After the Rain: My America 2 (5 page)

Through the pink, dappled light I saw a carriage go by -- the Porter children were riding inside! I imagine they are visiting Mrs. Porter for the Easter holidays.

I am glad to say I did not feel at all empty when I saw them. I did not dwell on their good fortune and riches. I banished even the temptation of thinking such thoughts.

When I got to the market, I filled my basket with strawberries. Also with apples, cheese, and fine brown sugar. It is fun to shop now with a little extra money.

On the way home, I saw a Confederate band leading a group of deserters through the city. All the traffic had come to a stop. The band
played "Ain't We Glad to Get Out of the Wilderness"!

I feel that I, too, have come out of a wilderness, the wilderness of Resentment and Envy.

April 8, 1865

Night and day, Pa is practicing a new song composed by Professor Withers for the orchestra. It's called "Honor to Our Soldiers."

The orchestra will play it on Friday night at Ford's New Theatre, when Miss Laura Keene will be starring in
Our American Cousin.
Pa said he might be able to sneak me into the back of the theater, as it will be Miss Keene's last performance.

Imagine! Ford's New Theatre -- where the Porter children saw
Rip Van Winkle!
I wish they would be in the audience when I'm there.

I wish they would see me leaving with my father --
a violinist in the orchestra!

Oh dear, I am coming under Envy's spell again. Now I want others to envy
me.

Forgive me, Madame Masha.

April 9, 1665

I am baking an apple pie for our Palm Sunday dinner.

Jed must work all day. He has to wait to receive news from the telegraph office about the possible surrender of General Robert E. Lee today.

Later

Jed just came in. He was overjoyed -- and for Jed, that is saying a lot. He told us General Lee has surrendered! He and General Grant
met in Appomattox, Virginia, today, and Lee surrendered his army.

Finally, the war is over!

April 10, 1865

Early this morning, the whole city got the news about General Lee's surrender. The morning paper headline said: "Hang Out Your Banners! Union Victory! Peace!"

By noon, flags waved in the rain all up and down our street.

A great crowd gathered outside the White House. President Lincoln appeared, bright and happy. He told the band to play "Dixie." He said that "Dixie" belongs to all of us again and not just to the South.

A while ago, Pa played "Dixie" himself, and Jed and I danced around the room. Jane Ellen burst into tears. All she could say was, "We are
one nation again. We are
all
free -- black and white."

April 11, 1865

More rain today. But we are still so joyous, it seems that the sun is shining.

Later

Great news! Pa says I can go to the theater with him on Good Friday to see Miss Laura Keene's last performance! All 1,000 seats will be filled, but I can stand in the back, Pa says.

I am trembling with excitement. I sense that I might love the theater more than anything else. Beautiful Miss Laura Keene -- the actors and actresses -- the costumes -- the lights and music!

But what will I wear? I have shot up like a
beanpole in the past few months. My one good dress no longer fits me.

April 12, 1865

Jane Ellen is a saint. She is giving me one of her nicest dresses to wear to Ford's New Theatre on Good Friday. Even though it strains her to sit up, she has promised to stitch the dress to make it smaller at the waist, and she will sew the hem.

Tomorrow night the city will have a Grand Illumination. All the government buildings and homes will be lit up with gas lights. Pa will play with the orchestra on the Capitol steps.

Except for the week we found Jed in the field hospital, these are the greatest days of our lives!

The night was as light as day. Music played and flags waved. Walking past all the bright lamps with Jed and Pa, I thought, "This is the most joyous city on all the earth."

And best of all, my joy will not end. Tomorrow is Good Friday, and I am going to the theater for the very first time. And in just two weeks, our baby will be born.

April 14, 1865

It is cold and windy this Good Friday. Dark clouds hover overhead. I only pray it doesn't
rain, so that I won't get my "new" dress muddy tonight. It is soft yellow with lovely lace. When I wear it, I feel like a young lady and not a child.

Jane Ellen spent some time this morning practicing on my hair. Tonight, she is going to sweep it all up in a bun. I don't think Pa and Jed will even recognize me!

Early evening

I am not going to the theater. Pa said I can't because the afternoon newspaper announced that President Lincoln and his wife have decided at the last moment to go see Miss Laura Keene's final performance.

Pa said security will be very tight. He will not be able to sneak me in.

I cried and carried on after he told me this. Jed and Jane Ellen both tried to comfort me.

Through my tears, I told them that I know I
can go to Ford's New Theatre someday in the future. But I wish it were tonight -- when the President himself will be there! That would be a dream beyond all my dreams! Maybe even Tad will be there. Maybe I could even have met them because my father plays in the orchestra!

Jed promised me that he will take me to the President's House someday when he covers a story there.

I refused to cheer up, though. I still feel most angry and ungrateful.

Late night

I write with a trembling hand. Pa just came home. A terrible calamity took place at the theater tonight. President Lincoln was shot.

The man who shot him leaped from the President's box onto the stage. He rushed into the wings, then vanished outside. He jumped
on a horse in the alleyway and dashed away in the dark.

Pa did not know who the man was.

Mrs. Lincoln started to scream. Soldiers cleared the theater. They carried the bleeding President to a nearby house. He had been shot in the head.

Pa and Jane Ellen and Jed are all weeping. I am writing so I will not lose my mind.

How can this be?

Dear God, spare the life of President Lincoln, please, dear God. He is the father of our nation.

