17

Annie

After Kate and Ira ate, served by Aenti Elizabeth, Mamm showed them to Annie and Josiah’s rooms to sleep. Annie’s grandmother sat in the rocking chair and clucked her tongue until the two strangers, to her, had left.

“Aren’t they the ones who forced you to go care for those soldiers?”

“They didn’t force me, Mammi,” Annie answered. “I chose to go.”

Her grandmother clucked her tongue again. “You’re just a child.”

Annie ignored her grandmother and slipped out to the back porch to sit with Sophia while Samuel stayed at the kitchen table and had a second helping of Aenti Elizabeth’s hotcakes.

Sophia definitely had more color in her cheeks. Also, her breathing wasn’t as labored.

Sophia clasped her hands together. “Dat said he would take me to see Richert.”

Annie put her arm around her sister. “You need to know that he’s been running a fever and his leg is infected.”

“Has his sight returned?”

Annie shook her head.

Sophia exhaled. “It doesn’t matter. I’m getting stronger, and I’ll be able to help care for him.”

Annie pulled her sister close. “I’m praying that will be the case.”

Dat arrived in the buggy as they talked.

“I know you’re exhausted,” Sophia said. “But will you come with me?”

“Jah.” Annie scooted off the bed. “I’ll let Samuel know.”

He was still eating as she told him she wouldn’t be gone long.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll wait.”

When they arrived at the Fishers’ house, the doctor was examining Richert, and Eva was in the room too. When the doctor and Eva came out to the sitting room to talk with Hiram, Sophia led the way into Richert’s room with Annie a step behind.

“Richert?” Sophia said, her voice soft. “It’s me.”

He turned his head toward her and reached out his hand. She took it and sat on the chair beside the bed. His body began to shake and he cried.

Annie stopped a few feet away. Sophia put her head on Richert’s chest and began to cry too.

Not used to witnessing such a mix of affection and grief, Annie felt uncomfortable. She stepped back to the door but stayed in the room, mesmerized by the love between her sister and her beau.

Her heart contracted. Would she ever know such love? Such commitment?

Richert’s hands went to Sophia’s back and then her head. Then they moved around to her face. “I wish I could see you,” he said.

“It doesn’t matter.” She kissed his finger. “All that’s important is that you’re here. I’m so sorry for what you’ve gone through.”

“I suppose most will think I got what I deserved.”

“No one’s going to say that,” she said.

Tears filled Annie’s eyes. It was true that many would think it though. And some would say it—just hopefully not to Richert or his parents. Or to Sophia.

“I shouldn’t have joined,” Richert said. “And not because of my injuries. When all was said and done, I couldn’t shoot another person. I thought I’d be able to—but I couldn’t.”

Annie thought of all of the unfired rifles on the battlefield. He wasn’t alone. There were Englisch soldiers who couldn’t do it either.

Eva opened the door and motioned for Annie. As she left, Sophia was still by Richert’s side.

Annie joined the doctor and the Fishers.

“Richert is under his mother’s care, where he belongs.” The doctor frowned. “I can’t guess what the end result will be. He’s badly injured, as you all know.”

Annie’s stomach fell, but she knew the doctor spoke the truth.

“I’ll get a poultice made for his leg,” Eva said, “and give him a tincture to help him sleep. Rest and good food is what he needs.”

“And we’ll all keep praying.” Dat patted Hiram on the shoulder. Annie thought of how opposed Dat was to Sophia’s relationship with Richert, and then how mortified he’d been when Richert joined the Union Army. But now he simply shared in his neighbor’s grief—and hope.

After the doctor left, Annie fetched Sophia. She didn’t want her sister to tire herself or Richert. Both of them needed their rest.

When they returned to the house, Samuel sat on the front porch, chatting with Mamm. Annie walked with Sophia up the back steps and waited as she reclined on her bed. “I believe everything will be all right,” Sophia said. “It won’t be what we expected, but God will see us through.”

Annie sighed and then answered, “I believe so too.”

“What does Samuel want to speak with you about?” Sophia asked.

Annie didn’t answer.

“Do you know your heart for him?”

Annie nodded. “He’s a good man.”

Sophia pursed her lips.

“What is it?” Annie asked.

“Jah, he’s a good man. But when you were gone, he spoke as if he owned you.”

“He was worried about me, is all. Besides, isn’t a woman supposed to submit to a man?”

“A wife and husband are to submit to each other,” Sophia said. “That’s what the scriptures say. You were only courting him. He shouldn’t have been so presumptuous.”

Sophia had always had strong opinions. Perhaps Samuel wasn’t as gentle as Richert, but he did have Annie’s best interests at heart. Annie simply told Sophia that she appreciated her concern and then walked through the quiet house—her grandmother was now napping in the rocking chair—to the front porch.

