Fire by Night (10 page)

Nathaniel Greene climbed onto the platform as the little band finished a waltz. He held up his hands to quiet the crowd. “I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight,” he began, “and for making this fund-raiser for the Christian Commission such a success. I would especially like to thank the bazaar’s organizer, Miss Julia Hoffman, for all her hard work.”

Julia hadn’t expected the hearty round of applause that followed, and it embarrassed her. But she saw a new respect in the minister’s eyes as she modestly accepted his thanks and knew that she had won back part of what she’d lost at Bull Run. She hadn’t flirted with Nathaniel or pursued him since he’d returned but had quietly kept her distance, talking to him only when necessary. Her desire for revenge had long since faded, and she no longer hated him or wanted to have him fired. Indeed, his simple words of thanks tonight made her feel happier than she had in months.

“There,” Arthur whispered, “you’ve received your recognition and reward. Can we go now?”

Julia’s joy dissolved into shame. Arthur Hoyt, of all people, had seen her hard work for what it was—a desire for praise and recognition. If she left now, Nathaniel would see it, too.

“No. It would be rude to leave,” she whispered back. “He isn’t finished speaking.”

“For those of you who don’t know,” Nathaniel continued, “the United States Christian Commission was founded in New York City a few months ago and has quickly sprouted branches in other cities, including Philadelphia. One of our aims is to supplement the food and clothing provisions our soldiers receive, so the items we’ve collected tonight will help immensely. A second goal is to offer moral and spiritual relief to our soldiers in the field. Men who are away from their homes and families for the first time will face many new and evil temptations. Our presence in their midst and the Bibles we distribute can provide strength to help defeat Satan’s wiles. But our founding goal is to win souls for Christ. Men are never more receptive to the Gospel than when faced with their own mortality on the battlefield. It’s the ideal time to tell them of Christ’s love and of the eternal home He has prepared for those who are His own.

“I’m very grateful for your generous support tonight in helping us reach that goal. But I’d also like to ask some of you to consider walking the extra mile that Christ spoke of. The Christian Commission is comprised of ordinary men and women who volunteer their time to talk to soldiers, to serve as nurses, to help share the Gospel, and to distribute Bibles. Where there are battlefields there is real suffering. Jesus gave us the example of the Good Samaritan— the one man in three who didn’t turn his back on a wounded man but dared to get involved.”

Julia felt shame burning her cheeks. She could no longer look at Nathaniel. Even if she organized a hundred bazaars she could never atone for what she’d done at Bull Run. She knew now that she had to go back. She had to return to the battlefield to help the wounded soldiers, not turn her back this time.

“We’re commanded to love our neighbor,” Nathaniel continued, “and our neighbor is the person in need. Beginning next spring, I’ll be taking a leave of absence from the church to offer my services as a Commission chaplain. Please, won’t some of you consider joining me? The Commission needs you to go into the field as nurses and aid workers. Can you spare a few weeks, a month perhaps, for this very important work? Don’t turn your back on our suffering soldiers. Listen for the voice of God. Perhaps He is calling you tonight. … Again, thank you all for making this event a success. Please, enjoy the rest of the evening.”

Julia stood, so moved by Nathaniel’s words that she was ready to become the first volunteer. But before she could make her way through the crowd that quickly surrounded him on the bandstand, her escort blocked her path. Arthur had risen from the table while Nathaniel had been speaking and had disappeared; now he’d returned carrying Julia’s coat. He held it up for her, waiting for her to put it on, a smile barely masking his impatience.

“Come on, Julia, my carriage is out front. It’s time to leave.”

“But the evening isn’t over—and I should stay and help clean up.”

“I’ll send a dozen servants over in the morning to help. Come on.”

There was little she could do but obey. Arthur quickly helped her into her coat and led her outside. She could see her breath in the cold night air. Fresh snow had fallen while they’d been inside, covering the dirty slush and making the city look pretty. Snowflakes sifted gently down as she walked to the carriage, dusting her shoulders like powdered sugar.

