“Alex,” Olivia said as she turned from the bedroom window the next morning, “how would you feel about becoming a father early next spring?”
“Is that a promise or an enticement?” he murmured, nibbling her ear.
“I think it’s a promise.” He looked intently into her face before pulling her close, rocking her gently in his arms. Pressing her face against his shoulder, he fought the dismay he felt. Lord, I was ready to tell her I must go to war. What do I say now?
“So that’s why breakfast is suddenly uninteresting. Olivia, my dearest, I’ll put you to bed and personally wait on you for the whole nine months.”
“No, you won’t, I’m perfectly healthy. And it won’t be nine months. This is the middle of August. Sadie says it will probably be in March.”
“Olivia, God is in control of this child. I promised you we’d have a baby in His time.”
“His time,” she whispered wonderingly. “And His time is at the worst possible time for the Union. Oh, Alex, last year the Union lost that terrible battle at Bull Run. Now it is starting to look as if they’ll be repeating it all again.”
“It doesn’t look good,” he admitted, “but Lincoln and the army have learned plenty during the past year.” He snuggled her closer. In an article I read recently, one newspaper man said part of the North’s problems now stem from their defeat at Bull Run.”
“What did he mean?”
“That the North lost their confidence because they were whipped. And the South has a high level of confidence because they won. The writer didn’t feel it was going to work to the South’s favor in the end.” He paused, saw her puzzled expression, and added, “Overconfidence. Guess what we need to do for our fellows is to pray they’ll do their best—better than they think is best right now.”
“Alex, we were in Charleston when the war began. I remember how terrible it was—the agony we felt listening to reports, hearing it called a blood bath.”
Alex lifted her chin and kissed her. “It’s getting late. Today is the Sabbath. Will your stomach allow you to participate in breakfast and meeting or would you rather stay home this morning?”
“Let’s try the questions one at a time, starting with breakfast. Right now I’m starved.”
At the breakfast table, Sadie eyed Alex’s grin and said, “So thee knows. Might as well make an announcement; it’ll be easier on Olivia.”
“Why?” Beth asked.
“Because Olivia turns green when she smells bacon,” Sadie said with a twinkle in her eyes. “Well, Alex, if thou art just going to grin, I will say it. Olivia and Alex are going to have a wee addition to their family.” She nodded to Olivia. “Now thou can just let Beth wait on the table. I’ve made some nice cooked oats for you this morning. Oats sit lighter than cornmeal.”
After breakfast Amos turned to Beth. “Beth, if thou goes to meeting this morning, it might be easier to face the week.”
She lifted her chin. “You are saying you don’t think I’ll be getting a letter from Roald this week. How can meeting help that?”
Sadie nodded, “True, it doesn’t. I know I’d like a letter from Mike, telling us what’s happening to him. But it helps to know thy kind heavenly Father cares when thy heart aches, Lass.”
****
Meeting had just begun when Mike slipped into the pew beside Alex and Olivia. While Alex clasped his hand and Sadie beamed at him, Olivia examined his face. The stark, stunned look of pain he had worn home last time had vanished. She sighed with relief. As the brethren rose one by one to share with the congregation, Olivia silently thanked God for Mike’s return, and then fell to musing over the expression on Alex’s face when she told him about the baby.
He couldn’t hide it. Joy, yes—but he still had shadows in his eyes. Did they have something to do with the cautious statements he’s been making since Caleb left to join the navy?
The voices around her faded, and Olivia faced the solitary thought. Alex would go to war, and she must not cling to him. Carefully she bit down on her lip until the desire to cry fled under the pain.
While they were climbing into Amos’ carriage, Mike said, “This far inland, the heat gets to you. Guess I’m going soft, spending so much time on the water.”
“How didst thou manage to find us?” Sadie asked.
“Where else would I look on Sabbath morn?” Mike asked with a laugh. “I took the train into Martinsville, found a ride coming this way, and knew I’d find you here.”
“Going to be with us for a time?” Amos asked as he flipped the reins along the backs of the team.
“No. Things are slow right now; there’s regrouping, and we’re waiting for troops to come from out East.” He took a deep breath. He threw a quick glance at Sadie and continued. “I’ve joined the navy. As long as I’m going to spend all my time piloting boats around, I might as well be part of the crowd.”
Sadie sighed heavily. “I can’t say it surprises me, but Mike, thou art so young—”
Words failed her, and Amos added, “And he’ll be young when he comes back from battle, too.”
Mike looked around. “Beth isn’t here. Did she leave?”
“No.” Sadie eyed him sharply. “After thee left, that young man, Roald Fairmont went back East with his regiment, the Pennsylvania Volunteers. He didn’t know much about where he was going. Beth’s had letters from him up until the last month. From what they’ve been saying all over, the mail just isn’t getting through. Heard Lincoln’s cut off the mail service into the South. But thou can’t believe all thee hears, especially during times like this.”
“Where is she?”
Sadie looked startled. “Beth? She stayed at home this morning. Didn’t seem to be willing to let the Lord bless her at meeting.”
