The Remembrance
THE NEXT MORNING, John found himself back near the barn. He wasn’t sure if their outing the day before had rejuvenated his spirit or brought him even more sorrow . He was inclined to think of the latter.
All his life he’d ached to belong. And now, in a strange, unnatural way, he felt that he did belong to Sarah. As he walked around the outside perimeter of the barn early that morning, he tried to imagine what he was going to feel when he discovered the money and gave it to her.
Relief, probably. And maybe a sense of completion. Something to hold tight in his soul whenever he realized that he was basically just a worthless ex-soldier. At least once in his life, he’d tried to do something worthwhile.
Remembering yet again all his conversations with Daniel, he eyed the rough planks on the outside of the barn. Wondering again why he was having such a difficult time finding something that had to look so obvious.
As he ran his hand along the wood, he let his mind drift. He stopped attempting to recall every conversation in its entirety. Instead, he allowed himself to recall mere phrases. Parts of conversations.
When he felt a pinch, he lifted his hand and noticed a sizable splinter had wedged itself along one of his knuckles. Carefully, he pulled it out, somewhat taken aback that his scarred hand could feel anything at all.
And then he recalled the last time he’d pulled out such a splinter. He’d been complaining to Daniel about the rotten wood they were burning . . . complaining that it was infested with vermin. Daniel had merely laughed and called him a weakling. “Never thought I’d see the day when our lieutenant let a few hornets and splinters get the best of him.”
“They’ve hardly gotten the best of me. I just don’t have a need to get scratched and stung. We’ve got enough problems with the Johnny Rebs.”
Daniel had remained unimpressed. “You’re acting as childish as my wife.”
“And why is that?” he’d asked, somewhat bored. If there was anything Daniel had liked to do, it was talk. And talk he did, mostly about how smart he was . . . and how good he was at ordering his wife about. The more John listened, the less he’d wanted to hear. Actually, the longer he’d been in Daniel’s company, the more he’d ached to be done with him. There was so much in the man that John had found fault with.
While it was true that they both had brown hair and eyes, and that they were much of the same height and build, those were their only similarities. Though Daniel might have had money to save and was a landowner, at least John hadn’t spent the last several years being mean to a woman.
“You’re acting like my wife because she’s scared to death of bees.” Daniel’s voice had been almost gleeful. “She got stung real bad by an angry swarm when she was a little girl. The midwife even had to come over and help her mamm pull out stingers. She told me once it was her worst and earliest memory. Anyway, that old oak has a real good-sized hive in it. When we first got married, Sarah asked me to get rid of it, but I wasn’t having any of her complaining. I told her that we were going to keep it and that was final. And that, you see, is why I ended up hiding my money near that tree. Why, I could have tied banknotes to the branches and she wouldn’t have gone near them!”
John had been so sickened by Daniel’s bragging, knowing that he’d willingly kept something nearby because it scared his wife, that he’d stood up and moved away from him.
And then, mere moments later, the sparks had flown and the fire had come. The whole conversation had been forgotten.
Until right this minute.
Feeling a strange combination of both dread and anticipation, John walked around the barn again. But this time, instead of merely looking at the barn’s planks, he scanned the trees that surrounded it.
After another two or three minutes, John located the beehive. It wasn’t real big but it was definitely populated with enough buzzing residents to give most anyone pause.
He imagined Sarah would have been terrified, given her aversion to honey and honeybees.
Then he began to pat the wall. Slowly, looking for loose boards, uneven cuts. Holes that didn’t look quite right.
And then, there, a mere foot above the ground, he found what he’d been looking for. Heart pounding, he knelt down, fingered the board. Grabbed the edge and pulled on it slightly. Just to see if there was any give.
There was.
Repositioning his fingers, he grasped the edge again, pulled hard with one forceful yank, and watched the board fall to the ground.
As he leaned down, he told himself a dozen things. Prepared himself to be disappointed. Cautioned himself that Daniel could have very well have lied about everything.
But there, nestled in the cubby, was a small jar with a rusted lid. And inside looked to be a rather large collection of silver coins.
It seemed that for all his bluffing and posturing, Daniel Ropp had not been a rich man after all. The coins were many, and would surely add up to a good amount, but they were in no way the fortune than John had been led to believe was there.
John reached into the cavity, pulled out the jar, and scrambled to his feet. And then did the only thing that was fitting.
He acted far more excited than he was.
Pasting a happy smile on his face, he darted around the corner of the barn and called out her name. “Sarah! Sarah, where are you?”
He found her in the same place he’d left her hours before, standing in the sunlight, carefully pinning articles of clothing on the line.
When she saw what he was holding, the shirt in her hands fluttered down onto the ground. “John, is that what I think it is?”
