper’s offices. “Don’t you remember what Jesus said when one of His disciples tried to defend Him with the sword? ‘Put up again thy sword into his place: for all they that take the sword shall perish with the sword.’ ”

Nancy sensed the struggle Heath was having with his conscience, and she put her hand on his arm, hoping that her action would convey to him that whatever decision he made would seem right to her.

“My soul is burdened when I think of all the bloodshed that may occur before this war ends,” Heath continued, and Nancy listened with rising dismay. “It’s my opinion that thousands of men will be killed, maimed, and ruined during this conflict. I read a prediction this week that it might take four or five years before the Union can win the war. Four or five years! A generation of men could be wiped out. I find it hard to believe that people are rejoicing—rejoicing, mind you—that we are going to war. Why can’t they understand what war will do to this nation?”

Several newsboys raced from the newspaper headquarters with the latest issue of the Intelligencer, and Heath bought a paper.

“I want one, too,” Nancy called to a newsboy. To Heath she explained, “Pa gave me the money. He reads every word of it.”

She tucked the newspaper under her arm. “I have to go home now. Pa is heading downriver in the morning, and he’ll want to read the paper before he leaves.”

“How long is he gone on these jaunts?”

“He goes as far as Parkersburg, and his return depends on how much freight he hauls, the number of passengers, and the depth and current of the water. He can make the trip in three days, but sometimes it’s longer than that.”

“And your brother works at night? You stay alone?”

“I always have,” Nancy said, shrugging her shoulders. “I’m not afraid.”

She turned away from Heath, called good-bye, and started home. She would have to hurry to have the meal on the table.

❧

After supper, Pa returned to the Wetzel for last-minute preparations, leaving Clay and Nancy together at the table. He fiddled with his coffee cup, and Nancy, knowing her brother well, waited. He had something on his mind, and like his father, he wouldn’t speak until he was ready. Habitually, Nancy spoke up when she had something to say, a trait she had apparently inherited from her mother. She took the last piece of corn bread and spread it with butter. She ate slowly, dreading to hear what Clay had to say.

Through the open windows, she monitored the everyday sounds around their home. On the evening air, a bugle call wafted from the military camp on the island. A towboat passed downriver, and the captain greeted the crew of the Wetzel with three loud blasts of the whistle. A wren perched in a nearby maple tree, and its rich, whistled notes, which sounded alternately like sweetheart, sweetheart or teakettle, teakettle, invaded the quiet room. These ordinary happenings should have heralded that all was right in their community, but Nancy knew better. Watching the play of emotions on her brother’s face, she felt a wretchedness of mind she had never experienced before.

“Sis,” he said at last, “sometimes a man has to follow his conscience, no matter how much it hurts other people.” He took a deep breath. “I’m leaving tonight. My friend Alex is going with me. We’re aimin’ to join the Confederate Army.”

A soft gasp escaped Nancy’s lips, and her body stiffened in shock. Although she had known that such an action was a possibility, when she heard the stark, bald truth from Clay’s lips, the horrible results of a civil war hit home.

Brother against brother! Father against son!

Clay bolted out of his chair, knelt beside her, and put his arm around her shaking shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Nancy, but I couldn’t think of an easy way to tell you.”

“What’s Pa going to say?”

“Nuthin’ I want to hear. That’s why I’m leaving without tellin’ him.” He pulled an envelope from his pocket. “If I tell him to his face, we’ll both say things better left unsaid. But I’m not leavin’ it up to you to tell him. I’ve spent most of the day writin’ a letter to him. Don’t give it to him until mornin’. By that time, I’ll be a long way off.”

“But your job?”

“I quit yesterday.”

Tears blinded Nancy’s eyes and choked her voice, but she gulped, “Clay, please don’t go. What are we going to do after you’re gone?”

“I have to go. I’m an able-bodied young man. We’re at war, and I’ll have to fight on one side or the other. If I don’t fight, people will call me a coward. I have to choose sides, and I believe the South is right. I don’t hold with slavery, but every state ought to have the right to do as it wants to do. If the North makes the rebel states stay in the Union, that’s just another kind of slavery. A man has to do what he has to do.”

Nancy sat as if turned to stone while Clay went into the bedroom and returned with a bulging haversack. “I raided your bread box and cellar and took enough food to last us several days. We’ve heard that there’s a Confederate Army as close as Barbour County, and we’re headin’ in that direction.”

Clay continued to talk of his plans, but Nancy’s mind was so numbed that she missed most of what he said. She only knew that he was leaving to fight with the enemy, but it was difficult to think of people in eastern Virginia or the Carolinas as enemies.

Dear God, what is going to happen to us? How will Pa react to his son’s treason? And what about Heath? Will people think he’s a coward? Will he be harassed?

Clay stopped beside Nancy, and she stood to put her arms around his waist. Tears glistened in his eyes, and she knew this hadn’t been an easy decision for him.

“God bless you, brother. I’ll pray for you every day.”

As his steps receded into the distance, Nancy wondered if she would ever see him again. Her father wouldn’t take his son’s treason lightly. If Clay survived the war, she doubted he would be welcomed home.

Taking the sealed envelope with her, Nancy went into her bedroom and closed the door. As upset as she was, if she encountered her father tonight, he’d be sure to notice that something was wrong. She pulled a chair close to the window and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. The wind off the river was cool, but Nancy’s nerves were atwitter, which, rather than the cold air, probably accounted for the trembling of her body.

