An Unlikely Union

The will of God made no sense at times to Emily. Why He had allowed war to come instead of an end to slavery, then a peaceful compromise of ideals, was unknown to her.

She dared to glance at Dr. Mackay. How long the hostilities continue will, I suppose, depend on men like him. The intimidating physician was now standing at Edward’s bed, perusing his wounds with a look of cold indifference. Julia sat her post, pale and frightened. Emily hurried to finish her scrubbing so she might join her friend. In her delicate condition the last thing Julia needed was to hear that man’s sharp, condemning tongue.

The dinner bell rang, calling all officers to the dining hall. Emily breathed a sigh of relief when Dr. Mackay exited the room. She put away her brush and bucket and went to her friend.

“What a horrible man,” Julia whispered. “There is no compassion in him. He looked at Edward as if he were nothing more than a stray dog.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Emily touched Edward’s forehead gently. The fever was going down. “He is much cooler.”

“Oh, thank the Lord.”

Within a matter of moments the rest of their friends appeared: Sally and the Martin sisters, Trudy and Elizabeth, and Rebekah Van der Geld, the only one of them who staunchly supported the Federal army’s occupation of Baltimore. Each had come to inquire of Edward. As they clustered around his bed, Emily couldn’t help but remember with fondness the times the six of them had met for knitting and needlework in each other’s homes.

Such happy times.

But the joyful emotions of the past were tempered by today’s reality. The girls had not gathered to decide which dress pattern from Godey’s Lady’s Book would attract a handsome beau’s attention, nor were they there to knit socks for their glorious, invincible army.

We are here to tend to one of its wounded, she thought sadly.

Try as she might, Emily’s eyes kept drifting to the place where Edward’s left arm should be. Apparently Sally was having the same difficulty. Her eyes were watering.

“He stirred slightly,” Julia told them. “When that doctor was standing over him.”

“That is good,” Emily said. “Soon he will wake.”

Sally drew in a quick breath and lifted her chin. “We should pray for him and then go about our business. It won’t fare him well to have us all hovering over him when he wakes.”

Emily agreed. They should give Edward his privacy. She couldn’t help but also think, And if Dr. Mackay returns from his meal to find us clustered about instead of busy with some task, he will surely spew his venom upon us all. That won’t be good for Julia or her child.

Trudy, Elizabeth and Rebekah all nodded in agreement. Rebekah offered to begin the prayer. The women clasped hands. One by one they prayed for Edward’s recovery and for the rest of the wounded men of this hospital. When no Federal soldier was close enough to overhear, Elizabeth and Trudy each whispered a plea for their brother, George, also a member of the Maryland Guard. As far as everyone knew, he had survived the Pennsylvania battle and returned safely to Virginia. Sally then prayed for Stephen; his whereabouts were still unknown.

“Try to keep faith,” Trudy said, hugging her after they had finished. “God knows exactly where Stephen is.”

“I know. I take comfort in that.”

Before they could go their separate ways, Jeremiah Wainwright approached. “Ladies,” he said, “forgive me for intruding, but I’ve just come from the dining hall. They are presently serving the nurses. If you don’t go quickly, there won’t be anything left for you to eat.”

They all knew he was speaking truth. They had each learned the hard way to eat when called or go hungry.

“Thank you, Jeremiah,” Emily said. “We appreciate the warning.”

He smiled and tipped his blue kepi. “You are quite welcome. And don’t worry, I’ll keep track of your charges, especially the major here.”

She believed he would, and so Emily turned to Julia.

“Come with us. Have a bite to eat.”

She shook her head, unwilling to leave her brother’s side. “I’ll stay. Samuel will arrive shortly and I want to be here when Edward wakes.”

Her husband, Samuel, joined her each day after his work as a teacher at the Rolland Park men’s seminary was complete. Her parents came in the early evening, as well. Julia’s father, Dr. Thomas Stanton, worked in the private hospital across town. He was busy caring for his own load of wounded, most of them Federal soldiers from wealthy families or those with high political connections.

“I understand. Shall I fetch you something?”

“No. Thank you. I am not hungry.”

Emily gave her hand a squeeze. Then she followed her fellow nurses to the dining hall.

