An Acquaintance with Darkness - Ann Rinaldi [78]
"Are you staying with us, Addie?" the reverend asked.
"I come to let y'all know that I's alive and kickin'. And to pick up my things. Then I aims to git myself to the depot and be on my way. This very afternoon."
"Where?" the reverend asked.
"Home. I's goin' home, Reverend. To help my people, now that the war be over."
There was much murmuring over that. Then the reverend thanked me for bringing Addie. I took two gold coins and gave them to her. "This will get you a hack to the depot," I said, "and buy your ticket. Where is home, Addie?" I was thinking that if it was Richmond she could come right along with me.
The reverend laughed. "She won't tell you that," he said. "She's never told anyone that."
Addie smiled. "Long ways," was all she said. "You doan worry your head none 'bout that. You jus' go along now."
I hugged her. "You do good," I said. "Make Mr. Lincoln proud." We drove away. When I turned to look back I saw her standing there, holding the yucca flower against her bosom.
The sun had burned through the fog by the time we got across town to the main part of Washington. The streets were clogged with people and soldiers. On every corner there were regiments of the Grand Army of the Potomac, holding their battle flags, quieting their horses, being formed into lines by grand marshals. I heard muffled drums.
As we came near Pennsylvania Avenue, I gasped. The whole stretch of it, right to the Capitol, was lined on both sides with a river of people who had come to wait for the parade. They had staked out their places, brought chairs, set out great buckets of water. Enterprising people were already selling cold lemonade. Others were hawking flags or buttons with General Grant's or President Lincoln's face on them.
Civilians held banners, WELCOME HEROES OF THE REPUBLIC, HONOR TO THE BRAVE, said one. HEROES OF GETTYSBURG, said another. And still another, SHERMAN TO THE SEA.
Horse-drawn trolleys were decorated with bunting. Some horses from a cavalry unit were bedecked with white satin ribbons. Flags dripped from front porches, store canopies, rooftops. Brass band instruments gleamed in the sun. Hundreds of schoolchildren seemed to be running about wearing red-white-and-blue rosettes and carrying small flags.
We couldn't get out onto Pennsylvania Avenue. All traffic had come to a standstill.
A group of white-gowned ladies walked right in front of the carriage, carrying a banner that said, WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE.
"Well? What are we going to do about this, missy? There are gonna be a hundred and fifty thousand soldiers marching here today." The driver had plenty of malice toward me. He acted as if the whole mess were my fault.
"How far is the train depot?" I asked.
"Two blocks west."
"Ill walk." I paid him and got out, pulling the portmanteau out after me.
The excitement all around me was working to a fevered pitch. I could see them coming way up at the end of Pennsylvania Avenue. Thousands of men in blue. At the same time I heard church bells ringing and the boom of mortars from the ironclads on the river.
A cheer went up from the crowd. "They're coming, they're coming." The bands all began to play "The Star Spangled Banner" on cue.
"Look, the flag at the White House is at full staff for the first time since Lincoln's death."
"Have you got those flowers? Good, I want to throw them. General Meade's men are coming."
I pushed my way through the crowds. Only two blocks to the train depot. It might as well have been a dozen. My hat was knocked off. I dropped my portmanteau once and had to stop and get a better grip on the basket with Ulysses in it. He had gotten a hint of the excitement and was meowing, afraid. I shushed him and continued on.
It must have taken me fifteen minutes to go one block. My head reverberated with the sound of marching feet as a swarm of blue men marched on Pennsylvania Avenue. Out of the corner of my eye I saw their regimental colors snapping in the breeze, their musket barrels gleaming. The epaulets on the shoulders of the officers