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Authors: Eugenia Price

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General, #Military

Beauty From Ashes (68 page)

BOOK: Beauty From Ashes
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Anne that for the first time she felt new 923 hope. That the signs were there, if only they all looked and believed. And then Louisa had laughed. “Didn’t you almost faint last Sunday when the Reverend Benedict actually allowed me to take Communion with you and the other Episcopalians? That has to be a good sign!”

By the start of 1864, it was plain to any thinking person that Georgia was going to be one of the two main centers of the pain-filled struggle between North and South. Except for the brief, tragic foray Lee had made into Gettysburg in July 1863, the South had endured most of the bloodshed and agony of actual battle. But Vicksburg had fallen, and the Rebels had practically lost the Mississippi Valley last summer. Anyone could see the war was moving into Georgia.

Since the fall months of 1863, the Confederates had lost Knoxville and Chattanooga, Tennessee, and Rebel General Joseph E. Johnston had retreated with his Army to Dalton, Georgia. General William Tecumseh Sherman, victorious at Chattanooga, would surely be moving any day straight toward Marietta. Up to now, most

of the action in that vicinity had only been raids. But when Louisa visited Anne early in January 1864, she vowed Dix believed that soon big guns would be thundering all around Cobb County.

“Do you still refuse to read the newspaper, Anne?” Louisa asked as the two friends said good-bye on Anne’s front porch.

The grin Anne gave her brought a big smile to Louisa’s open, intelligent face. “You’re too smart, Mrs. Fletcher,” Anne said. “Do you want the truth?”

“You and I have never settled for anything less, have we?”

“I still pretend not to read the news,” Anne replied, a little shamefaced. “But my daughter Pete is too shrewd for me. I forgot last week and answered a question she asked with a fact I could not have known unless I’d been sneaking to read the Macon Intelligencer, our most reliable source of information since Mr. Goodman sold his Marietta paper. Pete caught me. Oh, Louisa, I don’t want to hide behind pretending with you one minute longer. I’m—I’m still a Unionist. How could I have been brought up by my

patriotic father, John Couper, and not 925 be? That dear man remained to his dying breath a true believer in the United States. He loved every foot of his Georgia properties, he loved Georgia, but he did believe in American independence.”

“He must have been a wonderful man, Anne. And wise. I’m sure he knew that independence is person-to-person within our country. Not nation-against-nation as the Rebels now insist.” Louisa took Anne’s hand. “My dear, I’ve just had a marvelous idea! I’m so downright pleased that we no longer have to tread softly around your political beliefs and mine, why don’t you talk it over with the girls and make up your mind to visit me for several days out at Woodlawn? My dear husband has really built us a very comfortable house. The guest room is just about finished, and it would be so good for you to get away from the hectic activity in town now. It’s still quiet and peaceful at Woodlawn. Say you’ll come, Anne, please?”

“But Selina’s baby is due next month. I’d never forgive myself if I was away visiting and the infant happened to come early.”

“But isn’t Dr. Setze, the late Dr. Slaughter’s friend, looking after Selina? He’s very good. When does he think the child will get here?”

“About the middle of February, and, of course, I’d leave Eve here to care for Selina’s daily needs until then, but this grandchild is so special to me.”

“Anne, your room at our place will be ready by the end of this month, January, so I’m going to expect you by then and you must promise to stay at least a week. You know Eve will send Big Boy to bring you right home if the big event occurs early. Promise?”

“Yes! Yes, I promise. The whole idea sounds happy. I’m tired, Louisa. I never sleep through the night anymore. And I’ll want so much to feel well when the baby comes. I expect Selina will need me more then anyway.”

Because January 31 was a Sunday, it had been agreed that Big Boy would take Anne and her valises to St. James Episcopal Church and that she would then ride out to Woodlawn in the Fletcher carriage.

She and Eve were up early. Eve prepared a

few changes of clothing for Anne— 927 darning and mending “these old rags,” Anne’s term for her worn wardrobe. Even if clothing had been available in Marietta stores, she could not have afforded to replace even a hat ribbon.

The up-country air, which gave relief from the heat of summer and early fall, was icy cold now, even with the heavy carriage curtains drawn. Anne sat shivering in the seat beside Pete, trying to keep her voice light when she confessed to feeling her sixty-seven years more than ever since her birthday earlier in the month.

