Here and Again (31 page)

“Love,” she said to the violet hour. “Love in the chaos of war.”

The streambed was dry now, but she’d clear the springhouse and then it would flow under the bridge and return once more to the long-awaiting embrace of the Shenandoah. Ginger stood in awe, watching the sparkling little creek reflect the violet hour with her Child’s Eye.

“A butternut uniform and what else, Samuel?” she asked.

Her hand moved and touched the dusty box, bringing her eyes and mind back to it. What had her husband left her? A message? A final note telling her—what? Or was it his childhood dreams of his own future? Jesse was gone but at least she’d finally have an answer to one of the mysteries he had left her: the key.

“The key,” she said, shaking her head at herself. It wasn’t in the dresser. It was still in her purse.

Reaching over to the foot of her bed, Ginger grabbed her handbag and rifled through it. She found the yellow envelope, and as she flipped it over to release the key she dropped her purse on the desk chair.

Her heart sped up as she lifted the key. It slid easily into the keyhole and, with a small turn, she heard the lock click. Slowly, she opened the box.

Inside she found one, two, three—she counted fourteen brass buttons scattered on top of folded papers, which were tied together neatly with a black ribbon. Ginger lifted the box at an angle and coaxed the buttons out onto her desk. Then she extricated the papers, and when she did so, her heart stopped.

There, at the bottom of the box, was a photograph of Samuel, his form seated in sepia exactly as she had seen him in Woodstock. And next to him, with her hand resting upon his shoulder, was the image of Ginger herself—an apparition, a ghost. A spirit standing by his side. There and then as here and now.

I
have studied the Civil War from the West Coast much of my life, never really believing I’d get to walk on the land where it was fought. I personally owe a deep debt to Shelby Foote for spending twenty years of his life living in the history of that time so I can come along many years later, pick up his narrative in a bookstore in Washington state, and listen to him as he walked me down that road. A map in a book was all I had for so long that when I actually stepped onto the grass and gravel of those places, I can only say it was spiritual. It would not have been so had it not been for the lifelong work of Mr. Foote.

With that said, I’d like to leave the reader with an opportunity. A shift in life can come from anything—a character in a book, a comment by a neighbor, a movie, or a three-thousand-page narrative. I have found if ever there was a path that needs walking, it is your history. Talk with your grandparents. Listen to your aunts and uncles, cousins and parents and siblings. Everyone
comes from somewhere, so go, put on your shoes, and follow the map. When you walk through history, you become part of it. You find your place in it and it becomes your history. It becomes your story. I invite you to find your story. . . .

Nicole R. Dickson resides in North Carolina. For updates on Nicole R. Dickson, please visit her Web site at www.nicolerdickson
.com.

1. What is the purpose of the covered bridge?

2. What is the meaning of the Civil War to the Smoot family?

3. Jesse was good friends with Ed Rogers. Why did he not share that relationship with Ginger?

4. Why does Jesse have the key?

5. Who is sending Samuel to Ginger?

6. What is the significance of the Shenandoah Valley in the Civil War?

7. Ginger senses she is a ghost. Why?

8. What does Jack Wolfe’s death
signify?

9. The Amish kids came to the farm. What do you think the future holds for them there?

10. What is the goaty lesson?

11. Do you think Jesse ever opened the box?

12. Ginger’s child’s eyes open at the end of the book. Was Samuel there? What is the meaning of her
vision?