Spring Will Come (5 page)

             
Carrie had dreamed of going north - to the school established by one of the first women physicians in America, Dr. Harriet Hunt.  She would have lived with Aunt Abby in Philadelphia while having the support of other women who had braved the cold waters of change before her.  Now Philadelphia was a foreign city.  She was indeed in a medical hospital, but every step she took was going to be a battle.  For just a moment, fatigue caused her dream to waver in front of her.  The picture dimmed and grew hazy as she envisioned the obstacles she would face. 

             
But only for a moment.  With a snort of contempt at her own self-pity, Carrie forced a defiant laugh and threw back the covers on her bed.  “Get out of bed right now, Carrie Cromwell!” she muttered.  “Lying around feeling sorry for yourself is a stupid thing to do.  You are right where God wants you.  You have a chance to make a difference.  So what if you have to fight a little?  Isn’t that what you do best?” she demanded of herself in an exasperated tone. 

             
Throwing her long, flowing curls over her shoulder, she stepped to the window.  A deep breath told her the storm last night had cleared the air only temporarily.  Heavy gray clouds still captured the sky, and sultry air invaded the morning freshness.  Just like the day before, the air hung heavy, seemingly burdened under the threatening events it was being called upon to convey.  Carrie felt the heaviness reaching for her heart, but tossed her head, and retreated back into her room.  “I have a whole day to myself,” she declared brightly to her empty room.  “Now what am I going to do with it?”

             
A soft knock at her door caused her to spin.  She had been sure she was alone in the house.  Whoever was still around would think she was a trifle daft for carrying on a conversation with herself.  “Yes?” she called, slightly irritated.

             
“Do you think your old father might share in all this talk with you for a while?”

             
Carrie laughed and flung open the door.  Her father was used to her tirades with herself.  She had done it from the time she was a child.  “Father!  What are you still doing home?  Nothing is wrong is it?”

             
Thomas shook his head.  “I’ve already been to the Capitol but had to return to retrieve some papers.  My next meeting is not scheduled to start for a couple hours.  When I heard you up, I thought I might talk you into having breakfast with me.”

             
“The two of us alone?  I can’t think of anything I would like more,” Carrie exclaimed.  “Give me just a few minutes to get ready.  I’ll be right down.”  She smiled as she slipped into her dress and tamed her hair into a braid and bun.  She had not been alone with her father since the few minutes they had talked when she’d regained consciousness after the surgery on her shoulder to remove the bullet.  There were always other people around.  Whistling softly, she closed the door to her room and ran lightly down the steps. 

             
Thomas was already seated at the table.  “May will be in in a few minutes with our breakfast.”  He laid aside the papers he had been perusing and fixed her with a loving smile.  “Now, daughter, tell me how you’re doing.”

             
Carrie slipped into the chair next to him.  “Feeling quite refreshed.  I didn’t realize how tired I was until I got to sleep for so long.”

             
“You have barely slowed down since you arrived.  You should have given yourself more than five days to recover from your injury before jumping into the hospital.”  He grinned when Carrie merely shrugged.  “Not that I would have expected you to do anything less.”

             
“You are hardly the one to talk, anyway,” Carrie responded with an impish grin.  “You are at the Capitol both day and night.”

             
“You’re right,” Thomas sighed.  “There seems to be no end to the things that need to be done.  Helping to govern a state any time is a continual challenge.  When war is added into the mix, it becomes...”  His voice trailed off in weary fatigue.

             
Carrie leaned forward and laid her hand on his.   “How long since you’ve had any rest yourself?” she asked tenderly.

             
Thomas shook his head and straightened.  “Rest will come when there are no longer thousands of soldiers camped at our door,” he said firmly.

             
Carrie was concerned at the deep lines of fatigue she saw etched on his face but said nothing more.  She knew it would do no good.  Her father had found salvation in his work with the Virginia state government after her mother died.  She would not interfere with the very thing that had saved him.  Giving his all to the state he loved had been the only reason he had found for living.  “What is going to happen?” she asked quietly.

             
“Only time will tell,” Thomas said heavily.  “I’m afraid there is discontent behind the battle lines as well.”

             
“What do you mean?”

             
Thomas shrugged.  “I’m afraid our own President is unable to find out what is going on.  He and General Johnson don’t have the best working relationship.  My understanding is that the general is a very capable commander.  He just doesn’t feel any great need to communicate what is happening on
his
battlefields.”

             
“Not even with the President?”

             
“It seems President Davis didn’t know how far Johnson was retreating from McClellan until he rode outside the city limits and found our own army camped just a few miles away,” he commented drily.  “Word has it that Johnson initially wanted to take his stand against McClellan right where he is, but Davis and General Lee persuaded him to take the battle to McClellan down on the peninsula.  Johnson went, but he’s been retreating ever since.  Now he’s right where he wanted to be all along.”

             
“It can’t remain a standoff forever, though.”

