Mrs. Weikert shrunk in the face of his fury.She tucked her lips between her teeth, stared at a point on thefloor, and did not utter another word.
Dan concentrated on making coffins. Beckieand her sister did their best to create biscuits with the fewsupplies left.
Tillie cared for the wounded, trying to movearound in an unobtrusive manner. He counted her among the mouths tofeed, though he didn’t come out and say so. Perhaps if they hadn’teaten so well on the first day, they wouldn’t be in the predicamentthey were in now. Recalling the food eaten the day she arrived madeher mouth water. Now they ate bread with water. Coffee was longgone.
When could she go home and not be a burdenanymore? The battle ended six days ago. Why wait any longer? Sinceno one discussed her leaving, she didn’t ask, even though theConfederates left Saturday morning and today was Tuesday. Most ofthe Union departed Monday in hot pursuit. She picked off pieces ofher bread and chewed. While she ate, she pulled her Bible from herapron pocket to read.
“Miss Tillie, join me in the surgery roomwhen you’ve finished.” Doctor Billings walked out of the room.
She glanced up from her book inacknowledgment. After her meal, she washed her dishes. At the topof the stairs, she remembered she left the Bible on the table.Tillie went back to the kitchen. Halfway down, voices drifted up toher. Deep in discussion, they did not hear her return. She froze,trying to decide if she should continue down or go back up, but Mr.Weikert’s words held her.
“We’re gonna starve come winter, Sarah. Youmark my words.”
Tillie peered over the railing. Mr. Weikertstood at the door staring out at his destroyed farm. He faced hiswife when she didn’t answer. “I can’t repair these fields, not thissummer. My livestock is gone. It’s too late in the season to domore than put in a winter garden, but a garden won’t grow withoutwater.”
Mrs. Weikert sighed, a tired, resigned breathof air. “Jacob, we’ll get by.” She made a lame gesture with herhands. “I don’t know how, but we’ll get by. Stop fretting. You’llworry the children.”
Tillie made a noise on the stair and boundeddown the remainder of the steps. “Oh, there it is.” She gesturedtoward the table. “I thought I left it here.”
Mr. Weikert glared at her. Mrs. Weikertwaited in polite silence for her to leave. Tillie fingered thebook. Dare she speak? “My father likes to read from Matthew. Oneverse in particular goes like this: ‘Therefore, I say unto you,take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat or what ye shalldrink; nor yet for your body what ye shall put on. Is not the lifemore than meat, and the body than raiment? Behold, the fowl of theair for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns;yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better thanthey?’” Her eyes traveled from one adult to the other. They didn’trespond. She shrugged, a quick gesture, and smiled. Slipping thebook into her apron pocket, she headed upstairs.
****
“Tillie, we leave after breakfast,” Mrs.Schriver announced the minute Tillie entered the basementkitchen.
“Yes, ma’am.” Tillie nodded. “I’ll be ready.”She didn’t want to sound pleased over the prospect of going home,but she was homesick and wanted to be away from this place.
Remembering her manners, she smiled at Mr.and Mrs. Weikert, who sat holding hands at the table. “Thank youfor sheltering me. I hope I didn’t cause too much trouble orinconvenience to you.”
“Oh, child, not at all.” Mrs. Weikertreturned her smile. She let go her husband’s hand, moved hers toher lap, and back to the table. “We just wish you came to us underbetter circumstances. Don’t we, dear?”
He glared at the table. Did he think herinsolent for quoting the Bible? She didn’t want him to despair overhis farm. Even so, she got the distinct feeling, in some odd wayMr. Weikert equated the devastation of his property with herpresence.
After a quick meal, Mrs. Schriver gathered upher daughters and Tillie, and after saying their goodbyes, theyheaded home.
“I hope I still have a home to go to,” Mrs.Schriver said as they trudged up what was left of Taneytown Road. Ahard rain saturated the ground during the night. Their feet sunkdeep in mud, as thick and gooey as when they arrived. Mrs.Schriver, Tillie, and the girls struggled along as the slimesquished under their shoes and sucked at their feet. Muddy wateronce again drenched the hems of their dresses. Only today, theydidn’t have to battle an army marching in the oppositedirection.
The stench of rotting horseflesh, as well asthe flesh of those men laying on the battlefield, still lay thickin the heavy summer air. Tillie put her arm over her nose and mouthand tried to breathe into the fabric of her dress.
She took a new grasp on Sadie’s hand andcontinued walking. Several times, they detoured around horses,bloated to double their size, blocking their way. They took wideberths around groups of dead men lying in rows as they fell.
“Why are their clothes all torn up?” Molliestared at the corpses, their garments in disarray on theirdecomposing frames, as though someone had rifled their bodies.
“Don’t look at them,” Mrs. Schrivercommanded, jerking the child forward.
“Mr. Kitzmiller told us the other day.”Tillie also studied the bodies. “The soldiers often did that tothemselves, looking for their wounds. He told us they knew if theywere gut-shot they’d die.”
“I don’t want to hear any more about soldiersdying or their wounds!” Mrs. Schriver shrieked. “I want to gohome!”
The girls fell silent as they continuedwalking. Hopping over puddles of blood and body parts still lyingin the fields, and around ruined accouterments of battle. Inured tothe destruction around them, they no longer reacted to it.
Nothing compared to the flies. Black massesof bluebottle, blowflies,
