Authors: Ginny Dye
“I’m really going to be a father?”
Rose reached up to touch his face tenderly. “This is going to be the luckiest baby in the whole world.” She gave way to tears once more as she moved into the arms he held out. “I’ve missed you so much. I’ve wanted so much for you to know we are going to have a baby.”
Moses frowned suddenly. “I should be here with you,” he said fiercely.
Rose put a finger to his lips. “We’ll be together in time. We’re together right now. That’s what is important. I will be fine here in the camps. You have a job to do.”
A look of great sadness shadowed Moses’ face. “The war... It’s so terrible.” He paused. “I have so much to tell you.”
Rose blocked out the sound of the party. Her husband needed her. Pulling her coat closer, she pulled Moses back into the shadow of the tree then pulled his head down to give him a long kiss. When they finally pulled apart, Moses just looked at her. “What is it?” she asked softly, alarm beginning to ring in her heart. She had never seen him look so lost.
Haltingly, he began to tell her about finding Robert on the battlefield. “I took him to that black family I’d met earlier that day. When I think about it now, it seems like the most ridiculous thing in the world. At the time, it was all I could do.”
Rose listened carefully, her heart going out to Moses. It was hurting equally for Robert and Carrie. “I wonder what Carrie must be thinking? Do you have any idea whether Robert is dead or alive?”
“None. I was hoping I would be able to get back there, but the army has been stationed around Fredericksburg. When I got leave, I had to go through Philadelphia on army business. When Aunt Abby found out I was coming here, she asked if she could join me. I knew you would be thrilled.”
Rose was still thinking about Carrie and Robert. “Poor Carrie.” Tears sprang into her eyes as she envisioned the agony her friend must be feeling.
“Robert could be back with her,” Moses said unconvincingly. He pulled Rose back into his arms. “We’ll keep on praying. That’s all we can do.”
Rose nodded, snuggling into the comfort of his arms. Moments later June appeared at the door.
“They’re holding dinner for y’all,” she shouted merrily. “You’d better quit kissing in the shadows and come in.”
Moses tilted Rose’s chin up until her eyes met his. “It’s Christmas Eve. God performed a mighty big miracle when he sent Jesus down here. I imagine he’s still in the miracle business.”
Rose drank in the strength radiating from him. Taking a deep breath, she forced a smile. The very act of smiling somehow restored some of the magic of the evening. She smiled again, this time knowing the smile reached her eyes. “I love you,” she whispered.
Carrie was up before dawn on Christmas morning. She still held the glow from the night before. Quietly she eased to the window and looked out on the cold, stark winter morning. A brisk wind rattled the frozen branches outside her room. Millions of stars twinkled and blinked in the clear sky
and faded slowly as the sun began its greeting on a new day.
Early morning had become Carrie’s favorite time of the day. It was here that she found the quiet she needed to make it through each day. She settled down on the window seat, pulling her robe closer to ward out the frigid air. Her room wasn’t much warmer than outdoors. Fires were only built during the day in order to conserve wood. And those were only built in the main rooms of the house. Carrie didn’t mind. Everyone was making sacrifices. She knew that from now on every time she felt the need to complain, she was going to think about the basket of sweet potatoes her patients and their families had given her.
As she watched the sun rise on a new day, Carrie allowed herself to think about Robert. “Merry Christmas,” she whispered. She knew all logic said Robert was dead. But as long as he was alive in her heart, she would not give up hope. She pressed her face against the window pane, not minding when her warm breath created a sheet of fog between her and the outdoors. She could still see the misty shape of the sun just peeping over the horizon.
Carrie allowed her mind to travel back to the days, just a couple of years ago, when she had been so eager to grow up, to test her wings of independence and soar into a new world. She had indeed soared into a new world – one full of fighting, darkness, and the fury of men’s passions. Why had she ever wanted to grow up? A sudden longing to be protected on the plantation surged up. Unbidden, Elvira’s face floated into her thoughts. Following close on its heels was an image of her patients’ singing then presenting her with the sweet potatoes. She could see Pastor Anthony’s caring eyes as he bent down over a sick patient. She could see Dr. Wild bending over a collection of wild herbs and studying them until he understood how they could be used to help his patients.
Carrie leaned back from the window and thoughtfully rubbed the condensation away until once more the sun shone in brightly. She could no longer afford the luxury of looking at the world through immature, clouded vision. Yes, there was darkness. There was also much light if she opened her eyes and allowed herself to see it. It was her choice.
Just then a tiny rock bounced off her window. Carrie smiled, tugged the window up, and leaned out. “We’ll be right there,” she called softly. When she turned around, Janie was sitting up, staring at her.