* * *

His food wasn’t sitting well. Evan wondered if it was the stewed blackberries, which had obviously been picked too early, or the sight of the carts and laborers moving along Pratt Street. He stared out the window.

The army supply wagons and the countless crates stamped U.S. Christian Commission bore witness to the activities of today, but all Evan could think about was a day two years ago last April. His brother, Andrew, was newly trained and eager for action. He was unaware that such would come by way of a bloodthirsty mob while he and his regiment were en route to Washington.

Andrew had been one of the first to answer President Lincoln’s call for volunteers. He’d wanted to preserve the Union. When he and his fellow soldiers had tried to pass through Baltimore, the local citizens made it quite apparent which side they had chosen. As Andrew and the others had marched toward the Washington trains, a crowd had surrounded them. They were soon pelted with rocks, bottles and paving stones.

The Northern men had exercised restraint, but when the citizens had grabbed for their guns, the soldiers did what anyone would have done. They’d defended themselves. When the smoke had cleared, several boys in blue were dead, along with eleven rebels. The Baltimoreans had then had the audacity to claim the shots fired were unprovoked.

Just thinking of what had taken place made Evan’s fists clench. He knew he should leave the window, spend his remaining moments of the dining break in some other place, but try as he might, he could not pull his eyes from the street. Where exactly had Andrew fallen?

His eyes scanned the street before him. Traffic pulsed. City life moved at a steady pace. Men in scrap shirts with slouch hats set low on their foreheads lugged sacks of grain to and from the nearby wharf.

Were any of them present that day? Were any of them part of that murderous mob?

He bit down hard, teeth against teeth. The only emotion stronger than the anger he felt toward rebels was the emptiness in his heart.

If only I had been there. I could have saved him. I would have recognized the signs that the pressure was building in his brain. I could have drained the blood. He didn’t have to die.

And then his thoughts turned to another. Mary...

The memory of her face, her pleading words, burned through his mind. Just as he’d never forgive those thugs for Andrew’s death, he would never forgive himself for leaving his wife behind.

* * *

By the time Emily returned to the ward, Edward had opened his eyes. Her initial joy was tempered by the quiet pain she heard in Julia’s voice.

“I promise you, Edward. It will be all right.”

He turned from her sharply, setting his face toward the wall. The bandaged knob at the end of his shoulder stood out like a regimental flag.

A lump wedged in the back of Emily’s throat, but she moved toward him. She bent to his level, her skirts folding to the floor.

“Edward,” she said softly. “It is me, Emily.”

His blue eyes, once so gallant and full of life, were now vacant, almost spiritless. He blinked but did not acknowledge her presence.

“Are you in any pain?”

He blinked again. Emily’s heart was breaking. She knew Julia’s was, as well. She dared not look to her grief-stricken face. Emily knew if she did, she herself would break down. I have to remain strong. I am here to give comfort, not to be in need of it myself.

Carefully, methodically, she felt his forehead. He was much cooler. Thank You, Lord.

“Here,” Emily said to him. “Let me fetch you something to drink. I am certain you are thirsty.”

She reached for a nearby pitcher and filled a tin cup with water. She offered it to him, but Edward simply stared past her, no reply. By now Emily was beginning to wonder if he was even aware of her presence.

Perhaps it is the effects of the ether. She set the cup on the table, peered closely into his face. Edward’s eyes registered a startled reaction. They held hers for a quick second, then pulled away. In that brief time Emily saw a storm of emotions there.

He is aware of his reality, she thought. All too well.

There were times when it was wise to draw a man out of his solitude, but Emily sensed this was not one of them. She could only guess what Edward had witnessed on the battlefield, what actions had led him to this place. She wanted to ask about Stephen but knew there would be time for questions later.

She brushed her fingers gently through his hair. “Perhaps you will feel up to taking water later on. For now, just rest.”

Still he only blinked. Emily drew the sheet to his chest, mindful of his bandages, then moved to the side of the bed where Julia stood. She stared pitifully at her brother’s back. Emily gave her a gentle squeeze.

“Try not to be discouraged,” she whispered. “He is alert and the fever has broken.”

Julia nodded slowly but her face was as pale as January snow. “Will you send for our father?”

