A Basket Brigade Christmas (25 page)

“I’m very proud of you, Sarah. I do wish I could be at the depot serving our wounded soldiers, but I rest easier knowing you’re there. I know that meeting that first train and seeing the soldiers was very difficult for you, but your success is truly admirable.”

“I’m only sorry it took me so long to trust that the Lord would be with me when I’m serving the wounded soldiers.”

“And He is with you in every other circumstance, as well. At times, we all tend to forget that whether good or bad—the Lord is with us always.” Her mother squeezed her hand, and her features brightened. “Now, tell me whatever happened to that soldier you thought was so nice? The one who was so kind to you during your first days on the train.”

Sarah was surprised her father hadn’t mentioned Jacob’s visit to the bakery, but perhaps he’d thought it would cause her mother undue worry. Sarah had refrained from mentioning Jacob, as well. Not because she worried that news of a beau would concern her mother, but because she’d wanted to know Jacob better before talking about him. In truth, Jacob’s jealous nature and lack of trust had been troubling. However, yesterday’s apology had erased any problems between them, so Sarah was now eager to share news of Jacob.

An unexpected warmth spread across her cheeks as she recalled Jacob’s kisses, and she wondered whether her mother had noticed a change in the way she spoke or acted. Did her eyes twinkle when she mentioned his name, or did the flicker of a smile play upon her lips and reveal the bloom of first love?

“The nice soldier is Corporal Jacob Curtis, and we have become quite fond of each other. I’ve never been in love with a man before, but I believe I am in love with Jacob.”

There was a glint of apprehension in her mother’s eyes. “In love? You haven’t known him for very long, my dear. Don’t you think it’s a bit soon to speak of love?”

Sarah sighed and placed her palm across her heart. “I know we haven’t been able to spend a lot of time together, but my heart tells me this is love.”

“I understand, but sometimes the heart can deceive us. What we think is love could be merely infatuation and doesn’t last for long. I think before you speak of love, you need to know this young man much, much better. Your papa courted me for two years, and I had known him for several years before that. Even with all that passage of time, there was much we didn’t learn about each other until after we married. What of his past? Has he spoken of his life before he joined the army?”

Her mother’s brow furrowed with worry. Perhaps Sarah shouldn’t have confided so much. “We have exchanged letters each time Jacob comes through on the train. I have told him about growing up in Decatur and my life with you and Papa and Samuel. His letters have been filled with much of the same. I understand that letters are not the same as time with one another, but it has helped us become better acquainted. Jacob is a good man, and I believe he would be an even better husband. But you need not worry—he hasn’t asked me to marry him.”

She had hoped her lighthearted tone would ease her mother’s concern, but tight lines continued to border her mother’s lips. Sarah’s effort had fallen short. Reaching for her mother’s hands, she clasped them within her own. “Let’s pray, Mama—for Samuel and his comrades, for our country, for your healing, and for the peace that only the Lord can provide.”

A
s the days passed, Sarah stopped at the general store each morning, hoping there would be word from Samuel. Each morning she’d been disappointed, and today was no different. She didn’t want to believe her brother’s injuries were so extensive that he couldn’t take pen to paper, and she wouldn’t let her thoughts go far enough to even consider the possibility that he might be dead. She would not let that word become a part of her vocabulary.

When she arrived at the depot, her cape was heavy with the wet snow that had begun to fall earlier in the morning. The weather had been much warmer over the past few days so the flakes melted as they drifted to the ground. The pristine white had turned the roadways into a murky sea of slush. Sarah had remained as far from the roadway as possible to avoid the passing carriages and wagons that showered all in their path with a slurry of snow and mud, but one racing carriage had spattered the side of her cape and her wool skirt.

Once inside the depot, she strode across the room and stood near the fire hoping the muck would quickly dry. Any attempt to brush off the damp mixture would further stain her garments. She’d had little time to dry off before Matthew ventured into the room.

His gaze settled on her sullied clothing. “Appears you may have been walking too close to the road. I went out a little while ago. It’s a mess out there.”

She didn’t want to converse with Matthew and hoped her silence would cause his return to the hotel desk. When he strode off, she exhaled a sigh, pleased her silence had garnered success. The heat from the fire had created the desired effect, and Sarah turned to the side to dry the remainder of her cloak.

As the warmth enveloped her, Sarah’s thoughts returned to Samuel. Was he in a hospital tent without a fire or blankets to warm him while she enjoyed the warmth of the bakery ovens and the wood-burning stoves that heated the depot?

She startled when Matthew touched her shoulder. “I brought you a clothes brush.”

His gesture was kind, but she didn’t wish to encourage him. She refrained from looking at him and offered only a quick thank-you.

“I’d be glad to brush it for you after you begin setting up for the train.” His broad smile revealed an uneven front tooth, the result of a fight over an apple when Matthew had been only nine or ten.

Apparently, even her quick thank-you was too much encouragement. “That’s kind of you, but I can take care of it myself. Thank you for the use of the brush. I’ll see that it’s returned before I depart.” Her dismissive tone was intended to end their conversation, but Matthew remained at her side.

“Any further word about Samuel?”

Word of her brother’s letter had quickly spread through the town. Her father had told every person who came into the bakery and then asked for their prayers for his son. Sarah shook her head. “Nothing more.”

