The Face of Heaven (30 page)

“I do find it a bit bewildering, Captain.”

“Now I have to make one of my corporals a sergeant. Ham or Nip. Any thoughts on that, Lieutenant King?”

“No, sir.”

“Well, give it some thought.”

“Yes, sir.”

General Hooker found a number of ailing oxen for his Iron Brigade that night and after Nathaniel had sat down with his platoon and enjoyed the roasted meat he stood off by himself to watch the flames stretch skyward, sparks making stars in the darkness.

Several things were bothering him. The first was his sermon—what had gotten into him? His own father wouldn’t have recognized the young man preaching a message that sounded like it came from the mouth of a fiery patriot or a Radical Republican. Or the man with the tune the soldiers loved to march to, John Brown, the abolitionist who had led a raid on Harper’s Ferry to get the guns stored in a Federal arsenal.

Truth be told, he didn’t sound Amish anymore. He didn’t look Amish anymore in his tall black hat and uniform. Next he would be growing a mustache like Captain Hanson and scandalizing his community in Lancaster even more. Amish men never grew mustaches because that is what soldiers did and they were against soldiers.

But the biggest problem, the matter he prayed about the most, was Lyndel’s health. He had gotten past the point where he feared she might not live. He thanked God for her recovery. Yet she did not know him. What if the amnesia persisted and she never recognized him again? It might be that they had no future together—none—and he didn’t know what to do with that knowledge or even which words to use in his prayers about it.

A hand was laid gently on his shoulder. It was Morganne David.

“There seems to be a great deal on your mind, Lieutenant King.”

“Hello, Miss David. I was just…thinking over the Sunday service.
Your music was perfect. My message, I think, was somewhat—overdone.”

“If it were peacetime, perhaps. But in a time of civil war? No, you said things that needed to be said and you said them in a way that the soldiers can hear. Didn’t I see a number of them coming up tonight and shaking your hand?”

Nathaniel put his hands in his pockets. “Many of them said I had taken them forward a few more steps. That I had given them something to think about,
to chew over thoroughly,
as one corporal from Michigan put it. I wonder what Hiram would have thought?”

She laughed. “Hiram? He would have gone against the grain of your sermon, of course. Let’s see—he would have pointed out that thousands of Africans are serving in the Confederate Army, that both slaves and freemen fought against you at Antietam, and that they want nothing to do with an end to slavery in the South or Mr. Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation.”

Nathaniel turned to look at her in the waves of light from the huge fire. “You can’t be telling the truth.”

“I am. Hiram showed me articles from Southern papers as well as recruitment information. Nathan Bedford Forrest has a good many Africans among his troops. One freeman wrote to a newspaper to say that just as his people had fought for Louisiana at the Battle of New Orleans in 1815 they would fight for their home state in whatever other battles came their way.”

“It makes no sense. Why wouldn’t they want to be free?”

“Some of the freemen have slaves themselves. And some of the slaves are on good plantations and are taken care of very well—they think they would be worse off and unemployed as freemen in the North. Many are under no illusions about Northern hospitality either. They feel they’re not wanted up here, not only because of their race but because they’ll take jobs from white laborers.”

Nathaniel looked back at the yellow and red flames. “You’d think they’d want freedom regardless of the difficulties that came with it.”

“But many people aren’t like that. And it’s not just slaves who think that way. Plenty of other people are afraid to make changes because
what they know may not be good, but it’s good enough compared to how risky a new sort of life might be.” She patted him lightly on the back. “Nathaniel, I care for Hiram very much, but he is a discourager. He thinks that’s the only path afforded him if he wishes to be realistic about life. I, however, like to think of myself as both realistic and an encourager. You said the right things this morning and you pointed us in the right direction. You can be sure many more slaves will seek their freedom rather than stay entrapped on their cotton fields. We see droves of them passing through Washington every week. Hiram told me that this summer Africans will be fighting the Rebels and they will be doing so as Union troops within their own African regiments.”

“Well, that’s something. It will improve the soldiers’ attitudes toward the African race.”

“No doubt it will. But we’re still talking about many years before North or South accept them as equals.”

“How many years?”

“A hundred, Nathaniel. Likely more. Three or four generations. From grandparents to parents to children and then to the children’s children.”

“I thought you were the encourager.”

“I
am
the encourager. Hiram would say two hundred years. Or never.”

“And I reckoned I had things on my mind before.” Nathaniel rubbed the back of his neck. “Where is Hiram anyway? I haven’t seen him at Belle Plain for weeks.”

“His paper sent him west. He’s campaigning with General Grant.”

“Grant? I heard he’s a drunkard.”

“That’s not Hiram’s opinion. He thinks Grant is the best fighting general we have, one of the few the South are actually leery of.”

“Does he? So you said yourself he always goes against the grain of opinion. Often enough he’s right.”

“Often enough indeed.”

