An Unlikely Union

“Thank you, Doc. I’m real grateful to you for savin’ my brother’s life.”

With those words Evan wasn’t certain what he should feel—gratification or anger. If it wasn’t for brothers such as these, ones willing to make war on their own nation, his brother would not have died. Not knowing how to respond, he ignored the comment altogether.

He signaled for the steward. “Fetch me some ice,” he told him.

“Yes, sir.”

He’d see if that would bring the swelling under control. If not the reb’s brother would have to return to the operating room.

* * *

Emily stepped into the corridor. Her heart was still pounding. Try as she might, the breath she repeatedly drew just didn’t seem to be enough to fill her lungs. Heading straight for the small window, she pushed it open. The air drifting in from the harbor was not fresh by any means but at least it was a little cooler.

Contrary to what Dr. Mackay may think, the sight of blood had not caused her distress. It was thinking of how the poor wounded man had come upon his injury. She did not know where Billy and his brother had been during the recent Pennsylvania battle, but she knew by looking at them that their experience had been just as horrific as Edward’s and Stephen’s.

Oh, Lord, I beg you. End this war...please...

“Em, are you all right?”

She turned to find Julia standing in the hall.

“What troubles you? Is it that poor soldier? He looks much improved now.”

Emily sighed. Julia was the last person she wished to burden with such distressing news, but she realized she needed to know. “I have received some information concerning Stephen.”

Her friend’s shoulders dropped with a long sigh of her own. “He’s gone, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“I suspected such. Especially when Edward wouldn’t speak. Poor Sally...but why would Stephen have been reported as ‘missing’?”

“A misidentification, I suppose.”

“Then it’s likely he is buried somewhere on the battlefield?”

“I would imagine.”

Sorrow fell over them both like a shroud. The sound of wounded soldiers groaning echoed through the halls. An armed sentinel passed by on his way to duty, and they could hear an officer shouting orders on the floor below.

“Private Stone saw him fall,” Emily said. “He told me the entire story.”

“What did he say?”

She explained what she had learned. When Emily got to the part about Maryland men fighting their own neighbors, in some cases their own flesh and blood, all color drained from Julia’s face.

“Gracious,” she breathed. “Edward chose to fight in defense of his state and now battle lines have forced him to fire upon our own citizens? Does he know this?”

“Apparently so. Private Stone says Edward feels responsible. He overheard him remark it was all his fault.”

Julia wiped her eyes with a lace-trimmed handkerchief. Emily dabbed at her own eyes with her apron. The sights and sounds of war continued to swirl around them.

“We need to tell Sally,” Julia finally said.

“Yes.” Though Emily dreaded having to be the one to do so, she volunteered anyway.

“No,” Julia said. “It should come from me. I will tell her when she returns. Do you think Private Stone would mind if I spoke with him? I would like to hear the story for myself.”

“I don’t believe he would.” Emily paused. “There was one other thing.” She told Julia how Private Stone had asked her to deliver a message to Edward. “But I am not certain now that I should.”

“What kind of message?”

As Emily explained, tears spilled over Julia’s long, dark lashes. “Tell my brother what the soldier said.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes. I believe it will help.”

They both turned back for the ward. Emily introduced Julia to Rob, then stopped to check on Billy. Crushed ice had been placed around his neck. Dr. Mackay was nowhere in sight, but Jeremiah Wainwright was sitting at the soldier’s bedside. Emily asked if he had need of any assistance. When the steward politely declined, she moved on to Edward.

Her friend was staring at the dust-covered rafters above him. She surveyed his tight bandages but only with her eyes. Then she poured him a fresh cup of water and drew close. All he did was blink.

Setting the cup aside, Emily quietly moved in closer. “Edward,” she said softly. “I understand that you do not wish to speak to me or to Julia right now, but know that we are here should you change your mind.”

She waited, hoping for a response of any kind. There was none.

“And know this...God waits patiently, as well.”

His lips tightened into a thin line. His jaw twitched. It was the first real indication he had given that he was listening to anything she said.

Emily leaned a little closer. She could see the pain in his eyes. Her heart ached for him. He had been her schoolmate, her childhood friend. He had teased her and tugged at her curls. She had once bandaged his wrist when he’d cut a gash in it after jumping from the tree in her backyard.

I mended his wound then, but how do I do so now? How does one even begin to ease the guilt a soldier feels over the death of his friend?

There was no change in his eyes, but she felt compelled to continue. “Private Stone asked me to deliver a message to you....”

Slowly, his eyes shifted from the rafters to her. Emily drew hope from the movement.

“He said to tell you that you are the best man he has ever served under, and he would be proud to do so again.”

What she’d hoped would bring encouragement had just the opposite effect. Edward’s jaw clenched and Emily watched helplessly as his eyes welled up with tears.

He shook his head no.

Her heart squeezed as she whispered, “I know what happened on Culp’s Hill. I know what happened to Stephen...to the other Maryland men.”

“It was...my fault...Emmy.”

His voice was distant, defeated, but he had referred to her by her childhood name, a memory of a happier time. She used his, as well.