Wellington Cross (Wellington Cross Series) (19 page)

Ethan also pulled out photographs of my parents and Jonas, and
finally a bundle of letters tied up in a lavender-colored ribbon, which he
handed to me.  I sat down on the settee and took the ribbon off and began
reading the love letters I had gotten from Ethan when we were courting. 
Ethan sat beside me, our legs touching lightly, and read with me.  Some
were written while we were in our early ‘teens when we finally started seeing
each other as more than friends.  They were amusing, and we both laughed
at some of them.  Others were written during the war and were much more
serious.  One in particular read:

“My dearest Maddie: 

I have not slept for two days.  We are very busy in battle
– I cannot tell you where.  I’ve seen more blood and pain than I care to
see for the rest of my life.  I only want to see your beautiful face, your
green eyes that sparkle in the sun, your wavy brown hair that gently caresses
your shoulders, and I long to feel your loving arms around me.  Oh! 
How I wish this war would end so I could come home to you, my love.” 
It was
dated 1863.

Next I read a poem he had written:

“It is the saddest thing

           
To finally fall in love

Then to be taken away

           
From that love.

Nevertheless it will be

           
The sweetest thing

To be reunited

           
Once again…

And all the turmoil

           
And pain

                       
And sadness

Will be replaced

By
the  wonderful love

Shared only by two.”

“What a beautiful poem, Ethan.”

I found some letters that I had written to him, as well. 
He couldn’t keep them all, he said, as he had lost some in the process of
moving around during the war, but he was able to keep a small few. 

One letter I wrote said,

“Dearest Ethan: 

My mother died.  I abhor bringing bad news to you while
you’re out there fighting, but I had to pour out my grief.  I’m
devastated.  I don’t know how I’ll live without her.  She got sick
and never recovered.  I hate this war.  I need you so much,
Ethan.  I wish you were here to comfort me.  Your dear mother and
Fanny came to comfort me and help me bury my mother.  We had to do it in
the dead of night, tromping across the lonely grounds of the plantation, trying
to carry a heavy load in a respectful way.  She and Fanny will be staying
here with me now, for which I am grateful.  I hope this letter finds you
well, my love. 

Forever Yours, Maddie.”

Tears streamed down my face.  I read another letter from
Ethan that followed the one I wrote to him about my mother.

“My dearest Maddie:  I’m so sorry about your mother. 
She was a dear lady.  I fervently wish I was there to comfort you in your
time of need.  As I cannot be there, I will simply send you my love
through this letter and hope it helps you to feel a small token of hope and
happiness.  It’s not much better here on the warfront. I saw a good
comrade of mine get killed in a battle.  It was horrible.  I need you
every bit as much as you need me.  Yours, Ethan

Finally, I read a letter from Ethan, dated early 1865: 

“My darling Maddie:  Things don’t look too good for us right
now.  I don’t know if the South will win this thing or not.  We’re
giving it our best.  If I ever make it out of here alive, I want to marry
you as soon as possible.  I wish now that I had married you when I came to
see you last summer.  I miss you so much, it’s painful – more painful than
these battered shoes with holes that allow rocks to jostle around inside. 
Will you continue to wait for me?  I love you forever.  Yours,
Ethan.”

“Ethan, this helps me so much!  I remember reading that
last one.  I actually do!”  I had tears rolling down my cheeks,
remembering the things that happened in these letters.  He gently wiped
the tears away and kissed both my cheeks and then my mouth.  I sighed with
pleasure.

“What do you remember?” he asked quietly, his arm lingering on
my back.

“Everything,” I said.  I closed my eyes again, and memories
came in like a flood.  I described to him that during the war, I used to
get a big bunch of letters all at one time, and then nothing for six months or
more.  I read some of those letters down by the river at my home, Magnolia
Grove.  I read the last letter while staying at Edgewood House, where
Clarissa and I had moved towards the end of the war.  Ethan had snuck onto
my plantation while he was on furlough, and convinced us to go over there to
get away from the Yankees.  Edgewood was a Gothic style house on the
outside, but Southern design on the inside with the most beautiful open
staircase that wound up to the third floor.  We fed both Yankees and
Confederates corn cakes and coffee over there, staying with the caretaker, Mr.
Rowland and his daughter, Lizzie, a shy young lady who waited for her beau to
return from the war, like we all did.  I just remembered…hers didn’t come
back.  We also had church services there during the war since Westover
Church was used as stables by the troops.

I frowned, remembering those hard times of war.  Father had
gone off to war and came back in a pine box.  Mother died of pneumonia
after months and months of lying in bed, pale and lifeless, coughing up blood,
while soldiers from both sides came and went from our home.  They’d come
in and taken a lot of our furniture for firewood and lamp oil since it was
scarce.  One particular Yankee slit my wrist when I refused to have
relations with him.  He left me alone when I poked him in the eye with a
fireplace poker. Clarissa and Fanny came over as soon as they heard my mother
had passed, so that I wouldn’t be alone with the Yankees. 

Dozens and dozens of wounded Yankee soldiers were brought on the
lawn of my home, and Doc Parsons came to help in their care, awaiting Union
ships to take them away to a real hospital.  Clarissa had already taken
good care of Union soldiers and Confederate prisoners while at Wellington, and
General McClellan was thankful and agreed to give her a Safeguard to travel
over to Magnolia Grove, so that both plantations would not be harmed.  It
was put in writing, and also two Union soldiers were posted at the gates of
Magnolia Grove when she arrived, stating that we wouldn’t be harmed. 
However, they didn’t stop us when we escaped to Edgewood with Ethan.

Finally, I remembered Fanny.  She and I became good friends
during the war, cleaning bloody wounds, watching soldiers die.  Blood and
stench.  Running out of bandages for the wounded, having to tear up our
dresses and even our underwear to use.  That’s why I had no
underwear.  She, however, would not help me bury my mother.  I was
advised to bury her at night because Union ships patrolling the James River
would fire on any suspicious activity at the plantation.  Fanny was too
superstitious to venture into the graveyard after dark, so Clarissa and I
carried her all the way to the family graveyard, which was a quarter of a mile
from the manor, close to the woods.  We even had to dig her grave by
ourselves.  Jake and Zeke wouldn’t help either.  It was hard, dirty
work, and took most of the night.

Tears poured down my face again.  I felt Ethan’s arms go
around mine then, and I cried softly into his chest, telling him my memories of
death and pain and war, and burying my mother.  I cried so much, like I’d
never really cried over the war at all.

After a few moments, I dried my eyes, and Ethan released
me.  I looked into his sweet face, and then I had more memories of us
while courting.  Swimming in the river in our underwear in the summer till
our skin pruned.  Dancing with him at Hannah’s home at a big party when
we’d turned 16.  Our first kiss at Magnolia.  Ethan sneaking up to my
plantation by rowboat at twilight, stealing more kisses by the river in the
moonlight.  Trying to find a girl for Jonas so he would let us be
alone.  Getting one of mother’s slaves to bring me by carriage to Ethan’s
home so I could milk his cows and brush his horses, just to be close to him.

 “I remember more our courtship, Ethan.  Dashing young
Ethan, always trying to get my attention.  You used to come over to my
house on those wild bucks and show off how good you could ride them.  Do
you remember that?”

“Yes.  I also remember you coming over here and cleaning up
the horse stalls, milking the cows, anything you could think of, just to see
me.  Do you remember that?”

“Yes, I do,” I said excitedly.

I picked up his hands and held them tightly, remembering the joy
I had when he came home from the war on furlough to propose to me, how grown-up
he looked, seeing him with a full beard for the first time.  Then
remembering him coming home when the war was over and we could finally have our
wedding.  I remembered our life as a newly married couple, all the happiness
and joy we shared.  It filled my heart with love; the love I had
remembered, and the new love I had begun to feel for him since coming
back. 

I looked out the window at the trees swaying in the wind, and
then I remembered our honeymoon.  We’d spent our wedding night here in
this, our new bedchamber, and then traveled to Williamsburg for two nights at
the King’s Arms Tavern – I remembered it then.  Edward had arranged us to
stay there and paid for it, and also gave us some frivolous money.  Ethan
had purchased a beautiful satiny green dress for me with a plunging bodice that
he said made my green eyes sparkle.  We’d had a wonderful time wandering
through the gardens, enjoying cuisine in the tavern, and consummating our
marriage in the upstairs bedchambers.  I remembered coming back to
Wellington to these rooms and how long it took for Ethan to finish them, how
long we had to live with sawdust, adding a piece of furniture at a time until
all the rooms were completed.

Finally, I remembered being with child.  For the first
time, I remembered what it felt like to carry a baby inside me.  The joy
when she first moved, and Ethan and I watched as an arm or leg moved across my
belly, just under the skin.  I remembered having her in this bed,
surrounded by Clarissa, Fanny, and a mid-wife named Ruth Parsons, Doc Parsons’
wife.  Ethan had been pacing the hallway just outside the door; I could
hear his footsteps.  I remembered the pains of childbirth and the joy of
seeing her sweet face for the first time. 

“Oh, Ethan.  I remember having Lillie.  Right here in
this very room.  I remember seeing her for the first time, and seeing you
hold her for the first time.  I remember that she was named after our
mothers – Lillie was my mother’s middle name, and Rose was your mother’s middle
name.  I remember everything.  I remember courting, our wedding, our
honeymoon, building these rooms together, all of it.  I don’t feel lost or
incomplete anymore.  I know who I am and what my name is.  I am
Madeline Chambers Wellington, wife to a wonderful man and mother to a beautiful
daughter.  Thank you, Ethan, for bringing me up here.  Thank you for
making me whole again.”

I hugged him tightly and then jumped up, pulling him by the
hands, much to his surprise, and began dancing around the room in a fast
waltz.  I was giddy and so very happy.  Ethan danced and laughed with
me.  I realized that it should come as no surprise that the rooms in this
house that meant the most to me – the ones I shared with Ethan, my husband, my
love – would be the place where the bulk of my memory was restored.

We slowed the dance down and kissed and kissed, holding each
other in a tender embrace.  “Oh, Maddie.  I’m so glad to have you
back,” Ethan said softly, and I could see he was holding back tears of
happiness.  “It was well worth the wait, to see this look on your face now
that you remember me fully.  I’m so happy.”  He kissed me again
deeply. 

We danced around ever so slowly, enveloped in each other. 
“Oh, Ethan…I’ve missed you so.  I’m so sorry that I didn’t remember
sooner.  We’ve missed so much time together.”  My eyes got watery
again, thinking of the wasted year apart.

“My darling, it’s all right.  We have each other now, and
that’s all that matters.”

We kissed again and then continued dancing and talking.  I
searched my memories for anything I had forgotten, and talked about them
quietly with Ethan.  We laughed about the funny things and felt sad at the
bad things.  As I struggled to remember my accident, I realized that I
still didn’t know what happened. 

“I still can’t remember my accident.  I have no idea how I
ended up in Chester or what happened to Fanny,” I murmured.  And, thinking
to myself, I couldn’t remember what it was about Edward that I felt uneasy
about.  Perhaps it was nothing other than the fact that he had changed
after the war.

That evening after supper, there was an unexpected knock on the
river-front door.  Cora came into the dining room as we were finishing up
with the meal and announced that a man named Red had come by to see about
working in the fields.

“I’ll take care of it.  Thank you, Cora,” Ethan said. 
He reached for my hand and asked me to join him.