Her mother stood as she stepped through the door. “I need to get dinner started shortly,” she said, “after I gather the beans from the garden.”

Annie sat next to Samuel. His eyes were tired, and she felt a rush of appreciation for him. He’d been willing to go all the way to Gettysburg to find her.

“Denki for waiting for me,” Annie said. “I know you’re tired.”

He nodded.

“What did you want to tell me?”

“Well, my message has changed now that you’re home. I was going to tell you that you had no business traipsing all over the state, caring for soldiers. But now that you’re home, I’ll spare you the lecture.”

He smiled as she bristled. “I imagine you’ve been doing much the same, traipsing all over, doing deliveries and helping Mr. Stevens.”

“That’s different.”

“God doesn’t call us to be safe,” she said. “He calls us to serve others. Correct?”

“Jah,” Samuel answered. “But let me serve. And you stay safe.”

Annie crossed her arms. “But He showed me a way to help—I had to obey His calling.”

Samuel shook his head. “It wasn’t your responsibility to be a nurse on a battlefield. It was enough that you left to go to Peach Bottom.”

She inhaled sharply. “I was caring for my sister-in-law.”

“Jah, that was all fine and good for a short time . . . but going on to Gettysburg? What was George thinking, letting you do something so foolish?”

Annie stood. “I found Richert. I brought him home.”

“But it wasn’t your responsibility. He reaped the consequences of his actions. His fate was up to God—not to you.”

She paced to the far end of the porch. Jah, she knew people would think that. She just didn’t expect it to come from the man she thought she’d marry. Ira hadn’t wanted her to serve in Gettysburg after the battle either, but then he respected her decision to stay.

Samuel followed Annie, and she spun around, saying, “I need to go rest before I say something I might regret.”

“Annie . . .” His tone betrayed his frustration.

She stepped toward the door. “We’ll see each other soon enough. We’ll talk more then.”

He reached out his hand, but she didn’t take it. Instead she told him farewell and entered the house, overcome with fatigue. She made it out to the porch and crawled up on the bed next to Sophia. A few minutes later, she heard Josiah say he would take Samuel home. After that, she fell fast asleep.

Annie awoke to voices in the kitchen. Kate’s and Ira’s. And Woody’s. She sat up. Sophia wasn’t beside her.

She took a moment to gather her senses, and then stood, smoothing her skirt and apron. Then she stepped into the kitchen. Sophia and their grandmother sat at the table, while Ira and Kate stood in a huddle with Woody, Mamm, and Dat.

The talking stopped.

“What happened?” Annie asked.

It was Mamm who finally spoke. “Woody found Cecil along the road, ill.”

“I delivered him to Peach Bottom. As you can imagine, Harriet was frantic—but also relieved—to see him.”

“So she’s caring for him now?” Annie asked.

“That’s right, along with a group of other injured and sick soldiers,” Kate explained. “Woody is going to take Ira and me back to Peach Bottom now.” She stepped toward Annie. “Can you come back with us? To help? You’re a well-trained nurse now.”

Annie didn’t feel as if she were a well-trained nurse, but she knew she could be of use. But then she thought of Samuel. What would he think if she went? And what about Sophia? She was doing better, but with Richert injured she would need Annie too.

Ira cleared his throat. “Mother, don’t pressure Annie to go with you. She should stay here. She’s served well, but it’s time for her to be with her family.”

Kate gave Annie a pleading look.

Ira shook his head. “Annie, with God’s guidance, must make the decision.” He turned toward her. “Ma will accept whatever you decide.”

Woody stepped forward. “Miss Kate, Ira’s right. God will provide the help needed in Peach Bottom. And I’ll certainly assist as I can.”

Mamm put her arm around Annie but didn’t say anything, which Annie appreciated. Annie was exhausted and had longed to recover in the safety of her family. But Kate, Ira, Woody, and now Harriet didn’t have that choice.

Did the Lord want her to go? She said a quick silent prayer, asking for guidance. Her throat felt dry, and she couldn’t seem to find her voice. Ira gave her a sympathetic look, and she managed to mutter, “I think it’s best if I stay.”

Her heart broke saying it. She respected Kate more than anyone, but Annie didn’t have the fortitude the other woman did.

Sophia stood and stepped to Annie’s side. “Are you sure, sister? I don’t want you staying if you feel you should go.”

Annie nodded. She’d never felt so conflicted about anything in her life, but she couldn’t see going back to Peach Bottom. Not now.

