37. The Consequences of War

1865 MAY 28, SUNDAY

37

We all stood in church, fanning ourselves while we sang the usual hymns. So many wore mourning. Many more wore patriotic pins or black ribbons on their breasts. The grief over the loss of so many of our brave boys in blue was palpable in the congregation. Others beamed in celebration of their returned soldier. Renny was one of them, gripping Landon Greene's arm as if she never wanted to part again. I even noticed Matthew Downs had returned. Clara gave me a haughty look when Matthew dared to raise his hand in greeting to me. She pulled him away despite his protests.

Nora tugged my sleeve, disrupting my singing. I turned to her and saw her staring at the back of Mrs. House a few rows in front of us. Nora's eyes were wide and her jaw set firm.

She turned to look at me, her face pale. "Mrs. House is here," she whispered. "That can only mean one of two things."

No one had seen Bradley House's mother enter a church since the last time her entire family was home. Her husband was never the churchgoing type. When she did come to church, it was either a holiday or one of her daughters or sons were home, all of whom were married and had families of their own. For a long time, Bradley, the youngest, was the only one who came with her on Sundays. As soon as Bradley had enlisted, she stopped attending.

After service, Nora nudged me as we watched the reverend's wife approach her. Her mouth moved as she spoke a few words to Bradley's mother, grasping her hand. Mrs. House raised her head to acknowledge her, revealing her profile. Her pale face was blotchy and grim with lines. She gave a weak smile and nodded her head, closing her eyes briefly. She spoke a few words in response, followed by the reverend's wife's own words, and then she departed, leaving Mrs. House to turn her head straight ahead once again.

"He's not here, Ella." Her eyes scanned the room. "He must not be returning, or he did not survive."

"You can't know that."

Nora looked at me, her eyes moist. "Why else would she be here? And alone too?"

"I don't know, but there has to be another explanation. Maybe she has come to pray for his safe return. Not all the soldiers are back yet."

"Owen Childe is back." She pointed him out beside his folks. "He doesn't even look worse for wear. He just appears a little older. He was in Bradley's regiment."

His brown hair was greased, his jaw shaved, and his uniform freshly pressed. He stood between his mother and an unfamiliar, blonde woman. We had all heard of the Southern wife he returned home with; it was a source of teatime gossip wherever we called.

"Maybe you should speak to Owen. He might have some answers for you."

She bobbed her head, determined.

"I noticed Mrs. House in the front row." Renny sidled up beside us, her brows furrowed with concern. She gave Nora's arm a squeeze.

"I'm fine." Nora brushed off her sister, avoiding her worried, dark eyes.

The service concluded, Nora linked her arm with mine and pulled me toward Owen.

He stood, speaking with another soldier who shook his hand, and left as we approached. His dull, gray eyes lit up like moonlight when he saw us.

"Why Nora Mathis!" he exclaimed, taking her hand to pull her close. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

"It's good to see you alive and well, Owen," she greeted. "We're all very proud of you."

The light in his eyes dimmed a little. "Thank you."

She glanced at me, gesturing. "You remember Ella Coburg, don't you? I think you may have met her on your furlough a couple summers ago. She had just arrived to stay with my family at the time."

"Ah, yes. It's a pleasure, Miss?—"

"She's Mrs. Chisholm now," Nora interjected.

It registered with him then. "Mrs. Chisholm, it's a pleasure once again. I'm very sorry for your loss. If it's any consolation, ma'am, Brett spoke very highly of you during his last days. I had never seen him so happy. He was a great soldier, a superb military man who loved his country."

A sacrifice for our country, just like all the other men who will not return, who are cold and decomposing in the earth. I smiled despite my dark thoughts and said, "Thank you, Mr. Childe. Your words are a comfort."

Owen Childe gave a wry smile and then turned to the petite woman hidden behind him who was speaking to his mother. "Mother, may I steal Josie from you for a moment?"

"Certainly, dear. Good morning, ladies. Nora Mathis, Mrs. Chisholm," she said, nodding at each of us.

"Good morning, Mrs. Childe," Nora and I both greeted, nearly in unison.

"Excuse me, I must see what Mr. Childe is saying to the reverend."

"Very well, Mother. Don't want Pa to rile him up," he joked.

Mrs. Childe rolled her eyes and left us.

"This is Josephine, my wife." Owen Childe beamed down at her. "We met in Virginia when her family found refuge over our line. The chaplain married us the day after the Confederate surrender."

"Well, how do you do?" she said in a thick, Southern accent, leaning in to shake our hands.