“Of course. Straightaway.” Emily agreed with her friend’s assessment. Edward needed his family now.

She moved toward the door. Sally was peeking through it.

“Is he awake?” she asked the moment Emily stepped into the corridor.

“Yes.”

Sally breathed a shallow sigh. “Is he speaking? Did he mention Stephen?”

Emily did not wish to upset her, but she knew the truth was best. If she were in Sally’s place, she would want to know.

“I am afraid he has not spoken at all. That is why I did not think it wise to ask about Stephen just yet. The battle seems to have damaged not only Edward’s body but his mind, as well.”

Her chin began to quiver.

“I’m sorry,” Emily said gently.

Sally quickly wiped her eyes and garnered her composure. “Is there anything we can do?”

“Julia requested that we send for her father.”

“I will see to that.”

“Can you manage? We could ask one of the other volunteers.”

Sally shook her head. “Dr. Turner will not mind. He has a soft spot for me. He knows Edward is our friend, and he told me if I had need of anything only to ask.”

Thank the Lord for small kindnesses, Emily thought.

“Tell Julia I will be as quick as I can.” She turned and descended the staircase. Emily quickly went back to the ward. Dr. Mackay had also returned.

“Nurse!” he called, waving her over.

I do have a name, she thought.

Nevertheless, she went to him. He was in the process of resetting a Virginia man’s broken leg. Having placed the limb in the fracture box, Dr. Mackay handed her a small sack. It looked as if it had come from the hospital kitchen.

“Fill the box with oat bran. It will support the leg and collect any further drainage from the wound.”

“Yes, Dr. Mackay.”

Emily promptly went to work, trying her best to smile at the wounded Virginian while ignoring the scowling Federal doctor beside her. When she finished the task, she looked to him. She expected another order, but he simply grunted and moved on to the next man.

She went back to Edward.

Her friend still lay with his back to his sister. Julia held her place in the chair beside him, a palmetto fan in one hand, a Bible in the other. She waved the fan faithfully over his head while she sought her own comfort in Scripture.

Emily watched them for a moment, but when Julia made no gesture or request she quietly backed away. Concern weighed heavily upon her. Edward’s mind-set was disturbing. She had seen some soldiers following the battle of Antietam who had recovered physically from their wounds but were never able to reenter life. When the memories of mortar shells and musket fire became too vivid, they often retreated into dark, private worlds, where no loved one or enemy could ever find them again.

“The water pitchers need to be filled,” she heard Dr. Mackay say as he brushed past her.

For a moment Emily considered reporting her observations but she realized any competent physician would have already recognized Edward’s condition. If she spoke up it would seem that she doubted his skills. She dare not call his judgment into question—at least not yet. For now, Emily thought it best just to keep her eye on her friend and stay out of the ill-tempered doctor’s way.

Chapter Two

All meals were now finished. Emily helped Jeremiah and the orderlies remove the last of the men’s food trays. Afterward she changed three dressings, then wrote a letter for another Maryland man.

As soon as she had completed that task, Freddy was brought in from surgery. He was already awake, sick to his stomach and shivering with fever. Emily was thankful he was still alive, but it grieved her to see him suffering so. She sat beside him with a basin and repeatedly wiped his face as he emptied what precious little was in his stomach. When the violence finally subsided, she settled him in his bed, then went to comfort Jimmy, who had been watching the entire time.

“He gonna be all right, Miss Emily? Will the sickness pass soon?”

“It will,” she promised. “In fact, his eyes are already clearing.”

“That’s good.” He fell back to his pillow. “Thank you for prayin’ for him. It’s hard seein’ him without his leg, but I’m real grateful the Good Lord’s left him here with me.”

“Indeed, Jimmy. So am I.”

She tucked him in and moved on. The day had been long and difficult. Fatigue slowed her steps and worry darkened her mind.

Where is Sally’s brother? she wondered. Is he misplaced in one of the field hospitals? Has he been captured or is he wandering around somewhere cut off from the Confederate army?

“Lord, please bring Stephen home. Please comfort Edward—”

“Miss Emily?”

She turned to see Private Robert Stone, another Maryland man, looking at her. Emily immediately went to him. A minié ball had shattered his right knee.

