The Tender Flame (9 page)

Lydia rushed to the door. “Hello, Daddy! We’ve got it all done. Come in and take a look.”

Duane embraced his daughter, grinned at his future son-in-law, and said, “Looks like this place is just about ready for a happy young couple to occupy.”

“Sure is,” Grant said. “It’s a rather lonely place when I’m here by myself, but that’ll change in a little less than a month.”

Through the open door, Grant saw Captain Nathan Daniels approaching. Duane turned around as the captain stepped up to the door.

“Lydia and I will be right over to pick up her things, Captain,” Duane said.

Daniels forced a smile. “Anytime is fine, Duane.” He looked at Grant. “Lieutenant, we just received news that President Polk delivered a war message to Congress this morning. It doesn’t look good. Colonel Marsh has called for an assembly of all men of the fort at four o’clock. There are a couple of corporals assigned to advise every man of the assembly, but I thought since I was close, I’d let you know.”

Grant glanced at the clock on the wall. It was 3:35. “All right, sir. Thank you. I’ll be there.”

When the captain was gone, Lydia gripped Grant’s hand, concern evident in her eyes. “Darling, what does this assembly mean?”

“Colonel Marsh wants to explain the status of the fort. There are certain steps to be taken when we know the president has delivered a war message to Congress. We will remain in an averred state of readiness to further prepare ourselves should war be declared. If that happens, we’ll be put on alert.”

“And that means?”

“Well … that any number of us could be sent to south Texas, or even to Mexico, to do battle with the Mexican army, and we must be ready to move out on a moment’s notice.”

“Oh, Grant, this is terrible. Our plans … the wedding—”

“I know. But we have to leave these things in God’s hands … let Him work His will in our lives. Please. Keep your pretty little chin up and trust the Lord to take care of it all.”

“He’s right, Lydia,” Duane said. “We have to put our lives and our plans in the nail-pierced hands.”

Lydia took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You’re right, I know. I just wish sometimes it wasn’t so hard.”

On Tuesday morning, May 12, 1846, President Polk made a grim announcement in Washington that war with Mexico was inevitable and unavoidable. All attempts at a peaceful settlement with the Mexican government had failed.

The next day, Congress overwhelmingly approved a declaration of war, which was called for by President Polk. The country was now officially at war with Mexico. General Zachary Taylor and his troops would be the first to move into Mexican territory. Other troops would follow as quickly as possible.

At military posts all over the twenty-eight states and many territories, the United States Army was put on alert.

At Fort McHenry, the troops and officers were assembled for a briefing of the situation and for assignments. Lieutenant Grant Smith was assigned to General Winfield Scott’s battalion, and Scott informed him in a special meeting that the battalion would head
southwest for Mexico on Friday morning at dawn. Those officers who lived within a short distance of the fort would be allowed to ride home and tell their families good-bye, as long as they could be back by Thursday at 1:00
P.M.

Lieutenant Smith was given an army horse to ride, and he put the animal to a gallop as he headed for home. About three hours later, he rode into Montgomery Village. While trotting toward the Reynoldses’ home, he was hailed by friends and questioned about the alert. He told them a battalion was leaving Fort McHenry at dawn on Friday, then hurried on, wanting to get to Lydia.

Grant dismounted in front of the house and saw Billy’s face in the parlor window. The front door stood open, and he could hear Billy calling loudly to his sister that Grant was here.

Billy was first out the door. Grant hugged him, then saw Lydia behind her brother. There was apprehension in her eyes as she opened her arms to him, breathing his name. Lydia clung to the man she loved, her face partially buried against his chest, and his strong arms held her tight.

“We heard about the alert, darling. What’s happening at the fort?”

Grant leaned back so he could look into her eyes. “Sweetheart, I’ve been assigned to General Winfield Scott’s battalion, Company C, under Captain Nathan Daniels. The entire battalion is pulling out and heading for Mexico at dawn on Friday.”

The breath caught in Lydia’s throat, and tears rushed to her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.

Grant cupped Lydia’s chin in one hand and said softly, “Sweetheart, we have to trust the Lord in this. I know it will mean postponing the wedding, but probably not for long. This war shouldn’t last but a few months at most. We have so much more firepower, and a much larger army than Santa Anna. It’ll be over in short order.”

Lydia drew another deep breath and wiped away her tears. “Darling, I’m sorry. I know I’ve got to keep my chin up. You’re a
soldier and duty calls. I must learn to live with that. And I must allow the Lord to give me the strength and faith I need to trust Him to keep you safe and to bring you back to me.”

“That’s my girl.” Grant folded her in his arms once more. “I hate postponing the wedding, but we’ll get through this and be married before the snow falls.”

The Smiths and the Reynoldses were told of Grant’s assignment to General Winfield Scott’s battalion and of the plan to pull out for Mexico on Friday morning. Both families felt apprehension that Grant would be leading a unit of men into combat. Marjorie invited the Reynolds family and Pastor and Mrs. Britton to supper that evening. She wanted to have the pastor lead them in a special time of prayer for Grant’s safety.

