“Do you want me to talk to her?” Maggiescanned the crowd, looking for Beckie.
“No.” Tillie stopped her. “She needs to makeup her mind. Either way, I’ll pray for her and will always considerher a friend, even if she doesn’t consider me one.” She smiled. “Acaptain I met while at the Weikerts’ said this is a terrible war,but God will use it for good.” She locked eyes with each member ofher family. “No,” she shook her head, “it’ll be all right.Everything is going to be fine, not as before, I don’t want that,but new and better.” A surge of love for her family welled up, andshe smiled a happy, contented smile. “Come on.” Her voice grewstronger as she wrapped her arm around her sister’s waist and laidher head on her shoulder in a quick hug. “Let’s go home.”
Epilogue
“Did you ever make it right with Beckie, Ma?”Annie leaned close in the growing darkness.
“No. Unfortunately, Beckie was never willingto meet me halfway, ever again.” A small, sad, half-smile curvedher lips. “Beckie married her Mr. Kitzmiller after the war, and Iunderstand they still live in Gettysburg.”
As always happened when Tillie told thestory, she remembered with fondness and longing those sheloved.
After his apprenticeship, Sam left town tobegin his own business. Tillie never heard from him again. Shetried searching for him to no avail.
James and William both survived the war.James stayed in Washington, D.C. and worked as a government clerk.He had a lovely family.
Poor William didn’t fare so well. He camehome and took over the butcher shop after Father, but thoughWilliam married a wonderful Gettysburg woman and seemed to besettling in raising his family, he never shook the demons of hiswar experience. He lived well, until three years ago when Fatherdied. Without warning, he left everything—including his family. Hiswife discovered him in a rooming house in Philadelphia, and havinggiven himself over to the ravages of drink, he sent her away.Tillie no longer knew if he was alive or not.
A deep hole of grief lingered in her heartstill for her beloved sister, Maggie, who died in 1867, when anepidemic of tuberculosis swept through town. Tillie could neverthink of her without choking back tears.
Though Gettysburg worked hard to preventdisease, the tuberculosis epidemic claimed many lives, includingMollie and Sadie Schriver. Having contracted the disease, Molliedied in 1872, shortly after Tillie married Horace. Two years later,Sadie succumbed. Both women died at the age of twenty-two.
Mother went to her rest in 1881, and Fatherfollowed her eight years later. Now, all those she knew and lovedin those days were gone forever.
A tap on her shoulder jolted Tillie.
Horace leaned in, studying her face in thegrowing dark. “Are you all right, my love?”
She squeezed his hand and kissed his cheek.“I’m fine. I was just remembering.” Emotion choked her voice.
Horace drew her into an embrace and kissedthe top of her head.
“I still can’t believe you met PresidentLincoln.” Harry spoke into the growing darkness. “What was helike?”
“I didn’t meet Mr. Lincoln. I just saw him.He tipped his hat to me, and I heard his speech. That’s all. Don’texaggerate the situation.”
Harry chuckled and lay back down. “Yes,ma’am.” He exaggerated his response, but a note of humor lightenedhis voice, so Tillie chose not to take offense.
“You know…” She jerked a thumb toward herhusband. “You would do well to ask your father some questions. Hewas a soldier.”
Horace chuckled around the pipe clenched inhis teeth. “Oh, my dear, I was just a lowly private marching hitherand yon. Your story is much more interesting, I assure you.” Heremoved his pipe and tapped the bowl against his palm. “We best geta move on.” He rose. “We want to get to the park before thefireworks start. We don’t want to miss that, do we?”
The children jumped up. Mary brushed grassand leaves off her skirts. Annie, in imitation of her adoredsister, adjusted her skirts, while Harry jogged inside for his coatand hat. He reemerged with his father’s garments in his hand aswell.
While Tillie and Horace strolled, thechildren disappeared into the park ahead of them. Crowds formed aspeople, laughing and talking, gathered for the fireworks show.
“I know when you think of those days, theyalways bring sadness. I’m sorry for that, but I think it importantfor the children to learn what this,” he swept his hand around thepark to indicate the celebration, “is really all about.”
Tillie smiled. “I agree.” She leaned her headon his shoulder. “Speaking of my experiences does, sometimes, makeme sad, especially when I think of the people I loved then.” Sheturned to him and laid her palms on his cheeks. “But I wouldn’tchange my experiences for anything. Those days made me the woman,wife, and mother that I am.”
A whistling sounded to the left, and a smallboom reverberated through the air. For a split second, she heardthe cannon chasing her from the Weikert house. Colored lights littheir faces. Horace’s eyes glowed with the love that made her feelso safe and secure. She exhaled, and then gazed at the fireworksflashing and decorating the sky. They were supposed to representthose days when the nation was born, but they would always remindher of her girlhood when the nation, rent by growing pains, emergedlike her—stronger, wiser, and full of faith and hope.
The End
HISTORICAL NOTES
First, this is a work of fiction. Idiscovered Tillie’s story while traveling in Gettysburg. Thoughthey don’t know it, I’m deeply indebted to the Schriver HouseMuseum for first introducing me to the story of the town ofGettysburg and Hettie Schriver in particular. It was while on atour through that wonderful museum that the tour guide patientlyanswered my many questions, and after the tour, gave me severalbooks to read. Almost as a throw-away, he also gave me Tillie’smemoir. I also owe a huge debt of gratitude to the Adams CountyHistorical Society for their in-depth knowledge and willingness toshare that knowledge. They have a fantastic library of first personaccounts and I’m not ashamed to say I spent countless hours inthere reading almost every one. Many of their comments andsituations made it into my story, most particularly, Salome Myersrecounting of hiding their maid, and Nellie Auginbaugh’s
