Chapter Three
As the days progressed, David’s health improved. He understood that, once again, Anna had saved him. He grew stronger and more alert, which brought horrifying recollections of what he had experienced. The wild ride Renegade had taken him on following the terrible battle at Gettysburg slowly seeped back into his memory. He wondered if his messmate, John Chase, was still alive. Both of the poor fellow’s legs had been blown off. David also wondered whether his other messmate, Michael Tailor, had deserted the cavalry and gone back to Georgia. Night after night, his memories became more vivid, haunting his dreams. In them, he saw soldiers collide all around him. He heard men scream and yell, cannons roar, and sabers clash. The Union trooper he had decapitated at Brandy Station seemed to appear every time, always drawing nearer, raising his sword ever higher. A few nights, David woke up screaming, which unfortunately woke the girls.
Anna, in her compassion, comforted him. She outfitted him with a nightshirt and drawstring trousers that had belonged to her father. Although David was too tall and thin to fit into them properly, he was appreciative, nevertheless. He asked her why she had protected him from capture, but she would only reply that he was still too feeble to leave.
On the following Saturday morning, a week after the battle, he managed to make his way downstairs and to proceed unnoticed out back. Limping into the barn, he saw Renegade through an open door, standing in the corral behind the building. As he shuffled through, a strange sound, like a whine, caught his attention. He stopped to listen, but didn’t hear anything other than the ringing in his left ear, a constant reminder of the cannon blast that had almost taken his life at Gettysburg. He slowly approached a tarpaulin-covered stack of hay bales in a dark corner where he thought the sound had originated. Curious as to why the bales were covered inside the barn, he pulled back the tarpaulin. Two sets of eyes stared out at him.
“Oh!” he cried out, jumping back in astonishment. Regaining his composure, he realized what he was gazing at. Two black children huddled between the bales.
“What in tarnation are y’all doin’ down there?” he asked, holding his right hand over his shoulder wound.
The children slowly straightened, staring at him with large brown eyes.
“Hello, missa,” the little girl said. Her hair was braided in pigtails, and her brown gingham dress was ragged. “Can you help us?”
“Why are y’all out here?” he inquired.
“We’s hidin’ from da Rebels,” the little boy said. “Dey come and took our mama and papa.”
David clenched his teeth. He looked out at Renegade, who watched him intently with his ears pricked. “Y’all come with me,” he instructed.
The two children followed their limping escort to the kitchen.
“Miss Anna!” he yelled.
She came downstairs. “David,” she said. “What are you doing out of bed?”
“I found these two li’l picaninnies in the barn,” he said.
The children looked at each other.
Anna knelt down, holding her hand out to them. “It’s all right,” she said softly. “We won’t hurt you.”
They drew closer to her.
She turned her attention to David and glared at him. “I won’t have you refer to them in that manner,” she said.
He felt his knees buckle, so he sat down on a wooden chair.
“What were you doing out in the barn?” she asked them.
“Hidin’,” the little girl replied casually. “From da Rebels.”
“Dey took our folks,” the little boy told her.
Anna glared at David again.
Unable to bear her critical gaze, he looked away.
“That means you’ve been out there for a week at least?” she inquired.
The children nodded.
“What are your names?” she asked.
“I’m Lil, and dis is Manny,” the little girl said. A wide grin spread across her face.
Anna smiled back and straightened. “Well, you two will be staying with us for a while.” She glanced at David and said, “Abigail and Claudia have new playmates.”
“The more the merrier,” he quipped.
“I’ll fix you something to eat, and then you’ll have a bath,” she informed them. “And you too.” She looked at David, whose expression turned to shock.
“You want me to bathe with the li’l nig—?”
“No,” she interrupted. “You’ll be bathing in here, in the tub. You’re in need of a bath far worse than these two are.” She withdrew a piece of ham from the icebox.
David grinned. “Reckon I am purty ripe,” he said.
She exaggerated a nod, sliced a loaf of bread, and forced him to sit with the black children while he ate. He reluctantly agreed after she threatened not to feed him.
“This ain’t how we do it down South,” he said and quietly ate while the brother and sister exchanged giggles.
Abigail and Claudia came downstairs with Maggie and were introduced to the little ones, who said their last name was Piper. After they finished eating, the girls led Manny and Lil down to the pond for a swim. Watching them walk across the barnyard, David noticed how the children interacted like they’d been friends for years, with no regard to their obvious differences. He’d heard about how children raised on plantations interacted in the same manner and were segregated when they grew older. However, he didn’t know firsthand because his family had never owned slaves.
Anna went upstairs to change his bedding. Once she returned, she filled the steel tub with water she had warmed on the kitchen stove. She removed David’s sling and bandages, giving him the opportunity to inspect his wounds.
“That feller shot me,” he groused, recalling his encounter with a Union picket before Renegade had bolted into the night with him struggling to stay in the saddle.
“What happened, exactly?” Anna inquired.
“After the cavalry battle, my company was stationed east of town. I was assigned to picket duty. A Yankee picket snuck up on me. I got the best of him, but not before he shot me first.”
“I see,” she said. “So you killed him.”
He shrugged as well as he could. “I reckon.”
She frowned. “Go on, get in there,” she coaxed him. “I’ve left you a cloth to put over your wound and a cup to douse your hair with. I’ll be in the next room, so call me if you need assistance.”
He waited for her to leave before attempting to undress. Struggling to disrobe, he finally managed and gingerly stepped into the tub of warm water. It felt amazingly refreshing. He eased himself into it, and let out a satisfied sigh. Glancing up, he saw the black feline perched on a kitchen chair, watching him attentively. The cat swished its tail like it was preparing to pounce on its prey, and David was the intended victim. Scrubbing himself down with the block of lye soap Anna had given him, he was careful to cover his shoulder wound while he rinsed his hair. The soap smelled of roses and lavender, just like the bedroom. He realized he would be fragranced like a girl by the time he was done. The back screen door slammed. He looked up to see a strange, dark-haired man enter.
“Well, now, there ye be!” He smiled.
David gawked at him.
“I heard ye were up and about.” He walked over and extended his hand. “Sure’n you’ll not be rememberin’ me now, will ye? Patrick Mulligan’s me name. I’m the hired hand over at the Meyer’s place, half a mile east of here.”
David grasped the Irishman’s hand. “David Summers,” he humbly replied.