When Mike walked into the house, it was filled with the aroma of roasting pork, apples, and onion. Beth had the table set and the fragrance of coffee was beginning to mingle with the scent of meat. Mike went into the kitchen, grinning at Sadie. “I’d forgotten what real food smells like.”
He found the tray of cookies. “Hello, Beth,” he said casually. “So you’re chief cook today.”
For a moment she stood blinking at him. “Mike…” she said slowly, “I’m surprised to see you. How do you manage to get leave so often when none of the others do?”
“Well, thanks for making me welcome,” he said dryly. “Until this past month, I was my own boss. Now I’m part of the Union’s navy. I’ll inform them that you’d rather I didn’t pester you with my presence.”
She flushed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I am glad to see you. It’s just that I was thinking about Roald and wondering why he can’t come home. You know he’s been gone for over two months.”
“I understand that’s the military life. Hear it happens to most of them.”
“Did you—” She rushed to stir the contents of the kettle. Sadie came into the kitchen. Tying on her apron, she said, “Beth, it smells like thou didst make a wonderful meal. Would thou get the milk and buttermilk from the springhouse? Olivia needs a mug of milk now. I’ll dish up the dinner.”
“What’s the matter with Olivia?” Mike asked.
Beth turned pink and Sadie said, “She’s in a family way. If thou goest to help Beth, thou can carry the jugs.” She gave him a stern eye. “And hurry.”
Silently Mike followed Beth as she quickly crossed the kitchen and headed for the springhouse. In the cool earthen depths, Mike breathed deeply of the mingled odor of fresh butter, ripened cheese, and mellow apples. He dodged the side of bacon hanging from the rafters and made his way through the dimness to the far corner where the swift-moving stream dipped in and out of the building.
Pulling out jugs of milk cooled by the water, he wiped them dry with the towel Beth handed him. “Get the tub of butter too, please.” She pointed to the crock in the water.
“Sadie’s springhouse is another memory I’ll cherish,” he murmured.
“You don’t expect to be back?”
“Haven’t any idea,” he muttered, selecting an apple from the basket. He faced her in the dimness. “I’m just storing up things to remember. Don’t most people do that?”
“What will you remember about me?” Her eyes were wide and dark. He touched her cheek with a fingertip, grinned slowly and admitted, “That you are a puzzle and a tease. That you are beautiful and promised. Other than the bedraggled child I pulled out of Mississippi, what more could a fellow remember under the circumstances?”
“We’ve had good times together—the hayride.”
“And when I kissed you in the hay, Sadie scolded me.”
“You let me dump my problems on you.”
“And you let me kiss you again. Pretty Beth, china doll.”
There were tears on her face. “Oh, Mike; I’m afraid Roald won’t come back. He could be wounded or even dead. It’s been over a month since I’ve had a letter.”
“Beth,” he said heavily, “have you checked the lists in town? It’s silly to mourn when you’ve nothing except your own fears to feed your troubles.”
“Will you go with me? I need a big brother.”
He chewed his lip as he looked at her and thought, Big brother, as usual. He squared his shoulders, “Certainly, but now let’s get this milk up to Sadie. So old Alex is going to be a papa,” he mused as he followed Beth.
The evening settled in hot and muggy. It was too hot to sleep in the upstairs bedrooms. With doors and windows standing open and the mosquitoes coming in, everyone went out to sit on the veranda and steps. They watched moonlight bounce shining paths of light off the Ohio while clouds slid across the moon, one by one like silent troopers. They listened to frogs croaking and crickets chirping.
Amos said, “Mike, the newspapers make it sound as if thy boats are cleaning up the Mississippi right sharp.”
Mike said, “Have you heard of Charles Ellet?” Amos shook his head. “Well, I’ve told you about the gunboats; now there’s another tale to tell. Ever heard of the rams?”
Amos said, “Read in the newspaper about some on the east coast. Also said the Confederates had a few on the rivers in the west. Sounded like their effect is deadly. I’m not certain how they work.”
“It’s an old concept, used in Europe back before big guns. Steam-powered boats have made it practical again. Even more so since they’ve improved the boats, giving them more power.
“When I went back to Cairo, I found my bunch had an encounter with Confederate rams down by Fort Pillow. Our fellows didn’t fare too well. Came back with their tails between their legs, with the Rebels bragging the Yanks wouldn’t penetrate any farther down the Mississippi.
“Later I ran into Charles Ellet. He found me inspecting his rams and gave me a first-class introduction to the whole idea. Turns out he was getting ready to send them down the Mississippi, and said it was time to prove their worth. He was in the middle of hiring riverboat pilots to man these rams, so I got the job.
“It was June before we took them out. The theory is that a boat with a heavy reinforced prow can do more damage than shells. It’s a hit and run kind of operation—you just plain ram your boat into the enemy. Not the kind of maneuver you go into without first clearing all the dishes off the table.”
Amos chuckled. “It sounds like an idea young’uns would hatch just for the fun of it. The government is taking this seriously?”
“Mr. Ellet couldn’t interest the Union navy in his idea, but Secretary of War Stanton liked the sound of it. He made Ellet a colonel and sent him west. Well, Ellet rebuilt nine steamboats according to his plan. He loaded four of them up with us riverboat men and headed down the Mississippi. Might say we were looking for trouble.”