“I’m sorry. Other than his recent letter, how long had it been since you’d heard from Samuel?”

“We had a short note after the siege at Corinth telling us that he’d made it through without injury, but nothing else until his recent letter.”

Matthew’s brows knit. “If I remember right, the battle at Corinth was last spring. I’m surprised Samuel doesn’t write more often.”

Would he never leave? “He may be writing more often, but who can say if or when we’ll ever get his mail? The only information we have to rely upon is what we read in the newspapers and even that information is outdated by the time it’s printed.”

“You’re right about the newspapers, and most of the time you can believe only about half of what you read.” He shook his head. “I know it must be hard. The not knowing.” The sympathetic words had barely escaped his lips when he gestured across the depot to a large message board, where community notices were often posted. “I was wondering if you planned to attend the Christmas musicale. Miss Evans brought me an announcement to put up in the hotel and another for the depot.”

The quick change of topic caused Sarah to suspect that his concerns for her family might be less than genuine. She stared at him, overwhelmed by his lack of sensitivity, once again certain that her silence would bring him to his senses.

Instead, he continued to blather on. “I hear tell Miss Evans has the group practicing most every day, so it should be a good program. I think you should attend. The music would lift your spirits, and I think we owe it to the singers to support their efforts.” He stopped only long enough to inhale another breath. “So, do you think you’ll be going?”

Sarah hiked a shoulder and glanced toward the tables that still required her attention. “Much will depend upon my mother’s health. I’m not making many plans right now. I’m … busy.”

His features tightened. “Seems you’re able to make time for Corporal Curtis when he’s around.”

She longed to escape this conversation but had nowhere to go. “I make time for him because we work on the train together.”

He shook his head. “Do you think I believe that’s the only reason you’re around him every time he arrives at the station? I’m not a fool, Sarah. You may believe you’re quite sensible, but I’m not so sure.”

Matthew turned and stomped off. Clearly, she’d angered him.

Jacob leaned close, whispering in Sarah’s ear. “I wish I could draw you into my arms and comfort you right here. And then I’d kiss you in front of all these ladies.”

In spite of the cold, Sarah’s cheeks warmed at his words. “I don’t think that would be wise, but it pleases me to know you’d like to kiss me. And that you care about my pain.”

“How are your parents—how are they faring?”

His kindness touched her heart. “They’re about the same. The only thing that will bring joy is word that Samuel is alive and well, but who can say how long that may take? In the meantime, let’s see to the soldiers. I’m sure they’re eager for something warm to eat.”

Jacob had only a few minutes to tell Sarah he would return on the train coming back from Chicago the following evening before offering a hasty good-bye. They would have had more time together if Sarah hadn’t taken so long with one of the soldiers near the rear of the car. He’d done his best to hurry her along, but she’d taken extra time with the fellow, who had been far too forward—at least that’s how Jacob had viewed the situation. Still, he’d said nothing to Sarah. His jealous nature had already caused problems in the past, and he didn’t want Sarah to accuse him again of thinking her untrustworthy. Especially since she was worried about Samuel.

The train rumbled through the darkness that had descended over the bucolic countryside between Decatur and Chicago. The fleeting glimmer of candlelight in distant farmhouse windows was the only evidence of life outside the train. The darkness provided the soldiers ample time to sleep or be alone with their private thoughts.

Jacob’s eyes were heavy with sleep when one of the wounded called to him. A low groan escaped his lips. He had hoped for at least a couple of hours of sleep. As he pushed to his feet, he silently chastised himself for his selfish thoughts. His body remained unscathed by battle wounds, and his mind didn’t reel with haunting visions of dying and maimed comrades or the frightening sounds of canon fire.

Careful to maintain his footing, Jacob picked his way down the narrow aisle toward the soldier. Snores of the sleeping men were occasionally interrupted by the shouts of a soldier frightened by a nightmare, but except for the soldier who had called to him, all remained quiet this evening.

When he arrived at the young man’s cot, Jacob leaned close. “How can I help? Do you need a drink of water?”

“No. I wanted to ask if you come through Decatur often?”

“Yes. I travel with most all of the trains that carry wounded soldiers from Cairo to Chicago. Once I arrive in Chicago, I return with the hospital train. Why do you ask?”

The soldier reached into his breast pocket. “There was a young lady—real pretty—who brought one of the baskets through. She was serving us soup, and then she brought some biscuits and rolls for us, too. You know which one I mean?”

Jacob smiled and nodded. “That was Miss McHenry. She helps me in my car most every time we stop in Decatur.”

“Is her first name Sarah?”

Jacob’s voice caught in his throat. What was this about? How did this soldier know Sarah’s given name? Had she been overly friendly and told him her name? Did this fellow now harbor some romantic notion about a possible future with her? Surely she wouldn’t have encouraged such a thing. He and Sarah had healed their earlier misunderstandings, and he didn’t want to believe she would do anything to jeopardize their blossoming relationship. No—he was letting his imagination take flight and plant foolish thoughts in his mind. The last thing he needed to do was rush to judgment.

“Well, is it?”

The soldier’s question pulled Jacob from his wandering thoughts. He nodded. “Yes. Her name is Sarah. How did you know? Did she tell you?”