My Brother's Keeper My America 1 (5 page)

Shadows were falling quickly around the white church. A light burned in the open doorway.

I hitched Rex to a tree. When I looked inside the church, I saw dozens of men on beds of hay and straw. Lady nurses silently served from a soup kettle.

I asked one if I could look for my brother. She gave me a candle. I began carrying it from face to face.

Before I even came to Jed, my heart started to sing.

His eyes were closed. His face was hollow and pale. But I knew him at once. I knew the shape of his light brown beard, his lips, his long lashes. I knew his hands folded across his chest.

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He has not seen me yet. He has not opened his eyes.

The nurses tell me Jed escaped from the Rebels and crawled here with a broken leg. He has a fever now and has slept for many days.

But Jed breathes. His heart beats.

I only have to wait for God to wake him up.

July 28, 1863

This morning one of the nurses will get word to Pa that Jed and I are here. I know he will come right away. I asked the nurse to tell him to bring

The Death of King Arthur

so I can read it to Jed.

Later

Pa is here. When he saw Jed was alive, he fell to his knees and wept with joy.

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Now he is pacing back and forth beside the bed. He is watching Jed, anxious for him to wake up.

July 29, 1863

It is long after midnight. Pa snores now. But I still have not closed my eyes. I am afraid that if I stop seeing and hearing for Jed, he will slip away into that other world.

I have been talking to him of all the things he loves. I have reminded him of his books and his writing, of Pa and our mother and President Lincoln.

Still, he has not opened his eyes.

For the rest of the night, I will read to him from

The Death of King Arthur.

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This is the brightest morning of our lives.

Did Jed hear me reading

The Death of King Arthur

7

.

Why else would he have opened his eyes just as I read: "... lightly and fiercely he pulled the sword out of the stone."?

That has always been his favorite part.

I laughed and cried to see him awake. So did Pa.

Jed was too weak to speak. He sleeps again now, but the nurse says his fever has broken.

I imagine that somewhere that little bird is singing its heart out.

July 31, 1868

Jed has been awake all morning.

Pa asked him about what happened, and

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Jed told how he had been captured by Rebs on his way back to Gettysburg. He had escaped with two other prisoners. But he soon found himself in the midst of fighting. Jed was trampled by a horse and his leg was broken. As he lay on the ground, he saw the two men he had escaped with get killed by cannon fire.

When Jed started to speak of the death of his friends, he could not go on. He turned his face to the wall. He closed his eyes.

I tried to comfort him. I told him I had been his eyes and ears while he was gone. I asked if he wanted his journal back now.

He shook his head.

I asked if I should keep writing until he felt better.

He kept his eyes closed and nodded.

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The doctor has just said magic words to us: He said Jed could go home this very afternoon.

Pa and the doctor will have to carry him to the buggy. He will not be able to walk at all for many months, the doctor said. In time, his broken leg should heal.

August 3, 1863

Jed is home safely. Right now I am in my bed, resting.

Jane Ellen and Mrs. McCully have just arrived. They have brought bread.

When Jane Ellen said hello to Jed, he barely even looked up. He did not seem to remember meeting her before.

I wish Jane Ellen could know the old Jed.

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The one who laughed so easily and told good stories. This Jed seems only half here.

But I am glad Jane Ellen is visiting with him. I need to rest. I have not rested in a long time.

August 11, 1863

I am finally awake.

When I went to sleep, I slept for almost a week. I slept and slept and slept.

Jane Ellen told me that everyone grew worried about me. But I knew it was just my time to rest.

Jane Ellen helped keep our house while I slept.

Jed seems better. With Pa and Jane Ellen's help, he can get outside to the porch.

He does not talk much. But he seems to like watching the blue sky and feeling the warm sunlight.

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I am sitting on top of Cemetery Hill.

This is the first time I have been here since the battle.

Many of the tombstones around me look wounded. They are chipped and riddled with holes.

My mother's, though, was not struck by even one bullet.

I think she is resting in peace again now that Jed and Pa and I are all safe together.

August 15, 1863

I am feeling very nervous.

Jed has asked me to read him my entries in his journal. I am worried that he will not like my writing. He might think it is too childish or simple.

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Anyway, this will be my last entry, as I am certain he will want his journal back now. Thank you, Jed, for lending it to me.

Later

I am in heaven.

