38. Love and Loss

1865 SUMMER

38

As soon as Nora was brave enough, she sent a letter to Bradley, hoping he would see her. Weeks had passed, but no answer arrived. Nora moped around, sending a new letter at the end of each week. Finally, at the end of the month, a letter arrived for Nora, but it was from Mrs. House, stating her son was not accepting visitors. It said nothing about whether Bradley wanted to see Nora or not, and Nora was convinced Mrs. House did not speak for her son, but for herself. Ignoring her refusal, Nora waited until it was market day, then went to their home to deliver the message herself, giving it to a recently hired manservant for Bradley.

A week later, Nora received another letter, this time from the manservant. The letter was transcribed from Bradley. Nora was happy after that day because there was hope. Bradley promised to speak to his mother about allowing Nora to visit. A couple of days after Bradley's letter, another letter arrived. This time, it was from Mrs. House, consenting for Nora to visit her son.

When she returned two hours after her visit, Nora did not speak a word but closed herself in her bedroom for the remainder of the day, refusing food and company.

The next morning, when Kay was taking Nora's breakfast platter up, I stopped her in the hallway and took the tray from her. When I knocked on Nora's door, there was no answer. I turned the knob and was surprised to find it unlocked. The room was dark, all drapes were drawn over the windows, and Nora's bed remained made. I found Nora asleep on the floor, the quilt from John's room wrapped around her. I kneeled beside her, touching her shoulder. Nora's red-rimmed eyes fluttered open.

"I brought you breakfast. Pancakes, sausage, and fried eggs. The maple syrup is fresh too. Kay just got it this morning."

"Thank you," she said, hoarse with sleep. She sat up, yawned, and stretched. "It was too hot to sleep in the bed."

"You must be famished," I commented, sitting down beside her with the tray.

She nodded, and we sat in silence while she filled her belly. I would stay until she asked me to leave.

When she was nearly done, I told her, "You can talk to me about it. I won't say anything. I'll just sit here and listen."

Nora's eyes were tired—not just the tired of poor sleep, but the tired of being emotionally spent. She brushed hair out of her face with her hands, the curls from yesterday gone.

"I'm so confused, Ella. For the first time in my life, I don't know what to do. You should have seen him. He's so thin and weak. He said all he can do is sit in his chair all day and read the paper. The entire left side of his face and his left hand are completely deformed from the burns." She blinked and took in a deep breath. "He has a patch over his left eye, and the only good eye he has left is so sad and lifeless. It was painful to watch him and hear him try to speak. I had to bite my tongue the whole time to keep from crying."

She wiped her wet cheeks. "He used to be so tall and strong and manly. He was so handsome before the war, and I could hardly believe he chose me to be his sweetheart. Then when he enlisted, he said that he would come back in a month and we would be married. None of us knew that the war would go on for four years. Too many of us are victims of it. You and I both, Ella. We have both loved and lost, and look where it has brought us!"

I clasped her hand but she pulled it away, leaving my hand to lie on the quilt. I rubbed the fabric between my thumb and forefinger, letting the silence settle us.

"This is John's quilt," I eventually said. "It used to be in his room. I think about him every day, and I still can't stop missing him. It hurts sometimes to think what could have been. I regret it so much. But it hasn't made me worse for it. It's made me adjust my priorities. I told myself I had to move on—and I did—and at least getting married allowed me to make Katie my own. It may not seem like we can find joy in this right now, but Bradley is alive, Nora."

"I know I should be happy about that, but if only you saw him. It's obvious he wished he had died that day when the shell exploded. He's miserable and in pain every second of every day. Even when I was speaking with him, Mrs. House came in to give him his laudanum pills. Ma told me I should move on. She might be right. You did."

"John's dead. What else could I have done?"

"Well, Bradley might as well be. He'll never marry me now. He can barely walk."

"Give him time, Nora."

"You know, I asked him why he didn't write to me. He said if I had known, I would want nothing to do with him. He said we can't get married because he would never be a good husband. He wouldn't be able to give me children. He said he's useless, and I deserve better. But then I told him I would rather be an old maid if I wasn't to marry him." She wiped at her wet cheeks with the edge of the quilt. "He said, ‘Fine then.'" She laughed a little. "He's always been obstinate."

"Are you going to visit him again?"

"I told him I would. Well, until he goes to Philadelphia. He leaves in a month to see a specialist. Bradley says he's the best, and he will help him regain more mobility."

For the remainder of June, Nora went to visit Bradley as often as possible. No one saw her shed another tear. She went on with her days as if she had a purpose. And then when Bradley and Mr. and Mrs. House left for Philadelphia, she began visiting the local hospital to help nurse the boys who had come home and were waiting for surgery. There were even burn victims in the hospital, and she learned how to apply the dressings and appease their pain.

More and more veterans came through St. Albans on their way home to other parts of Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine. Some would even knock on our door, asking for a warm meal or a drink of water. We did our patriotic duty and gave them nourishment to hold them over until they reached home. Sometimes we would even get men who fought at the Wilderness alongside the 118th, and we'd ask if they knew Lieutenant John Mathis. More often than not, they would say, "Ah, yes, that ol' boy was a fierce soldier. A truly brave man and a great leader." Then they would tell us what we already knew—he'd been captured and they heard he was dead.

Mrs. Mathis and I helped Kay and Louise cook the food, so there was always enough for any wandering soldier. Sometimes, if a man arrived at suppertime, we would give him his meal and allow him to sleep on the porch with Moses. Nora and I both complained about this and told Mrs. Mathis she should at least let them sleep on the parlor floor where it was warm and comfortable, but she refused, saying she wouldn't have any of them stealing things or bringing in pests.

"Besides," she said, "they've been living outdoors so long, I'm sure a porch awning is like a roof anyway."

Nora and I just rolled our eyes and let her suggest the porch for the next soldier who arrived at suppertime. None of them ever complained. They were simply happy to be going home to their families and eating a home-cooked meal.