“Did you…see Lyndel before you left?”

“I did. I had to pick up some items from my room. She asked after you.”

Nathaniel stared at Morganne. “Asked after me? She doesn’t even know me anymore.”

“Of course she knows you. She just knows you—and likes you, by the way—as another person.”

“Oh, that’s all. So what am I supposed to do? Court her all over again as another person?”

“No. As yourself. She doesn’t know who you are anyway so you might as well be yourself.” She smiled. “Except that now you are an officer and a gentleman.”

Nathaniel’s eyes were black and troubled. The firelight, instead of illuminating his eyes, actually moved the shadows back and forth and obscured them. “Do you think she’ll ever recover her memory, Morganne?”

Morganne’s face went in and out of the light. “The doctors don’t know. I pray for her every day but I don’t know.”

“Miss David!”

A cluster of women were calling to her. Nathaniel saw they were the wives of officers who had come down that afternoon. They would stay with their husbands in well-built log cabins until campaigning began again.

“Miss David! The men are impatient for their campfire sing-along!”

“I’m coming!” she called back.

She looked at Nathaniel and squeezed his arm. “Cheer up. From what the nurses tell me, no one gets her so animated as you.”

“How would they know? They always leave me alone with her.”

“They listen at the door, Nathaniel.” She began to walk toward the officers’ wives. After a few steps she paused and turned. “Get leave to go to her again as swiftly as possible. She may not know you but it’s your love for her she’s responding to. If you can book passage on a steamer tomorrow morning, do it.”

19

L
yndel drifted in and out of consciousness. She heard bits and pieces of conversation, glimpsed a white-lace curtain hanging over a window, took cool water into her mouth, listened to the strings of a guitar being strummed softly. She was certain she saw Mrs. Palmer’s face and Morganne’s and Miss Sharon’s, as stern as the prow of a naval frigate. A quiet voice, a man’s voice, read the Bible over and over. Sometimes he seemed to be close to her ear, other times on the far side of the room. Each time he read there was the snap of logs burning.

“Why am I not at Fredericksburg?”

Lyndel sat straight up in bed and stared at the red flames in the fireplace and at Nathaniel, who was sitting in a chair in his frock coat and a scarf, his black hat on the floor by his feet. A thick black Bible was open in his lap. He closed it and set it down by his hat. Then walked to the bed and kissed her on the cheek.

“Good morning, beauty,” he said.

She took his hand. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here?”

Nathaniel was startled, stopping his movements for a moment. “Why…do you know who I am?”

“For heaven’s sakes, don’t play games. Of course I know who you are, Nathaniel King. Did you think I had mistaken you for the man in the moon?”

Nathaniel grinned. Then he laughed and kissed her hands. “This is wonderful, wonderful! You know who I am! Glory to God in the highest!”

Lyndel’s eyebrows slashed down. “What is the matter with you? You’re carrying on as if this is some sort of backwoods revival meeting. Stop playing the fool. Put an end to this glory-hallelujahing right now and tell me why I’m here.”

Nathaniel struggled to calm himself for her benefit. He sat on the edge of the bed, his face still brilliant with joy and astonishment. “You’ve been fighting pneumonia, my love. For a while, it had even affected your memory. But you’re looking very well today. If a little pale for an Amish farm girl.” He laughed again and shook his head despite her fierce eyes. “I can’t believe it. I thank God you’re back.”

“I should be at Fredericksburg. The cold ground will be giving many of the wounded the same illness you say I have.”

“Shh. Fredericksburg is over. The wounded are in Washington and Philadelphia hospitals.”

“I remember…that the army retreated…the heights were never taken…the grass was thick with bodies…”

Nathaniel gently placed her head against his chest. Strands of scarlet fell over the thin scar on her cheek. The white cotton cap still covered her head.

“It’s a new year. You’ve chatted with Miss Sharon about the prospects for 1863.”

She gripped his hand more tightly. “I can’t recall that conversation.”

“It was about hope. She said you gave something of a sermon.”

“You’re joking.”

“About three days ago.”

She lifted her head and looked at him. “How long have I been in this room?”

“A couple of months. You’re still in the Palmer house.”

“How many times have you been at my side?”

“I don’t know. Eight or nine or ten.”

“Did you desert the army to nurse me?”

“Captain Hanson permits me to come this way to check on our regimental nurse. We are in winter quarters at Belle Plain in Virginia. It’s a short steamer trip down the Potomac to you. And nothing much else is going on except doing hard drill and eating bad food.”

“Levi…and the others?”

“They’re fine. They send their best wishes and their prayers. You get stronger every week. This isn’t the first time you’ve been sitting up and speaking with someone.”

She put her head back on his chest. “My mind does not feel strong. I can’t remember a single conversation or a single aspect of the battle.”

“In time perhaps it will all come back.”

She clenched his uniform in her free hand. “I do not want everything to come back.”