16. Rainfall

1864 APRIL 14, THURSDAY

16

News reports heralded General Ulysses S. Grant's new leadership. With the spring thaw, nearly the whole Upper South was under siege or occupied by Union troops. Anticipation this war would finally be over spurred us on.

I shuddered, knowing John was in the thick of it. I had yet to find the right words to send him, attempting letter after letter—all which were thrown into the fireplace to burn. Instead, I avoided the task. Now fully recovered, I threw myself into caring for Katie and helping with wedding preparations for Renny and Landon.

Watching them exchange vows while Landon stood in his soldier blues, eyes shining, made me admire their bravery. My lips tipped down, feeling regretful. Where was the gumption Mother instilled in me?

"Rain pours all the livelong days, never ceasing. It penetrates my body and my mind, and I wonder what I am doing here? Who longer cares whether I live or die, or whether I am lost in the shadows of some great skirmish?"

Renny and I huddled around Nora by the parlor fire, while she read her letter from John.

We said goodbye to Landon Greene this morning. Renny has yet to cease crying, and her brother's words did not help. Nora made us swear we would not retell John's words to their mother. It would break her heart. As soon as Mrs. Mathis left to call on the Chisholms, Nora gave us both a knowing look, whipping out the letter from her pocket.

"All I had to live for is no longer tangible but elusive beyond my credence."

My silence caused this. His loss of hope.

"I wonder what will become of us once this war is over and we no longer fight this never-ending battle? What will become of us once we have run everyone into the ground?

"Once I was bold and believed in the Cause, abolishing slavery, and preserving the Union. A noble cause. Now I question whether the Cause has been worth the thousands of deaths. And still, people remain in bondage! I am desensitized to killing and no longer flinch as bullets tear through Rebels and comrades alike.

"Nora, of any of our family, you have understood me the most. My bosom sister. I knew I could confide in you and not feel your judgment from states away.

"I'm sick of fighting. I put man after man into the darkness of the earth—men like me, who are brothers, sons, husbands, and fathers. Men who will never return home. Children who will never see their fathers, and wives who will never feel their husband's kisses. All that keeps me from slipping into some dark place is a fading hope of coming out of this alive. The blood has not, and will not, wash away the sins of our Fathers. These atrocities will follow us and stain the ground."

Nora paused to wipe away a tear. Renny was already weeping into her handkerchief.

"My dear sister, I dread the end of this war, the outcome that awaits. With all my heart, I wish not to make my family pity me or hold sympathy for me, but I no longer feel the need to fight for a Cause that murders, rapes, and plunders. This feels like penance for the debts I must pay. Debts that piled up before this war began. There is no relieving myself of this burden I've carried since the day Father disowned me. Forgive me for the harm I caused you all. Pray for me, for I have never had the will to pray. God has forgotten me. Pray my soul will be carried Home if I am to perish on the battlefield.

"Read this letter to Seth (he needs to hear it), but tell Ma nothing. I have already caused her such grief throughout the years, and anything further shall depress her. I am sorry for my disheartening words. I wish I could conclude this letter with some happy anecdotes, but I have none to tell. Every day, there is only rain and mud. And in this rain, we march and drill. Our rations have decreased again. It's as if there is nothing more for us and we know this war is drawing to a close, yet there is still so much more to be done. Our only hope now is that General Grant will pull us through. Many are confident victory is on the horizon, but many of us are tired and weary and wish nothing more but for this war to end. Pray for me. Your loving brother, John."

We sat in stunned silence. Renny let out a short sob, then covered her mouth with her handkerchief. Nora leaned back in her chair and pressed the letter to her lips. Her eyes were distant in contemplation.

"I don't want this war to go on any longer," Renny whined. "It should end before any more men die, before Landon and John are killed."

I stood from my seat. Nora and Renny shot me a questioning look.

I had to do something.

I stormed from the parlor.

The war and my rejection did this to him. Why did I walk away? Why didn't I go to him the morning he left? I should have allowed him to have me and love me as much as he wanted. Give him hope of life after the war. A reason to fight. Instead, I allowed fear and remorse to steer me away from him.

In my bedroom, I sat at the vanity. My head swam. From the top drawer, I retrieved paper. Many times I had attempted this, but now I dipped my determined pen into the inkpot, and words poured from my heart onto the paper.

Dear John,

Nora shared your letter with us. I should have written to you weeks ago now. Too much time has gone by, and I must say what has been burdening my heart since Christmas night. I should have told you then. Many days, I feel I can run, carrying myself to Virginia until I reach your arms.

