Beauty From Ashes (76 page)

The body of Anne’s beloved only son, John Couper Fraser, was moved sometime during the intervening years from Crawford’s Farm in Gettysburg, where he fell, to the Confederate section of Laurel Grove Cemetery in Savannah.

Anne’s father, the still-revered John Couper of Cannon’s Point, St. Simons Island, lies beside his wife, Rebecca Maxwell Couper, in the picturesque cemetery of Christ Church Frederica, as does her erudite brother James Hamilton Couper, his wife, Caroline Wylly Couper, and their children. Anne’s childhood friend Anna Matilda Page King is in her family plot nearby at Christ Church with her husband, Thomas Butler King,

Sr., and their several offspring. 1035

Many, many persons contributed to the writing of this book and will be acknowledged in these pages, but the first name that must be mentioned is Frances Stubinger Daugherty of Marietta, Georgia. A descendant of Selina Fraser Stubinger, Frances is a great lady to whom I have proudly dedicated this book. Frances and Nancy Goshorn, my full-time researcher, spent many hours together here on St. Simons and in Marietta and became warm friends through their close and interesting work on Beauty from Ashes. Because of their work, I wrote the book armed with maps, charts, cemetery and military records, and family histories galore—most of which came to me because of the constant and enthusiastic attention of Frances Daugherty. Dedicating Beauty from Ashes to her sprang from pure joy and a grateful heart, and Frances’s never-failing sense of humor sealed the decision. Here is your book, Frances, and thank you, thank you for so much.

Without one iota of hesitation, I can say that I could not have made my deadline on this manuscript without Nancy Goshorn, who not only handled the complex research but did it with almost

unbelievable patience and cheer. One of the reasons I am still working as hard as ever at my advanced age is that Nancy works with me full-time on research with little or no thought of anything else. She did all the required reading for such complicated research—especially when my eyes began to cause trouble about a third of the way through— and proved her unfailing humor by battling my messy first drafts. Beyond this, she has somehow found time to search for the next story, which we will tackle as soon as I catch my breath. I have four secret weapons, despite my pacifist bent, and one of them is surely Nancy Goshorn, researcher par excellence and my real friend, personal as well as professional.

Of more importance than I actually realize, I suspect, is my “overqualified keeper” and full-time assistant, Eileen Humphlett. Eileen is absolutely needed even more than I can know, because she knows exactly how to keep just enough away from me so that I am able to hold the writing of each long book front and center in my often overloaded mind. Most who are close to me already understand that by nature I’m as vague as my lovable father ever was and that I despise detail and

business. Not only does Eileen 1037 take care of all my bills and taxes, she handles most publisher and agent contacts as well as most correspondence and phone calls (some not easy to handle) and still goes on loving me without a hint of a “smother.” I love being cared for, but I do smother easily with too much attention. One of the most original and energetic minds I’ve ever known belongs to Eileen Humphlett, and I live my days in amazement at her upbeat nature and uncanny ability to laugh at me and with me at all the right times. My publishers continue to rave about the perfection of my final typescripts, and we all have Eileen to thank.

I owe Dr. James Humphlett, Eileen’s disgustingly handsome husband, a heart-deep thank-you despite his insistence on my paying off a dinner wager, even though it was the baseball strike and not their won-loss record that cut the Atlanta Braves out of total victory this year. So, thank you, Jimmy, not only for spending time in Marietta taking pictures for me of the various settings used in this book, but for acting as chief cook and bottle washer at home so that Eileen could devote her

total time and energy to the final editing work on my manuscript in order to meet our deadline. More than you know, dear Jimmy, I thank you for being exactly as you are.

One of Eileen’s best friends is my best friend with whom I share my house, my work, my problems, and my dreams. Most know she is Joyce Blackburn. I doubt that anyone reading this has a true idea of what this means to me, but Joyce, even after thirty-four years of having me underfoot morning, noon, and night, still believes in me—as a writer and, more important to me, as a person. That Joyce, Eileen, and Nance share a special, sympathetic understanding is one of God’s greatest gifts to me because hour by hour I benefit. Joyce and I revel in silence together, we love baseball obsessively, and we share the same concepts of God, real jazz, and politics. She is the only person with whom I can spend all my time and never even think of the word fidget. Let me say that I still believe in her and can’t imagine my days without her.

