“They’re starting to move us out.” A soldierventured to tell her. “We’re going to a place called David’s Islandin New York.” He sat up.
“I’ve never heard of it before.” She passedthe food around to the boys.
Stopping in front of the boy with the gingercolored hair, she studied his face. “I remember you. I told you Iwould.” She waited, giving him a chance to respond, but he staredat her, silent. “You were outside our house after church, tyingyour shoe, a day or so before the fighting started. I was rude toyou.” She offered him some gingerbread, but he didn’t move. She setit on a stand next to his cot. “I’m sorry about that.” Sheremembered his smile, the way his cheeks dimpled, his salute cockyand full of superior confidence.
She eased herself down. “My name is Tillie.What’s yours?”
He turned his face away.
“Aw go on, talk to her,” someone challenged.“She ain’t gonna bite ya.”
The boy remained silent.
“You were tying your shoe when we walked by.You gave me a salute and went on your way.” She put her hand on hisarm.
He withdrew his arm. Still he saidnothing.
About to give up trying, she started to risewhen another thought struck her. “Listen.” She stood, clasping herhands in front of her. “You’re angry and I understand.” She didn’texpect a response, but his face blotched almost purple. He glaredat her.
“You understand?” he sneered in a thick,Southern accent. “You understand what it’s like to lose everything,do you?” He lifted his leg minus his foot, which he dropped back onthe cot. “You people took everything from me and more, so don’ttell me you understand. I don’t want your understanding or yourpity!” He snatched up the gingerbread and flung it at her. “Go awayand leave me be!”
She blinked a slow, deliberate blink andunclenched her jaw. She folded her lips under her teeth andsqueezed, wanting to slap him. Instead, she bent and gathered thecrumbs. “You haven’t lost everything.” Her tone remained friendly,but now held an edge. Rather than meet his eye, she brushed bits ofgingerbread from her skirt. Her shoulders drew back, and she stareddown at him. “You lost your foot.”
She walked away.
* * * *
Tillie walked toward the dining hall. Anorderly brought the men their lunch, which reminded her it had beenhours since breakfast. Hungry, she headed to the mess tent, but shecouldn’t get the boy with the ginger colored hair off her mind. Howto reach through his hostility and pain?
Her knees knocked together as she approached.Last week, someone threw food at her, splatting the floor in frontof her. The harassment began when she started helping on the otherside. She understood what the doctor meant when he doubted shewould come back, and because of his sarcasm, she refused toquit.
Now, most everyone ignored her. She couldn’tdecide which was worse. She stepped into line with a pounding heartand sweaty palms. Her hands shook as she grabbed a plate. She madeher selections and walked down the rows of tables, looking for aplace to sit. Two weeks ago, people invited her to sit with them,but now, they turned away or blocked her from sitting down. Shecouldn’t help feel she ran a gauntlet every lunchtime, but remainedconvinced she was doing the right thing.
Spying Nellie Auginbaugh at a table talkingwith her cousin and a couple of civilian doctors, Tillie walkedover. “May I sit with you?”
Nellie’s cousin snorted. The doctorsconcentrated on eating. Nellie stared. “Of course.” She grabbed herplate, rising to her feet. “We were just going. We have to get backto our boys.”
Tillie sat with a heavy sigh and ignored thedoctors across from her. She closed her eyes to pray over her food,but hot tears squeezed between her lashes. Oh, Lord, am I wrong?What should I do? She opened her eyes, sniffed, and forced herselfto eat, even though her appetite disappeared. She chewed andswallowed without tasting, keeping her eyes on her plate. Her headjerked up when a warm hand covered hers.
“No need for tears, Miss Tillie.” A softIrish lilt fell on her ears like comforting musical notes. Thechaplain settled across from her.
She touched her face. Her fingers came awaywet. Her fork clattered to the plate as she covered her face andwept. She dropped her hands, sniffing. “I’m so confused. Did I getit wrong?”
“Get what wrong?” He cocked his head andchewed.
“I thought God wanted me to go over to theConfederate side and help those boys. They have no one. So manypeople serve our Union boys, but those boys are alone. At theWeikerts’, I cared for Union and Confederate alike, and no oneseemed to think that wrong. Now I’m a pariah.” Every ounce of hermisery she poured out in her speech. “I thought God wanted me to goover and help them.”
“Oh, but we must be careful not to presume toknow what God wants for us, don’t we now.” He wagged a finger ather. “Still, I see the good you’re doing. I care for the spiritualneeds of those boys. They speak highly of you.”
Despite her tears, she smiled.
“Pride goeth before the fall, my dear.” Herolled the R when he said pride. Frowning, he scooped anotherforkful of food.
Her brow creased. “What do you mean?”
He swallowed. “You smiled when I said theyspeak well of you. I understand you feel complimented, to be sure,but we must be careful of letting the devil get a foothold, by thepride in being so well thought of.”
“More like, I’m glad someone appreciates whatI’m doing. Do you think I’m presuming what God wants for me? Iwondered about it last night, so I went to the Bible. SecondCorinthians seemed to make things clear. ‘All things are of God,who hath reconciled us to himself by Jesus Christ and hath given tous the ministry of reconciliation.’ So I thought I did the rightthing.”
“Well, who am I to argue with SecondCorinthians?” He sipped his coffee and put his cup down. A goldcross, pinned to his lapel, caught the light. A soft smile touchedher lips. Always a teacher when she needed one. Thank you,Lord.
“You rather put me in mind of
