A Heartbeat Away: Quilts of Love Series (25 page)

“Ben?”

His expression went sober. He nodded.

“You didn’t write of him. I wondered . . .”

“It was too dangerous to write about but, now, I can tell you.” He smoothed the back of his hand down my cheek. I laughed from the sheer excitement of having him near again and it was another few minutes before Joe could settle back to the objects and his explanation.

“General Lee wrote out his commands to his generals outlining his plan. But one copy was lost. Special Order 191 was found in a field by a Union corporal named Mitchell.” He shifted his weight and I couldn’t help noticing how much better he was able to move his right arm. Not perfect but far better
than those first days . . . “Ben and I were bivouacked in that field, and he said something to me the night before we left, that things were going to get better soon.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t know if he had anything to do with it. I’ll never know, but the paper,” he pointed to the sheet, “has the same watermark found on the order, and the cigar . . .”

He raised his head and gave me a sad look. “It tore me up pretty bad to think he would be involved in something of that nature, but Ben was tore up as much as me, as anyone, over Sue and Mama. I could see why he would feel compelled to do something so desperate.”

“Who shot him? Why?”

He shook his head. “I don’t quite know.” I knew a mantle of weariness would always hang over him at the question mark of what happened to his brother. “If someone found him out, it makes sense he would be shot. But I’ll never know, Beth, and I prefer to look forward rather than backward.”

I held Joe’s hand and stroked his knuckles. He gave me a little nod of reassurance and turned his hand in mine so that our palms met. It was time to change the subject. To talk about us. I blushed at the intensity of his gaze.

“Your arm has grown stronger.”

He glanced at his arm, at our joined hands, pleased with my comment. “Not quite right, but better.” He released my hand to pluck something else from the haversack. Dark and worn and soft. The quilt block. He handed it to me. “Now you can finish that quilt.” A spark lit his eyes that stole my breath. “We’ll need it to keep us warm this winter.”

1. Was Beth’s perception of herself healthy? How did this perception affect her spiritually?

2. What do you think Beth’s parents saw in her that worried them so much following Beth’s injury and the death of Leo?

3. Gerta’s opinionated nature ostracized her to some extent in her town. Do you know someone whose tendency and quickness to express his or her opinion often lands that person in hot water? Do you admire this type of person? What advice would you give this person?

4. Gerta’s attitude was to help all those she could. Beth was more determined to help Union soldiers only. What changed Beth’s attitude? What would you do if you were faced with such a situation?

5. Gerta believed that by giving the Confederate soldiers food willingly it would deter them from taking it by force and possibly taking their revenge on the women. Do you believe this was a wise choice? What other solution would you offer?

6. How does being caught in the middle of the war help mature Beth’s opinion of herself and her lame leg?

7. Joe lost everything he held dear before and during the war. How would such losses affect your desire to continue fighting? Do you think his attitude toward the war was justified?

8. Beth and Joe spent many long hours waiting out the cannonading of the town, Beth trying to help Gerta, Joe flat on his back because of his injury. Which do you think would be harder to endure: the activity and seeing all the terrible sights Beth saw or the hours of forced inactivity?

9. Beth’s mother tried to help her daughter understand the darkness in her heart through the quilt. As a parent, have you ever tried to relay a silent message to your child in hopes they will one day understand the deeper meaning? Did it work?

10. Jim is a pivotal secondary character with a huge heart to help those he befriends, doing much of his good deeds without thought or regard for himself. Do you know someone with such a sacrificial nature? What do you do to show your appreciation to them?

11. Though Beth’s home is fictional, the Piper farm was real and commandeered by Longstreet during the Battle of Antietam. How do you think you would react if war came to your doorstep? What preparation would you make for you and your family?

12. Though only mentioned in the ending, the loss of Lee’s Special Order 191 was critical to the victory of McClellan at Antietam. Before this story, had you ever heard that Lee “lost” such an important document preceding the Battle of Antietam?

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We hope you enjoyed
A Heartbeat Away
and that you will continue to read the Quilts of Love series of books from Abingdon Press. Here’s an excerpt from the next book in the series, Bonnie S. Calhoun’s
Pieces of the Heart
.

Bonnie S. Calhoun

June 15, 1938

Corde-eel-ee, don’t be sil-ly. We’ll find you sooner or later!”

