A Time for Everything (48 page)

Portia squeezed Ezra’s arm, and he
gave her one of his curled-up mustache smiles. He wore a nice suit,
but at her request, his pipe hung in its place from his mouth,
lending cherry-scented familiarity to the day. Ezra Stanford was by
far the best daddy she could have ever asked for.

Reverend McKee cleared his throat
again, loudly. “We are gathered here for the uniting of two like
souls. Who gives this woman to this man?”

“
I do,” said Ezra, with
unmistakable pride in his lifted chin and puffed chest.

Portia handed her bouquet of lilacs
and wildflowers to the maid of honor. Ellen took them in one hand
and wiped tears with the other. Then she sneezed.

“
Bless you,” said McKee.
“Now, join hands.”

They didn’t waste time with that part,
though Beau’s arm still rested in a sling. It had healed well, but
his grip wasn’t quite what it used to be. Portia didn’t mind. His
hands still felt so wonderfully warm and strong, and she could
easily imagine how they would feel on her bare skin…

“
Um…” Jonny spoke up from
his place in the front row. “Baby Jake is wet and he
smells.”

He’d practically begged to hold the
baby during the service, which tickled Portia near to death. She
looked up at Beau’s smiling face, and from the intensity of his
gray eyes, she knew he was thinking the exact same thing. She
couldn’t wait to try for another addition to their
family.

Just a few hours.
A few lonnnng hours… focus!

“
I’ll change him,” Frank
grumbled. He engulfed the baby in his great big hands and carried
him to their wagon.

“
For the love of our dear
Lord in Heaven,” McKee said, waving his Bible in the air, then
pointed it at Beau. “Beauregard Stanford, do you?”

“
Yes, I do,” Beau
answered, grinning from ear to ear.

“
And Portia McAllister, do
you?”

“
Of course I do,” she
said.

“
Good! Then kiss the lass
already and be done with it.”

Beau lifted her veil and smiled. “You
heard the good reverend, Po.”

He kissed her like nobody was
watching, and no one had a cross word to say about it. Instead,
they cheered.

At the reception, Beau and Portia sat
together at the head of the table. Bessie proudly presented the
white-frosted wedding cake. She wiped tears from her eyes and
laughed as they fed each other. Beau kissed a dollop of icing from
Portia’s lips.

Reverend McKee sat across from them.
Frank sat beside him, dwarfing the Irishman.

“
Mrs. Stanford, I hear
your brother-in-law lent his Samson’s strength to the barn
raising,” McKee said, pointing his fork toward Frank, who responded
with a rare chuckle. “Pity you didn’t relocate to Nashville. I
could have used a fine teacher like you.”

Portia snuggled against Beau’s arm.
“With all due respect, Reverend, this is our home, and we’d be
remiss to leave it behind. Besides, Amelie has offered to fund a
new school here. I’ll begin teaching in September.”

McKee peered down the table at the
many guests. He leaned in close and spoke softly, “I must say, I’m
not surprised to see this town pull together in your time of need.
They’ve finally remembered God’s call to love our neighbors, now
that the war is over and Clemons has no power over them. How’s your
boy dealing with everything?”

“
He took it hard at first,
but he’s a strong young man. He’ll be just fine.” Beau smiled
toward the stable door, where Jonny and the other children caught
fireflies.

Isaac and Bessie’s sons and their
families had come back to stay. Their children played right along
Jonny, Jimmy, and little Louise. They were a mix of black and
white, but they shared the same innocence as they chased one
another, laughing and squealing in delight.

McKee nodded, holding Beau’s gaze for
a while before digging into his own cake.

“
Have you heard from Mrs.
Clemons?” McKee asked.

“
We received a letter just
a few days ago. She handed their property over to the government in
exchange for Oliver’s crimes. She’s grieving, but I’m glad she’s
back in Philly with her son and grandchild. Hopefully, she can live
out the rest of her days in peace.”