Arthur was quiet as they settled inside his enclosed carriage and began to ride. Then he leaned close. “I gave Reverend Greene one hundred dollars tonight for his Christian Commission. Don’t you think I deserve a reward?”

“A reward? What do you mean?”

“How about a little kiss? Right here.” He pointed to his cheek.

Julia knew that Arthur had only attended the bazaar for her sake. It had been very kind of him to support her cause. She decided to oblige and moved closer to kiss his cheek. But as soon as her lips touched his face, he quickly turned his mouth to hers, kissing her fully on the lips. When she tried to pull away, he held the back of her head so she couldn’t escape until he was finished.

“How dare you!” she said when she finally squirmed away. She was afraid she was going to cry. Julia had never been kissed before, although she had long imagined what it would be like, practicing with her pillow in bed at night, pretending it was the man she loved. She had never imagined her first kiss to be stolen from her this way, against her will. She wiped her mouth to rid it of Arthur’s touch, feeling as if she’d been robbed. He saw her reaction and frowned.

“I asked nicely, Julia. Besides, one little kiss is the very least you owe me for being patient tonight. Not to mention generous.”

“A kiss isn’t given in payment for something,” she said, her voice shaking. “It’s a sign of affection between two people who care for each other.”

“I do care for you,” he said, taking her hand in both of his. “And I assumed that you cared for me, too, or you wouldn’t have allowed me to court you all these weeks.”

She pulled her hand away. “Take me home, Arthur.”

“Oh, don’t be childish! It was just a kiss. Besides, did you think I’d wait forever? I’m hardly a monk like your sainted friend Reverend Greene.”

The tears she’d been holding back filled her eyes at the mention of Nathaniel’s name. “I’d like to go home,” she repeated.

“Fine!” He rapped on the window to give the coachman the order, then slouched against the seat with his arms crossed. Arthur didn’t look handsome at all when he was angry. “I was warned that courting you would be a challenge, Julia—like Shakespeare’s
Taming of the Shrew
. I usually enjoy a challenge, but tonight I find your attitude ridiculous.”

Her tears quickly turned to fury at his words. “Since you consider me such a shrew, I suggest you find someone else to take to the Christmas ball. I no longer care to go with you.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” he said, twisting around to face her. “That ball is next week, and I’m not changing my plans now. I’ve invested a great deal of my time courting you, and I don’t intend to see it all wasted just because I stole a silly kiss. There are plenty of other women who would have been grateful for my company all these weeks—and not nearly as stingy with their affection.”

“Then you can just take one of them to the ball.”

Arthur looked furious. “You’d better think twice before you cancel a date with me,” he said, wagging his finger in her face. “I’ll spread the truth about your coldness all over Philadelphia, and you’ll be lucky to find yourself with any suitors at all.”

Julia knew Arthur could make good on his threat, and probably would, but she didn’t care. She grabbed his waving finger and pushed it aside. “Do you really think you can win a woman’s heart with threats?”

“I wonder if you even have a heart, Julia. If you do, it’s as cold as stone. I respect your father a great deal, which is why I agreed to court you. But I may have to speak with him about your behavior.”

Julia closed her eyes, and the tears she’d been holding back began to flow at the thought of disappointing her father. Was it really true that she had a cold heart? Was that the reason she had turned her back on those wounded soldiers?

Neither she nor Arthur spoke again until the carriage came to a halt at last in front of her house. Julia might have relented and given him one more chance if she hadn’t opened her eyes in time to see the look of smug satisfaction on his face.

“I’ll accept those tears as your apology,” he said, taking her chin in his hand, “and I’ll pick you up for the ball as planned.”

Julia’s entire body began to tremble with rage. She pushed his hand away a second time. “I don’t care what you tell my father,” she said. “I don’t care if you’re the last bachelor in Philadelphia. I’d sooner die an old maid than spend my life with a man who thinks he can buy a woman’s affections—not to mention a man who bullies and bribes and threatens her to get his own way. Good-bye, Arthur. Please don’t ever call on me again.” She jumped down from the carriage and ran up the walk to the front door, praying he wouldn’t follow her.