Extracting his hand from the Rebel’s wet grasp, Patrick chuckled. “Aye, ‘tis a name I’ve come to know. I’ve been here twice since ye made your appearance. Both times ye were out cold, though. Did the whiskey I brung ye help any?”
“Oh,” said David, trying to put it all together. “Thank you for providin’ it.”
“‘Tis me pleasure. Well, I won’t be keepin’ ye from your bath.”
He walked toward the parlor, where he found Anna. The two of them conversed. They were too far away for David to decipher what they were saying, but he thought it had something to do with the black children he’d discovered. Carefully, he pried himself from the tub. He hoped he wouldn’t slip and fall, and that the children wouldn’t enter to see him in all his glory. He found the robe Anna had left for him on the back of a chair, so he pulled it on. Grimacing, he forced his left arm into the sleeve and tied the belt around his waist. Anna and Patrick entered the hallway from the parlor.
“And when the proprietors in Dover heard of the approachin’ enemy, sure’n they gathered up all the liquor in town and hid it in the cellar of the United Brethren Church!” Patrick told her. “If I’d have known sooner, I might’ve been inclined to deny me Catholic beliefs for a day, just to have at that whiskey.”
Anna laughed. They entered the kitchen. Patrick looked at David and grinned at him.
“What religion might ye be, lad?” he asked.
“Baptist,” David replied. “Or at least, I used to be.”
Anna glanced at Patrick, who read her worried expression.
“Baptist is it?” he said. “Sure’n I’ve heard tell the president is also a Baptist.”
David simpered. “All the more reason to quit the faith,” he replied.
Patrick burst out laughing. Anna glared at him.
“The lad’s got a wit about him,” he said, stifling his laughter. ‘“Tis true I’m fond of him already.”
She shook her head and smiled at David. “Well, don’t you clean up nicely,” she remarked.
Maggie entered through the screened kitchen door. “Good morning, Patrick,” she happily greeted.
“‘Top o’ the mornin’ to ye, lass. And ‘tis a fine mornin’ indeed, me dear Maggie,” he cheerfully said. “But I must be gettin’ back now. I’ll be seein’ ye lovely lasses later on.” He walked out the screened door.
“Maggie,” said Anna, “would you be so kind as to fetch David’s shaving razor?”
Maggie obliged without complaint and went upstairs.
The children returned from their swim. Abigail immediately approached David and gave him a hug.
“Why, thank you, Miss Abigail,” he responded, slightly surprised.
“Did you know Davy Crockett?” she asked.
He chuckled. “No. He was before my time.”
“May I call you Davy?”
Wincing slightly, David looked at Anna.
She smiled at him and said, “I think he prefers to be called David.”
“Okay.” Abigail shrugged. She knelt down and stroked the black cat.
“What’s your kitty’s name?” he asked.
“Tabby,” Abigail said with a smile.
He cocked an eyebrow. “But it ain’t a tabby cat.”
“That’s the name Abigail picked out for her,” Anna explained.
“Do you have any cats, David?” Claudia asked.
“Only the barn cats,” he said.
“Do you live on a farm like us?” asked Abigail.
“Yes’m.”
“You must know something about farming then,” observed Anna.
“Reckon I know a thing or two,” he replied with a lop-sided shrug.
Abigail gasped. “I want to show you something!”
She ran upstairs. The other three children followed, stampeding past Maggie on her way downstairs. Glancing at her sister, Maggie carried David’s razor and a looking glass over to the table.
“I believe you’re in need of a shave. Don’t you agree?” Anna asked him, smiling.
He smiled back and nodded.
“Maggie, could you please help David while I hang out the laundry?” Anna requested.
“Uh, I don’t reckon that’s a good idea,” David interjected.
“It’s fine, Mr. Summers,” Maggie said with a smirk. “I’ll take good care of you.”
Anna smiled. “I’ll return in a while.” She picked up the basket of wet clothes that had been waiting near the back door and carried it out to the clothesline.
David looked at Maggie apprehensively. She handed the razor to him. He reached out to take it with his right hand, but she abruptly turned the blade to face his palm. He jerked his hand away. She rotated the razor, offering him the handle, and sneered at him. Uncertain as to whether her action was intentional, he reluctantly took it. He struggled to shave, gazing at his likeness in the looking glass, but soon found he was too uncoordinated. Abigail and her followers returned from upstairs.
David set the razor on the table and confessed, “Miss Maggie, I’m at a loss for doin’ this myself. I’m used to shavin’ with my left hand.”
“Oh,” she replied, looking somewhat surprised. “You’re left-handed?”
“Yes’m,” he replied.
“I see,” she said. “A south-paw from the South. Isn’t that ironic?” She picked up the razor and began sharpening it on a stone.
Abigail exclaimed, “Look at this!”
She presented a toy drum from behind her back and started rapping on it loudly with the drumsticks. The sound made David wince with the pain it caused to his left ear.
“Abigail, stop that,” Maggie said, observing his reaction.
“See. It’s an eagle.” Abigail pointed to an eagle holding a red-and-white striped shield painted on the side of the drum.
Maggie said, “I’m sure you’re well aware of our national symbol, Mr. Summers. It’s very noble. Not like your Southern snake,” she threw a glance at him. “Eagles eat snakes, you know.”
David arched an eyebrow at her. “I reckon that snake symbol came from the ‘Don’t Tread on Me’ motto from our first Revolutionary War,” he remarked, reciting what he’d been told by his comrades.
“See what I have?” Claudia handed him a Parian china doll dressed in a gown adorned with red, white, and blue Union flags, tiny soldiers, and cannons.
“That’s right nice, Miss Claudia,” he said, trying to disguise his disdain.
She froze. Noticing her lack of movement, he turned his gaze from the doll to the little girl’s face. Her expression blank, she seemed to stare right through him.
“Miss Claudia?” he asked.
She continued to gape at him. Her vacant stare made him shudder.
He glanced at Abigail. “Is she all right?”
“Oh, she does that from time to time,” Abigail explained nonchalantly.
Claudia became animated again, like nothing had happened.
“Will you read to us?” Abigail asked, handing him a picture book.
“Oh, yes! Yes,” the other three children exclaimed, gathering closer.
David smiled and took the book from Abigail. “The Union A, B, C,” he read from the front cover. He glanced at Maggie, who sneered at him again.
Letting out a sigh, he opened the storybook. “A is America land of the free. B is a battle our soldiers did see.” He stopped.
“Keep reading,” Manny commanded.