Clouds cover the moon. The night is so dark, it feels like every candle on earth has gone out.

Before dawn

I have not slept. Jed left after midnight to go to the newspaper. He was in a fever of
anxiety. I am very worried about Jane Ellen and Pa.

Pa seems a bit out of his head. For hours he has been pacing the floor, as he did long ago when he discovered Jed was missing in Gettysburg. I hear him talking to my mother in heaven. He is telling her to pray for our fallen leader.

Jane Ellen sobs loudly from her bed. I fear for our baby who is to be born in a week.

I am waiting desperately for news from Jed. I refuse to think the President will die. God will not let him die.

April 15, 1865

Jed returned briefly after dawn. He spoke softly, as if he dared not hear his own cruel words. He said President Lincoln is sinking rapidly. He cannot live much longer. The
President was shot by an actor named John Wilkes Booth. The assassin has not been caught yet.

After he told us the news, Jed wept. Jane Ellen held him and wept, too. Pa and I wept. We all wept and prayed together.

Evening

President Lincoln is dead.

Soldiers and man-hunters are searching the land for John Wilkes Booth.

A cold rain is falling. The sky weeps rain, as it did the morning after the Battle of Gettysburg.

This seems like a terrible dream. I still cannot believe it's true.

We keep weeping. All of us. Our hearts are broken.

Easter Sunday

Our minister, Reverend Crane, said that the President died for our country just as Christ died for the world.

He said that John Wilkes Booth will not escape. The assassin might try to hide in the remotest place. But he will be found. Wherever he is, he will be found.

I still cannot believe our President is lost to us forever. I can't believe he will never lead his people again. Or ride by on his horse. Or stand at the window of his mansion.

Pa has stopped speaking. He is mute with anger and grief.

April
17, 1865

Jane Ellen is not well. I am desperately afraid for the baby. It is due within the week, but I fear Jane Ellen is so filled with sorrow, she will not have enough strength to bring new life into this world.

I tried to interest her in the baby today by asking her what we will name him if he is a boy. We have not yet chosen between Jonathan and Thomas. But she just turned her face to the wall and said she did not care.

Jed stays at the newspaper, and Pa wanders sadly about the city.

I sit at the window, waiting for them both to come home. They must help me comfort Jane Ellen. If anything happens to our baby, that will surely be the end of all of us.

I told Jed that he should stay home for the sake of Jane Ellen and our unborn baby. He is anxious about her, too. But he said he must report the story about the President's funeral. I could see Jed was greatly upset, so I tried to calm him. I told him not to worry -- I would take care of Jane Ellen.

April 19, 1865

Bells toll all over the city.

The sun is blazing today. The cheerful brightness seems to mock our sorrow. It is the day of our President's funeral procession.

On Friday, the train will leave to carry his body back to his hometown in Springfield, Illinois, to be buried. The train will pass through many cities, and thousands of people will see it go by.

Later

Pa could barely speak when he returned home. But Jed described what he saw to Jane Ellen and me.

He said the procession moved slowly down Pennsylvania Avenue to the Capitol. Many thousands took part in the march.

A funeral carriage carried the President's remains. It was draped in black.

Behind the carriage was the President's gray horse. The horse carried no rider.

When Jed told us about the
rider less
horse, I burst into tears. I felt so sad for the gray horse
missing his lost rider. I felt sad for Tad Lincoln missing the father who once rode beside him.

April 20, 1865

There is a $100,000 reward for the capture of John Wilkes Booth, the President's murderer.

Jed says the South will not give shelter to John Wilkes Booth, wherever he is. The South is grieving much like the North, says Jed. Many Southerners think Lincoln was their friend, too. At the war's end, he chose the path of forgiveness instead of revenge.

Jed said that Lincoln once said in a speech that we must all be friends, not enemies. The President had called up the "better angels of our nature" to help us.

I think only our better angels can help my family now. We are all still so sad, we barely
speak to one another. Each of us seems locked in a private room of grief.

April 23, 1865

Jane Ellen is in great pain. She is tossing about on the bed and crying out. Jed is with her, holding her hands and talking gently. Pa has run out to the street to get a carriage to take her to the hospital.

It is pouring rain. I pray, I pray, I pray that Pa can find a carriage soon.

Later

Still pouring rain. Thunder booms in the sky. We are waiting at the hospital. Jane Ellen is in the operating room. Jed is pale and quiet and stares
out the window. Pa is pacing the
floor, whispering to himself, as if asking my mother in heaven for help.

I am writing in my journal, to keep from losing my mind.

Dear God, help us.

Early morning

Pa and I just got home. Jed is staying with Jane Ellen -- and our new baby boy.

Jane Ellen gave birth around midnight.

She bled a great deal. But the lady nurses stopped the blood and said she would be fine. They said the baby would be fine, too.

Pa and I are dead tired. But we are happy. For the first time in many days, our spirits are lifted. On the way home we talked about all the things we'll do with the baby as he grows up. Pa wants to teach him how to play the
violin. I want to read books to him and teach him his letters.

The weather has cleared up. The brightest sunlight pours through our windows now, after the rain.

April 24, 1865

The baby looks quite red and tiny. He is sleeping peacefully at Jane Ellen's side. She is sleeping peacefully, too, though she looks very pale.

I don't want to leave them. I've been sitting here all morning, staring at their sweet faces.

Jane Ellen is going to live. My mother died, but Jane Ellen did not die. Our baby will have a wonderful mother.