23. A Penny Too Much

1864 JULY 6, WEDNESDAY

23

Mrs. Reynolds was not a beautiful woman, but when her pink lips parted, she revealed a broad smile of striking, white teeth and a certain overwhelming charm.

A small, rosy-cheeked boy, dressed in a miniature soldier uniform, sat beside his mother. In Mrs. Reynolds's arms was a bundled sleeping baby, the child's small fists exposed above the blanket. A mass of black hair escaped from the swaddle, curly and soft as feathers.

"Mrs. Reynolds," Clara spoke, guiding me over to the woman who sat in the Chisholms' parlor. "May I introduce Miss Coburg?"

Mrs. Reynolds took a lily-white hand out from beneath the infant's body to grasp my hand in a light shake. "It is indeed a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Coburg."

"You as well," I replied, taking a seat beside them.

"This is Ulysses Grant Reynolds," she said, looking down at the baby. It had recently become fashionable to name new babies after generals and colonels. "And this is little Jacob."

The boy stood on his short, stubby legs and gallantly bowed like a wee gentleman. Mrs. Reynolds gave a soft chuckle. "His uncle taught him that. Jakey thinks he's a grown-up."

"I'th thwee, ma'am," he said with a lisp, two fingers held up before him.

"Are you really?"

"Yeth, ma'am. I'th thwee. Pwetty thoon, I'll be big enough to be a tholdier."

Mrs. Reynolds made her son sit back down beside her. "We hope the war won't last long enough to see our children fight," she said with a twinkle.

Mrs. Chisholm leaned over to pat the boy on the leg. "Thank heavens, it should be over soon enough."

Mrs. Reynolds turned back to me, a smile still on her lips. "I want to thank you, Miss Coburg, for the kind care you have given my husband. He would have never survived if it wasn't for you and the Chisholm ladies."

My face flushed. I had little nursing skills. "Oh, ma'am, you flatter me. It was by the grace of God. He simply has more use for him than the army does."

She bobbed her head. "Yes, of course. But still, I cannot thank you and the Chisholms enough for what you are doing to help him and the others."

"You're very welcome, ma'am. He was hardly any trouble at all. He spoke only of you and the children."

It was her turn to blush. She took a breath and then said, "I expect you have yet to hear that I will be taking him home when we leave. We are only here for a couple of days, and then we will return to Milton. I wasn't sure if he was going to be well enough to make the trip, but considering it's not too far and he is regaining strength, I believe he'll be up for it." She looked at both Mrs. Chisholm and Clara. "We'll finish his recovery at home."

"Yes, of course," Mrs. Chisholm replied. "I'm sure you are anxious to bring him home. Would you like more tea?" Mrs. Chisholm asked, picking up the teapot.

"Yes, that would be nice, thank you."

Mrs. Chisholm poured each of us a cup, and we sat back to listen to Clara's melodious song on the piano. The tune was languid, feeling like water trickle over me. I momentarily closed my eyes, and an image of the Codorus Creek flowed through my imagination. For a brief instant, a flash of Robert's face appeared beneath my eyelids, but only as a shadowed face. My eyes sprang back open. I had nearly forgotten what Robert looked like.

Before leaving, I went upstairs to the sickroom. The room was hot and stuffy, even with all the windows open to let in the summer breeze. A few unwelcomed flies buzzed around the room, receiving impatient slaps when they came too close.

Brett was sitting up in bed, reading his old Roman book—a favorite of his. Captain Reynolds lay straight on top of the blankets, his eyes staring idly above him, and brushed away flies with his twitching hand. Sergeant Downs sat at a desk brought into the room for his particular use, his back to me as he scratched out words on paper.

"Why, if it isn't the angel herself!" Brett's face brightened, setting down the book, his blue eyes examining me from head to toe.

Heat crept into my cheeks. Ever since he recovered from his fever, he insisted on calling me "angel." He did not shy away from calling me such in front of others either. I had given up denying his flattery every time, and now I relented with amusement.

"Yes, it's me." I laughed.

Both Sergeant Downs and Captain Reynolds looked up.

"Come here," Brett said, "and give your favorite corporal a kiss."

"You're a scoundrel. If your mother heard you speak such—" I leaned over and brushed my lips on top of his head. His hair still smelled like soap.

"She knows how I speak," he teased.

"I'm sure you met my wife?" Captain Reynolds interrupted, sitting up in bed.