“C is a captain who led on his men, D is a drummer boy called li’l Ben. E is for eagle, F is for flag—I can’t do this,” he resolved, closing the book.
“T is for traitor, a tyrant is thee,” Maggie added. She walked toward the group, clutching his razor.
“I ain’t a traitor, Miss Maggie,” he growled. “The South has every Constitutional right to secede.”
Maggie scowled at him. “You children take your toys and go outside to play,” she commanded.
The four little ones scampered out the back door.
“Now Mr. Summers, hold very still.”
He flinched as she put the razor to his cheek and slowly began scraping the stubble from his face.
“Miss Maggie,” he meekly said while she continued her strokes, “thank you for assistin’ me.”
Saying nothing, she made her way around his face. Once she had finished, she coaxed him to tilt his head to his left side. Laying the razor against his right jugular, she bent over and growled into his ear, “If you dare try to harm any of us in any way, I will slit your throat while you lie sleeping. Savvy?”
David couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Stifling his reaction to retaliate, he closed his eyes, clenched his teeth, and slightly nodded. The back screen door slammed. Maggie released him. He looked up to see Anna enter. She instantly noticed the alarmed expression on his face.
“David?” she asked. “Are you all right?”
“He’s fine,” Maggie interjected. “I’ll put this razor in a safer place than Father’s bed chamber. Oh, and I’m taking the Rebel’s pocket knife too.” She walked up the steps, glaring at David through the banister rungs as she ascended.
“I want you to rest now,” Anna told him.
She helped him stand. They returned to her father’s bedroom. Once they arrived, he breathed a sigh of relief, for Maggie wasn’t there.
Anna retrieved a set of her father’s drawers and a pair of cotton drawstring britches from the dresser. “You may wear these,” she offered, handing them to him.
He went behind the dressing curtain, slipped off the robe, and struggled one-handedly to get the drawers and britches up. Once he accomplished his difficult task, he walked out from behind the curtain. Blushing, he sat on the bed. Anna giggled softly, amused by his modesty.
“Your sister, Maggie, don’t take a cotton to me much, does she?” he asked, knowing it was an understatement.
She hesitated. “It’s just that, well, her best friend’s brother was killed, and our uncle is somewhere down South, defending the country.”
David ran his hand over the side of his neck where Maggie had held the razor. “Your sister’s name should be Arsenic, not Margaret,” he remarked sarcastically. “I reckon she’d poison me or somethin’ worse, if the opportunity presented itself.”
Anna slightly smiled at him. “She’ll warm up to you eventually. That is, unless you give her reason not to.” She reapplied his bandages, replaced the sling around his left shoulder, and helped him lie back in bed. “It’s a shame what those two little Negro children have been through,” she stated bluntly.
He didn’t respond.
She sat in the rocker. “Do you read much?” she asked, slightly rocking back and forth.
“I do, Miss Anna, every chance I git,” he replied.
“Have you read Uncle Tom’s Cabin?”
He frowned. “I have.”
“And what did you think of it?”
Rubbing his right hand over his smooth face, he knew what direction their conversation was going. “I thought it to be propaganda.”
“Humph,” Anna reacted. “Do you own any slaves down in Alabama?”
“No, miss.” He hesitated again. “Are you an abolitionist?”
“No,” she said, “not exactly. But I believe every man has a right to be free. My beloved Pennsylvania was the first state in the Union to liberate slaves.”
“Is that a fact?” he asked earnestly.
“Yes. And I’m very proud to be from the Commonwealth because of it. I think you Southerners are wrong in forcing servitude upon those people and fighting for a cause that supports it. I know all about your slave codes,” she enunciated with reproach.
David frowned at being put on the defensive. “Is it any worse than what you Northerners are doin’ to your factory workers up here?” he asked, reciting what he had learned from his fellow troopers. “They’re treated far worse, from what I’ve been told.”
“At least they’re free,” Anna said.
“Are they?” David fired back. “Those poor folks come to this country lookin’ for a better life, but all they git from y’all are a few cents a week for fourteen hours of work a day in repulsive conditions. I don’t see how that’s freedom at all.” He paused. “You Northerners jist want to cause the kind of uprisin’ that’ll cost every Southern slave owner his life.”
“That isn’t likely to happen,” Anna remarked, looking out the window.
“No, Miss Anna? Servile insurrection has already occurred. I reckon y’all consider John Brown to be a martyr too. In fact, he was nothin’ but a murderer.”
The thought of the man who, in David’s opinion, had started the war by attacking slave owners in “bloody” Kansas and then had taken his vengeance to Virginia before being captured and hanged, riled him. He ran his right hand over his face again in an effort to contain his anger.
“Anyways,” he growled, “that’s not why I jined up.”
She turned to look at him, compelling him to explain further.
He sighed. Trying not to take his anger out on her, he softened his voice. “I did it to serve my country and protect my homeland, and avenge my pa and Jake.”
“Who’s Jake?” Anna asked.
“My best friend. He died at Chancellorsville after he decided to fight with the infantry. I found him dead.” David’s voice cracked. “And I—helped to bury him.”
Anna’s expression changed to remorse. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” She stood next to the bed. “Were you in the infantry with him?” she asked.
“No. The cavalry.” He forced a snicker, which sounded more like a sob. “I was up for a promotion after my last battle. Ain’t that a hoot?”
Anna smiled benevolently. “What’s your rank?”
“Private.”
She paused for a moment. “Is that picture inside your watch one of your sisters?”
He cocked an eyebrow, realizing, of course, they had rifled through his things. “The watch belonged to Jake,” he explained, “and the girl inside is Miss Callie Mae Copeland, Jake’s fiancée.”
“Oh,” Anna replied. “I didn’t mean to pry. I was only curious.”
“Where are all of my effects?” he asked.
Anna pointed at the dresser. “Over there, in the top drawer.”
“And my pistol?”
At this question, Anna’s expression grew dour. “I have it.”
“Well, can I have it back?”
“No.”
“That pistol was a birthday present from my pa’s best friend. I wish you’d reconsider.”
She said nothing.
He grunted. “Do y’all have the cartridges for it too? They were in my jacket.”
“We didn’t find a jacket,” Anna informed him.
David remembered he had used it to plug up the hole in his shoulder, but he couldn’t recall what might have happened to it. He assumed he must’ve dropped it somewhere while Renegade was galloping in a wild frenzy. “What did y’all do with my clothes?”
“We burned them. They were infested with fleas.”
“And nothin’ exploded in the fire?”