“So you were in it, then,” Alex said. “It does sound interesting.”
“More’n interesting,” Mike admitted. “The Confederates were in Memphis, moved in there with their fleet. Then Ellet arrived on the scene. There were five Union ironclads and four of Ellet’s boats.
“Just before we entered the harbor, the Rebels steamed out to meet us. And we had an audience. Above us on the bluff, most of Memphis came to cheer on the Confederates.” Beth was watching Mike, and he paused to grin at her.
“It was something,” he admitted. “Ellet started his boats downriver at about fifteen knots. They were holding that speed when they met the Rebels. We heard later that the shock of the collision between Ellet’s boats and the Confederate rams could be felt up on the bluffs.
“Colonel Ellet, in the first boat, collided with a Confederate ram. His son Alfred squeezed his ram in between two Confederate’s heading for a hit on the old man. This caused them to collide with each other. Alfred circled around and hit the Rebel boat that survived the crash. About then the gunboats finished off the damaged Rebel boats, sank another, and captured three others.”
“You make it sound like a lark,” Beth whispered. “Was it really so?”
Mike shook his head. “No. It was a tragedy. Charles Ellet was shot and later died.”
“Oh, the poor man. It’s a shame to lose such a one.” With a sigh, Sadie got to her feet. “I’m going to bed before thee starts on another yarn. One more like that and my eyes’ll be stuck open all night.”
One by one the others followed. Mike continued to sit on the steps and Beth moved down beside him. He surveyed her sad face and waited.
“Are they still drilling recruits out in the pasture?”
“Yes, they bring fellows in from all over this end of Pennsylvania. Roald said the Pennsylvania regiments are getting a good reputation. Known as good fighters.”
“Where was Roald sent?”
“To fight with Fremont. Roald didn’t say where, but his letter was written from the East.” In a moment she added, “There was a Southern raid against Fremont in the Shenandoah Valley. I haven’t heard anything since.”
“Beth, I’m sorry. I suppose there’s nothing to be done except to tough it out. I’ll go with you tomorrow to check the lists.”
“Mike, why does God let all this happen? You know what Amos said to me this morning? He said I’d feel better if I went to meeting. How is that possible when God has been allowing this to happen? If He’s God, then He can stop this.”
“Beth,” Mike said helplessly, staring down at her tear-streaked face, “you’ve got to believe there are lasses on the other side of the line praying just as hard as you are that their men will come home.”
“Mike, you’re no comfort at all,” Beth cried. “Why men insist on fighting—why it is so enjoyable to them, I’ll never be able to understand. While you were talking about that battle with the rams, you and all the other fellows acted as if it were a great romp.” She jumped to her feet and headed for the door.
He reached the door first and blocked the way. “Beth, that isn’t fair. Come talk with me; at least let me explain my feelings about war.”
She shook her head and tried to push past him. He resisted for a moment, and then with a sigh, encircled her with his arms. “Okay, come on. I—”
Suddenly she threw her arms around him and cried against his chest. “Oh, Mike, don’t be angry with me; I can’t take much more of this.”
“I’m not angry. Right now I’m trying to behave like a gentleman,” he muttered, “and it doesn’t help a bit to have you, an engaged girl, draped all over me.”
She leaned back and stared up at him. “Mike, I’m not engaged to Roald. We’ve only talked about what might happen when he comes back.”
His arms relaxed. “You mean I still have a chance with you?”
She caught her breath. “Oh, Mike, please, let’s not talk about us. I’m too confused to know anything except that I’m worried about him. What I really need is—”
“A big brother,” he said dryly, dropping his arms.
“Well, I suppose now I’ll have to worry about you, too.”
“That would be nice.”
She hesitated, then stretched on tiptoe and put her arms around his neck. “Mike, you are really the dearest person on earth. I like you so much, but please—”
Her soft warm lips were close. He groaned, turned his head, and found them. “Beth, I want you. I know I shouldn’t be talking like this now with Roald gone.”
She wilted into his arms, and with her tears drenching his shirt, he carried her to the rocking chair and held her on his lap until she stopped crying. When she finally smiled up at him, he wrapped his arms around her. “Beth, what are we going to do?”
She sat up, pushed away, and looked at him, “Do, Mike? You are a dear, sweet friend, a brother, and we’ll continue to be friends as long as we live. You rescued me. I won’t forget it. Thank you for letting me cry on you.” The door closed behind her.
Slowly Mike sat down on the steps, still overwhelmed with the memory of her softness, and muttered, “Brother!”
He wiped his hands wearily across his face. The crickets began their cheerful chorus. He thought about the kiss. Lord, I did it again. He thought of his resolve, and shame swept through him. Poor Roald. “As sure as I know my name, Lord,” he muttered, “I know You want me to concentrate on helping this girl, not kissing her and carrying on like a love-sick kid. When she gets close, I seem to forget all my good intentions.” He stood up and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I sure wouldn’t want a fella trying to take over my girl.” He stomped up the stairs to his room.