Part 26 (1/2)
”What?” I was certain he was going to spout off more battle strategy, so I wasn't prepared for his next words.
”You could find out what else the Rebels are planning. You could deliberately place yourself in a position to overhear their strategy, like you did at church. Didn't you tell me your fiancee's family is high society? You could wine and dine the generals and other high officials. No one would ever suspect that a woman was paying attention. Do you know many of the Confederate bigwigs?”
I hesitated. ”President Davis goes to St. Paul's church- Charles' church. So does General Lee when he's in town. I have met a few majors and colonels and such, but-”
”But what?”
I felt the same revulsion I'd felt before delivering Robert's Bible-as though I was betraying Charles. St. Paul's was his church, and I had only begun attending there because of his family. They were also the ones who had introduced me to all the ranking officers I knew. To do what Robert was asking would mean betraying the St. Johns' trust.
The guard knocked on the door just then, telling me my time was up. I was relieved. ”I don't know if I can do what you're ask- ing or not,” I told Robert. ”You'll have to give me time to think about it.”
I gathered up my things and hurried away. I really didn't want to think about what Robert had asked me to do. I was sick to death of this war and all the difficult decisions I'd had to make, all the impossible things I'd been forced to do. I was tired of feeling torn between conflicting loyalties, choosing between my love for Charles and my love for Tessie and the others. When the nation split apart, my life had been ripped right down the middle along with it.
I emerged from the prison into the cold November afternoon, wanting nothing more than to run home and hide. But when I looked across the street to where Eli had parked the buggy, I was shocked to see Mr. St. John standing there alongside him, waiting for me.
My first response was a stab of shame, as if Charles' father had somehow overheard my conversation with Robert and read my thoughts and had come to accuse me. But I realized that was impossible-and then a towering fear rose up inside me, overshadowing everything else. He must have come with news of Charles.
The pain that suddenly filled my chest was so intense I pray I never feel it again. Without thinking, without looking, I rushed across the street to him. I might have been run over by a carriage, for I never even looked.
”Oh, G.o.d . . . has something happened to Charles?”
For a moment, Mr. St. John seemed taken aback. ”No . . . no, I'm not here about Charles.” He saw how badly he'd frightened me and quickly apologized. ”I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, Caroline. I haven't heard from Charles.”
I leaned against the buggy and closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the same sickening nausea I'd felt after I'd seen Will's name and Jonathan's on the casualty lists. I honestly believed I might faint.
Eli gently took my arm and helped me up onto the carriage seat. ”Easy, Missy. Better sit down a minute.”
”I'm very sorry,” Mr. St. John repeated. ”Are you all right?”
I nodded. ”As long as Charles is okay, I'll be fine.”
”Well . . .” He cleared his throat. ”What I've come to discuss with you is very serious, but it has nothing directly to do with Charles' safety. Would you prefer to drive home and talk about this?”
”I don't know . . . tell me what it's about.”
”It has to do with Libby Prison.” He tilted his head toward the building across the street.
”The prison? Tell me now.”
He sighed, then studied the ground for a moment as if searching for words. ”It has recently come to my attention that you have been a regular visitor there, and frankly . . . well, I was shocked to hear it. I didn't believe Major Turner when he first told me you went there, but he suggested I drive down and see for myself. And so I have.”
I was dumbfounded. ”I've never tried to keep my visits a secret from you . . . or anyone else.”
”I understand you're visiting a specific prisoner?”
”Yes, my cousin Robert Hoffman. Why?”
”Just how is this man related to you . . . if I might ask?”
I couldn't believe he was interrogating me this way. My heart continued to pound as my fear slowly transformed into anger. I struggled not to show it. ”Robert is related by marriage. My mother's sister-who grew up here in Richmond-married Philip Hoffman, Robert's uncle. They were kind enough to take me into their home in Philadelphia after my mother died. That's where I met Robert. He is nothing more to me than a cousin, no different than my cousin Jonathan.”
Mr. St. John's eyes met mine. ”I'd like to ask you not to visit him anymore.”
