Candle in the Darkness - Lynn N. Austin [93]
“I don’t think so, Missy Caroline,” Eli said, shaking his head. “You know the story of Queen Esther? Lord put her in the palace among all them unbelievers for a reason. She have a job to do for Him—when the time’s right. I think Massa Jesus send you up north, then bring you back here for a reason, too. But I think you have to wait until the time’s right. God gave Esther courage so she could walk right into that throne room saying, ‘If I perish, I perish.’ But then she waited. She invite that king to dinner two times before she speak her mind. Wasn’t because she scared. She waiting for the Lord to say, ‘Now, Esther! Now’s the time!’ ”
“So if they ask me my opinion again tomorrow . . . what should I say?”
“Nothing. Because even if you tell them what you believe, you ain’t gonna change a single woman’s mind, are you?”
“No, probably not.”
“Don’t go running ahead of God. He’s gonna tell you when the time’s right. Then whatever you do gonna make a difference. And one more thing—Queen Esther asked all her servants to pray with her. We be praying with you, Missy Caroline. You know we be praying.”
I lived in a continual state of suspense that July, not only waiting for the war to begin in earnest but waiting for God’s call to act. Tessie and I read the story of Queen Esther, and the words of Scripture seemed to shiver through me: “And who knoweth whether thou art come to the kingdom for such a time as this.” I felt as though I was waiting to be called into battle, just as the two huge armies that were mustering near the Potomac waited for the battle that was certain to come.
Sally dragged me downtown for the Fourth of July celebrations, which included an eleven-gun salute—one for each state in the Confederacy. “Come on, Caroline. Show a little excitement,” Sally urged when she noticed that I wasn’t clapping and cheering like everyone else.
“I’m very tired,” I said—which was true. “I’ve been so worried about Charles that I haven’t been sleeping.”
The next day Tessie and I read in the paper that in Lincoln’s Fourth of July speech he had asked Congress for 400,000 soldiers and four hundred million dollars to wage war. The Northern armies rallied behind the cry “Forward to Richmond.” Their goal was to conquer our city before the Confederate Congress had a chance to assemble for the first time on July 20. The newspapers also announced the answering cry of the Rebels—“Independence or Death.” I felt like a passenger on board a ship that had become unmoored, floating toward certain disaster.
I did return to Mrs. St. John’s sewing society but remained wary of Helen Taylor and her mother. As we worked, I sensed a new mood of anxiety among the women, barely concealed behind a façade of busy hands and idle chatter. The strain of waiting for news—with both longing and fear—was evident in our brittle voices and unsteady hands. This mood of apprehension thickened and settled over all of us, becoming as oppressive as the humid July air. Then the production of uniforms was suddenly halted and we were put to work at a new task—preparing bandages.
Early one evening after supper, Charles’ father drove up Church Hill to pay me a visit. I invited him into Daddy’s library and asked Gilbert to pour him a drink. My nerves jumped as I made small talk, waiting for him to come to the point of his visit.
“You’ve heard from Charles, I suppose?” he asked as Gilbert offered him one of Daddy’s last few cigars.
“Yes, I’ve had a few letters. He and the others are well, but they haven’t had much time to write, between marching for days on end and digging fortifications.”
“He’s probably eager to get the fighting underway, eh?”
I nodded, unwilling to share everything that Charles had confided— how unprepared he had been for the heavy marching and other privations of army life; how the suspense and the fear of the unknown ate at him like a disease; how he agonized over what he would do when he faced enemy fire for the first