“Are you in pain?” she asked.

“No, miss. I’m alright. I just heard you praying for Major Stanton and Captain Hastings.”

Emily blushed. She had not meant to speak the prayer aloud. I must be more careful. She was, after all, a volunteer in a Federal army hospital. There were many here who would disapprove of her prayers for Confederate soldiers.

“I know the major’s not doing so well,” Rob said. “I think perhaps, well...I think he feels responsible.”

Her skin prickled. Responsible? She sat down on the edge of his bed. “What exactly do you mean?”

“I think he feels responsible for the captain and the others.”

Emily’s pulse quickened. This was the first time anyone had mentioned Sally’s brother. Did Rob know what had become of him? She glanced about for Dr. Mackay. If Stephen was hiding out somewhere, she didn’t want that man or anyone else in blue to know.

The Scotsman was at the far end of the room, checking on a sergeant with a terrible cough. His ears were plugged by his stethoscope. Jeremiah had gone to the kitchen, and the sentinel at the door was well out of earshot.

Emily looked back at Rob. “Captain Hastings was reported on the lists as missing. Do you know what has become of him?”

He swallowed. “I’m afraid I do, miss.”

Her heart immediately sank. Oh, no. Rob was undoubtedly struggling to tell her what she could already guess.

“Is he dead?”

For a moment he looked almost relieved. The gentleman in him did not wish to break such news to a lady. “I’m afraid so...but he died bravely. A hero.”

Tears filled her eyes. Emily shut them for a moment. When she regained her composure she asked the man to tell what he knew. There was no longer any fear of Federal eavesdropping. Plotting to help a Confederate soldier would be considered treason, but Stephen was beyond any aid or shelter she could offer him now. Any details Rob could provide about his demise may bring a small measure of comfort to Sally, and perhaps hold the key to Edward’s solitude.

“Were you with them on the battlefield?”

He nodded. “Me and what was left of the old Maryland Guard. First Maryland Infantry Battalion we are now.” He shifted his position, wincing slightly. “Captain Hastings, well...it was a bad scrap. We don’t blame Major Stanton. He was just following General Stewart’s orders. Things just happen like that sometimes.”

Her heart beat faster. “What things?” she asked. “What orders?”

“To take the hill, miss. Culp’s Hill.” He gestured battle movements with his hands. “You see, we were all lined up. The bluecoats were above us and we were fightin’ our way through the trees, over the rocks. That’s when it happened.”

“What did?”

“Captain Hastings was with Major Stanton in the front. Right in front of me, in fact. They charged valiantly, yelling for us to follow. Gave the rest of us real courage, it did.”

Emily had expected no less. Stephen and Edward were the bravest of the brave. At least Sally and the rest of them could take solace in that.

Private Nash continued. “Captain Hastings took a bullet to the chest. I know ’cause it spun him around. Major Stanton took one in the arm just about the same time. They fell together. The next one had my name on it.”

She was grateful he spared her the gruesome details, although she had little difficulty imagining the sight. Emily had seen what hot lead could do to a man. “I am certain your comrades appreciated your sacrifice,” she said, her voice quivering slightly. “Were you successful in taking the hill?”

“No, miss. We had to fall back.”

Tears spilled over once again, and frustration filled her soul. Such loss, such sacrifice for nothing gained! Stephen died for ground unclaimed, ground that even the Federal army probably no longer occupies!

“Our men tried to gather us,” Rob insisted, “but they couldn’t get us all. The Yankees were just too quick.”

“Is that when you were captured?”

“Yes. Major Stanton shielded the captain just in case any of the bluecoats used their bayonets, but I believe he was already dead by then. When the major realized, he was shook up real bad. You could see it in his eyes. He held it together for the rest of us, though, tried to encourage us as we were being rounded up. But then we learned we’d been fightin’ the First Eastern Shore.”

He looked at her as if she should know what that meant. Emily had no idea.

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

“The First Eastern Shore is Maryland Infantry, miss. We, the First Maryland, were fightin’ against men from our own state.

Emily sucked in air. Rob continued.