Pete pushed closer on the cushioned carriage seat as mother and daughter tried cuddling and laughing during their chilly ride to St. James.

“I’ll miss you, Mama, while you’re out at Woodlawn,” Pete said, “but I know you’ll be having a stimulating time with Mrs. Fletcher and you need that so much. I can just picture the two of you sitting before a blazing fire in her new parlor, poring over some formidable tome and exchanging eruditions.”

“Eruditions is an interesting word,” Anne laughed, “but it’s been so long since your aging mother has had a creative thought, I can’t quite imagine

it now. I want you to know I’ll be fine, though, Pete. And Eve will probably kill both you and Selina with kindness. George, too. That woman does have a soft place in her heart for Selina’s good husband. It puzzles me sometimes how Eve holds her personal feelings apart from her quite understandable dislike of the Rebel Cause.”

“I know. It’s certainly understandable that she’s all for the Yankees and Mr. Lincoln, who freed her, after all. George is, or was, a Rebel Army officer and by all accounts is still trying to rejoin his unit or any outfit that will take him, even Morgan’s Raiders. But you’re right. I marvel at Eve’s attitudes, too.”

“Eve has a very healthy mind. Don’t ever forget that. And a bright one.” They rode along in silence for a minute or so, then Anne asked, “If you’d heard anything from or about Sam, you’d have told me, wouldn’t you, Pete?”

“Not only would I have told you, you’d have guessed right off because I’d immediately look ten years younger. Mama, I miss him so much.”

“You’re not sorry, though, are you? You’re still sure you did the right thing? I do hope he isn’t

drinking anymore. He’s such a fine, 929 tender, good man.”

“The finest, the tenderest, the best. And yes, I’m still sure I did the right thing. You need me to give you my full attention now even more than you did back then. But you know, dear Mama, your heartbreak isn’t the only one. John Couper and I were partners in the business of taking care of our beautiful mother. I’ve lost my partner.”

“Darling, I know! And God has given me a good nudge about being selfish, even with my grief. I know, I do know, that my heartbreak isn’t the only one. But I’m going to ask God every day to be sure your brother knows what a superb job you’re doing.” She made herself give Pete a smile. “Why, I consider this much-anticipated visit with Louisa in her new home a direct gift from you! Without you, I wouldn’t even consider leaving Selina so near her time.”

Anne couldn’t resist a glance at Dix’s proud face as he drove their sturdy buggy around the last bend in the narrow dirt road, heading them toward his new house.

“It may not look like a dream come true,”

Dix said, slowing the horse to avoid patches of thin ice, “but for me it is.” Anne had a good look at the country farmhouse—a story and a half with a spacious front porch, a steep roofline, and a kitchen separate from the main house for safety from fire.

“Don’t worry,” Louisa said, also acting proud, Anne thought, “because there will be a second coat of paint on the exterior, Anne. You’ve settled on white, haven’t you, Dix?”

“Always wanted a good, sturdy, white farmhouse. White it will be,” Dix said. “Our downstairs rooms are finished now, Mrs. Fraser, and although my permanently antislavery wife objects, I’ve bought two field hands and an industrious Negro woman who will attend you and the house. So, feel free and right at home. And welcome, welcome as our very first houseguest!”

“We have so much catching up to do,” Anne said, “particularly with the sad news of war and more war. Right now I don’t see any way out of it, although you do know, don’t you—both of you—that while I don’t feel happy about turning against the South as a native daughter, I want our country to be

one country. How can we possibly 931 live in peace if we’re chopped in two? Look at Europe’s history. Separate small countries fight each other for their own rights as they see them. We need each other—North and South—but how, how can the Union ever be brought about again?”

Dix looked at them with an understanding smile. “It wouldn’t surprise me at all if the two of you figure out a solution while you’re here with us, Mrs. Fraser. I know what a relief it’s going to be for my wife to have someone to talk with who also reads and thinks.”

Anne amazed even herself that in the quiet and peace of the country, she could sleep soundly all night. And the days flew past without her becoming anxious at the thought of having to leave the warmhearted companionship of her friend Louisa. They spent their days walking about the countryside, reading aloud to each other, and talking at length about seemingly every subject under the sun. For the first time Anne felt free to talk and talk about John Couper, knowing she wasn’t adding to Louisa’s burdens as she did when she talked with Pete.