She shook her head.
He sighed. “Y’all need to be careful with that pistol. There should be five bullets still left in it.”
“We’ll be careful.”
“What about my rifle?”
“Patrick has it.”
David snorted. “Is he fixin’ to turn me in?”
“No,” She said. “You can trust him.”
“Is he your sweetheart?” he asked.
Anna snickered. “Patrick and I have been friends ever since he came here, and that’s been seven years now. Not that it’s any of your concern.”
“Oh. No, miss,” David replied, taken aback by her sudden impudence. Not wanting their conversation to sour, he added, “I didn’t mean nothin’ by it. You’re right. It ain’t my concern.” He paused, then asked her, “Uh, where’s my saber?” But before she had a chance to respond, he answered his own question. “Oh, I remember. I dropped it.” He looked over at her. “Could I please have my handgun back?”
“Why?” she asked. “So you can kill us all and steal everything we have?”
David gawked at her. “What? I would never do somethin’ like that,” he declared.
Anna snorted at his remark.
“You’ve been listenin’ to Miss Maggie too much,” he muttered.
She glared at him.
“Miss Anna, I am a man of honor. I was brought up to be a gentleman, and I would never, ever attack a lady. I already told you that.”
She glowered.
“You don’t believe me,” he said. “Why don’t you believe me?”
“Understand this, Mr. Summers,” she firmly stated, staring at him. “If you try to run off and join up with the Rebels again, I’ll be forced to turn you in.”
He glared at her, stunned by her change of demeanor.
“Besides, your horse is lame, and Alphie’s too old to get you very far,” she continued. “You’re several miles from the Pennsylvania border, and you’d have to get through Maryland on your own after that. Chances are you’d be captured.” She strode to the doorway. Turning back to face him, she asked, “So—did you kill anybody?”
Pausing, he recalled the first person he’d killed, the day before he left for the war. His schoolmate, Tom Caldwell, had ambushed him and set him up. David retaliated in self-defense, but the outcome was deadly. “None that wouldn’t have killed me first,” he said.
A worried expression crossed her face. “How many?”
He looked away toward an open window. Deciding she was only referring to war casualties, he said, “I tumbled over two that I’m sure of. The one who shot me and another.”
“An eye for an eye then,” Anna remarked sardonically. “You’ve killed two of our boys to make up for the loss of your father and Jake.” She shook her head slowly, as if out of pity for him. “I’ve heard when you kill someone, part of your soul dies. Is that true, Mr. Summers?” She left the room, closing the door behind her.
With her departure, David suddenly felt very alone, even though he was in a house with a misfit group of angry Yankee females and little children. He missed his own family terribly, and he missed Jake just as much. Abandoned in a strange land, he was surrounded by people who could only criticize him. Apparently, there was no way to return home. He wished he had died on the battlefield in the arms of glory, surrounded by the embrace of sweet death. It would have been far easier and nobler than having to endure such ridicule. Even Miss Anna seemed to be turning on him. Her words seared his heart like a branding iron. She was right: part of his soul had died.
The week dragged on, but the weather remained the same: hot and humid. Patrick came by a few days later to tell the girls what he had learned and that their aunt should be returning home soon. According to him, the townsfolk of Gettysburg were struggling to get back on their feet, and the Confederates were long gone—all with the exception of one, who remained in their father’s bed chamber, slowly recuperating.
By Thursday afternoon, David had been with them for nearly two weeks. Anna tried her best to accommodate him, but their political differences became more blatantly apparent with every conversation they shared. Still, they did find they had several things in common. They were nearly the same age, and they each had two younger sisters. They had lost one or both of their parents, and they had been brought up on farms. David asked her what crops they grew, and she informed him they had corn, wheat, potatoes, oats, barley, a small peach orchard, and a large strawberry bed. This was also similar, except his family grew peas instead of barley and apples instead of peaches.
At daybreak the next morning, he found himself inside a dingy barn. It was filled with wounded men in agony, just like the barn he’d entered following the Gettysburg cavalry battle, when he had searched out his comrade, John Chase. The soldiers around him writhed and moaned. David looked down to see his right foot was a bloody, mangled mess. A doctor holding a saw approached him.
“We’ll have to take that foot off,” he said, and set to work.
The saw scraped across David’s ankle.
He shrieked.
Startled awake, he understood he’d been dreaming. Anna immediately entered the room. He realized he’d woken her with his nightmare. She came to him to calm him and quiet his fear.
“David? Are you all right?” she asked, lighting the lamp.
“I…I’m sorry.” He wiped the sweat from his brow.
“Lie back down.” She walked across the room to collect a damp cloth and returned to place it across his forehead.
“Thank you,” he said.
“You’re welcome. Try to get some rest. I’ll leave the light on for you.” She started for the door.
“Miss Anna,” he said hoarsely. “Could you stay with me for a spell?”
“Oh. Of course.” She seated herself in the rocker and picked up her knitting basket. As she slowly rocked, she softly hummed to herself. She looked up to see him watching her.
“What’s your middle name?” he asked with a shy smile. The tension between them seemed to be increasing, and he intended to ease it by learning more about her.
“Elizabeth,” she replied. “What’s yours?”
He smirked. “Well, it begins with the same letter, but I don’t care for it much, so I ain’t fixin’ to tell you.”
Of course, this piqued her curiosity. “The same letter, hmm? Well, is it Edward?”
“No.”
“Ebenezer?”
David shook his head.
“Ethan? Everett? Eli?”
With a snicker, he said, “You’ll never guess, so you might as well give up.”
She glared at him. “What is it? You must tell me,” she demanded.
Her brilliant smile lit up her face, so he gave in.
“It’s Ezekiel,” he timidly responded with a wince.
Anna giggled at his reaction. “Why, there’s nothing wrong with that name,” she assured. “He was a great prophet, after all.”
David shrugged with his right shoulder. “I know. I jist wish I wasn’t named after him is all.”
She flashed him a smile. The sound of an approaching vehicle caught her attention. Her sisters yelled at her from downstairs. She looked out the window and gasped.
“Aunt Sarah’s here!” Tossing her knitting onto the seat of the rocker, she scurried toward the door. “I’ll be right back.” She threw the words over her shoulder before rushing down the steps.
He pried himself out of bed and limped over to the window to get a better look. Two women climbed down from a carriage. The driver lifted out their trunk and set it on the front porch. All four girls spilled out of the house and embraced the new arrivals. Manny and Lil stood out in the lane, observing their interaction.