"Yes, sir, I certainly did. She is very pleasant. And your children, Captain … they're absolutely precious."

"Thank you. Did she tell you I'm going home?" he asked, shooing away a fly.

"Yes, sir. She said in a couple of days."

He nodded. "You have been mighty good to me, Miss Coburg."

"No need to thank me, Captain. Your wife already did that for you. Emphatically, in fact."

Captain Reynolds chuckled. "Yes, that's like her. She's a very gracious woman."

"Yes, and a very lucky one as well."

"Thank you, Miss Coburg."

Brett grasped my hand. "Ella, why didn't you come and see me yesterday?" he asked, giving me sad eyes.

"Margaret Smith had her baby," I shared.

"Oh, did she? What is it?"

"A baby boy."

"What did they name him?"

"John, after her brother," I told him, feeling as though a certain shadow moved across my face.

Downs stood and came to my side. "What is it, Miss Coburg?" he asked, a concerned look on his face as he gripped my arm.

My face must have given me away. John was not far from my mind. His silence was disheartening. There had been no news of him. With his nephew named after him, as if in memorial, I wrestled with the feeling everyone had given up on him. That he was lost to us.

"Oh …" I patted my hair to hide my face from Sergeant Downs. "It's nothing." I regained composure and looked up at him, forcing a smile. "I assure you."

"Would you like to come with me for some fresh air?" Downs asked.

"Well, I must leave soon. I promised Katie I wouldn't be gone long."

"We won't walk far," Downs insisted. "Humor me. I'm in need of movement."

My eyes darted away from his face to glimpse at Brett, who looked disappointed, and then I turned back to Downs.

"Maybe a short walk, but it is quite warm."

"Here." He picked up a paper fan Clara had left on Brett's bedside table. "I'm certain Clara won't mind."

"Thank you." I wrapped the fan's cord around my wrist, turning to Brett. "I'll come visit you another day when I have more time."

"I'll hold you to that," Brett said, his eyebrows raised. "I cannot rest a day without seeing you."

I patted his arm in reassurance.

"Goodbye, Captain Reynolds. I'll say farewell before you leave for home."

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Miss Coburg. Thank you again for all of your tender kindness."

"You're most welcome, Captain."

"Miss Coburg?" Sergeant Downs said, offering his arm. I slipped my hand around his elbow.

We walked through the grass along the road, shaded by trees and my parasol, neither one of us speaking. Sergeant Downs's head was bowed as he studied his feet at each step, his face calm in quiet contemplation. He rubbed the sides of his mustache with his thumb and forefinger, his other hand rested upon his belt, his thumb looped. Sweat pricked at the back of my neck, despite the fan I waved in my face.

"A penny for your thoughts, Sergeant?" I cocked my head to look at him. He seemed troubled. Anything to avoid my own spiraling thoughts.

He stopped midstep and peered down at me, his eyes quizzical and apprehensive. "I'm afraid I may not even be able to afford these thoughts," he chuckled, stuffing his injured hand into his pocket. Downs seemed self-concious about his two missing fingers on his left hand, but he worked daily at his desk to regain movement.

I turned away from him and resumed the walk, his long strides catching up with me. We strode along the road beside the Chisholm property. Horses and buggies passed, but we were far enough away that the dust did not blow in our faces.

I breathed a deep sigh. "When do you expect to return to your regiment?" I asked, knowing that was on his mind. He was well enough, and able-bodied men were still needed. With the departure of Captain Reynolds, I knew we would soon say goodbye to all the convalescent men.

"By the end of the summer—either the end of August or beginning of September. We're winning this war, Miss Coburg, so I don't expect too much time is left. It may be over by the first of the year, God willing. My duty requires my return to the front, and my strength increases with each passing day."

"Do you really believe the war will be over by the first of the year?" It was all we heard these days. The siege of Petersburg was proving successful. However, we had all uttered those words before, and the war still waged on.

"Yes, if our armies continue the steady progress, I would be surprised if the South did not surrender. I will return to finish out my enlistment, but I don't believe I will return to Milton once it's over."

"Won't you? Why ever not? Your family is all there."

"Yes, but I think … well, I—I kind of was thinking of returning here once the war is over. Maybe settle down and start a family and maybe a business." He paused, his eyes searching mine, his hand reaching out to take mine. "Miss Coburg …"

"Are you unwell?" I asked, worried he had grown faint in the heat. "The heat is too much. Should we return?"