I was so surprised by her voice and the strength of her grasp because of her appearance. She was younger than Nora and I, probably seventeen or eighteen. Her golden hair was curled and piled on top of her head with emerald-studded combs. Her brass-colored hat with ostrich plumes, and the taffeta ribbon beneath her chin, were a little too extravagant for Sunday church service, but it was obvious she didn't seem to care and even took great store in her new hat. Her face was beautiful with a small, pointed nose, blue eyes fringed with long, light-brown lashes, and a bow-shaped mouth that curved to reveal her straight, cream-colored teeth. Her figure was perfect but for the small bump she tried to hide beneath the flounces of her green dress. After noticing she was pregnant, I surmised that must have been the cause of their hasty marriage.

"Welcome to St. Albans," I said. "How do you like it thus far?"

"Oh, my, it's quite a change from the family farm in North Carolina. But the farm ain't there anymore. My pa was the only man in Surry County who wasn't a secesh. 'Cause we were Union sympathizers, the militia burned down our home. We ran into Owen's regiment, and we took such a liking to all those soldier boys, my family decided to stay awhile, and we did. Pa and Johnny signed up to fight, and Ma and I helped cook and nurse sick boys. My three little brothers helped cut firewood and did odd jobs around camp for pennies. And I helped nurse Owen when he came down with malaria fever, and that's how we met—me nursing the poor boy back to health. He was a sorry sight, but I nursed him up, and even after the fever, I helped him regain his strength. Then, before long, we were in love and decided to marry."

Owen cleared his throat, embarrassed by his wife's rambling. "Anyway, Josie and I just bought a new house out toward the country with a pretty, little orchard. In fact, we bought it from Mr. Chisholm." He bit his cheek when his eyes landed with mine.

I smiled to assure him I did not mind he was to live in the house Brett and I were newlyweds in. I did not care who had the house. I never considered it my home.

"I'm very happy for you and Josephine," Nora said, but I knew she was cringing inside, desperate for news about Bradley. "It's good to have you back, Owen. Everyone has been filled with anxieties while waiting to see who comes home. It's especially hard since John is gone."

Owen gave Nora a wry smile. "Your brother was a good man. A true hero."

It was rare to hear people speak well of John, but since we'd found out he was dead, everything changed. They seemed to have forgotten his hand in Robby Chisholm's death. He was just another local soldier who sacrificed for the Cause.

"Thank you, Owen. He is greatly missed. Have you heard news of anyone else? Any of the other men?"

Owen's mouth drooped. "I suppose you noticed Mrs. House here today, and I suppose that was the reason you came over to see me to begin with."

Nora's cheeks flamed crimson. "You've always been one to jump to the quick. You know that wasn't the only reason, though. I wanted to speak with you. I'm so glad you're home, I really am."

Owen guffawed. "At least you admit it. Mrs. House most likely came to pray for Brad."

"Is he … is he …" she struggled to speak the words. She fumbled with the fringe of her shawl as she waited for him to save her.

Owen heaved a great sigh. "Near Fredericksburg, a shell exploded by a line of tents. What tents were not blown apart combusted into flame. Bradley House was in one of those tents, Nora."

"But is he … is he … I mean, he's alive, isn't he?"

Owen nodded. "I think he wishes he hadn't survived, though. He's not in a good way."

"Then he's home?" Her eyes welled.

"Yes, but I must warn you. He's not himself anymore. His face and body are marred—from the burns. He's not the man you remember, Nora. It's a miracle he's even alive."

She brushed silent tears away. "I have to see him."

"I don't know if that's a good idea. He doesn't talk the same way either. The flames scorched his vocal cords. He won't ever be able to live a normal life. It left him crippled."

"That doesn't matter. I have to see him."

My heart broke for her, listening to her desperation in receiving the news.

"I don't think Mrs. House is allowing visitors. I haven't even seen him since he's been home. The last I saw him was in the Washington Hospital before taking the train home."

"Did he speak of me?" Nora asked, desperate for something.

Owen shook his head and then said, hoping to give her some reason for it, "He doesn't speak much anymore."

Nora bowed her head, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief. Young Mrs. Childe bit her bottom lip and rocked on her feet, embarrassed she was privy to this moment. I searched around for Mrs. House, but she was already gone.

Nora grasped Owen's hand. "It's so good to see you, and congratulations on the wedding. Ma will have to invite you and Josephine over for dinner one evening."

"We'd be delighted." The corner of Owen's lips tipped. "I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news."

"I'm glad I found out instead of worrying myself to death." Nora pulled me away and hurried us through the departing church crowd.

We passed Mrs. Mathis, Seth, and Renny, who all looked at us with concern. I gave them all a half smile and followed Nora out to the carriage. She did not speak a word once we were inside but looked out the window at the street, where people still mingled, reciprocating pleasantries.

Mrs. Mathis and I exchanged sad looks. She knew, and she was heartbroken for her daughter.