Biting his lower lip, David knew his time with the girls was nearing an end. The moment he had dreaded was now at hand. His mixed emotions confused him, but he decided if Anna’s aunt sought to have him arrested, he would make a run for it and escape. He doubted Renegade could make the journey, and he might not make it out, either, but he was determined to try.
He watched as the carriage pulled away, and the women and children shuffled into the house. Straining to hear, he could only make out muffled voices, so he climbed back into bed, glanced at the clock, waited, dozed, and awoke to look at the clock again. An hour had gone by. It was now half-past eight. He sighed, wondering if he should go downstairs.
She must’ve told them by now, he thought to himself.
He got up, walked over to the dresser, and pulled the top drawer open. Gazing down at his belongings, he picked up the buckeye and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, contemplating his situation. If he was turned over to the Federals, he would go to prison and hopefully be paroled. If that happened, he would be compelled to rejoin the Confederate cause, either by his own loyalty or by the Home Guard. He’d have to leave Renegade behind with the Yankee girls. It was fair repayment for what they had done for him, but his heart tightened at the thought of having to leave his little colt behind. Setting the buckeye back in the drawer, he slid it shut and returned to bed. He heard footsteps climbing the stairs, so he hastily threw the sheet over himself. The door opened. Anna emerged, her face taut. David prepared himself for the worst. Maggie entered, followed by Abigail, Lil, Manny, and the two women whom he had seen climb out of the carriage.
“Here he is,” Abigail announced with a broad smile. She plopped down on the bed near his feet.
Lil took David’s right hand and stroked his wrist. Manny grinned at him.
“So, I see,” one of the women remarked. Walking around Maggie and Anna, she kept her eyes fixed on him.
“Ma’am,” David acknowledged. Her harsh stare made him wither.
“It’s gome be all right, Mista Summers,” Lil said with an exaggerated nod.
“Sho is,” said Manny.
For a moment, his growing affection for them outweighed his trepidation.
“What did you say his name was?” the woman asked, holding her gaze on him.
“David Summers,” said Anna. She flashed a nervous glance at him.
The woman raised an eyebrow. She looked like a slightly older version of her three nieces. “Hello, Mr. Summers. I’m Sarah.” She reached out and gently patted his right shoulder. “My dear nieces have informed me of your dilemma. You’re in quite a pickle, aren’t you?”
To David’s astonishment, she smiled.
“This is my dear friend, Grace, Claudia’s mother,” she said. “I assume you met our Claudia.”
“Yes’m,” he replied.
“Well, David,” said Grace, “I do hope it’s all right if we call you by your Christian name?”
He nodded.
“After everything we’ve witnessed over the past two weeks,” she said, “we certainly have nothing but pity for your kind.”
David clenched his jaw. He looked at Anna, who stood with her arms folded.
“My nieces seem to have taken a liking to you, and it would be un-Christian-like for us to throw you out to the wolves, so to speak,” added Sarah.
David glanced at Maggie, whose eyes were fixed on the floor.
“We’ll let you stay for now,” she continued, “but you’ll be expected to pull your weight around here.” She faintly smiled. “I will allow Anna to discuss an arrangement with you.” Turning toward the door, she took Maggie’s hand. “Please be a dear, Maggie, and assist me with my unpacking.”
“Of, course, Aunt Sarah,” she responded. Glancing back at David, she flashed him a worried look and exited behind her aunt and Mrs. Burrows.
“You too, children,” said Anna. “I must confer with Mr. Summers.”
Abigail grinned at her big sister before following the others out.
Closing the door behind them, Anna walked across the room and sat back down in the rocker.
David waited for her to speak but ran out of patience. “Yes, Miss Anna?” he blurted.
“Well,” she began, “I had a talk with my aunt and told her what had happened to you. She was very sympathetic. I mean, it isn’t as though you intended to come to us, now is it?”
“No,” he replied. “Reckon that was Renegade’s doin’.”
She nodded. “I showed Renegade to her and explained how we could use an extra hand right now, what with harvest season approaching.”
“So, you want me to stay until after harvest?” he asked.
“Ever since Father died last spring, I’ve been at a loss as to how we would manage to get the crops out. I know Patrick will help, but he has his own work, and there are over a hundred and thirty acres out there that need to be—”
“I understand,” he said.
She smiled. “You claim to be a noble man, and I believe you. I convinced my aunt you’re trustworthy.”
Flattered, he said, “Thank you kindly, miss.”
“I need you to stay until after harvest. You must stay.”
“I must?”
“Yes, I insist. After all, it seems fair payment for my saving your life.”
He chuckled, but seeing she was serious, he wiped the grin off his face. “Well, in that case, I’d be honored to assist y’all. It ain’t like I have anywhere else to go, anyways, as you pointed out.”
“Good! You made the right decision,” she said and took his right hand. He half-expected her to kiss him, but to his disappointment, she resisted.
“I’ll tell Aunt Sarah you’ll stay on.” She hurried out of the room.
He sighed, wishing she would have been inclined to give him a kiss.
That evening, after Mrs. Burrows had departed for home with Claudia, Anna’s family, David, Manny, and Lil gathered around the kitchen table. Sarah said a short prayer, and they ate together in near silence. Once they were finished, Anna collected the dishes and carried them over to the washbasin.
Sarah turned to David. “I’m sure it’s been quite some time since you’ve had a decent meal. That is, before your arrival to my niece’s farm.”
David looked at her incredulously. “I thought the farm belonged to you and your husband,” he said.
“No, it belongs to Anna. Her father, my brother-in-law, left it to her specifically.” She smiled. “When my husband returns from the war, we will discuss whether she intends to keep it.”
“Oh, I see.” He looked over to see Anna throw a glance at him from the washbasin. Hesitating for a moment, he asked, “Miss Sarah, what was it like in Gettysburg when y’all were there?”
The three younger children stared intently at her, waiting for her response. Sarah instructed them to leave. Once they had gone upstairs, David went on.
“I was there at the battle with the cavalry. I don’t reckon you saw a feller with both his legs blown off, did you?”
“There was more of that than I’d care to discuss,” Sarah replied. Her eyes started to well up. “So many young men with their lives cut short. I can’t concern myself with which side they were fighting for. It’s all a waste, if you ask me.” She took her napkin and dabbed at the corners of her eyes.
Maggie reached across the table and took hold of her aunt’s hand. “What did you see, Aunt Sarah?” she asked kindly.
