“He hasn’t left yet. He’s standing byFather’s shop.”
“Father wanted to cut him a choice piece ofmeat to take home to his family. He leaves Thursday morning forCarlisle. I won’t see him tomorrow, since he has things to do toprepare to go and we have all of this to preserve.” Maggie flickedher hand over the garden.
“Oh.” Tillie focused on the task. “What aboutthe fruit trees?” She glanced toward the apple and peach trees.Only green fruit dangled from their boughs. “The peaches will beready in a couple of weeks, but the apples, of course, won’t beready until mid-August so we shouldn’t worry about them. Do youagree?”
Her sister’s attention remained on George,deep in conversation with Father.
“Maggie?” Tillie touched her sister’s arm.The cotton sleeve, warmed by the sun, nestled softly under herhand.
Maggie started. “Whatever you want, Tillie.”Her voice sounded vague and despondent. Tears welled in the cornerof her eyes, spilling down the side of her nose.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want George to go. I’m afraid,”Maggie choked out.
“He’ll be all right. I’m sure of it.” Thewords rang false to Tillie even as she said them. Would George beall right? Foreboding washed over her. Her heart pounded, and herhands shook. She grasped her skirt and squeezed the fabric to stillthe tremors.
Maggie uttered a small laugh. “You know, forthe longest time, I didn’t think you liked George.”
Tillie offered her sister a wry grin. “I likehim, I guess. I will admit to jealousy.”
“Why?”
“Because,” she knelt in the dirt, “you don’tlike to do things with me anymore. We used to go up to Culp’s Hilland pick berries and flowers, but now all you do is stay home andwait for George to visit.”
Maggie sat next to her. “I’m sorry. I didn’tknow you felt that way. It’s not so much I’m waiting around forGeorge, but I’m grown up now. I wager in another year or so you’llfeel the same way.” Maggie took her hand. “No matter what, you’remy sister and nothing can change that.”
Tillie threw her arms around Maggie in afierce hug. “I’m sorry, too. When George started coming around, Ididn’t like it. I didn’t want him changing things.” She pulled awayand chuckled. “You know, sometimes I get so frustrated with thesameness of each day, I want to scream. Other times, I feel as ifI’m balancing on the edge of a precipice. I can’t explain it. Iwant things to change if only for some variety, but I also don’twant anything to change.”
“I understand.” Maggie squeezed her hand. “Itreminds me of those wooden tops Father made for the boys,remember?”
“Tell me.”
“They had strings you wound around the top,and when James threw his on the floor, the top spun and spun beforewobbling to a stop. But William’s top always staggered around andcrashed into the walls.”
Tillie laughed. “I bet he got mad. He hatesbeing second to James in anything.”
“Including birth.” Maggie chuckled.
Tillie inspected a tomato plant. Thebasil-like aroma filled her nostrils. She moved on. “Is that howyou felt? Like William’s top?”
“Most of the time. When I was scared andunsure I whirled in confusion. I was James’s top when things wentright.” Maggie plucked two large green tomatoes. She set them intoher basket. “You know, William’s top is how we act when we take oureyes off God, or refuse to acknowledge Him. James’s top is whathappens when God comes first in our lives in all things.”
Tillie scowled and let her fingers search thepeapods and green beans as she considered Maggie’s words. Theyworked in silence for a few minutes.
“So did George propose?”
Again, Maggie’s eyes darted to the butchershop. Tillie followed her gaze. George was gone.
“Maggie?”
“No, he didn’t. To propose now would befoolhardy. He’s not the only man to join the army, I know that, butI’m afraid something will happen to him.”
The hair rose on the back of Tillie’s neck.“Oh, don’t think that way. He’ll be fine, and once he comes home abrave soldier, he’ll ask for your hand.”
Maggie opened her mouth, but a strangeexpression crossed her face. She closed her mouth again and pickedvegetables.
Tillie observed her sister and waited forwhat she might say.
Maggie dropped cucumbers into her basket.“You’re right.” Her lips twitched. “Besides, it’s all in God’shands. I must be brave and give George to God.”
Maggie picked more cucumbers and placed theminto her basket while Tillie searched the peapods.
“Did you read the newspaper in the sittingroom?” Maggie’s voice sounded frightened.
Tillie closed her eyes, and her shouldersdrooped. “Yes.”
“Father doesn’t think the Rebs will come.”Maggie spoke above a whisper. “But what if they do?”
Tillie sat back and folded her hands in herlap. “Most of the time I believe him, but sometimes I’m not surewhat to think.” She plucked a baby peapod. “There’s something inthe air. I can’t explain what, but I sense it. I’m teetering onthat precipice, and I’m afraid of falling off.” She twirled thepeapod between her fingers. “I don’t know what made me speak so,except George is leaving day after tomorrow. James and William aremiss—gone.” She dropped the pod into her basket. “I don’t knowabout giving George—or James or William, for that matter—to God. Ijust hope the Rebs stay away.”
“I agree.” Maggie twisted a pitiful greentomato off the vine, topping off her basket. “I pray the Rebs don’tcome and all the men we love will come home safe.”
Tillie nodded her agreement, but the headlineloomed before her eyes: Rebels Reported In Chambersburg, CarlisleAnd York, Looting Rampant. The words screamed for her attention,along with two other words: They’re coming.
Chapter 3
When Tillie arrived home from school, thesmell of coriander, pepper, and vinegar assaulted her nostrils. Sheran upstairs and changed into her everyday work dress, beforejoining Mother and Maggie in the kitchen.
They were already working to preserve thevegetables picked the day before. Tillie slipped her clean, whitecotton apron over her head and tied the strings behind herback.
“Oh, good, you’re home.” Mother used herforearm to wipe sweat off her forehead. The pickling process,something they usually did in autumn’s cooler months, left thekitchen stifling. “Why don’t you start at the kitchen table? Maggieand I have things at the stove well in hand.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Tillie settled at the table.She washed green beans, soaked them in