             
“You’re absolutely right,” Thomas said grimly.  “There seemed to be some movement of the troops yesterday, but no one really knows what is going on.  Except for Johnson, and he’s not talking.”

             
Carrie heard the ripe frustration in her father’s voice.  “Have all the stragglers gone back to the army?”  She vividly remembered the day last week when she had gone down into the city.  There had been weary, ragged men everywhere - sprawled on the sidewalks, outside cellar doors, and beneath porch overhangs.   Tired, hungry, and discouraged, they had poured into the city seeking a respite from their suffering.  General Johnson had sent troops in to bring them back to their duty.

             
“Most of them are gone.  Others snuck out of the city toward the west, I’m sure.”

             
Carrie looked at her father thoughtfully as his angry voice boomed out in the house.  She could find no anger in her heart toward the confused men who had come to fight this war - either voluntarily or conscripted.  No one had been prepared for the slaughter and suffering that had met them.  It was little wonder many of them longed for home and made the decision to let other men fight the battles for them. 

             
A long silence stretched between father and daughter as visions of what the immediate future might hold paraded before them through the room. 

             
Thomas broke the quiet first.  “There is a possibility the city will fall, Carrie.”

             
Carrie knew how it must be tearing her father up inside to admit even the possibility.  “What will you do?”  All she could do was let him talk.

             
“There are lots of things being said.  You already know Richmond plans to torch its tobacco and cotton warehouses.  Other men are threatening to set fire to their own homes - and to the Capitol.  They are even planning to destroy the magnificent statue of Washington if the Yankees succeed.”

             
Carrie whitened at the thought of the destruction that would destroy their city.  “Surely the North would do no more harm than what we plan on doing to ourselves,” she protested. 

             
“I agree,” her father replied wearily.  “But emotion can play a much bigger role than reason at a time like this.”  He paused for a long minute, and then his face tightened with anger.  “By God, we’ve not fallen yet!” he exclaimed as his fist pounded against the table.  “We will not go down without a fight.”

             
“And without thousands of soldiers being killed and wounded.”  Carrie made no attempt to hide the bitterness in her voice. 

             
Thomas sobered instantly, but his face was still hard.  “We didn’t ask for this war.  But we’re going to see it through - and we’re going to win.” After another long pause, he said, “We have to win.”  Those words he spoke more to himself than to Carrie. 

              The first boom of cannons and pop of gunfire erupted just after one o’clock that afternoon.  The heavy, overcast sky seemed to catch it and throw it toward the city with frightening clarity.  The wait was finally over - or was it just beginning?  Only time would tell the outcome of the battle.  Would Richmond still be the capital of the Confederacy after the noise died away?

             
Within minutes the streets were thronged with people hurrying to the higher elevations to view the fighting.  Carrie hurried to join them.  In spite of her revulsion of the war, it was impossible not to want to know what was happening.  There was no way she could stay in her father’s house and simply listen.  She had to be with the people.  She had to be a part of what was going on in her world. 

             
The book she had been attempting to read had been tossed aside unceremoniously.  She couldn’t even remember the title.  It was one she had idly chosen from her father’s extensive collection when she was trying to decide how to spend the day.  Not that it had held her attention.   For the first time in her life, no book could interest her.  The events surrounding her made the fiction she had been trying to read look comparatively flat.  Nothing but the drama that was unfolding in Richmond would be able to keep her attention. 

             
The crowd surging up the hill was, save the quiet mutterings of a few people, silent.  Their tense, strained faces spoke of their anxiety and fear.  Carrie noticed a few of her neighbors who seemed content to listen from the safety of their porches, but most of the town seemed to be migrating to the highest points around them.  From there they would be able to look out and possibly see the battle play out before their eyes.  She was sure everyone wanted to know whether the Federal troops broke through the Confederate defenses.   Not that the knowledge would do much good.  There was nowhere to run. 

             
The thunder of cannon rivaled the fury of the storm the night before.   Buildings shook and windows rattled as it rolled into the city.   Carrie gazed around her, growing increasingly frightened as the mutterings of the people took on sounds of panic.  The steady popcorn staccato of gunfire drifted on the breeze between the loud explosions.   Taking comfort in the very numbers, Carrie allowed the flow of people to pull her onward.  Finally they all reached the top of the hill.  When Carrie turned to look, there was really nothing to see except the already thickening cloud of smoke that blended with the slate-colored sky.               

“What’s happening?” one lady cried.

              “Those Yankees are fixing to get a taste of Rebel fury is what’s happening!” a stout elderly gentleman shouted, waving his ornate cane defiantly.

             
“Who started the fight?” another asked anxiously.

             
“There’s no way of knowing,” another responded.  “All we can do is wait to find out what happens.”

             
Carrie stood quietly, stared out at the scene, and tried to find Robert with her heart.  Where was he?  Was he already wounded?  Would she see him again?

             
“My son is out there in that cloud of smoke,” one nearby lady said softly.

             
“Both my boys and my husband are out there,” another responded.