Portia finished her second piece of
cake and wiped her mouth. “What about you, Reverend? Why don’t you
stay in town for a while longer?”

“
No, Mrs. Stanford, God’s
called me to do his work in Nashville, and the battle is not yet
won until every child, no matter their color, has access to proper
education. I won’t surrender until this body of mine breathes its
last breath.”

“
Thank you for
everything,” Beau said.

“
My pleasure. Now, go and
be happy.”

Lebanon, Tennessee — April
7, 1869

Beau strode from
the porch to check on the new foal for the
fifteenth time. Ezra stopped him at the barn door. “Son, you’re
gonna make Crazy Girl a nervous wreck, lookin’ in on her so much.
You’ve gotta calm down. Bessie would have told us if something’s
gone wrong.”

“
But it’s been…” Beau
pulled out his pocket watch and stared blankly at the Roman
numerals. “…a long time. I think I’m gonna be sick.”

He leaned on the paddock fence,
forehead resting on the top slat, trying to coax his stomach into
keeping his breakfast down. Scout snorted and nudged him, blowing
warm horsey air across his neck.

Beau raised his head and rubbed
Scout’s velvety nose. “Thanks, boy. I wish I could be a calm papa
like you.”

The yearling Crazy Girl had birthed
last summer frolicked with the purebred mare Lydia had given him.
Amelie had arranged to have her returned. Her first foal had
brought them enough money to repay Amelie. Now, she showed signs of
her second breeding.

Beau gazed in wonder at the well-paid
field hands in the distance, plowing neat rows for tobacco and
cotton. He smelled the fresh paint on the house and fences. He
listened to the horses running through the tender spring grass in
their pasture. Finally, his farm was thriving like it had been
before the war.

Jonny rode by on the back of his new
Appaloosa. He’d paid for it himself, giving riding lessons to the
local children. Quite the young entrepreneur. Though only thirteen,
he already matched Beau in height and had become a handsome young
man. It wasn’t any wonder that most of his students were young
ladies.

“
Any word, Pa?” Jonny rode
up to the fence.

“
No, not—”

He jumped when Bessie yelled from the
porch, “Beau, Ezra, y’all come here! Come here quick!”

“
Oh God, please dear God…
let them be all right.” Breathless, Beau ran hard as he could to
the house, barreled past Bessie, and flew up the stairs.

He met the doctor just outside their
bedroom door. “Are they…?”

Dr. Barton chuckled and patted his
shoulder. “Just fine. You’ve got a beautiful little
girl.”

“
Hallelujah!” Beau threw
his arms around the doctor and gave him a bear hug. “Thank you,
Doc. Jonny! Where’s Jonny?”

“
Here, Pa,” he answered,
laughing as he reached the top of the stairs. “I can’t believe I
have a little sister!”

“
I know. Now, see if you
can wake your brother from his nap without making him too cranky
and bring him here to meet her.”

“
Yes, sir.” Jonny ran down
the hall to the nursery.

Ezra climbed the stairs and met Beau
on the landing. Though out of breath, the old man smiled from ear
to ear. He loved being a grandpa, and Beau thanked God his pa was
still around to see the little ones and enjoy them.

Bessie had a tray of tea and cookies
ready, so Beau opened the door and let her in. Then he hurried to
the bed, where Portia held their new baby girl. Sweat dampened
Portia’s hair, but she smiled, looking down at the baby with the
heart-rending sort of love only a mother can have for her
child.

“
She’s beautiful.” Beau
settled himself gently on the bed and kissed Portia tenderly. He
stroked the baby’s feather-soft cheek. She wiggled and cooed and
wound him completely around her little finger.

“
Yes, she is.”

Portia handed their daughter to him.
He took her gently and laid her on his lap, in awe of her tiny,
perfect features. Jonny walked in, carrying two-year old Sam, who
yawned and rubbed his eyes. Ezra chuckled and wiped a tear from his
cheek.

“
Look, Samuel,” Beau said.
“You and Jonny have a little sister.”

