Authors: Ginny Dye

On to Richmond (90 page)

BOOK: On to Richmond

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Johnny just stared at her. “I’m a blacksmith, ma’am.” His voice wavered as confusion filled his eyes. “Least I used to be. Don’t reckon I’ll be one now.”

Sudden tears slipped from Carrie’s eyes as she smoothed the hair back from his forehead. “You’ve got to take one day at a time, Johnny. First we’ve got to get you well. God saw you through that battle. He’s not going to stop taking care of you.”

Johnny seemed to drink in her words. After a long moment, he said, “My mama told me she would be praying for me every day. I sure hope she’s praying...”

“I’m sure she is, Johnny,” Carrie said tenderly. “What you need now is sleep. Close your eyes, and try to get some rest.”

Exhausted blue eyes stared at her a moment more with a look that said he was afraid to go to sleep, afraid he might never wake up. Finally his body won the battle. The blue eyes flickered shut, and moments later the haggard face was lax with sleep. Carrie watched him and prayed he would sleep a long time. He had only pain waiting for him when he woke up.

As Carrie watched him, she became aware for the first time of how achingly tired she was. Her shoulder, not entirely healed, was throbbing. She shook her head and tried to push aside the pain.

“Miss Cromwell?”

Carrie lifted her head toward the voice. She managed a smile when she saw it was Matron Pember.

“It’s two o’clock in the morning, Miss Cromwell. All the other women have gone home. You must get some rest.”

Carrie stared at her. Had she been in the hospital for twelve hours? “The patients...,” she murmured.

“The patients are resting. They will need you again when they wake up in the morning. You’ll be no good to them without some rest.”

Carrie smiled. “I’m not sure you’re the one to be talking about rest.”

“I’m on my way to get some right this minute. Will you walk with me to my quarters? I will have one of the men see you down the hill to your father’s house.”

“Where is Janie?”

“She left a couple of hours ago. She looked in here for you but didn’t see you. She assumed you had gone home.”

Carrie nodded and fell in beside the matron. “How bad is it?” she asked as they walked across the yard.

“Bad,” Matron Pember responded bluntly. “Every hospital is filled to capacity. Wounded soldiers are filling warehouses, homes, and hotels. I have been told even the sidewalks are full of men waiting for a bed and a doctor.”

Carrie shuddered.

“The number I’m hearing is about five thousand,” she continued grimly.

“Five thousand men!” Carrie gasped.

“Dead and wounded. It’s hard to get an exact number of Confederate casualties. It will take some time. We’ve taken in quite a few Northern soldiers as well.”

“I’m glad,” Carrie said fervently.

Matron Pember nodded. “Humanity is humanity. Our job is simply to ease the suffering as best we can.”

Carrie walked in silence for a few minutes then asked the question that had burned in her heart all day. “I have a friend. His name is Robert Borden. Did you by any chance...?”

The matron put her hand on Carrie’s arm sympathetically. “I haven’t heard the name, Miss Cromwell.”

Carrie nodded. “Of course, you haven’t. It was silly of me to ask.”

“Silly to ask? Silly to care that someone you love might be dead or wounded? I think not. You have a deep capacity to care, young lady. Never lose that. You will lose yourself if you do.”

Thomas was waiting for Carrie when she walked in the door. Neither one said a word. Carrie took one look at her father’s fatigued, worn face and walked into the arms he held out to her.

After a long moment, her father pushed her back gently. “We can talk in the morning. It will be here soon enough. We both need some rest.”

Carrie kissed him on the cheek gently and then turned to trudge up the stairs. She entered the room quietly so as not to disturb Janie.

“Carrie?

“Yes.” She should have known her friend would be awake.

“Are you okay?”

Carrie was silent as she tried to decide how to answer. A breeze ruffled the curtains and carried with it the lingering smoke from the battlefield. The faces of all the young men she had comforted that day flooded into her mind: The pain on their faces, the confused fear in their eyes. She bit her lip against the memories. Overlaying it all was Robert’s face as she had last seen him the night before. The strong voice, the tender eyes, the feel of his lips on hers......

“Carrie?” Janie’s voice once more broke the darkness. Moments later she was standing beside her friend. “You’re exhausted. Let me help you get ready for bed.” Wrapping her arm around Carrie’s waist, she led her toward the closet.

Janie’s touch undid the control Carrie had fought all day to maintain. With a low moan, she turned into her friend’s arms and allowed the tears to come. Tears for all the pain surrounding her. Tears for Robert. Tears for the present. Tears for the future. Janie stood quietly, her arms encircling Carrie strongly, and let her cry.

Finally Carrie stepped back. “Thank you,” she gulped.

Janie still said nothing.

Within a few minutes, Carrie was undressed and in her nightclothes. She willingly allowed Janie to lead her to her bed. When Janie pulled back the covers, she slipped into the clean sheets, her eyes already closing.

“Tomorrow is a new day, Carrie. Sleep tight.”

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Every life that has been lived until today is a part of the woven braid of life. It takes every person’s story to create history. Your life will help determine the course of history. You may think you don’t have much of an impact. You do. Every action you take will reflect in someone else’s life. Someone else’s decisions. Someone else’s future. Both good and bad.

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