Julia’s father met her in the foyer as she stepped inside. The smile on his face turned to a look of bewilderment as she slammed the door behind her. “Where’s Arthur? We were supposed to have a drink together.”

“I know you think highly of him…” she began, trying to control her tears.

“What’s the matter? Did you two have a tiff?”

“I can’t stand him, Father! He’s arrogant and overbearing, and …and he acts as if he owns me!” She could no longer hold back her tears. They seemed to unnerve her father more than her words.

“Oh, good heavens. Where’s your mother? Martha…”

“No, don’t call Mother. I’m all right. I’ll stop.” Julia quickly pulled herself together. She had tried to make her mother understand how she felt and had gotten nowhere. Her father was her last hope. “I don’t want to talk to Mother, I want to talk to you.”

“To me?” he said in alarm. “What about?”

Julia felt so desperate to explain her unhappiness to her father that her words came out in a rush. “I can’t live this way anymore. I don’t want to stay here and court Arthur—or anyone else. I want to go back to Washington or wherever the war is and become a nurse.

I want to help soldiers—” “Absolutely not!”

“Please, Daddy. If I could just—”

“That sort of work is beneath you. You’re a young woman of the highest social standing, not a common working girl or servant. Besides, it’s highly improper for an unmarried woman to live and work in those army camps amongst such huge masses of men. Do you want to be branded ‘immoral’? No one will ever marry you.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want to get married, especially to a man like Arthur, who thinks he owns me.”

“Now, Julia—”

“I’m terrified at the thought of being trapped with a man I don’t love, the way Rosalie is. And I don’t think I could stand living a life like Mother’s with nothing to look forward to day after day, year after year but endless teas and boring charity events. I want my life to matter!”

He gripped her shoulders, shaking her slightly. “How dare you insult your mother! Her life isn’t worthless—”

“It is compared to Florence Nightingale’s life.”

“Where are these foolish ideas coming from? Don’t tell me you’ve gotten mixed up in the suffrage movement?”

“I don’t want to
vote,
Daddy,” she said in exasperation, “I want to be a nurse. Reverend Greene spoke tonight about the need for volunteers to join the Christian Commission. That’s what I want to do. I want to join the Commission and go into the field.”

“One sermon, Julia, and you’re ready to throw away the life you’ve always known?” His grip tightened, as if he could squeeze such foolish ideas out of her like wringing water from a cloth. “You’d better think this through carefully, because you can’t have it both ways. Do you want respectability and a position in society, a decent husband and a civilized life—or do you want to flit around, ‘mattering’ like some radical suffragette? Those are two opposing things. Now, I won’t hear any more of this foolishness,” he said, finally releasing her. “And I’m certainly not allowing you to run away just because you’ve had a spat with your beau.”

“You’re not listening to me! You’re a judge, Daddy. You’re supposed to listen to people and be fair and impartial.”

“It’s impossible to be impartial when I’m responsible for you.”

“But you’re not responsible for me anymore. I’m an adult now. I can do what I want with my life.”

“Don’t be absurd. You’re a woman, and women need to be protected and shielded all their lives. That’s a father’s job until a woman finds a husband, then the job becomes his. That’s the way civilized societies function.”

On some level, Julia had always known that she would go from being under her father’s protection and authority to being under her husband’s. But hearing the truth put so bluntly made her feel trapped and more desperate than ever to escape. She wanted to scream in frustration, but she knew she’d never change her father’s mind by becoming hysterical. The way to win him over was through calm reason and logic—and by letting a man argue her case.

“I’ll only ask you for one thing, Daddy,” she said, fighting to control her tears. “Come with me and talk to Reverend Greene yourself. Let him explain what the Christian Commission does and tell you about the need for volunteers. Then you can decide whether or not it’s proper for me to go with him.”