“I cannot describe it.” Sarah shook her head.
David hesitated. “Please, ma’am. I need to know.”
She glanced at her two nieces.
“It’s all right, Aunt Sarah,” Anna reassured. “Tell us what you saw.”
“Well,” she began, “it was a complete effusion of blood.” She sniffed, glanced around at her listeners, regained her composure, and continued. “We were assigned to a field hospital called Camp Letterman. It was nothing but a city of tents. The bodies were piled one on top of the other in every available corner. We ran out of room. The stench was so awful we had to place peppermint on our handkerchiefs and hold them over our noses. There weren’t enough coffins to go around, and the ice boxes on top of them only held ice for an hour or two before it melted. People were going out to the battlefield, taking souvenirs from the corpses. The government told them it was permissible if they assisted in burying the thousands of dead artillery horses. On the way home, we saw the poor Rebel boys, their bodies thrown haphazardly into the ditches to rot. No one had the time or inclination to bury them. They’re all regarded as traitors of our beloved Union.”
David squeezed his eyes shut. It was more than he could bear. “Pardon me, ladies,” he choked. He stood and slowly climbed the stairs but hearing Anna speak, he remained at the landing.
“Aunt Sarah,” Anna said. “I’m concerned for him. He has terrors every night and wakes us all up with his screaming.”
Sarah frowned. “Does he have sighing respiration?” she asked.
“Yes, now that you mention it,” replied Anna.
“Palpitation, fatigue, and tremors?”
Anna nodded.
“The doctors call that Soldier’s Heart,” Sarah explained. “I don’t know if there’s anything we can do but try to calm his nerves, so give him plenty of horehound tea.” She shook her head. “The poor boy. He must’ve seen some terrible things. This war is nothing but a terrible thing.”
David felt a calm sense of ease come over him. Perhaps they truly cared about him, after all. He hoped Anna did, for he knew he was beginning to care deeply for her.
During the following week, he read every newspaper that presented itself inside the house. He learned details about the battle. One civilian named Virginia “Jennie” Wade had been killed by a stray bullet inside the town of Gettysburg. An old patriot from the War of 1812, John Burns, was now a local hero, since he had fought at the Gettysburg battle until he was wounded. In the Philadelphia Inquirer, David read about a dead Union soldier whose only identification was an ambrotype of three small children he’d had clasped in his hand. The paper invited anyone with knowledge of their identities to come forward, and it offered fifty dollars for the best poem written on the subject.
David chuckled. Wouldn’t it be funny if I wrote the winning verse? Me, an enemy trooper! He dismissed the thought, deciding the venture would be too risky.
One morning, he glanced through another publication. An etching stared out at him from the newsprint—an artist’s rendition of one of the Union generals.
“I know that feller,” he stated. “He purt near took my life.”
Anna stood over him, distracting him with her gentle touch while she trimmed several inches off his hair so it reached the top of his collar. She glanced at the newspaper spread out on the table. “General George Armstrong Custer, the ‘boy general’,” she read out loud. “It says here that he’s a national hero.”
“I should’ve taken him down when I had the chance,” he muttered, remembering the brash General in gaudy trappings who had yelled at his Wolverines while they rode out onto the field.
“Please don’t talk like that,” she said, snipping a lock.
“Sorry, Miss Anna.” He continued reading. “It says here Pickett’s Charge would have been a success if General Stuart’s cavalry had been able to break through the Union cavalry lines. Their blamin’ ole Jeb for his lack of competency, but that ain’t what happened at all!”
“What did happen?”
“We were cut off. That’s why we didn’t git there in time. General Stuart is one of the finest commanders I’ve ever had the privilege to fight for. He’s an animal lover and a music lover to boot. You’d like him if you met him, Miss Anna. Everybody does. This article is shameful. The Yankees are boastin’ while the South is weepin’, and they’re makin’ a laughin’ stock of the general.”
“Perhaps you shouldn’t read it if it’s going to upset you.”
David picked up a recent copy of Harper’s Weekly and soon found another story that wasn’t kind by any means.
“The Rebels’ feelin’ of their pinched and perilous condition is curiously revealed by the fierce and frantic exultation of their papers upon the supposed ‘magnificent victory’ of Lee at Gettysburg,” he read out loud. “The wild scream of delight with which they hailed the news was like a flock of unclean and starvin’ birds over a lion’s carcass. It was the violent outcry of reaction. The fury with which they gloat over the probable desolation of the Free States is the indirect testimony of the disaster and despair they knew must be at hand if they did not win the battle in Pennsylvania.” He threw the paper down on the table. “Now you know why I’m so riled. It’s editorials like this!”
“Why don’t you read about something else,” Anna suggested.
He took her advice and glanced through another Pennsylvania publication.
“They’ve had riots in New York City,” he informed. “People there are opposin’ the draft because they refuse to defend abolition.” He pointed to the headline, and read, “Willin’ to Fight for Uncle Sam but Not for Uncle Sambo.”
Anna sighed. “It seems like our very hot summer is igniting even more hatred and hostility.”
“Says here John Hunt Morgan has been raidin’ Ohio and Indiana,” he informed.
“Oh, my,” said Anna, the alarm in her voice reflecting the threat.
“That’s the farthest north we’ve…I mean…the Confederates have come so far. I wonder if they’ll come back here to Pennsylvania.”
If they did, he hoped he and Renegade would be healed by then.
Toward the end of July, Sarah informed her nieces she had learned of a miller by the name of McAllister. He lived near Gettysburg and had been part of the Underground Railroad, so she thought it best to take Manny and Lil to him. After bidding them farewell, the little ones rode off with Anna’s aunt, smiling and waving wildly.
By evening, David found himself missing the little faces he had grown quite fond of, and he hoped they would find a happy life. He wondered if their parents would ever return or if they would be kept in bondage for the rest of their days down South. Regardless of their differences, he had grown attached to the two little black children and felt a profound ache in his heart for them.
As July melted into August, he slowly regained the use of his left arm, so Sarah removed his stitches. Dutifully, he toiled in the fields a little longer each day.
Renegade grew stronger too. David repetitively walked him around on a lead rope in hopes it would strengthen the colt’s injured hoof. He didn’t dare try to ride him, though. That would be several months away, if at all. He impressed Abigail by whistling to his horse, and Renegade obediently responded by trotting over for a sugar cube. She tried to do the trick herself but couldn’t produce a shrill enough whistle. David let the little girl ride on his horse’s back while he led them around the barnyard. Renegade and Abigail both enjoyed the interaction, and he enjoyed entertaining her.