Late that evening, after the meal and the time of prayer for Grant, the engaged couple sat in the porch swing at the Reynolds house. The moon was full and cast a silver spray of light in the yard and on the porch.

The fragrant, warm air carried a heady aroma of May flowers. But the heavyhearted couple were immune to the night’s charming atmosphere as they held hands and talked of their future together, trying to keep their minds from the reality that tomorrow they must part.

Grant and Lydia whispered tender words of love and comfort to each other, making the most of their last evening together, not knowing how long they would be separated. Finally, at midnight, they walked to the front door. Grant gently took Lydia’s face in his hands and placed soft kisses on her lips.

She fought to keep from breaking down as she told him good night, but once inside the house, she dashed to her room, closed the door, and flung herself, sobbing, onto the bed.

The next morning, Grant told his family good-bye and rode to the Reynolds house. After he said his good-byes to Duane, Beverly, and Billy, he and Lydia were left alone on the front porch.

“Lydia, we won’t be able to write to each other while I’m in Mexico,” Grant said as he held her in his arms, “but we can maintain a closeness by holding up each other in prayer.”

“I know, darling. But I’m going to write you a letter every day anyhow. That, along with the prayer, will make me feel closer to you.”

The army horse standing near the porch whinnied. Grant looked at the horse and said, “Okay, okay. In a minute.” He turned back to Lydia. “I do have to get going, honey.”

They kissed long and tenderly.

“Good-bye, Lydia. I love you.”

A sob caught in her throat, but she fought it as she said, “Good-bye, darling. I love you.”

“Our tender flame will never stop burning.”

“Never.”

Grant kissed her again, then wheeled about and walked briskly to the horse. He swung into the saddle and rode away without looking back.

Tears coursed down her cheeks as Lydia watched Grant until he was out of sight.

The next day, Lydia applied for a job she knew was open in a clothing store in nearby Germantown. She was hired immediately and began to work eight hours a day, six days a week.

True to her word, Lydia wrote Grant a letter each night. As the stack of letters grew, she kept it tied in a bundle with a blue ribbon.

She hung on every word that came from Washington about the Mexican War and read the reports in the newspapers. When she read of the many casualties among the U.S. Army, she couldn’t help feeling
a sense of dread. In the evenings, when her parents saw that she was burdened, they prayed with her, doing all they could to comfort and encourage her.

Lydia clung to her family and to Grant’s family, but gained most of her strength from her private prayer time and reading her Bible.

She was glad to have her job. It helped to pass the time, as well as giving her mind something to dwell on besides war and death. The money from the job was a help too. Much of it was used to purchase items that one day she and Grant would have in their home. She put away each purchase, looking for the day when she and Grant would make their home together. And three evenings a week, she did volunteer work in Montgomery Village’s small medical clinic.

Still, at times the load grew heavy. One Sunday morning, during the altar call, Lydia went forward and told the pastor that she just needed to kneel and pray in God’s house. Pastor Britton had his wife join Lydia at the altar. Delia Britton listened to Lydia describe her fears, then prayed with her. Before they left the altar, Delia said, “Could we get together sometime soon and talk? I want to help you if I can.”

“Of course,” Lydia said. “I’m free tomorrow night. Could we talk then?”

“Tomorrow night would be fine.”

Monday evening came, and Lydia and Delia sat on the edge of Lydia’s bed.

“I don’t pretend to know exactly how you feel,” Delia said, “with the man you love off fighting a war, but I do know what God says in His Word, and I know that the God of peace is able to help you bear this burden.

“Here’s one thing you need to think about: Since the early days of man’s history on earth—I mean, for ages immemorial—men have gone off to war, and their women have stayed behind to keep the home fires burning. Those brave women kept a vigilant lookout for their loved ones to return.

“You must realize that you’re not alone in your vigil. Thousands of American women are doing the same thing. Most of them are not Christians, but you are. You have something they don’t. You have the Lord to lean on, and you have His Word to lean on.”

Tears were trickling down Lydia’s cheeks. “I’ve been sort of self-centered in this, haven’t I, Mrs. Britton? Yes, I do have the Lord and His Word to lean on. I’ve been trying to do that, but I’ve also been wallowing in some self-pity.”

“That’s only natural,” Delia said. “Now, let me suggest two things for you to do. First, it will help you immensely if you will memorize Psalm 91. Hide it in your heart so you can quote it, or parts of it, when your faith shows signs of weakening.”

“All right. That sounds like a good thing to do.”

“Also, you’re busying yourself with your job at the store and your volunteer work at the clinic. This is good, and I commend you for it. But you still have some extra time left over each week, don’t you?”

“Oh yes.”

“How about teaching a Sunday school class? My husband was saying just a couple of days ago that he needs to split a class of six- to nine-year-old girls, and he’s praying about a teacher to take the six- and seven-year-olds. You’ve substituted a few times when you were needed. How about a permanent class?”

A smile worked its way across Lydia’s mouth. “I’d like that.”

“Good! I’ll tell my husband, and he’ll put you to work in a hurry.”

One week later, Lydia kissed her family good night and went to her room. She took out pencil and paper and began composing the day’s letter to Grant: