The Last Full Measure (12 page)

"You'll just have to be firm, David. Set boundaries. She adores you; you know that."

He'd groaned then. And ever since he worried that something was going to happen to me. And he'd have to answer to Pa. I told myself that's why he was so mean. That, and because it ate at him that he was not able to go for a soldier. I told myself that all the time.

***

S
OON AS WE
finished the dishes, David had to take Josie home to fetch some black clothing for the funeral and to check on her mother. They were quick about it, and when they returned she asked me to come upstairs and help her do up her hair.

She always wore her hair the same way, Josie did, and so I knew there was something amiss. The only reason she was attending the funeral in the first place was because she'd offered to help out with the refreshments afterward.

David hadn't wanted her to go. They'd had quick, quiet words about it before he'd agreed to take her home, but she was going anyway. I was glad to see him give in, glad to realize that he could not always get his way with her. That no matter how much she loved him, and I know the boundaries of her love went far, that she would not let him dominate her.
She is good for him
, I thought. He needed that.

Upstairs, I found that she needed more than help with her hair. She needed, desperately, to talk.

"We scarce spoke a word all the way to my house and home again," she told me. "And it wasn't anger on his part because I'm going to the funeral. It had nothing to do with that." She was fussing with her hair. Now she stopped, dropped her hands to her sides, and looked at me.

"Oh, Tacy, he still
loves
her. He still loves Jennie Wade!"

"She's dead," I reminded her.

"But it's all come back to him, how much he loves her. And I don't think he loves me anymore, if he ever did!"

I did the only thing I could do. I put my arms around her. "He loves you, Josie," I told her. "He's just being moody right now. It'll pass. David is nothing if not moody. And you are the only one I've ever met who can pull him out of it."

She looked me in the eyes. "May I confide in you, Tacy?"

"Of course."

"You won't ever let on to him that I told you?"

"I promise. As you can see, David and I don't get on the way we used to anymore."

"He had best love me, Tacy. Oh dear Lord, he had best love me. I've given myself to him. Do you know what I mean?"

I told her yes, I knew what she meant. And I told her then that if David had given himself to her in that way it surely meant that he loved her. Because my brother David seldom gave of himself, with his feelings, to anyone, ever, if at all. And as for the heartfelt love, the physical love, I doubted whether he had ever bestowed it upon any other woman at all.

She quieted down then. "Do you really think I haven't lost him, then?" she asked. "Do you really think that he'll come back to me?"

I did not know, for I did not know if I would ever get my old brother David back again, either. I seriously doubted it. But I lied and said yes.

***

A
FTER MAMA
and Josie left for the funeral, Marvelous wanted to go to the church to see her mother, and so David said he would take her. He was torn between allowing me to stay home with Corporal Halpern, who was intent on going back to his unit as soon as David returned, and taking me with him and Marvelous.

"I want to stay with Corporal Halpern and say good-bye," I told him. "We've become friends."

David was not about to give me anything I wanted this morning, despite any promise he made to Mama about being nice to me.

"You come with me," he said. He said it right in front of Halpern. I don't know where my brother got his boldness sometimes. I know he liked Halpern, too.

"I'm staying," I told him firmly.

It was chancy. He raised his eyebrows at me. "You going to mouth me now?"

"Yes."

He sighed, wearily. "You want to spend the day in your room?"

We were in a deadlock, which Halpern broke.

"I promise, sir," he said quietly, "I'll be on my honor with Tacy. I think too much of her. And you, to act otherwise."

The "sir" business gave David a turn. Nelson Halpern was scarce two years younger than David.

Taken aback, David said all right, I could stay. He knew Nelson had his musket, in case any runaway Reb wandered in. And so he left with Marvelous.

When they were gone, I got some paper and pencil and invited Corporal Halpern to sit with me on the couch. "The first thing is, we exchange addresses," I told him. And so we did. I took the name of his unit, and then I ran upstairs and found a likeness of myself. My brother Joel had sketched it and it was true to life. It was in a locket.

