An Acquaintance with Darkness - Ann Rinaldi [58]
Dear Emily,
Bum this letter. Please, burn it as soon as you read it. I am taking a chance even writing to you. I cannot write to Annie. I suspect all the mail coming to our house has been seized. Tell Annie, please, that I am fine. I cannot tell you where I am. Just that I am in Canada. They have detectives here looking for me. I originally came north on orders from General Wilder, who directed me to go to Elmira, New York, and learn about the fortifications of the prison where they are holding Confederate soldiers. I completed my mission and was traveling from Elmira on my way back to Richmond, when I heard about Lincoln's assassination. Then I read in the papers that they are offering $25,000 for my capture. So I took the next train north and crossed into Canada, where I've been hiding. I have employed a gentleman to go to Washington to put himself in touch with my mother's counsel and report to me if my mother is in any real danger. I have paid this man's expenses. He promised to find where you were living. But his presence is a secret. Even from my mother. You must keep it a secret. Promise.
Until I hear from him that my presence is necessary, I must stay hidden away. But my bag is packed. Up until now I have had only one report from him: "Be under no apprehension as to any serious consequences. Remain perfectly quiet, as any action on your part would only tend to make matters worse. If you can be of any service to us, we will let you know; but keep quiet."
Again, please tell Annie I am fine. Tell no one else you have heard from me. And burn this as soon as you read it. I do miss you, Emily. Canada is beautiful. I wish you were here with me.
Yours affectionately,
Johnny
My hands were trembling. I felt the blood drain from my face. Johnny's man had dropped this off at our house!
Johnny was alive and well. And hiding. But he was ready to come back if his mother needed him.
Tears flooded my eyes. My heart felt like an old rag wrung out in turpentine. It stung so. My legs were shaking with a life of their own that I could not control. In the next room I could hear Uncle Valentine's patients talking. I heard a baby whimpering. Then the front door opened and I heard Uncle Valentine come in. "Good day, good day to all," I heard him greet his patients. "Give me just one moment, dear people, and I shall be right with you."
Then his footsteps coming into the office!
I crumpled the letter up and stuffed it in my apron pocket.
"Emily. So there you are."
"You're early," I said.
"Yes, well, I seeded things earlier than usual at the college today. Don't forget, this is Thursday, dinner party night."
"Yes. Who's coming?"
"A photographer fellow named Gurney, who took a picture of Lincoln in his coffin in New York City the other day. He brought the picture to us at the college. Lincoln is not holding up. I told them he wouldn't. His face is all shrunken in. He still must travel through Albany, Syracuse, Buffalo, and Cleveland, then into Indiana and Illinois. You look pale. Are you all right?"
"I have a headache."
"Go lie down, child. I'd like you to be at your best at dinner."
"I haven't logged in the mail yet."
"You can do it later. Go, go. I must see my patients. Get yourself a nice cup of tea and take it to your room."
I went. I got myself a nice cup of tea. I heated it on the fire on the stove in the kitchen. The fire was low, but it burned brighter when I put the letter from Johnny in it. Then I got some fresh sugar cookies Maude had just made that morning and went to my room to think.
Johnny's man had come here to our house. Would there be any more letters for me?
17. Three Losses
I HAD SENT ANNIE a note the very afternoon I got the one from Johnny, asking her to dinner that evening. But she couldn't come. Our guests were Mr. Gurney, the photographer who took the picture of Lincoln in his coffin in New York, and Dr. Springer and his wife. He was a colleague of Uncle Valentine's.
Gurney told us that a large Newfoundland dog had walked under the president's