Gods and Generals - Jeff Shaara [112]
He nodded quietly, knew it was all she could give him, that he had done something for himself, and that not all of them could understand, not even she.
To the east, out toward the vast open water, the moon began to climb above the treetops and the peaks of the houses, and he could see her face reflected in the faint light, said in a whisper, “I will come home . . . and I will make you proud.”
He went to her then, pulled her up to him, and she softened against him, and he kissed her, a soft and long caress. Far off, beyond the town, the hollow wail of a great long train cut through the night, the cars heavy with men in rich blue uniforms, sharp creases and polished buttons, rocking in a steady rhythm down the southbound tracks.
22. LEE
August 1862
“SIR, IT appears that things are a bit more quiet. Do you have any orders?”
Taylor stood in the small doorway, and Lee turned away from the window, studied the young man for a moment, said, “No, Major . . . actually, I don’t. We seem to have . . . a pause. It’s been a long time. I’m waiting to hear more of Pope. Have we heard from General Stuart today?”
“No, sir. I will inform you when he arrives. Sir . . . might I suggest . . . begging your pardon, sir.”
Lee waited, knew Taylor was still slow to speak frankly, often treated him as he would an overly stern father who would lash out angrily if the words did not come out just right. Lee did not understand that, had never been angry or harsh with him.
“Please, Major, you have something to say?”
“Sir, we feel it might be a good opportunity for you . . . to visit your wife, sir. It’s a short ride . . . and you could be back by dark. We can handle anything that comes up today. You said yourself . . . it’s pretty quiet, sir.”
Lee looked at him, saw a slight smile, knew the young man was trying to be helpful, and he thought of Mary, living now at the Spottswood. Taylor was right, it was a short ride into Richmond.
“Thank you for your suggestion, Major. However, we are in the midst of organizing a new army . . . new commanders, a new way of doing things. It is not appropriate for me to suddenly leave . . . make a journey to Richmond for my personal benefit.”
“Sir, only for the day—”
“Major, thank you for your concern. You are dismissed.”
Taylor looked hurt, like a scolded pet, and Lee watched him turn, disappear from the doorway. He does not understand, Lee thought.
Mary had come to Richmond, carried through Union lines by the generosity of McClellan. The plantations were under Federal control now, and months before, Arlington had been ransacked and vandalized, despite assurances from General McDowell that the historic home would be protected. Though McClellan had guaranteed she would be safe at her son’s home, it was risky, and McClellan was receiving criticism for providing a guard for the wife of the enemy commander. So, she had been granted safe passage. More fragile and crippled than ever, she made the journey to Richmond without incident. Lee met her there, saw her for the first time in months, and her condition was worse. The visit had not gone well, and seeing her had depressed him. His appearance had changed as well—he now was fully gray, and had grown a full, short beard. The change made him seem older, and she absorbed that reality poorly. Now, he was deep into his command, had buried himself totally in the running of this army, and could not bear to think of her . . . could not face what they had become, the permanent distance between them.
Lee turned back to the window, stared out at the trees, watched the heavy branches sway slightly, the leaves flickering in a summer breeze. He thought