Jed listened very carefully as I read from his journal. He laughed when I read some parts. He looked very serious as I read others. Once I even saw him wipe tears from his eyes.

When I finished reading, he just stared at me for a long moment. Then he said I was a very good writer.

I could hardly breathe.

Jed said I should never stop writing. He said he wanted me to keep his journal and write in it every day.

I told him he should write in it himself.

Jed said he was done with writing for a

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while. He said I was the writer in the family now.

I did not know what to say about that.

August 16, 1863

This morning, Jane Ellen came by again. She talked about her favorite books with me and Jed. She said she loves to read Sir Walter Scott's stories with their daring adventures.

Her face was aglow. I had never seen her look prettier.

It's odd that Jed never seems to take much notice of Jane Ellen. When I read my journal to him, I skipped over the parts about feeling cross with her. I think I had been a bit jealous.

I would have to say that I am not at all jealous of Jane Ellen anymore. Jed thinks I am a good writer. In his eyes, that is the very best thing in the world to be.

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One of the Smith boys had a terrible accident today. He and some other boys were roaming the battlefields and found some shells. When the Smith boy picked one up, it went off in his face. He is not expected to live.

People from out of town also roam the battlefields. They are looking for souvenirs, such as cannonballs and cartridge boxes. They even take away dried mosses and twigs! Pa thinks they are being disrespectful of the dead.

August 19, 1863

Jed cried today.

He was reading to me, Pa, and Jane Ellen from

The Death of King Arthur.

It was the first time he has felt well enough to read.

In the middle of reading, he stopped and

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just stared at the page. He was blinking hard. He seemed unable to catch his breath.

Jane Ellen asked him what was wrong.

In a halting, choked voice, Jed said that real battles were not like the battles in myths and legends. He said he did not understand why men did such terrible things to one another. He said that good men -- not just terrible men -- were capable of doing terrible things. This, Jed said, was the worst truth of all.

When Jed finished, time seemed to stand still. None of us spoke. There was only the sound of Jed weeping.

August 20, 1863

Today Jane Ellen gave Jed a new copy book. She gave him a new pen, too.

I stood in the doorway and watched her put them into his hands.

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She told him that he must write. She spoke as if she were talking to a pupil.

Jed looked up at her with surprise.

"Write your thoughts about the war," she said firmly. "You must." Then she turned and left the room.

Jed stared after Jane Ellen, as if he had just seen her for the first time.

August 25, 1863

First day of school. A number of children were not present, including Betsy and Sally. Their families ha%e not returned. Word has spread that Gettysburg is still blighted with death.

But I was there. So were the McHenry boys, the Wallace girls, Sue Peterson, and John Scott. And our new school mistress -- Jane Ellen McCully.

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How odd to have Jane Ellen for a teacher!

But I did not ask her for special attention or favors. In fact, I even called her "Miss Jane Ellen" while I was at school.

August 27, 1863

When I came home from school today, I was greeted with a wonderful sight and a wonderful sound.

I passed by Jed's room and saw him writing in the copy book Jane Ellen had given him.

Then I heard Pa playing his violin in his room. He was playing a tune I had never heard before. Several times he stopped and started over again. It sounded as if he were learning a new song.

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I am sitting on top of Cemetery Hill. There is still a faint smell of death in the air. But today all the church bells in town rang again.

At our church, Reverend McCully said he thinks Gettysburg is starting to seem more like its old self. He said that more and more shops are opening back up, and some farmers are planting a late crop.

He said many buildings, though, will long show the scars of the battle. He has counted over 250 bullet holes in the trunk of one big tree near the battlefield.

Reverend McCully said the marks of the bullets should always remind us of those who died for the cause of freedom and union.

He also said that the battle of Gettysburg has turned the tide of the war against the Confederates.

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I am again sitting on top of Cemetery Hill. The birds are singing. Indeed, the hilltop this afternoon is noisy with bird song.

Pa will go back to teaching his music lessons at the seminary tomorrow.

Jed often sits on the porch and writes in his copy book.

I give thanks every day that we are all together again and safe.

September 7, 1863

Jed called me and Pa into the parlor today. Jane Ellen was there with him.

Jed said he wanted to read to the three of us. He did not open

The Death of King Arthur.

Instead, he opened the copy book he had been writing in.

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He began to read in a low voice. He read about how he had been captured, how he had escaped and been wounded, how he had crawled past countless dead men and horses.