Patrick visited frequently. He and David became fast friends. They spent afternoons exchanging ideas and sharing their backgrounds. David told him about his family, Callie, and Jake, whose memory saddened him the most. His best friend’s death had been the most recent, and Jake’s eighteenth birthday would have been on August 20.
In return, Patrick informed him he had come over from County Donegal in the spring of 1856 when he was David’s age. “I was forced to leave me beloved kin and homeland,” he told him, “and face the unknown perils of travelin’ to America alone in order to avoid starvation. After I arrived, I managed to get out of New York City within a year’s time.”
“Is that when you came here?” David asked.
“Aye, ‘tis. I traveled here to Pennsylvania and heard the prosperous Dutch were eager to hire poor young Paddy’s such as meself. But I soon discovered the Dutch were really Germans. By a stroke of luck, I happened upon Mr. Meyers one day in a dry goods store in Dover. He hired me on the spot, and I’ve been the man’s hired hand ever since. The Meyers exchange room and board for me work in the fields.”
“That seems mighty nice of them.”
“Indeed. They’re a darlin’ couple. In the winter, I assist Mrs. Meyers with cookin’, cleanin’, and tendin’ to their livestock.”
“Are they elderly?” asked David.
“They’re in their sixties. And they’re childless, as far as I know. In a way, I’m like the son they never had. You’ll meet them soon enough.”
“Well, they seem right kind from what you’ve told me.”
“Aye, that they are. And I’m content with me situation…for now. The Meyers don’t have much, but on occasion they pay me, so I’ve been savin’ a wee bit. I dream about travelin’ westward someday. Perhaps I’ll find me a wife and start me own family.”
“Do you have anyone in mind?”
“No, lad. No prospects on the horizon.”
“Well, that could change. Wait and see.” He gave Patrick a crooked grin.
Anna asked David one evening in late August if he would be willing to assist Mr. Meyers and Patrick with their fields, since the gesture would be returned by them. After agreeing, he retired in order to get enough rest for an early start. As he walked upstairs, he heard Anna and her aunt conversing in the kitchen.
“I hope the three of them get along all right,” remarked Sarah.
Anna laughed. “I wish I could be a fly on the wall so I might hear them trying to communicate. One German, one Irishman, and one Southerner. What a combination.”
They chuckled at the thought of the three men struggling to understand one another. Climbing the stairs, David couldn’t help but snicker himself, entertained by their amusement.
The following morning, he ventured over to the Meyers’ farmstead and knocked on the door. A short, stocky woman with silver hair and thick, dark eyebrows answered.
“Ja? Who ah you?” she inquired in a heavy German accent.
“Ma’am, I’m David Summers from next door.”
Before he had a chance to get any more words out, she grabbed him by the right arm and dragged him inside.
“Oh, ja! We have looked forward to seeink you heea.” Laughing, she shuffled out of the kitchen and yelled, “Shatzie, kommen hier. Schnell.” She immediately returned, and insisted David sit while she placed a spread of sausages, boiled potatoes, sauerkraut, and fried eggs in front of him.
Patrick appeared, pulling his suspenders up over his shoulders. “Well, David, top o’ the mornin’,” he greeted with a wide smile. “Mrs. Meyers here was expectin’ ye, so she’s been up since the crack o’ dawn makin’ enough to feed the entire Army o’ the Potomac.”
David frowned at the remark.
“Oh, sorry, lad” Patrick replied. He took his seat and started shoveling food into his mouth.
“Nein! Slow down,” ordered Mrs. Meyers.
She nodded at David to coax him. He picked up his fork, smiled graciously at her, and started eating.
An elderly man entered. David noticed he looked similar to the woman.
“Ida? Wer ist das? Who is zis?” he questioned.
“David, Mr. Meyers. Mr. Meyers, David,” Patrick mumbled, quickly making introductions between mouthfuls.
“Ah, David!” the elderly German exclaimed as he approached. He patted David’s left shoulder, which caused him to grimace slightly.
“Nein, Carl,” scolded Mrs. Meyers. She motioned to her left shoulder.
He nodded and said, “Oh, ja. I forget.”
Obviously, they had been informed of David’s injury. He glanced at Patrick, who winked in response. Following breakfast, they thanked Patrick’s boarders and walked out into the fields to analyze their task.
“Did you tell them I was in the Confederate army?” David asked.
“Aye,” Patrick responded.
“What did they say to that?”
“Well, I told them ye deserted and ye had no intention of goin’ back.”
“Oh.” David dwelled on Patrick’s response for a moment, realizing that, although it had been unintentional at the time, he was a deserter. “Reckon I did run the guard at that.”
He knew he would undoubtedly be considered as such should the Confederate army return to Pennsylvania and discover him there. Once more, he had done something he loathed himself for. Although he’d seen enough fighting and had lost the desire to go back, he regretted leaving the army in a dishonorable way.
The two men harnessed the Meyers’ mule team. Seeing a rider approach, they recognized Anna.
“I brought you a few things to eat,” she said, trotting up on Alphie.
David stared at her, dumbfounded. To his shock, Anna straddled the horse bareback, and she wasn’t even using a sidesaddle! Her long blonde hair flowed down past her shoulders, and her raw beauty intrigued him like no other girl he’d ever seen. He was taken aback by her audaciousness. No sister of his, or any other Southern girl, for that matter, would have been caught dead riding in that manner around mixed company. She rode up to him and smiled, but all he could do was gape at her with his mouth open.
If her hair was any longer, she’d look like Lady Godiva, he thought. Awkwardly embarrassed by his lurid thought, he bashfully looked away.
She handed Patrick a basket of victuals. “I’ll see you tonight, David,” she said, riding off.
Patrick laughed at his reaction. “She’s got a mind of her own, that one,” he proclaimed, giving him a pat on the back. “She’s a saucy lass indeed.”
David stared after her, awestruck. It was a side of her he hadn’t seen before, and it astonished him. “Are all Northern girls that brazen?” he asked.
Patrick grinned at him. “If ye mean more outgoin’ than your Southern belles, I would have to agree with that statement.” He chuckled and started hitching the Meyers’ new mower onto the team. “Although I’ll have to admit, I’ve never met a Southern belle.”
David assisted and said, “It’s jist that, to ride up on a horse the way she did is, well—”
“Uncivilized?” Patrick asked, his green eyes twinkling.