Jonny knelt by the bed so Sam could
see her better. Sam pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, leaning
in close, as though he wasn’t quite sure what this funny-looking,
pink, wrinkled thing was doing on his daddy’s lap.

Then his face relaxed, and he looked
at Beau with a dimpled smile. “What my sisser’s name?”

Portia took his chubby hand in hers
and touched the tarnished locket on her necklace. “I think we’ll
call her… Faith.”

Beau looked at his beautiful wife,
their two sons, and their new daughter, thankful beyond words for
their blessings. There in the quiet magic of their room, he and
Portia had created miracles. No more running, no more hiding from
their troubles. However long God allowed them to be together, they
would do more than survive.

They would live.

THE END

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Author’s Note

Any historical novel requires a great
deal of research. When I set out to discover the real facts behind
the fiction of this story, I found several interesting events and
personalities. These added a living, breathing feel to Beau and
Portia’s fictional struggles. Let me share some of those with you
now to provide a deeper insight into their journey.

The Civil War cost
countless American lives, not only on the battlefields, but also on
the home front. Thousands of young low-income women, especially
those in the South like Portia, were widowed, left alone to care
for children and tend crops. If they weren’t on the brink of
starvation, they could just as easily become victims of raids,
crossfire, or disease. Portia’s daughter Abigail, like so many
children of the time, succumbed to typhoid fever. Infant mortality
rate in those days was already high, but diseases spread by
entrenched armies only added to the death toll. Even though death
was as common as rain, losing husbands and children still hurt
these women to the core. Only by sheer strength of will did they
carry on. Many diaries exist today, written by the women who
survived such horrors. One of them,
A
Woman’s Civil War
by Cornelia Peake
McDonald, chronicled the life of a Confederate widow who lost a
husband and a little daughter as the fighting raged on. Her story
inspired Portia’s character.

Without a doubt, the
horrors of war that Beau and Harry survived fueled the conflict of
their story. The Battle of Allatoona Pass, where they were both
wounded, while not a major fight, is considered to be one of the
bloodiest in the Civil War. According to the Georgia State Parks
website, “
Of the 5,301 men engaged in the
battle (2,025 Union & 3, 276 Confederates), 1,603 were reported
killed, wounded or missing. This 30% casualty rate was one of the
highest in the war for the time engaged
.”
(http://gastateparks.org) It was the start of John Bell Hood’s
disastrous Nashville Campaign, ending with the even bloodier
Battles of Franklin and Nashville, where Beau’s and Jake’s stories
intersected.

Though it didn’t lie in
the main path of destruction, even the Stanfords’ quiet hometown
didn’t remain unscathed. The city of Lebanon, like so many small
towns in the South, became a battleground when a Union Calvary
surprised Confederate Gen. John Hunt Morgan at the Odd Fellows
Hall. Lucky for Morgan, he escaped in the nick of time and went on
to lead “Morgan’s Raid,” an over
1000 mile
trek through Tennessee, Kentucky, Indiana and ending in Ohio, the
farthest north that any uniformed Confederate troops ever invaded
(
Harper Encyclopedia of Military
Biography,
 
Castle Books, 1992, 1st Ed
).

Luckily, that ambush
didn’t leave a lasting mark. But as pretty as Lebanon was (and is),
some very ugly truths remained. Slavery, of course, though
abolished by the time our story began, was an atrocity that
wouldn’t soon be forgotten. Real life accounts such as
The Narrative of Frederick Douglas, An American
Slave
provide insight into the abuse and
neglect those in bondage experienced day in and day out, as we saw
in Tipp and Lucy’s story. One rather funny account, a letter from
former slave Jourdan Anderson to his old master, inspired Oliver’s
dinner-table rant about the runaway slave who demanded wages for
time served (DaytonHistoryBooks.com). The last line of Anderson’s
letter sums up the sarcasm and wit his former master deserved:
“
Say howdy to George Carter, and thank
him for taking the pistol from you when you were shooting at
me.”