The Rebs called what they did commandeeringsupplies. The storeowners called it theft. This young man procuredfor himself a new shirt. Why he didn’t get a new pair of pants orshoes remained a mystery. As he finished tying his shoe, he rose tohis feet and glanced about him.
Father gave a quick nod as if coming to adecision. He took a strong grip on Mother’s elbow and stepped intothe street. The rest of the family passed in front of the soldierand walked toward their home as if nothing happened.
He waited in polite silence.
As Tillie walked by, the handsome young manwith ginger colored hair and sad, haunted blue eyes met her gaze.His gaunt face spoke of enduring hunger. For a split second, shewanted to invite him in for lunch. But images of Dirty Beardwalking away with Lady sprang to her mind, and a wave of hatredsurged through her.
His eyes met hers, and Tillie did her best tounleash a look full of hate. She narrowed her eyes and curled herlip. She stuck her nose in the air and turned away in what shehoped he’d take for a haughty move.
The boy smiled, dimples forming on hischeeks, and he continued to stare at her. He chuckled as shepassed.
Tillie scowled.
Maggie hissed at the boy. She grabbedTillie’s elbow and yanked her toward the house. She allowed Maggieto drag her up the front steps, but she couldn’t resist a glanceback. He kept his gaze on her, a smile on his lips and interestbright in his blue eyes. When Tillie cast him another hatefulglare, the boy put two fingers to his eyebrow and saluted, grinningwide. His teeth shone white in his dirt-streaked face. He bowed toher and sauntered up Baltimore Street, whistling “Dixie”.
Once the door closed behind them, Mother lether breath out in a huff. “Well.” She slapped her hands on hercheeks. “That will teach me to mind my manners and guard mytongue.”
The family gaped at her and laughed. Thedanger passed. Mother smiled and blushed as she endured theirgood-natured teasing. She went into the kitchen to prepare themidday meal. Because of the Sabbath, she put out cold meat, bread,pickles, and jam.
After dinner, Tillie settled in at thesitting room table to spend time in the Bible reflecting upon thesermon. After a moment, she dipped her pen in the ink andwrote.
Dear Father:
Thank you for taking the time to talk to methe other night. I want to assure you I thought a lot about ourconversation. You wanted me to write an essay, but a letter feltmore appropriate. You caught me daydreaming in church, but I heardwhat I think is the most important part. According to Matthew 10,if I’m saved, then no matter what happens to me—by the Confederatesor anyone else—they can only hurt my body, not my soul, and when Idie, only my earthly body will suffer destruction. But, if I amnot, my body will suffer destruction and God will damn my soul andI will burn in hell. I fear that, but I do not understand so manythings, like how God can allow such terrible things as a civil war.You say He always uses these things for good. I say, why let themhappen at all?
The hymn we sang this morning affected me themost. Am I a soldier of the Cross? I think not. Not yet. I realizeI always adopted yours and Mother’s beliefs as my own untilrecently. I can’t say when I stopped doing so, and I’m sorry I did.I don’t want either of you to be disappointed in me. Mother andMaggie say I’m at a stage where I’m starting to throw off childishideas and adopt adult ones. Perhaps this is what is happeningnow.
George’s death scared me. What happens to uswhen we die? That frightens me the most because, what if there’s noheaven or a hell? I’ve never given the matter thought before.
I understand this is not what you or Motherare hoping to read, but I feel it’s an honest assessment of thestate of my soul. I’m a lost sheep, Father. If it’s true the Lordsearches out his lost sheep, He will find me. I, in turn, promiseto commit myself to the search.
Pray for me. Your loving daughter,
Matilda Jane Pierce.
Tillie went upstairs to her parents’ bedroom.She tiptoed across the empty room and placed the letter on herfather’s dresser. She tiptoed back out, hoping he wouldn’t be toodisappointed in her.
Chapter 9
The sun spilled over the hilltops, pouringits golden light across the landscape. Already the humiditysmothered everything under a damp blanket.
Tillie rose from bed and dressed in herchemise and petticoats. Taking her brown muslin school dress fromthe armoire, she put it on, and then buttoned her bodice, herfingers clumsy and slow. Once done, she had to redo the entirething when she found no corresponding buttonhole at the end.
Sitting at the dressing table, she picked upthe brush, but her reflection showed a still crooked bodice,further up. What was wrong with her this morning? She threw thebrush down, and with quick jerks, she started over. Partwaythrough, her fingers stopped in mid-button.
She cocked her head and listened then crossedto the open window and stuck her head out.
Across the street, the red brick of thehouses shimmered as if ready to melt in the heat. Doors and windowsremained closed tight against the already oppressive day. Thecobbled street below was devoid of all traffic. The birds sang andtwittered as cicadas sawed their high-pitched buzz. Even thecrickets still chirped a noisy morning rhythm. The lack of humantraffic on the street and its accompanying cacophony caught herattention. No wagons rumbled along the cobbles bringing produceinto town. No carriages passed here and there. No clip-clop ofhooves as riders made their way around town, intent upon theirerrands before the heat of the day set in. Neighbors stayed off thestreets. No one called good morning to one another. Her heartpounded over the strangeness of the silence and the desertedstreets. Where was everyone? Were the men still out fighting thefire?
Tillie shifted her gaze to the northeast,where black smoke still billowed. Late last night, Libby’s father,Jacob Hollinger, roused the