"No. I mean"—he cleared his throat—"Miss Coburg, Ella, I was wondering if you would have me?" He got down on one knee, and I felt the blood drain from my face. "Marry me? I can make you happy. I promise. Before I leave, if you'd like?"

"No … oh!"

"Well, then, we can wait for when I return from the war?"

My thoughts were wild, searching for anything I had said or done to make him believe I shared the same affection. I leaned against the nearby tree. Sergeant Downs stood from his knees and came to me, his hand still gripping mine as he looked down into my face.

My temples throbbed. I gulped and tried to regulate my breathing. "Sergeant Downs?—"

"Please, call me Matthew," he said, clueless to my fumbling. Nonplussed, he must believe this was how most young women behaved when proposed to.

"Matthew, I can't marry you."

"If it's because of Brett Chisholm … he is young and charming, but a husband he cannot be for you. You deserve more than pretty words and flirtatious smiles."

"No, it's not because of Brett, it's just …" I did deserve more, so did Katie. Brett was flirtatious, yes, but we had formed a friendship over the last few weeks. I should have considered that the others might think we shared a mutual affection for one another. I never put off his attention.

"Oh, how careless of me! I know I should have written to your father for permission, but I couldn't wait for his approval. I'll write one right away if you would like?"

I shook my head. "No, that's thoughtful, but it's all right. I mean, I would need my father's approval, but I can't marry you. I don't?—"

"You don't love me," he stated flatly, finishing my sentence.

His hand still gripped mine. His grip growing in intensity, as if willing me to accept.

"There is someone else?" he asked with a bite of accusation.

My eyes flew back to his, feeling pity for him in my rejection but also feeling irritated at his tone.

"I can't lie to you, Matthew. Yes, there is someone else."

"Who? Tell me, I must know."

"It's really none of your concern."

"No, I want to hear it!" He gritted his teeth.

I held my chin up high. "John Mathis."

"I'm daft! I should have known! I see your face every time Clara or Mrs. Chisholm mention him. He is one of the missing from the Wilderness?" He sucked in a breath and exhaled, his facial expression full of hurt. "You must know there is no hope for him. Those reports do not exaggerate."

My chin trembled. His words cut me. "He was taken prisoner." Or so I hoped.

"I have heard no one survives those Rebel prisons. You can't wait all your life for a dead man, Ella. You and Katie need someone, and I could be that someone."

I shook my head, as if to shake out the dark thoughts he was putting in my head. John's face—bloodless, eyes vacant.

"Ella." Sergeant Downs took me in his arms, his tone softening. "I know it's hard to accept. He's not going to return, sweetheart. Start a life with me."

My hands balled into fists at his chest, pushing him away from me. "I will not marry you."

He could not guilt me into choosing him. He could not fill me with hopelessness, break my heart to make room for himself. I turned away from him, leaning my shoulder against the tree trunk. I held out the fan in my hand, as if returning his offered heart, and reluctantly, he took it before walking away.

Katie looked up, a grin lighting up her little face. Guilt sunk in; I needed to find a husband in order for Katie to have a father, a mother, and a true home. Sergeant Downs's proposal hung over my head like a cloud, but his quick frustration with my refusal and his stinging words about John confirmed I did the right thing.

I leaned against the doorjamb of the nursery. Katie cuddled a small, calico kitten. "It's one of the new kittens from the barn." She held it up for me to see. "Can I keep it?"

"Well, I don't know. Don't you think its mother would miss it?"

She shook her head. "No, I can be its new mother. Oh, please let me keep it."

I petted the kitten on its head, and a soft rumble reverberated under my hand. "Will you take care of it?"

"Oh, yes, I promise. Please, I'll take better care of it than its own mother. She has six other kittens. Thad said this kitten wasn't eating enough and would probably die. Oh, please, I won't let it be a problem. It'll die without me," she urged with pleading eyes.

I squatted down beside her. "You'll have to promise to take very good care of it, and don't let it make a mess of the house. Otherwise, it will have to go back to the barn with the others."

"I promise! Thank you! Thank you!" she beamed. With a quick peck on my cheek, she ran to a doll carriage where she placed the kitten beside one of her dolls.

I had to do right by her. Those adoption papers were waiting for a family's name, but Robert would have wanted me to find someone we loved and who'd love us in return. Sergeant Downs was not the one for us. My heart ached for her loss and mine.