A Deeper Sense of Loyalty (36 page)

Mr. Templeton was a gentle, caring man, well suited to his profession. James knew him best as a member of the same church his family attended. Once, when Reverend Tobias was down with consumption, Mr. Templeton substituted for him. He proved to be a fine orator. James climbed down from the wagon and shook hands with the undertaker.

“James, my boy, I didn't know you were home. What has happened?”

“Can I speak to you inside?”

“Yes, of course. Please come in.” He led the way to his office and offered James a seat.

“I must rely upon your discretion, Mr. Templeton. My father shot himself.”

“Dear God, why?”

“The war ruined him. There is nothing left of the plantation, but I believe that my mother's death was more than he could bear. I got home early this afternoon; we talked for a short while. He was visually worn down from all he'd been through, but he seemed rational. Then all of a sudden, something about him was different. Thinking back now, it was as if he'd made up his mind. I believe that he was only waiting to see me again. He wanted an opportunity to speak to me. I didn't know he had a pistol hidden behind his back. He shot himself before I knew what was happening.”

“Tragic,” said Mr. Templeton. “No one could have ever predicted the cost of this terrible conflict. You're father is among many others who were ruined by the war. I know of two other men who took their own lives. I knew your father well, as you are aware. Please accept my most profound sympathies. He will be sorely missed by the entire community, and you may rest assured that you can rely on my complete discretion.”

“I'm grateful, sir.”

“There is something else, James, something you probably don't know. Maybe it isn't my place to tell you this but your uncles, Stanley and Joseph, are gone. They sold out and moved away. I don't know where they went. They tried to get your father to do the same but he would not agree. You're right about one thing though; he
was
waiting for you to come home.”

When James would have bet he could hear nothing more that could make a bad time worse he was wrong. He knew all too well how much the alliance with his uncles had meant to his father. Losing their support was tantamount to losing the war.

Before the shooting, James thought that his father seemed to be in a rational state of mind, but now he wasn't so sure. Had he really concluded that slavery was wrong or was he just trying to make peace with his only son? James would never know. Even if the latter were true, he would still be forever able to take comfort in his father's last words. And he did have one solid consolation: knowing that there were many factors contributing to his father's final actions. There was no reason for him to believe that he alone was responsible for his father's death.

When he had finished making the final arrangements with Mr. Templeton, James asked for a total of the expenses. “There will be no charge, James. I would deem it a privilege to handle this for your father and his heroic son.”

“Heroic?”

“Indeed. I suppose that war secrets are of no importance now. Not more than two months ago your father told me all about your bravery, working for the Confederate Signal Service. He told everybody. Of course he couldn't give us details but we all know how you risked your life for the Southern cause. We are all grateful, James and the hope is that you will rebuild your father's plantation and stay around Macon.”

James was both amazed and confused, not only by Mr. Templeton's words but by his father's deception. Was he trying to save the reputation of the Langdon family name or was he protecting his son? Again, James chose to believe the latter. And if he had any immediate thoughts of telling the undertaker the truth, he soon forgot them. He would not disgrace the memory of his father by having him exposed as a liar.

James drove back to the house and made the necessary preparations at the cemetery. His father's body would be transported to the cemetery the next day and he would be laid to rest beside his wife. Mr. Templeton would deliver the eulogy and James would be the only other witness to the burial. That was the way he wanted it. He did not want a flock of well meaning citizens showering him with undeserved praise. James wished that Kate could be present but there wasn't time. As for Ashton; he had no idea how to reach her.

The following afternoon at one o'clock, the hearse rolled up to the gate of the little cemetery. Mr. Templeton, dressed in a fine black suit, climbed down. They lowered the coffin into the grave, and then prayed that Almighty God would welcome their dear departed brother into heaven.

When the brief service was over, Mr. Templeton said, “It is a dark day, James; not just for you but for the entire nation. We are all in mourning now. President Lincoln was shot last night at Ford's Theater in Washington. He died this morning at seven twenty-two. They say the actor, John Wilkes Booth, was the man who shot him. There is a massive manhunt underway.”

“I had hoped that the killing was over,” said James. I fear the bullet that killed the president has done more harm than all the bullets fired during the war. Mr. Lincoln wanted to heal the nation. Who will do that job now?”

The two men walked away from the cemetery in silence, Mr. Templeton to his hearse, James, to the house. He needed to write a letter to Kate. He walked back to the office and without really knowing why, started cleaning up the mess left behind by the intruders. He put books back on shelves and straightened furniture. There was much that needed repaired or replaced, but when he was finished, it gave him a strange feeling of satisfaction. As he was going through the desk drawers, he came upon his father's will. In accordance with his last wishes, and taking into account the passing of James's mother, the plantation now belonged to James. There were, however, certain provisions for Ashton and Kate.

As he read the words penned by his father's own hand, he realized how important it was to his father that Langdon Plantation should live on after his death. To let it disappear would be the same as rubbing the memory of John Langdon from the face of the earth. James was in a quandary. He had never planned to stay in Georgia; he did not feel that he had any right to stay. His plan had been to go back to Pennsylvania to live when the war was over. Now he was having second thoughts. Maybe he was being given a second chance to honor his father. If he rebuilt the plantation he would be fulfilling his father's wishes. He could run a business, he knew that . . .

James sat back in his chair and took a long look around. Suddenly he knew what he must do, it was all very clear. He would write to Kate and tell her to come home. He would find Ashton, somehow, and convince her to do the same. He would go to Mapletown, pack up his family and say farewell to a wonderful town and some wonderful people. No matter what was necessary, Langdon Plantation would flourish again, this time without slavery. James could almost envision his parents looking down from heaven . . . and they were smiling.