When she heard her father come into the house and go into his room, she undressed and got into bed, savoring the comfort of the feather tick as it closed around her. She dozed intermittently during the night, but at first light, she got up and made breakfast preparations. A sense of desolation swept over Nancy as she laid only two table settings. She kept Clay’s letter in her pocket. She wouldn’t give it to her father until he’d finished his breakfast.

She cooked a pot of oatmeal and raisins and had a large bowl of it by Pa’s plate when he came into the kitchen. He greeted her briefly as he always did. He took no notice of Clay’s vacant chair, for Clay didn’t always come straight home after he left the bank. When he finished eating, Nancy refilled his coffee cup and laid the letter beside his plate.

She felt his questioning eyes on her, but she refused to meet his gaze. She crossed the room and stared out the window with unseeing eyes. She couldn’t watch her father’s expression when he read the news that would break his heart. Despite their differences, she had never doubted that a strong sense of respect and affection existed between father and son. The heavy silence in the room seemed as loud as a clap of thunder. Nancy realized that she was clenching her hands and her nails were cutting into her flesh. She relaxed her fingers.

After clearing his throat, Pa said huskily, “Have you read this?”

She turned toward him and shook her head.

“Then read it and burn it. He’s a traitor to his country, but I won’t turn him in.”

“He’s only doing what he thinks is right.”

Her father lifted himself wearily from the chair, and he looked as if he had aged ten years. “I know, but he’s brought shame upon the family. Don’t mention his name to me again.”

“But Pa . . .”

“I no longer have a son—you don’t have a brother. With the strong Union feelings in this town, he couldn’t come home if I wanted him to. Forget him.”

He went into the bedroom and closed the door.

She snatched up the letter and read the brief message:

Dear Pa,

I don’t want you to hate me, but I can’t set around and watch the country go to the dogs without tryin’ to help. I know you will think I joined the wrong army, but I have to do what’s right for me. Please pray for me and try to forgive.

Your lovin’ son,

Clay

Tears nearly blinded Nancy, but she read the message again before she lifted the stove lid and dropped the letter on the hot coals. As she watched it burn, she said good-bye to her beloved brother. Automatically, she cleared the table and washed the dishes. She was hanging the dishcloth and towels behind the stove to dry when the bedroom door opened and her father leaned against the jamb. Whether he was enraged or mournful about Clay’s decision, her father seemed to have conquered his emotions.

“I don’t know what to do about you,” he said. “You can’t stay here alone while I’m away on the Wetzel.”

“But Clay was hardly ever home at night! Nothing has changed.”

Pa shook his head. “Everything has changed. There’s an army camp on the island. Mobs are threatenin’ people all over the county. When word gets around that Clay has joined the Confederates, we might have trouble. And I hear a Union army is coming here from Ohio. I can’t leave you alone.”

“I could stay with one of the neighbors at night.”

He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “The trouble is, I don’t have much room on the Wetzel this time, or I’d take you with me. The Danfords are takin’ a lot of boxes and suitcases with them.”

“I want to see them off. I told Mrs. Foster I wouldn’t come to work until the boat left.”

“Do you suppose she’d let you stay with her at night while I’m gone?”

Surprised that her father had made this suggestion when he hadn’t wanted her to work for the Fosters, Nancy said slowly, “She probably would. She’s good to me, and I like her. They have two spare bedrooms.”

“I don’t have time to get somebody to stay with you this time, but I’ll delay leavin’ until I get you settled. I’ll tell the crew that we may be a little late but to have everything ready when I get back. ”

Nancy had to trot a few times to keep up with her long-legged father as they walked to the Foster home. Nancy always opened the door and went in, but when they arrived at the house, Pa strode up the steps and knocked. Heath came to the door. He glanced from father to daughter quickly before he said, “Come in.”

“No,” Pa said. “I ain’t got time for that. My son is away from home, and I’m ready to leave on my weekly trip to Parkersburg. I don’t want to leave Nancy alone while I’m gone. I wonder if your mother would let her stay here. I’ll come up with some other plans before my next trip.”

“Why, I’m sure that will be all right. Just a minute.” He turned and called, “Mother, will you come here, please?”

Mrs. Foster soon appeared at the door. Nancy watched her father size her up one side and down the other. Seemingly satisfied, he repeated what he had said to Heath.

“I’d love to have Nancy’s company,” Mrs. Foster said, and no one could doubt her sincerity. “She can stay here as often and as long as she wants to anytime. You won’t have to make other arrangements.”

“Just the nights I’m out on the boat. I’ll pay.”

“But that isn’t necessary—”

Pa raised a hand to interrupt her. “If I don’t pay, she don’t stay.”

Mrs. Foster smiled. “I’m sure we can agree on a reasonable rate for her keep.” She turned to Nancy, “Are you staying now?”

“No, ma’am. I want to go back and say good-bye to Stella. She’s leaving on Pa’s boat. I’ll be back after that.”

“Bring what you need for a few nights. We’ll be glad to have you.”

Nancy had a feeling that Heath was watching her, and she slid a glance in his direction. She thought she detected approval in his eyes. She wondered briefly how it would seem to be a part of the Foster household.

Her father shook hands with the Fosters and shepherded Nancy off the porch. She looked back over her shoulder and waved to them.

An hour later, she stood on the dock waving good-bye to Stella and the rest of the Danfords as the Wetzel slipped away from the dock and accessed the deep channel of the river. To lose her best friend and her brother in such a short time was heart wrenching. She was thankful she wouldn’t have to stay alone in the house for the next two nights.

By the time she was ready to leave for the Fosters, it was noon, so Nancy put jam on a biscuit and ate as she hurried uptown. She was heartbroken over the loss of Clay and Stella, but her heart rejoiced that, for a short time, she would be a part of Heath’s family life.