My dearest John, I did not realize how much I love you. I wish I could go back in time and retrace my steps. I was terrified. I thought if I could deny my feelings, blame my responsibility to Katie, and honor your mother's hospitality, the burden I placed on you and your family … I would be protecting you all and protecting my heart. But instead, it pains me so deeply to know that I injured yours. Please forgive me. I love you.

Now, I beg you. Fight. Do everything in your power to survive this bloody war. I will remain in St. Albans, in your mother's house, even once the threat is gone. I will wait for you. My last strand of hope is that you will return. Hold on to that hope, John. I pray to God you will come back to me. I pray I am not too late. I pray this letter reaches you. I pray you are still alive.

With all my love,

Ella

I signed my name with a trembling hand, praying this would reach him in time. Fumbling with my hat, I tied it beneath my chin and pulled on my gloves. Lord, if anything happens to him, I don't know if I could ever forgive myself. My heart thumped in my ears as I ran down the stairs to the foyer. Nora sat beside Renny, comforting her. They both glanced up as I dashed out the door.

Dinner warmed our bellies. Nora and Renny sat silent at the table, staring at their plates. Mrs. Mathis talked about the Chisholms and some odd town gossip, oblivious to the mood. Seth interrupted sporadically with his side comments. As soon as Mrs. Mathis paused to take a breath, he jumped in to tell us what happened at school with his friends.

"How could you?" Mrs. Mathis admonished. "The poor man gets enough with you four."

"Ah, Ma, Mr. Gates isn't a poor man. We treat him right finely." Seth's eyes gleamed.

"And I can see he has taught you proper English as well," Mrs. Mathis retorted.

"We weren't awful to him, Ma. We only put his chalk in the water bucket, and he never found it. No harm done. But you should have seen how he walked around the classroom, scratching his head and saying, ‘Oh, dear me, what have I done with that chalk?' It made it rather difficult to continue our lessons after that."

"You better hope he never finds that chalk, young man, or you should expect punishment this afternoon," Mrs. Mathis told him, taking a sip of her tea.

"He won't find it. The chalk will be melted in that water by the time I get back, and besides, one of the little boys will fill it with fresh water after dinner." Seth grinned as he helped himself to a second serving of apple pie.

"Slow down, or you'll make yourself sick."

"Ah, Ma, you worry too much."

"It's a mother's prerogative to worry about her children."

"I'm not a child." Seth glared, setting his fork down. "Another year and a half, and I'll be able to join John in the fight."

"You're my child. And God willing, I'll never see the day another son of mine marches off to war. Now finish your dinner and hurry back to school. If your father were here, I would have him take you out to the barn and give you a good whooping. God knows you need one."

"But he's not here," Seth snarked, shoving one last bite in his mouth before hurrying out the door before his mother could react.

"Seth Mathis!" Mrs. Mathis called back, but he was already gone. Releasing a heavy sigh, she pushed herself away from the table and left the dining room.

"We should have made him stop." Renny frowned. "He knows he hurts her feelings when he reminds her Pa's gone."

"He wants to fight, and Ma treats him like a baby. And I don't think he'll ever admit it, but he misses John," Nora reasoned.

"We all miss John. That's no excuse for ill behavior. And Ma treats him like a child because he acts like one."

Heavy silence settled over the dining room while we finished our pie and tea.

"Oh, it pains me to keep secrets from Ma," Renny whined. She dropped her fork and rested her chin in her hands.

"It would pain us more if she read John's letter; we would never hear the end of it. I hid it safely in my secretary. She'll never find it."

"I hope not."

Nora squeezed her sister's hand. "Don't worry your dear head about a thing. I have it all handled." Her eyes twinkled with laughter. "Now, if only Mr. Gates finds that chalk and gives Seth a beating. Ma's right. He needs one badly to deflate his big head."

Renny giggled.

"There's a telegram for ye, Miss Ella," Kay interrupted.

I perked up. "Did you see who it's from?"

"I believe from your family. It's from York, Pennsylvania."

Home.

I retreated down the hall to the sideboard table in the foyer where mail and telegrams were placed each day.

Dated April 13, 1864

To Miss Ella Coburg,

Your mother is very ill. She asked you come home. Necessary precautions have been made.

Pa.

I found where Mrs. Mathis had retreated. In the parlor, she looked up from her sewing.

"Is something wrong, dear?"

"My mother's ill, and she asked for me to come home."

"Oh, your poor mother. Is it safe for you to return?"

"My father is taking precautions."

"Then you must go."