"I've been keeping this, hoping to give it to someone someday," I told him shyly.

"You sure you want to give it to me? Maybe there's someone else you should be saving it for."

Because he had made the promise to my brother to be honorable and I knew he would not break it if a hundred Rebs were at the door, I kissed his cheek when I gave him the locket. "I'd rather give it to you than anybody else in the world," I said.

He'd just shaved this morning. His face was smooth and soft. So were his lips when he turned to kiss me.

I never forgot Nelson Halpern. He was the first young man who ever kissed me.

***

W
HEN DAVID
returned I was fixing up a parcel of food for Nelson even as Mama would do, and wrapping it in a brown cloth. Then he and David said goodbye out on the front steps and he was gone.

It was awkward when my brother came back. The courthouse clock struck eleven, and he just stood there for a while out on the front steps. I heard music from a distance, saw our troops ushering some ragged Confederates out of town at bayonet point. I opened the front door behind David and saw dead soldiers in the street, theirs and ours. Dead horses, too. And people coming out, up and down the street, to sweep and wash off their front steps. From a distance I could see wagons rumbling into town, likely farmers bringing in food, eggs and milk and such.

Food. I knew then what to say to David. "Do you want lunch?" I said to his back.

"Too early for lunch."

"Well, I'm about starved. And I'm going to make lunch. You can eat or not. It's up to you."

I started back to the kitchen when he turned. "Tacy?"

"What?"

"You're being damned mouthy to me this morning."

Oh, God. "Do you want bacon or ham with your eggs? We have both."

"Did you hear what I said, Tacy?"

"I'll make both."

The coffee was done. I'd made it earlier, given a cup to Nelson before he left. David came over to the stove just as I was pouring a cup. "What in hell is wrong with you, Tacy?"

I handed him the cup of coffee and he took it. Across it our eyes met. "Same thing's wrong with you. I'm crying inside over Jennie. Just like you are. And outside over Nelson. Same's you are over Josie. Only I'm not afraid to admit it."

"I ought to smack your behind for that."

I shrugged, picked up the bowl of egg mixture, and poured it into the fry pan. "You wanna slice the bread or do I have to do that, too? Last time I cut my finger. It bled pretty bad."

He took the bread board, knife, and bread over to the table and began to slice.

I minded the omelet. "I'm afraid I'm never going to see Nelson again," I told him. "I'm afraid he's going to get killed in the war. And I liked him lots."

"If Meade pursues Lee today instead of letting him get away, the war could soon be over," he said.

He sat down at the table with his coffee. "How much is lots?"

"I don't know. How much is it supposed to be?" I fetched two plates, filled them with omelet, bacon, some ham, and set them on the table.

He commenced eating quietly for a moment.

"You asking me?" he said. "You asking
me
about love? Is that what you're doing?"

I looked down at my plate. "I figure you must know."

"Oh you do, do you?"

I nodded, but I did not look at him. "How can you be sure when love is real?" I asked. "And when it isn't?"

He took his sweet time about answering. "When it makes you miserable," he said quietly, "that's when it's real. When it makes you want to die one minute and live forever the next. When"—and here he paused to take a sip of coffee, put his cup down, and looked right at me—"when you would do anything in the world for this person. Follow this person into hell and you don't care who knows it. That's when it's real."

He bit his bottom lip. He scowled. He was somewhere else now, not here with me. And he was angry.

And then he was here with me, again. He looked up at me across the table. "What did she say to you before I took her home this morning?"

"Who?"

"You know damn well who. Josie. When she asked you to go upstairs with her and help her with her hair. Josie never needs help with her hair. What did she say?"

"I can't tell, David. I promised."

"The hell you promised. Anyway, you owe your loyalty to me. I'm your brother. I'm the one who takes care of you. Who would fight to the death for your honor if I had to. Tell me,
what did she say?
"

"You told me not to interfere with you and any woman, David."

"Tell me!"