“Unrefined,” David countered.
“Lad, that girl is the most refined, intelligent, fair, outspoken specimen of the female gender you’re ever likely to come across.” He laughed.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” David responded under his breath.
He followed as Patrick led the team down the edge of the red shale field.
The new mower saved them an enormous amount of time. Impressed with the modern contraption, David had never been given the luxury to operate one before.
By early September, Mr. Meyers, Patrick and he had baled enough hay to get both farmsteads through the winter. They spent the next two weeks using the Meyers’ new reaper to harvest wheat, oats, and barley. The farm machinery was so efficient it made up for time lost in July and August due to David’s incapacitation. The wound in his left shoulder occasionally flared up, causing him pain; but for the most part, he was able to tolerate it without allowing it to interfere with his work.
When school began, the girls excitedly told him each night of the things they’d learned and about their new school marm, Miss Edith Channing, whom they adored. David rarely saw them anymore. He was up before dawn and didn’t return until after dark, just before the girls retired to their rooms. He thought it strange to be surrounded by a family he hardly knew.
One afternoon while the men were working near the Meyers’ farmhouse, Abigail arrived to inform them it was Anna’s birthday.
“What day is this?” David asked, wiping the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. He looked around as he spoke, realizing sugar maples near the road had turned a brilliant, flaming red-orange color.
“Today is Saturday, September nineteenth,” she proclaimed. “I want to have a party, but I need help. Maggie says she’s too busy.” She stuck her lower lip out in a pout.
Patrick chuckled. “Lass,” he said, “go to Mrs. Meyers and tell her I’d like her to bake a cake for Anna. She’ll help ye manage the rest.”
After thanking him with a big smile, she scampered to the house.
That evening, the two families gathered together at the Brady household for a celebration in Anna’s honor. She was so flattered she nearly burst into tears when she saw what had been done for her.
“‘Tis a fact ye don’t turn nineteen but once,” Patrick announced, raising his glass to make a toast.
Maggie presented her sister with a new dress she had sewn on the sewing machine in the parlor, and Sarah gave her a golden cross pendant. She explained it had been given to her long ago by her sister, Anna’s mother. Patrick handed her a bunch of wildflowers he’d picked, creating suspicion as to how he’d found any blooms this late in the season. Anna graciously received a cake and some schnitzel from Abigail and the Meyers. The only one left to give anything was David. Due to lack of time, he had been at a loss. Finally, he came up with what he considered to be an adequate gift. Bashfully, he handed her the poem he’d written on a scroll.
She read it silently while he waited with bated breath, hoping she’d like it. What if she laughed at him? Or threw it in his face? He expelled the dreadful notions from his mind.
Anna looked up and smiled at him. “Thank you,” she half-whispered.
Embarrassed, he shyly smiled in return, but didn’t say anything. He didn’t know if his poetic gesture was well received, or even appropriate, for that matter. Worse yet, he didn’t want her to ridicule him, so he kept his thoughts to himself.
Following the festivities, the Meyers bid them goodnight before departing with Patrick. David decided it was time for him to retire as well.
“Ladies,” he said, “thank y’all for a splendid evenin’. And happy birthday, Miss Anna.”
“Thank you, David,” she replied with a smile.
He went down the hall toward the stairs. Maggie’s voice trailed after him. He stopped to listen to her words.
“What did the poem say, Anna? That he adores you above all else? Even that mangy horse of his? Or did he ask you to forgive his evil ways? They are quite evil, you know.”
David scowled. He ascended the staircase, thinking Maggie’s appreciation for him was sorely inadequate. Why did she insist on holding contempt for him? For something he had done before he’d inadvertently come to the farm? Closing the bedroom door, he lit the kerosene lamp and wondered if he had made the right decision after all.
In November, he reasoned to himself, I’ll have no reason to stay.
A tap came on the bedroom door. He walked over to answer it. Anna stood on the other side, holding the scroll.
“May I come in?” she asked.
Surprised, he stammered, “Wha…uh…of course.”
She walked past him into the center of the room.
Consumed by self-consciousness, he stood by the open doorway. Remembering Maggie’s jab, he remarked, “I hope y’all don’t really think I have evil ways.”
Anna smirked. “Maggie was being sarcastic. You shouldn’t pay her any mind.”
She hesitated.
David watched the lamplight flicker on her face. He thought it made her look like a china doll.
“I want you to know the poem you wrote for me is very sweet.” She unrolled it and read it aloud, making him feel even more uncomfortable.
“A woman of nineteen today you’ve become,
How proud you would make your dear father and mum,
Just as a wild rose blooms in the spring,
You, darling Anna, are too blossoming.
Your heart is a wonder, your beauty divine,
Your radiant nature toward others does shine,
With your warmth and splendor, I’m humbled to say,
Such a beautiful creature we honor today.
Happy Birthday, Anna.”
He stared at the rug on the floor while she read the words he’d written, afraid to make eye contact. “I would have done more, but I didn’t find out till this afternoon it was your birthday,” he muttered.
“David,” she sighed. “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” He glanced up at her and saw her eyes well up. “I’m very grateful, and—I just wanted to thank you.” She burst into tears.
Guilt-ridden, he softly apologized. “Miss Anna, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
She sniffed. “I—I’m just exhausted, that’s all.” She walked toward him. Fluttering her eyelashes at him, she said, “Sometimes I wish you were from the North. Things must be so difficult for you up here.” She let out a sob.
David wanted desperately to hold her. At a loss, he did the first thing that came to mind and started softly singing the tune, “Oh! Susanna.”
“Oh, dear Anna, oh, don’t you cry for me, for I come from Alabama with a banjo on my knee.” He grinned at her, hoping to make her laugh. Instead, she stared at him in awe.
“Why,” she finally said. “You have the most beautiful voice. Have you ever considered singing for the opera?”
He snickered. “Naw. My sister, Rena, is the one with the operatic voice.” His smile faded as awkwardness set back in. “Well, Miss Anna, uh, happy birthday.”
“Thank you,” she acknowledged, returning his smile.
She turned to leave, but he grabbed hold of her hand. She turned back to face him.
“Oh,” he said, releasing her. “I…I…”
“Good evening, Mr. Summers.” She gently pulled her hand away and went downstairs.
He closed the door behind her, trying to come to terms with how close she had been to him. Surprisingly, his poetry had made an impact on her. His heart fluttered from the thrilling thought. He had moved her with his words.