Pete, despite her own heartbreak over her illfated engagement to Sam, did her best to share Anne’s burden following John Couper’s death, but she was showing more and more strain in the days before Anne left for Woodlawn. Poor Pete had spent her life trying to shoulder her mother’s sorrows. More than anything, the time with Louisa reassured Anne that because she could feel her own inner strength growing, she could, from now on, be the kind of strong mother Pete deserved. Selina, with a new child coming, would need her mother’s strength, too, her full concentration. By God’s grace, they would both have it, and with resolve returning, she would also find a way to bridge the chasm that had grown between her and poor Rebel Fanny when at last she came home again from her Confederate nursing duties.

“Anne, even though I’d so much rather live in the city, not cut off from human contacts as I feel here in the country, I must tell you that Dix’s beloved country life is agreeing with you. Do you realize you look ten years younger? And you’ve been here only a week.”

“I honestly think I feel younger, although I was trying hard when I came out here to accept that I’m

no longer young or even middle-aged—that 933 I’m going to be seventy in three years.”

Bundled in winter capes, the two friends were sitting together on Dix’s ample front porch over after-breakfast coffee. Anne dared not ask how they came by such a luxury. Suddenly Louisa sat up and listened.

“Anne, I’m sure I hear a horse and buggy coming this way. Dix went into the city early this morning, but he wouldn’t be coming back this soon. Who could it be?”

They didn’t have to wait long before Anne recognized her own family buggy with faithful Big Boy urging the horse from the driver’s seat and waving vigorously to Anne as he clattered up to the path that led to the porch.

“Oh, Louisa, it’s Big Boy! Something’s happened at home. Something’s happened to— Selina! Do you suppose even Dr. Setze guessed wrong? Do you suppose the baby’s already here? Or—or that Selina’s in trouble with the delivery?”

“We’ll know in a minute,” Louisa said, hurrying down her front steps toward Big Boy, who was now running from the buggy toward them.

“It be here, Miss Anne! Miss S’lina’s new baby done come las’ night late! Miss S’lina she be fine, though, Miss Pete say to tell you right off. But dey all wants I should bring you home jus’ as soon as I kin get you there.”

“Big Boy, are you sure Selina’s all right? And the baby? Was the doctor there to bring the baby?”

“Yes’m. He be there, but you an’ me’s gotta bundle you up fast an’ git you back home. Evie say Miss S’lina had a easy time of it an’ didn’t cry out but once when that lil one come right out into dis ole worl’.was

“Is the new baby a boy or a girl?”

“Oh, it be a fine, strong boy, Evie tell June an’ me.”

“And have Selina and George named the boy yet?”

“Not that I knows ‘bout, Miss Anne. He jus’ be borned las’ night.”

Less than half an hour later, the buggy rattled and bumped over the rutted road toward Marietta. Anne was in the worn day dress

she’d planned to wear when she and Louisa 935 took a picnic into the woods later when the day warmed up. Her underthings, still damp from the washing Louisa’s woman had given them earlier, were stuffed along with other garments into the valise. The sight of her rumpled clothing would make Eve fuss when she unpacked later, but they were on their way—Anne and Big Boy off together on still another drive to an important destination.

“You mighty quiet, Miss Anne,” Big Boy called back from the driver’s seat. “Ain’t no need to worry. Miss S’lina, she just want her mama.”

Eve, who saw Anne and Big Boy drive up, was waiting on the front pinestraw path when the buggy stopped. Calling Anne’s name over and over, she returned Anne’s quick embrace and then assured her that Pete was with Selina and that everything and everyone were fine, just fine, and that they all hated to drag her away from time with Miss Louisa and that she just couldn’t believe how young and healthy Miss Anne looked.

“Dis be a big moment for S’lina,” Eve added. “And she tell me to send you straight up

to her room fast. I declare dat child she find it hard to believe she done had herself a real baby. And Miss Anne, it be the prettiest baby I done eber seen ‘ceptin’ when John Couper he got born to you!”

With Eve’s excited words still ringing in her ears and in her heart, Anne hurried up the stairs and straight to Selina’s room where, for a deep, love-filled moment, she leaned over the bed, just holding her own youngest child in her arms.

“Mama,” Selina gasped, “you even smell fresh and sweet like the country! I’m so sorry to drag you away like this, but—no, I’m not one bit sorry. I’m just sorry my baby couldn’t wait for you to finish your visit.”

BOOK: Beauty From Ashes
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