I was blessed and made happy the very first time I met Jo Couper Cauthorn, to whom I

dedicated Bright Captivity. But 1039 before she had time to read, or I to finish, this book, she died. To say Joyce and I miss her is ridiculous understatement, but we are thankful for the laughs we shared (and they were many) and for the touch of true beauty she left with us. Jo also left behind a special husband, Bob Cauthorn, treasured by us both. And to me she left a permanent impression of what it’s like to have been a real Couper descendant. With all my heart, I hope Jo approves of this book.

My absolutely essential agent-literary manager and friend, Lila Karpf, calls Eileen, Nance, Joyce, and Sarah Bell Edmond my St. Simons Support Group. She’s right. To try to thank Sarah Bell adequately is as impossible as thanking Joyce, Eileen, or Nance. Counting me, we’re a quintet of love and goodwill and downright fun. We all share a faith in the same God, a real passion for baseball and liberal politics, and a mutual understanding one of the other. Sarah Bell takes care of our house, takes care of us, and is as possessive and concerned about the Atlanta Braves as we are. During the

writing of this book, she has donned another hat: I now call her my liaison because she drops off manuscript, research material, and anything else needful from my desk to Nance and Eileen almost daily. How I ever did without her no one knows, and what we would do without her now that she’s become our treasured friend, no one dares think. She and Joyce share such a special bond that to Sarah Bell, Joyce is “Miss Daisy.”

Is it possible for two already close friends to grow closer although life’s circumstances keep them apart? Yes, because Tina McElroy Ansa and I have grown closer during the past months while both of us were hard at work on our novels. Tina, one of America’s truly fine novelists, glows with the spark that causes me to give thanks every day that she is a part of my life. I depend on Tina in far more ways than she is aware of. Just knowing she’s down the Island in her dear house being Tina, for me and for her talented husband, Jonée, matters in a thousand wordless ways.

Nancy Goshorn joins me in thanking the following persons for their invaluable research

assistance: At the wonderful 1041 Georgia Historical Society in Savannah, Director Anne Smith, Jan Flores, and Eileen Ielmini; at the Brunswick-Glynn Regional Library, Director Jim Darby, Marcia Hodges, Dorothy Houseal, Diane Jackson, and Jane Hildebrand; at the Savannah Public Library, Sharen Wixom; at the St. Simons Public Library, Frances Kane and staff; at the archives of the Coastal Georgia Historical Society, Director Linda King and Pat Morris, historian; at the Coastal Heritage Society in Savannah, Executive Director Scott Smith; also in Savannah, Jeff Fulton of the Ships of the Sea Museum and at Fort Pulaski, Talley Kirkland and John Kelton; Joe Thompson at the Wormsloe Historic Site; Curator Roger Durham, 24th Infantry Museum at Fort Stewart, Hinesville, Georgia; and Dennis Kelly at Kennesaw Mountain National Battlefield Park, Georgia.

One of the most likable and helpful persons of all my valued helpers is Buddy Sullivan, until recently editor of the Darien News, now manager of the Sapelo Island National Estuarine Research Reserve. Buddy’s biggest contributions to Nancy and me, aside from his downright pleasant nature, are his fine, careful, fascinating writings—especially his excellent book, Early Days on the Georgia Tidewater (Darien, Georgia: McIntosh County Board of Commissioners, 1990). I could not have worked without it on this novel, and I will be depending still more heavily on Buddy and his excellent material for my next one, planned at and near Darien, Georgia. Thank you, Buddy. Thank you for caring enough to expend all that energy.

I do not feel a stranger in Marietta, Georgia, because through all the years during which I’ve appeared at autographing parties in the Atlanta area, citizens of Marietta have been most loyal to me. I make almost no appearances these days, but my ties to Marietta remain strong and altogether pleasant.

Two of my best friends, Mr. and Mrs. Fred

Bentley, Sr., live in nearby 1043 Kennesaw, Georgia, and if you’ve read other Afwords in my novels, you know that now and then (as in this book) I name a fictional character Fred Bentley. I am truly fond of the Bentleys, and Fred has been of great research help to me through one more novel.