“Is it time?”
Carrie nodded. “Hobbs is waiting outside. I told him we’d be right out.”
It took the two girls only a few minutes to dress, pull their hair back, and struggle into their heavy coats. The house was still quiet when they emerged into the frosty morning. Carrie had already made arrangements with May to have Christmas breakfast ready later that morning. She and Janie would be back in plenty of time to help.
“Merry Christmas,” Hobbs said brightly, moving forward easily on his crutches.
“Merry Christmas,” the girls echoed.
Carrie never ceased to be amazed at how swiftly he had recovered from surgery. To be sure, his right leg was several inches shorter than his left, and it was still very weak from having been encased in plaster of paris for so long, but he was alive and he hadn’t lost his leg. Hobbs had attached a wooden block to the bottom of his shoe to make up for the length difference. He was using the crutches temporarily until the muscles in his bad leg got stronger. Hobbs would never be back on a battlefield, but he was still giving his all to his beloved South. He had become a permanent fixture at the hospital and helped Carrie and Dr. Wild anyway he could.
“Do you think they suspect anything?” Carrie asked anxiously.
“They’re clueless,” Hobbs chuckled, his brown eyes dancing. Then he sobered. “There’s a bunch of homesick boys needin’ some cheering up in there. A bunch of them were writing letters home into the wee hours last night.”
Carrie frowned. She could imagine how they felt. She and Janie had found families for some of the stronger patients to share Christmas dinner with, but the vast majority of them were bound to their beds and far from loved ones and family. “Is the fiddle I found you all right?”
“It’s more than all right!” Hobbs exclaimed. “I don’t reckon I’ve ever held such a fine instrument.”
Carrie sighed with relief. “I’m glad. Pastor Anthony told me it was supposed to be a good one. He bought it for Jeremy when he was a kid, but the boy lost interest quickly. It’s been sitting in a case ever since. He said you could have it.”
“Have it?” Hobbs echoed disbelievingly.
“Yes,” Carrie said with a grin. She was glad to see something good happening to Hobbs. He had been through way too much for someone his age. “He said to tell you Merry Christmas. And to make sure you use it to make other people’s Christmas merry - for a lot of years.”
“I will,” Hobbs promised solemnly. There was a glow on his face the rest of the way up the hill.
Carrie saw that almost everyone was there when they crested the hill. The sun was well above the horizon now, but it had done little to take the bitter bite out of the north wind whipping across the knoll. She scowled at the dwindling pile of firewood stacked against the nearest trees. There simply was not enough to keep the men warm through the winter. What would happen if they couldn’t get more?
“Quit scowling,” Janie whispered. “You hardly resemble a bearer of Christmas cheer. We can worry about firewood later.”
Carrie laughed. “Can you always read my mind?”
“No. But it’s relatively easy to read your face. You show everything you’re thinking and feeling,” Janie teased. “It’s Christmas, Carrie. Life will be waiting for us tomorrow. Let’s enjoy today.”
Carrie took a deep breath. “You’re right. Life will be waiting for us tomorrow.” She shook her head. “One of these days I’ll learn that lesson well enough to hang on to it all the time.”
“Let me know when you do,” Janie laughed. “I’m not sure any of us have the ability to totally quit worrying - at least not until we get to heaven.”
“I guess you’re right,” Carrie acknowledged. “I sure would like to be a little more consistent, though.”
Hobbs approached on his crutches. “They’re ready,” he said excitedly.
Carrie and Janie moved up to join the rest of the group bunched outside the door to the first ward. Carrie could see similar groups all across the broad plateau. Her heart swelled with emotion. These people, in spite of the fact they all worked long hours in the hospital already, had given up part of their Christmas to bring cheer to the patients. At Dr. Wild’s signal, they formed a long line, two across, and streamed into the ward, singing loudly.
Joy to the world! The Lord is come;
Let earth receive her King;
Let every heart prepare him room,
And heav’n and nature sing,
And heav’n and nature sing,
And heav’n and heav’n and nature sing!
Tears formed in Carrie eyes at the looks of delight plastered on the patients’ faces.
Hobbs’ fiddle exploded with life and joy as he played by the front door. He finished the first song, adjusted his chin, and swung immediately into the next carol.
Hark! the herald angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King!
Peace on earth, and mercy mild,
God and sinners reconciled.
Joyful all ye nations, rise,
Join the triumph of the skies;
With the angelic host proclaim,
“Christ is born in Bethlehem.”
Hark! the herald angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King.