He nodded. He held up the jar like it was grand prize at a fair. “Can you even believe it?”
She shook her head slowly. “Nee, I cannot,” she uttered, her voice shaky. “John, I must admit that a part of me thought this was a fool’s errand. I didn’t think it really existed.”
“I promise, there was many a time when I thought the same exact thing. And then, when I got to know you, and learned that Daniel could be so very manipulative, I began to imagine that he’d merely been playing a joke on me.” Then he smiled. “But I was wrong.”
Slowly, happiness lit her eyes. “This is wunderbaar,” she whispered as she rushed to his side.
The moment she was in his reach, he tossed the jar on the ground, picked her up by the waist, and twirled her around. And then because it felt so good, he twirled her around a second time.
She rested her hands on his arms and laughed. “I canna believe it!”
With care, he set her back on her feet, then grasped her hand and began to pull her into the house. “I can hardly believe it myself.”
“Where was it? I thought you were outside?”
“I was. I was walking around the barn, trying to think of what I had missed—and then it came to me.”
“What did?”
“A conversation I’d had with Daniel right before the explosion. He told me that he’d hidden the jar outside near the oak tree.”
Her eyes widened as they entered the kitchen. “Is that where it was? Near the bee tree?”
“There was a loose plank near the ground. It didn’t look quite right so I gave it a little pull and the thing came right out.”
She shook her head in wonder. “I wonder why he would have chosen that spot. He knows how afraid—” She stopped herself just as a look of dismay crossed her features. “That is why he hid it there. Ain’t so?”
“Yes.” He didn’t want to lie to her. But he sure hadn’t wanted her to ever know just why Daniel had planted the jar in such a place.
Wearily, she sat down. “I don’t know why I’m surprised, but I am. John, he did so many things with the intent to hurt me.”
“He was like that with many people, Sarah. He was a selfish man. And, at times, a cruel one.”
“I don’t know why. That’s not our way. It’s against everything we are.”
He chose his words with care. He didn’t want to make her memories of Daniel Ropp any worse than they were and he didn’t want to offend her religion in any way, either. “When I was on the battlefield, I saw a great many men from all walks of life, Sarah,” he began quietly. “Some were wealthy landowners, some were poor men who came from fishing villages on the New England coast. All of us united for one reason: to fight for a cause we believed in. It was easy to make all Southerners into villains. You’re not going to like hearing this, but it made it easier to kill with that mindset.”
He paused when she winced, but didn’t apologize for his words. War was bloody and painful. It was hard to kill another man, and having to find the wherewithal to do it meant sacrificing a bit of one’s humanity.
“Sarah, I’m only telling you this because one day, at the end of a skirmish with a small band of Confederates, I got a pretty good cut on my calf. It had been bleeding something awful, and because of that, I was slow getting up. And that was why I realized that I’d somehow ended up next to an injured Johnny Reb. He was hurt worse than me. He was bleeding from a couple of places. But he was staring at me.”
Sarah was staring at him as if mesmerized. “What did you do?”
“I decided to sit with him until he passed.” He wouldn’t have done that if either had had men from their units there. But in that brief moment of time, they were both alone. “It was an ugly day. Overcast. Chilly. Damp. We were both cold and miserable. I scooted a little closer to him, trying in my own, weak way, I guess, to offer him comfort. He let me because he thought I was dying, too.”
Remembering the moment, the way the land had smelled like damp grass and the faint odor of blood and spent ammunition filled the air, he added, “The man had blue eyes.”
“Did you say anything?”
“I asked him if he would like me to pray with him.”
“Did he let you do that?”
“Uh-huh. He told me about his family. How he was the youngest boy and how his momma was going to be so sad, because she hadn’t wanted him to fight in the first place. I told him about growing up without a family. We both agreed it was better to die for something we believed in than for nothing at all. Then we said the Lord’s Prayer.”
“And then?”
He closed his eyes. “And then he died.” Opening his eyes again, he shifted uncomfortably. “After a bit, I tied some of his shirt around my leg, like a tourniquet, and went looking for my camp.”
“Did you ever tell anyone about him?”
“No one. Not until you.” Realizing he’d gotten off track, he sighed. “Sarah, I don’t know if I’m making any sense, but what I’m trying to say is that there’s good and bad people in all walks of life. Even Southerners. Even orphans like me. Even a man as fortunate as Daniel, growing up in a caring community like this. There’s no telling what makes a man do the things he does. It’s a useless exercise to try to figure out why.”
At last, Sarah picked up the jar and rolled it in her hands. “I think it’s time we saw how much was in here.” When she made a move to hand it back to him, he stilled her.
“Nope. This is your moment. You do the honors.”