Through the good graces of Frances Stubinger Daugherty, I have been fortunate enough to add new Marietta friends. The first who comes to mind is Anne Fraser’s great-great-granddaughter, Page Sanger, who now lives in Anne’s white-light house and was gracious enough to allow Nancy Goshorn and Frances Daugherty to see and photograph the house. I am well aware that my readers will want to do the same, but from my heart, I beg you not to try to do so. Page Sanger has been generous with us, so offer your thanks, along with mine, by not trying to invade her privacy. She is a charming lady and has been so kind to me, I would consider it a personal favor if she isn’t disturbed. The house is in a section of Marietta now rather built-up and resembles the old house only slightly. I am grateful to Page Sanger, however, for approving

and liking the jacket artist’s concept of Anne’s house in the old days. And for her kindness to us all.

Another descendant who helped by letter and photographs with this book—as she did with Where Shadows Go—is Elizabeth Zervas, who lives now in Calabasas, California. Thank you, Elizabeth and Page.

As an added fine result of Nancy’s visit to Marietta and again through the kindness of my friend Fred Bentley, Sr., I have become telephone friends with two Marietta history authorities, Connie and Dan Cox, who are now in the process of publishing the actual journal of Louisa Fletcher, a favorite character of mine. Both have kept themselves available to me, and I’m deeply grateful.

Another valued friend I’ve acquired long-distance is the delightful Jean Cole Anderson, whose graciousness and enthusiasm have been far more helpful than she probably suspects. She is the daughter of Louisa Fletcher’s grandson, Daniel Webster Cole, whose father, Henry Green Cole, remained a staunch Unionist for all his days. Fred Bentley told me that Henry Cole proved his love of the

states as a union by offering valuable 1045 land for a burial place for both Yankee and Rebel soldiers. Alas, the offer was refused by the Confederates, so to this day his land holds only the remains of hundreds of fallen Union soldiers. Another most helpful lady is Mary Cole, who, with her husband, Bayard Cole (the nephew of Daniel Webster Cole), gave Nancy and me much important assistance, and we thank them so much. Our thanks go also to Iva Fleming and Grace Wilborn of the Marietta, Georgia, Welcome Center and to Jeanie Hunter, my Eileen’s sister, who lives in Marietta and once more came to my rescue.

When I’m stuck in research on almost any subject—in novel after novel—I call, and am always helped by, Stephen Bohlin-Davis of the Juliette Gordon Low birthplace in Savannah. Thanks, Stephen, for having come through still again.

Always the more-than-willing gentleman-to-the-rescue has once more been our good friend T. Reed Ferguson, whose new book, The John Couper Family at Cannon’s Point, I

highly recommend (Macon, Georgia: Mercer University Press, 1994).

Of course, I remain thankful for the good interest and ready help of Dr. William Hitt, and with Beauty from Ashes, I also thank Dr. Mary O’Sullivan of St. Simons.

My continuing gratitude goes also for sometimes personal and always needed help and encouragement of too many close friends to list here, but I especially thank Charlene Tribble, Jimmie Harnsberger, Juanelle and John Edwards, Clara Marie Gould, Frances Burns, Lucy Annand, Mary Porter, Peggy and Dan Buchan, G. G. Greneker, Virginia Hobson Hicks, Agnes Holt, Mary Wheeler, Millie Price, Cindy and Mike Birdsong, Ana Bel Lee Washington, Faith Brunson, Neddy Mason, Eleanor Ratelle, Sara Pilcher, Bobby Bennett, Burnette Vanstory, Rosemary Holton, Theo Hotch, Dena Snodgrass, Ann Hyman and Patricia Barefoot. They will know why. As I hope will my amazingly loyal readers everywhere who, even during the times when

they’re waiting for a new book, go on 1047 writing the most encouraging letters any author could hope for.

By now, everyone at Doubleday—President Steve Rubin, who honors me by retaining for each new novel my dear friend and expert editor, Carolyn Blakemore; Marysarah Quinn, my designer of choice; Whitney Cookman, art director supreme; Rob Wood, artist for the beautiful jacket; Renée Zuckerbrot, my bright, careful, skilled in-house editor, who along with Eileen keeps the ball rolling in my behalf; the entire Doubleday sales staff, especially Bebe Cole, Ellen Archer, publicity director, Jayne Schorn, marketing director; and Emma, my dear friend who sets the welcoming tone at the house as capable receptionist—everyone keeps me convinced that I couldn’t be happier at any other publishing house.

I am especially grateful to Steve Rubin for proving his value again and again by retaining, along with the editorial skills of Carolyn Blakemore, the superior copyediting skills of Janet Falcone. How I depend on

Janet as I write to catch me in all the punctuation and factual goofs and inconsistencies in the manuscript. Another plus: Janet and I are really friends.