Throughout the conversation, Sam concentratedon his food, but now he sat upright. “You’re gonna be a soldier,George? I wish I could go.”
“Well, thank heaven you’re far too young tomarch off to war young man.” Mother’s glare pinned him to hischair.
Undaunted, Sam continued, “Well, I hope theydo come here. Our boys’ll whup ’em good, won’t they, Mr. Pierce?One Yankee can whup a dozen Johnny Rebs, right, sir?”
George chuckled.
Father ruffled the boy’s hair. “Well, I’m notsure about that, Sam.”
Tillie snorted and chewed some ham. Maggieand Mother exchanged amused glances.
“All right, everyone.” Mother flicked a handover the table. “No more of this Reb talk. Your food is gettingcold.”
* * * *
After dinner, the family gathered in thesitting room. White lace curtains behind green velvet drapesfloated over the large bay window facing the street. A rosewoodcouch with emerald satin cushions rested in front of the windownext to Father’s chair. The doilies Tillie made last year when shelearned to crochet still graced its arms. She’d been so proud. Now,she hated their childish design. She set up her books and slate atthe worktable in the room’s center. The cold brick fireplace stoodlike a sentinel on the wall nearest the kitchen entrance. Motherplaced her chair on one side of the fireplace, Maggie’s on theother. Mother rocked back and forth, knitting.
Before opening her books, Tillie leaned herhead in her hand, watching Mother knit. “What’re you workingon?”
“I’m making a sweater for James. When I’mdone, I’ll make one for William. I finished the stockings Mrs.Winebrenner requested for the Union Relief League, and I want toget these done so I can send them in time for Christmas.”
“Let me know when you’ve finished. I’m makinga sash for their uniforms. I’ll include them.”
“What a wonderful idea.” Mother’s right foottapped the ground, rocking her slightly.
Sam nudged Tillie’s arm.
“What?”
“I don’t know how to do these sums.”
Tillie showed him, nodding when he got thefirst two correct. After two more interruptions, she taught him howto check his work. Several minutes later, he hissed in her ear.“Tillie.”
She snapped her Latin text shut. “What?” Shebit the word short and pursed her lips to squelch herirritation.
“Did I do these problems right?”
She pulled the slate close in the fadingdaylight. “Yes.” She pushed the slate and the chalk pencilback.
He glanced at Mother. “I still don’t get whatreadin’ and cipherin’ has to do with butcherin’.”
“Mother’s right. How will you charge for yourservices if you can’t cipher? How will you put an advertisement inthe paper if you want to run a special, like Father does sometimes,if you can’t write?”
“It’s hard.”
“Stop whining. Of course, it’s hard. That’swhat makes it worth doing.” At his puckered brow and trembling lip,she softened her tone. “You know…” She leaned her head in close.“If you stop grumbling and fighting and learn how to read andwrite, you might become the most successful butcher in Gettysburg.Why, you could even be a lawyer if you wanted.”
A spark of interest lit his blue eyes. Hiselaborate shrug said he doubted the truth of her words, but hereturned to the book.
“Tillie.” He nudged her arm once again. “Doyou think if I get good enough at this learnin’ stuff, I might makea lawyer and not a butcher?”
“Perhaps.” She smiled. “This is America. Youcan be anything you want. You’re apprenticed to Father to be abutcher, but I don’t see why you couldn’t be a lawyer someday.” Shetilted her head. “Are you saying you don’t want to be a butcher?Father’s quite a good one, and people come from all over for hisskills.”
“It ain’t that.” Sam ducked his head. “I’mglad to be anything my father ain’t.” Scarlet flowed up his neckand into his face and ears. He ran his index finger over the pageof his book, refusing to meet her eyes.
“Your father’s not so bad—”
Sam slashed his hand through the air. “He’s adrunk and a thief! You know that. The whole town knows it.”
She hadn’t meant to patronize him. Shereturned to her studies.
“It’s just…” Though almost inaudible, hisvoice held pain and longing. “Sometimes I wish your father was myfather.”
Tillie sat back, jaw slack and eyes wide. Shewaited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. What made Sam idolizeFather?
James Pierce, fifty-five years old, sat withlegs crossed, reading his newspaper. For the first time, she notedhis thick head of dark-brown hair showed gray at the temples. Hisdeep-brown eyes radiated kindness and warmth, and care linescrinkled his mouth and forehead. Unlike most men, he did not sportface whiskers. He said men looked messy and unkempt with them. Hiscareer as a butcher made Father a well-muscled man, though hismidriff expanded from age and Mother’s excellent cooking. He gavethe newspaper a quick shake. His scarred hands turned the page,drawing her attention to his left middle finger—shorter than therest, due to an accident in his youth when a knife slipped andsliced off the tip. It lent his hand an odd shape, making Fatherunique. Pride warmed her heart over being born to him andMother.
Tillie glanced at Sam again. A surge ofcompassion and renewed liking rose up in her breast. Anyone whoheld Father in such high esteem deserved her respect. She wanted togive him a hug but couldn’t embarrass either of them. She grabbedher Latin text and flipped to her lesson.
Maggie entered the house and settled next tothe fireplace, across from Mother’s rocking chair, before pickingup her book. Mother’s knitting needles clicked and flashed.Father’s newspaper rustled when he turned the page. He gave thepaper another shake and cleared his throat. The pages of Maggie’sbook swished every few minutes, and Sam’s chalk pencil squeakedacross the slate.
Daylight faded from the room. Father didn’tallow lit candles or burning lamp oil in the summer. The newspapercrinkled as he folded and laid it next to his chair, a signal tothe family. “Time for bed, everyone,” he announced as he did eachnight.
Mother wound up her yarn and wrapped herproject around her needles. Maggie placed a ribbon to mark herplace. Tillie and Sam put away their studies.
Outside, two men on Baltimore Street sang“All Quiet Along The Potomac Tonight.” She sighed, happy andcontented, as she made her way
