Candle in the Darkness - Lynn N. Austin [162]
“How’s your arm? Are you all right? Is Charles with you? How did you manage to get a furlough? Charles says they only grant them for hardship cases, and even then—”
“Whoa! One question at a time. I got a furlough by lying, of course. I told them that my—”
“Never mind, I don’t think I want to know.”
“You don’t,” he agreed, laughing. “See? That’s what happens during wartime—all our fine moral principles go flying out the window and we start lying, cheating, stealing . . . whatever it takes.”
I winced when I thought of all my lies and deceptions. “Is Charles with you?” I asked again.
“Sorry. He wasn’t willing to risk being shot as a deserter, even to see his sister get married. I went to see Sally before I came here and she says we’re getting married tomorrow. I can hardly believe it! So what are the chances of me getting a hot bath before my wedding day? I could really use one. And can your servants do anything about this sorry excuse for a uniform?”
I took a good look at Jonathan for the first time and saw a walking scarecrow. I wanted to weep. He wore a tattered slouch hat, and his coat looked shabbier than the one Eli had been too ashamed to wear in the house. His pants were not even Confederate uniform pants but were blue, like the ones Robert had worn.
“I took them off a dead Yankee,” Jonathan said when he saw me eyeing them. “Borrowed his socks and boots, too. Figured he had no more need of them. A lot of our men are barefoot, Caroline. It’s pitiful.”
“I’m quite certain that Sally would marry you just the way you are, but don’t worry, we’ll get you cleaned up as good as new. Did Sally tell you? We sewed you a new uniform jacket so you’d look handsome on your wedding day. We have the entire wedding planned. Wait until you see what desperation and ingenuity can accomplish.”
Jonathan pulled me into his arms again. “Sally told me everything you’ve done for us and how you’re letting her wear your wedding gown and all. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you, Caroline.”
“Be happy, Jonathan. That’s all the thanks I want . . . just marry Sally and be happy.”
I sent Jonathan up to my father’s room to start cleaning up, while I ran out to the servants’ quarters to tell Gilbert to prepare a bath and Esther to stoke up the fire early tomorrow morning to start baking. We had carefully hoarded flour and sugar for this occasion. But when I burst into the darkened kitchen, the only person I saw was Josiah, sitting in front of the fire with his six-month-old son asleep in his arms. He held Isaac’s freedom papers in his hand. For the first time that I could ever recall, the brawny servant didn’t look fierce and menacing—he was singing softly to his child.
I started to back out, not wanting to disturb them, but Josiah lifted his head. He looked up at me, and I saw tears glistening on his cheeks.
“Missy Caroline . . .” he said. “Thank you for what you done for my son.”
“You’re welcome,” I whispered.
Jonathan and Sally’s wedding day turned out to be a beautiful one. Her servants had gone all over Richmond the night before, as we’d planned, spreading the news that her wedding would be the next day at eleven o’clock at St. Paul’s Church. Eli rose before dawn and used a borrowed horse and the special travel permit Mr. St. John had arranged to ride out to Hilltop to fetch Jonathan’s parents and his younger brother, Thomas. They arrived just in time to clean the spring mud from their shoes and carriage wheels and race down to the church.
Guests filled the front third of St. Paul’s pews; spring sunshine lit up its rainbow-hued windows. I cried as I watched Sally walk down the long aisle on her father’s arm, wearing my wedding gown. She looked radiant in it. She carried a bouquet of fake flowers pilfered from all our old bonnets. I turned to glimpse Jonathan’s face and saw him fighting tears as he watched Sally walk down the aisle to become his wife. He looked dashing and handsome in his