I hadn't really promised. Josie hadn't asked me to. "She was afraid you didn't love her. That you were still in love with Jennie. She asked me if I thought that you would come back to loving her again."

"And what did you say?"

"Oh, David!"

"Tell me."

"I told her yes, you would."

He scowled at me so that I wanted to duck under the table. He contemplated the whole business for a minute, worrying it to the bone. And then the frown vanished and he said in a low, kind voice. "Would you get me some more coffee, sister, please?"

T
HEY BURIED
Jennie Wade in the garden behind her sister's house.

"Can't get near a cemetery," Mama said when she came home, "and with all the plots needed now, well, they're worth gold."

Anyway, Mama went on, out of a desire to fill the silence, I suppose, that Jennie belonged there, with the flowers in the backyard. Nobody said anything, except Josie. She said she thought she might set herself to baking, that other women at the funeral had told her they were going home to do the same thing.

"I think I'll just whip up some biscuits and gruel to bring over to Christ Lutheran, if it's all right with you, Mrs. Stryker," she said.

"It's fine with me," Mama told her, "but it'd be even more fine if you started calling me Nancy."

Josie looked startled. "Oh, I couldn't do that, ma'am," she said.

Mama sighed sadly. "I do so long sometimes to hear my name. With my husband away so much, there's no one in the house to say it."

Mama was so clever. Josie smiled. "All right, then, Nancy. I'm going to make some biscuits and gruel, real quick-like, and bring it over to the church."

"Better be quick-like," David put in. "It's fixin' to rain soon. Tacy, why don't you help her."

***

B
ECAUSE THERE
was still some rifle fire being exchanged in town, David took Josie and her supply of food over to the church the back way. I didn't offer to go with them, for I wanted to give them this chance alone. I told them it was already starting to rain and I had to walk Cassie, which indeed I did. They had to make a couple of trips back and forth with the food and I thought,
Good, it will do them good. Better yet if they get wet together
.

It was when they were making their second walk over and I was lingering with Cassie in the backyard, getting somewhat wet myself, that I heard the thunder.

At least I thought it was thunder. And in a way it was.

The thunder of horses' hooves, coming down our street in front of our house.

There were breastworks a bit up from our house, set there by the Confederates, for what reason I did not know, and I doubt if they knew either. For by now it had become clear to me that the Confederates' reasons had been vague about most everything they did. What happened, I think, is that this bunch of horses had escaped of a sudden from somewhere, and now found themselves free, and decided to run down our street.

Then they came upon the Confederates' breastworks and halted for a second, likely thinking
What in the name of all that is holy is this? Have the Rebs no sense at all? Do they think this can stop us?

So, after thinking about it half a second, they did what came naturally, which was to go around the breastworks, which meant going through the nearest open front door of a house and passing right through it, one at a time, right onto the wooden back porch, and off it into the backyard, which they found very pleasing.

Now this house was about three houses away from ours. And the woman who owned it, Mrs. Netherwood, happened to be sweeping off the back porch at the time and just stepped aside quickly enough to avoid being trampled to death.

We heard later that she threw away her broom, raised up her arms, flew aside, and yelled, "Oh, Lord, what will come next?" Which ought to give a body an idea of what kind of a state the citizens of Gettysburg were in at this juncture.

Anyway, there I was, three houses down in our yard with Cassie, who was already in a state of apoplexy. So I ran her into the house and came out again to see what was going to take place next.

There were about six horses. And they had found the grass in Mrs. Netherwood's backyard more than pleasing. They found it downright delectable. All but one horse, who had lifted up its head and was sniffing the rainy air in my direction. And then walking slowly and sniffing toward me.

Ramrod!

My own Ramrod!

No
, I told myself,
it can't be
, even as she kept walking through the yards, coming to me.
This does not happen in real life
, I told myself.
Stolen horses do not come home again. That happens only in happily-ever-after books where the frogs turn into princes and the cruel stepmother gets what is coming to her. Never in real life
.