”Why? All I do is bring him a little food and some reading material. Conditions in that place are deplorable.”
”From now on your boy can deliver the parcels. Major Turner will see that your cousin gets them.”
”That's not the point. Doesn't the Bible say we're supposed to visit the sick and those who are in prison?”
”Does Charles know you're going there to see that man?”
I shook my head. I don't know why I'd never told Charles, but I hadn't. At first, it didn't seem important. After I'd carried the Bible to the Union lines, I was afraid to tell him, afraid my guilt would bleed between the lines, staining my letters with it. I could no longer meet Mr. St. John's gaze.
”Listen, Caroline, I'm sure your intentions are innocent enough. But in many people's eyes, your actions are scandalous. The fact that you're helping an enemy soldier calls your loyalty into question. Visiting a man in close quarters without a proper chaperone puts your reputation at risk. I'm going to ask you again for Charles' sake-and for the sake of your own reputation- please stop coming here to the prison.”
For a long moment, I couldn't speak. He was right, of course. I would have to send Robert a note in my next parcel, explaining why I could no longer come. I sat with my head bowed, staring at my hands for such a long time, Mr. St. John interpreted my silence as acquiescence and got ready to leave.
”Thank you for understanding. Good day, Caroline.”
I finally looked up, and this time my eyes met Eli's. There was no anger in them, no reproach, yet I knew before I even asked his counsel what his answer would be.
”Mr. St. John . . . wait!”
He turned and slowly limped back as I climbed down from my carriage.
”I'm sorry, but I have to refuse your request. I will write to Charles myself and tell him all my reasons for visiting Robert. And Eli will stay right beside me from now on as a chaperone. But I believe that obeying Christ is more important than worrying about what other people think. Robert is not an enemy soldier but a prisoner, a friend suffering inhuman conditions. Jesus said that whatever we do for the least of our brethren, we do for Him.”
Mr. St. John turned so abruptly and walked away that I wasn't able to see his face. But I saw Eli's. And his smile could have lit up the darkest prison cell.
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I wrote to Charles that evening, telling him the same things I'd told his father. I asked for neither his permission nor his blessing but concluded by saying that if he were ever captured, I would pray that the women up north would show their enemies the same Christian kindness I was showing to Robert. Two days later, I gave the letter to Jonathan to deliver. He was returning to the warfront, the wound to his arm finally healed. Sally and I went to the train station to see him off.
The moment Jonathan's train disappeared from sight, Sally gave up all pretense of bravery and fell into my arms, weeping. I rode home with her, trying my best to comfort her. The servants brought tea and pulled one of the parlor sofas close to the fire so we could warm ourselves after our farewell on the chilly train platform. ”I don't know what's wrong with me,” she said, wiping her eyes. ”I didn't carry on like this the last time Jonathan left.”
”Sally . . . have you fallen in love with him?” I asked gently.
She began weeping all over again. ”I've spent so much time with him these past few weeks, talking to him, taking care of him . . . and he is the sweetest, most wonderful man I've ever known. If anything happens to him . . . if I never see him again . . . I don't know what I would do or how I would live.”
I gathered her in my arms, soothing her the way Tessie always soothed me. ”I think you've answered my question. You're in love with him. And if it's any consolation, Jonathan has been in love with you for three years.” I smiled, but she was too distraught to return it.
”What am I going to do, Caroline? How can you stand not seeing the man you love, having him so far away? And in so much danger?”
”I can't stand it. I hate it. I know you've always supported the war, but I wish it would end right this minute, before one more person has to die.”
”I think I understand why you've never cheered like everyone else,” Sally said as she blew her nose. ”I can't believe I was naive enough to think the war was glorious.”
”War may not be glorious, but it does take courage to stand up for your convictions like Jonathan and Charles are doing. That's what my father told me before he left. He said every man-and every woman-needs to do what they feel is the right thing to do in this war.”
”Is that why you visit your Yankee friend in Libby Prison?” Sally asked. She spoke just above a whisper.