“When Major Stanton learned that, the fire just went out of him. All he could say was ‘it was my fault.’ To my knowledge he hasn’t spoken a word since.”

Waves of nausea rolled through her.

“I can sure understand it,” he said. “We’re all torn up inside. Sergeant Moore told me he’d seen his own cousin bearing the colors for the First Eastern Shore.”

Emily was afraid she was going to be literally sick. It was bad enough these men were fighting against their own countrymen, but Marylanders spilling Maryland blood? No wonder Edward could not speak.

“Miss Emily? Will you do something for me?”

She tried to rein in her feelings. She could do nothing about what had happened on that hill, but perhaps she might be able to do something for Rob, for Edward.

“Of course.”

“Will you tell Major Stanton that he’s one of the bravest men I ever served under? And that I’d be proud to do so again.”

She was struck by his loyalty, his compassion for his officer. “I will do so. Is there anything else that I may do for you?”

“No, miss. Don’t fret over me. There’s plenty of other fellas here worse off.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Emily said.

“You’re welcome.”

He offered her a hint of a smile and she gave him one in return, but they both knew the other’s heart was heavy.

Gathering her skirts, Emily rose slowly, feeling as though she had twenty petticoats and two sacks of flour tied about her legs. She had promised Rob that she would convey his message, but would the words comfort Edward or be another painful reminder of what had taken place on the battlefield?

Just as she stepped away from the bed, Dr. Mackay made his way across the ward. He must have seen the look on her face and recognized something was wrong.

“Are you ill?” he asked.

Ill didn’t even begin to describe how she felt. Men from my state are shooting at their neighbors, their own relatives! And Sally...her brother has been killed! Now I must tell her the terrible news!

But Emily swallowed back her emotions. It would do no good to tell Dr. Mackay such things. He would offer her no sympathy. He’d probably say her friends deserved what had become of them.

“A nurse in danger of swooning is of no use to me in this ward.”

Her backbone stiffened. “You need not worry,” she assured him. “I am not given to such tendencies.”

His left eyebrow arched as if he doubted that, but before he could speak, a soldier’s cry commanded his attention.

“Doc! Doc! Come quick!”

Emily turned, as well. A young Kentucky man was bent over the bed, holding his brother—a soldier who had been wounded in the neck and jaw.

“He’s turnin’ blue!” the man cried.

Dr. Mackay raced to the Confederate man’s side. Taking one look at him, he ordered Emily to fetch water and lint packing. She hurried to obey while he ran for the locked cabinet at the end of the ward. She gathered her items, he a surgical tray.

“Hold on there, Billy,” the brother encouraged. “Doc’s comin’.”

“Step back!” the Scotsman commanded. To Emily, he said, “Remove those bandages so his wound is exposed.”

She deposited the basin and packing on the table beside them and quickly carried out his instructions. Her heart was pounding, for Billy was staring wide-eyed at her, silently begging for help.

Then he closed his eyes.

Oh! Oh! “Dr. Mackay!”

The instant Emily had seen to the last bandage, the doctor moved in with his scalpel. She watched as he made an incision in Billy’s neck just below his maze of black battle scars and inserted a small tube. Dr. Mackay then blew his own breath into the man’s throat.

Emily had never seen such a thing before. The blue in Billy’s face faded to gray, then finally a more natural shade.

After several more breaths, Dr. Mackay straightened up. Still holding the tube in place, he asked for the packing.

“Do you wish for it to be cut into smaller strips?” she asked.

“Aye.”

She did so, handing them over one at a time. While he secured the tube, Emily couldn’t help but wonder, on what was this soldier choking? He was one of the men who had been prescribed a low diet, only beef tea and a little milk. She had followed Dr. Mackay’s orders precisely concerning that. One of the man’s comrades must have given him something else to eat.

“Were you able to dislodge what he swallowed?” she asked.

“He isn’t choking on food.”

“He isn’t?”

“’Twas the swelling from the wound which constricted his airway.” Dr. Mackay spoke with confidence, as if he performed this sort of thing daily and in doing so had saved countless lives. Emily prayed that was indeed the case. Much to her relief, after a few moments Billy’s eyes fluttered open. She dared breathed a sigh, knowing the immediate crisis had passed.