Beckie laughed. “You think too much.”
“Perhaps I do.” Tillie stiffened. “But still,I’m curious. What would they think if they saw us, north fightingsouth, and possibly destroying what they fought so hard tobuild?”
“Well…” Beckie shrugged. “I assume, they’dcall us silly ninnies.”
Tillie bit her lip, familiar with Beckie’sI-don’t-care shrug.
Beckie brightened. “I got a letter from mybeau, Mr. Kitzmiller. Did I tell you?”
“Another one? You told me you got one a weekago. What did he say? Did he give you news of James?”
“Oh. I did tell you he wrote. I got theletter last week. He says it’ll be the last he can write for awhile so not to worry. Seems the army is moving again.” Beckieuttered a long dramatic sigh. “It’s to be expected at this time ofyear I suppose. I do wish he were home, though. I’m almosteighteen. Time to get married.”
Tillie resisted the urge to roll her eyes.So, no news of James. Why didn’t Beckie ask after him? Four words,that’s all. How. Is. James. Pierce. “Has Mr. Kitzmillerproposed?”
“No. And Papa says he would refuse permissionanyway until the war is over. I detest this war!” Beckie stampedher foot on the pavement. Stones flew out from under her shoe.
Her friend’s melodramatic declaration coupledwith the angry line of her lip and lowered brow made Tillie want tolaugh. She bit her tongue and cleared her throat. “George Sandoejoined up, the Twenty-First Volunteers. He leaves in a few days.Maggie’s heartbroken.”
“Well it’s about time.” Beckie tossed herhair. “After three years there isn’t a rush to go anymore. But Mr.Sandoe waited until the legal age to join the army while my Georgewent a year ago at eighteen. So did William.”
“William was nineteen.” Tillie cringed. Whata stupid thing to say.
“I stand corrected.” Beckie raised her chinand affected to stare at a bird flying overhead.
Tillie kept her gaze fixed on the road. “Atleast he didn’t hire a substitute.” Why couldn’t she think ofsomething better to say? George could have paid three hundreddollars and avoided the war altogether. He wasn’t a completecoward.
Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice theywere at the corner of Breckenridge Street until Beckie let go ofher arm. “Well, here we are, Lawyers Row.” Beckie laughed at herown joke.
Along this side of Washington Street half adozen law offices lined up next door to each other, as ifPennsylvania College couldn’t produce anything but lawyers.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Tillie frowned asBeckie walked away, skirts swaying back and forth like a pealingbell.
When Beckie disappeared over the brow ofCemetery Ridge, Tillie stepped into Washington Street. Mr.Garlach’s wagon came from out of nowhere, veering left onWashington Street from Breckenridge. He missed colliding with her,but she had to scramble back to the curb to avoid his team ofhorses. As he passed, he glared at her over his shoulder.
She smiled and waved an apology.
The shrill whistle of the four o’clock traindeparting the station startled her. Mother would scold her fordillydallying if she didn’t hurry home. Tillie quickened her stepeast onto Breckenridge.
Inside the Wade house, people shouted at eachother. She glanced at the front door on her way by. Then she tskedand crossed the road, as though walking on the same side of thestreet would somehow taint her. No doubt, Ginny, whose real namewas Mary Virginia, gave someone the dickens.
A few years ago, William showed interest inGinny. James pulled him aside, calling her bossy, mean, and worse,unscrupulous and fast. Tillie asked James what he meant. His wordscut her to the quick when her adored older brother turned on her.“Well, little pitchers have big ears. Mind your own business,Tillie.” It still stung when she remembered the encounter. To thisday, she didn’t understand what he meant.
Everyone knew Ginny’s sympathies lay with theConfederate cause, in particular, one young man, Wesley Culp, wholeft to join the rebels. His family owned a farm south of town.What a scandal they created last year when Ginny and Wesley wantedto marry. The Culps refused because of the Wades’ low standing intown. Mr. Wade, Ginny and Sam’s father—a drunk and a thief—starteda ten-year prison term a few months ago for something called rape.Soon after, Wes ran off to join the Confederate Army. Ginny took upwith Johnston Skelly almost the same hour. He served in the Army ofthe Potomac.
Tillie didn’t like Sam, either, when he firstcame to live with them, painting him with the same brush as hisfamily. Over time, though, he proved himself a quiet, thoughtfulboy who did his chores with efficiency. Eager to please, he workedhard. His devotion to Father warmed her heart, and she developed agrudging respect and admiration for him. Now she thought of him asa sweet younger brother, though she’d never tell him so.
A broom whisked on the cobblestones, breakingher reverie.
Mr. Weaver, a tall black man with grayinghair, swept the street near the corner of her house. Hisloose-fitting clothing gave the impression of an undernourishedman.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Weaver.”
He bobbed his head, raised his hat, andflashed a smile. His white teeth shone against dark skin, and histhick, curly hair, flattened under the hat, made a puffy ring wherethe brim rested. “Good day to you, young miss. Where’re you offto?”
“Home.”
“That’s nice. Give my regards to your folks.”He pushed his broom toward the gutter.
“I will.” Tillie hopped over his dirtpile.
Maggie and George stood on the stoop,laughing and pointing toward the Diamond.
“Tillie, look.” Maggie gestured up BaltimoreStreet.
A colored family labored toward them, backsbent under the weight of quilts and blankets bulging with clankingand pinging items.
“Mr. Weaver…?” Tillie nodded to the family.“What’re they doing?”
Mr. Weaver joined them on the corner. Heleaned on his broom and scowled as the family passed by.
The slim black woman goaded her two boys. “Fode Lawd’s sake, chiluns hurry up.” They staggered under the weight.The woman stopped and readjusted her pack. She let go one hand toherd the boys.
Her yellow dress and turban contrastedbeautifully against her