After Mamm fed Ira, Kate, and Woody again, they gathered their things. Annie didn’t have a chance to speak to Ira in person before they all climbed into Woody’s wagon, but she hoped he knew that she was grateful for his intervention. She appreciated both Kate and Ira, but sometimes the son seemed more observant and sensitive than the mother.

The weather stayed hot and muggy as the days passed by. Even though she was back in the safety of her home, Annie slept fitfully and often awoke with a nightmare. Dead soldiers, cows, and horses. Richert in the field hospital tent. Screams from the patients. She could smell the scent of blood in her dreams. Often, she was in Dr. Carson’s hospital by herself, searching for Kate. Then Ira.

Soldiers were dying. She didn’t know what to do. She’d wake up, sometimes crying. Sometimes sitting up in bed, with her feet on the floor. Sometimes in a cold sweat.

One time she must have cried out, because when she awoke Mamm sat next to her, rubbing her back. Annie wondered if the dreams would ever stop. She felt ashamed by them. She hadn’t gone through what the soldiers had. No one had shot at her, and she hadn’t had to shoot at anyone either. She hadn’t been injured, lost a leg or arm, or lost her eyesight. She didn’t have a gaping wound in her thigh or stomach or back, like so many.

But still the nightmares continued, much to Annie’s chagrin. The second week she was home, Mamm asked if Annie was sleeping better. She simply nodded in response. She must not have been yelling in her sleep, so that was good.

Sophia, with Annie tagging along, visited Richert a few times. Each time it was obvious that he was failing more and more. Even Sophia admitted it—and as soon as she did, her own rally began to fade. Her cough grew worse, and she spent more and more time in bed.

Samuel visited often, and as far as Annie knew, no one had told him that she’d been asked to return to Peach Bottom. Never once did he ask her about what she’d experienced in Gettysburg. Of course, she didn’t say a word about her nightmares or about all the horrors she’d seen. It would only give Samuel more reason to think it had been a mistake for her to go. A couple of times, he tried to bring up their future, but each time she asked to postpone the conversation.

When they sat on the porch together, she felt restless and bored with their interactions. If Samuel had any news, he didn’t share it with her. Perhaps he thought it would inspire her to leave on another adventure.

However, late in August, he did bring an old newspaper from July. Annie read it to Sophia, including an article that the 54th Massachusetts Colored Infantry led a fight in South Carolina. Sadly their commander, Colonel Robert Gould Shaw, was killed along with many others. The article said he was buried with the other dead from his regiment.

Annie shook her head in sorrow. The killing continued.

“That’s so sad,” Sophia said. “When will this dreadful war ever end?” Annie feared the bad news would wear Sophia out even more and wished she hadn’t read the paper to her. Sophia’s cough had grown even worse, and Richert’s infection continued to spread.

The next time Samuel visited, he brought two letters for her. One was from Harriet and the other was from Ira. Samuel frowned as he handed her the second one, postmarked from Gettysburg.

Annie ignored him and slipped the letters into the pocket of her apron.

After Samuel left, she opened the one from Harriet first. Cecil was on the mend, but Kate had diagnosed his illness as typhoid, and several of the other soldiers had come down with it. Annie knew the only thing to do was treat the symptoms and hope the patient recovered. Harriet wrote that their home was essentially a hospital, and they were all doing their best to care for the ill and the wounded. Of course George never would have chosen such circumstances, but he has resigned himself to serving as the Lord has led. We are shorthanded, as you can imagine, and could not carry on without the help George can give, although he is as busy as ever tending to the farm. We all miss you, Harriet concluded, and hope you can come visit when Sophia’s health allows.

Annie hadn’t made the wrong decision to stay home, especially with Sophia’s health failing again, but she also longed to be in Peach Bottom, helping to care for the soldiers. Obviously Harriet had regained strength to be able to do what she was doing, but Annie knew her sister-in-law still wasn’t strong, not after the hard pregnancy she’d endured.

Next, Annie opened the letter from Ira. He was back in Gettysburg, working with Dr. Carson. He said that many of the wounded had been shipped out, but that Dr. Carson’s hospital had nearly as many as when Annie had left, due to more being transferred from the field hospitals. Ira added that he continued to learn new things from Dr. Carson. I think of you often and your time here, Ira wrote. I know it was trying for you, but your help was invaluable. He went on to write that he hoped she was doing well and that Richert, along with Sophia, continued to heal. I know you’re courting Samuel, so please don’t be offended by this letter. I just wanted you to know that I appreciated your help during a trying time and pray that the Lord will bless you for your service. He signed his name as, simply, Ira.

Annie slipped the letter back into the envelope as a wave of sadness washed over her. She missed Ira. And as hard as her time in Gettysburg was, it had changed her. She wouldn’t be the person she’d become without that experience.

It was in the middle of September that Richert passed away. Sophia collapsed in Annie’s arms when Dat told her. The night after they buried him, as Annie mopped her sister’s forehead with a cool rag, Sophia said she hoped Annie would find a man as loving as Richert.

“Jah,” Annie had answered. “I think Samuel is that man.”

Sophia shook her head. “Samuel is a good man, but he’s not right for you.”

Alarmed, Annie asked Sophia what she meant.

“You’ve changed since you were in Gettysburg, but Samuel wants you to be who you were. Not who you are.”

Annie swiped at her eyes. Sophia was right. She truly was a different person than she’d been before she’d gone to Gettysburg.

The next week, in desperation, Mamm suggested sending Sophia west where the air would be drier, in hopes it would slow the consumption, but Sophia insisted she didn’t want to leave the farm.

Annie doubted the change in climate would make a difference, not when Sophia’s health had failed so quickly. In the wee hours one morning, as Annie sat beside her sister and mopped Sophia’s forehead with a damp cloth, her sister opened her eyes and reached for Annie’s free hand and squeezed it. “I’ve been dreaming about Richert. He can see again, and he has no pain. He’s at peace. . . .” She struggled for a breath and then managed to say, “I’m so happy for him. . . .”

Annie knew Sophia would die soon too, but she didn’t cry in front of her. She simply willed herself to do all she could to make her passing as comfortable as possible.

And she did. She slept on a cot on the porch beside her sister’s bed, and when Sophia coughed up blood, Annie cleaned her. When Sophia grew too weak to feed herself, Annie spoon-fed her soup and then wiped her mouth. She bathed her and changed her clothes, soaked from the sweat of her fever. Each day, her sister grew weaker until she stopped eating altogether. Except for coughing, she only slept.

Sophia passed away during the night toward the end of September, just as the leaves on the old oak tree began to turn copper. Annie pulled the covers up to her sister’s chin and then tiptoed into the house and woke her parents.

Sophia’s suffering was over.

They buried her in the cemetery at the edge of the farm where their ancestors had been laid to rest too. Richert’s grave was only a row away. Annie’s heart swelled at the sight. No other Mennonites were buried in the cemetery. Dat had allowed it as a good-will gesture to the Fishers—and to comfort Sophia.

Samuel and his family joined them for the service and the burial. He shared kind words with Annie about his sorrow for her, but she felt hollow as he spoke.

Later, after they’d all shared a meal, he asked if he could speak with her in private. She followed him outside.

“I’ve waited a long time to talk about our future,” he said. “I can’t wait any longer.”

Annie shook her head. “I can’t think of that now.” She turned toward the cemetery on the corner of the property. Maybe she had only been using Sophia’s illness as an excuse—and now her death.

His face fell, as if he’d realized how he’d sounded. Behind him the leaves of the oak tree shimmered in the sunlight.

He took a step toward her. “I shouldn’t have brought this up—not when you’re in mourning. We can talk about it later, but please, let that be soon.”

She shook her head. “I’m glad you did. I’m not sure—”

His tone was patient now. “Wait. We can work all of this out,” he said. “Don’t say anything you’ll regret.”

She nodded and headed back to the house, leaving him by the garden. Perhaps she was feeling unreasonable and did need more time. She hurried up the steps to the back porch and sat on the edge of Sophia’s bed, fighting back tears.

When someone called out a hello, she stood and peered out the screen. A wagon had turned into the lane. It was Woody, with Cecil beside him. Annie hurried back down the steps, stopping at the bottom.

As Woody pulled the wagon to a stop, Dat walked toward him.

“What’s happened?” Woody asked, glancing back to the horses in the field and the buggies by the barn.

Dat explained that Sophia had passed and the service and burial had just been held. The man dipped his head and expressed his sorrow.

Cecil jumped down from the wagon. “Harriet is ill now, with typhoid. And Kate is exhausted.” He handed Dat a letter. “George wants Annie to return. Woody can transport her—I’m going to see my folks and then join my unit in West Virginia.”

Dat turned toward Annie. She nodded in agreement. Of course she would return.

Samuel, who still stood where Annie had left him, didn’t say a word, but marched off toward the barn. Woody caught her eye, his expression full of concern.

“I’ll pack my bag,” she said to Woody. She would go, and work things out with Samuel later. “You get something to eat. Josiah can water and feed your team, and then we can be on our way.” She glanced toward the porch but Mamm had already gone inside, most likely to pack a basket of food for their trip. Relief filled Annie that her parents agreed she should go nurse Harriet. God willing, she could help enough to make a difference.