The taunt echoed down the alley, bouncing from building to building, at the same rate as her heartbeat pounded in her ears. The voices pumped more adrenaline into her blood. Would they pop into the Court from Pine Street?

Cordelia Grace pedaled her red and tan Schwinn as fast as her legs would go. She sucked in short rapid breaths that burned her lungs. She took a glance behind. No one. She swerved, avoiding the metal garbage cans in front of Stoney’s Garage. Panic raced through her throat as tears pricked at her eyes. Where were her two girlfriends? They were supposed to be right behind her. Now she was alone to face her tormentors.

She probably wouldn’t have run from them if she had “more meat on her bones” like Grammy said. Other girls had the weight and power she lacked. Why did she have to fight? Truth be told . . . she didn’t know
how
to fight. Her daddy
was a preacher man, and her mama always said young ladies of good breeding didn’t act like street hoodlums. No one ever taught her self-defense.

She breathed hard, pulling in big gulps of air. Maybe they hadn’t seen her turn down Dix Court? Maybe she could make it home safely . . . today. The alley, wide enough for cars to pass in either direction, felt as though it were closing in on her, squeezing her into the dusty center. She prayed someone would be on their porch. Just one grown-up she could stop and talk with until the danger passed. But each house stood silent, each narrow porch empty. Rows of garbage cans lined impossibly narrow strips of grass like tin soldiers, but none offered protection.

The quarter-sized scab on her left knee caught on the hem of her play dress as her legs pumped the pedals. The tiny prickle pains from the pulled skin would be worth it if she managed to escape. She jerked her head around to look back again. Long skinny braids whacked her in the face and slapped her in the right eye. Tears spilled onto her cheek. Bitsy Morgan’s house marked the halfway point in the alley. Still no one in hot pursuit.

Her arms relaxed on the handlebars and her legs slowed. She back-pedaled to brake. The bicycle slid to a stop. Cordelia hopped off the seat, her legs straddling the “J” frame. Her lungs burned.

Five houses up, they emerged on the path leading to the avenue. The three bullies spread across the court, blocking her way.

Cordelia whimpered as dread clenched her belly. They found her. She tried to turn but the chain caught her dress hem, wrenching the handlebars from her grip. The bicycle fell and the chain dug into the soft flesh of her ankle. A trail of black grease tracked down her white sock. Ignore the pain. If
they see tears, they’ll know I’m scared. She lifted her quivering chin and stared.

Two girls and a boy ran at her.

She bent over and raised her bicycle.

Two more girls raced toward her. The five Wilson kids trapped their prey. She tried not to let fear register in her eyes.

“Cor-deel-lee, you belong to me.” Debbie Lu, the taller girl in the group, had her nappy hair pulled back in a short ponytail so tight it pulled back the corners of her eyes, adding to her sinister look.

Cordelia shrank back, choking her handlebars with shaking hands. She watched the Wilson girl approach, slapping her fist into the palm of her other hand.

Debbie Lu charged and slammed into Cordelia with the full force of both fists.

Cordelia stumbled from her bicycle and skidded to the ground. Her palms raked over the graveled dirt of the alley. The sting forced tears into her eyes. She refused to respond.

A red flash streaked from the roof of the shed on the left side of the alley. A cute light-skinned boy landed on the ground beside her bicycle. He wore blue jeans and a bright red shirt opened down the front revealing a dingy T-shirt. Cordelia eyed him warily, another tormentor.

He didn’t join the bullies.

She looked him up and down. Who was he? Her heart pounding eased.

The cute boy stepped between her and Debbie Lu. “What’s the problem?” He thumbed back at Cordelia. “Did she steal your Tootsie Pop?”

“I’m gonna pop her all right. Little Miss High Yella’ doesn’t belong in this neighborhood with her light skin and good hair. She acts like she’s white people and better’n us,” said the dark-complexioned girl.

The cute boy turned away from Debbie Lu to glance at Cordelia.

Cordelia froze.

He raised one side of his lips in a slight smile and winked, then turned back to the menace. “In case you haven’t noticed, you should probably call me high yella’ too since my skin is as light as hers. Does that mean you want me out of the neighborhood, too?” He stepped closer to the girl. “See, I just moved here, and I don’t think my pa would want to leave, since he just got a job at the coal company.”

The girl scowled but lowered her fist and backed up.

Tim Wilson, the brother of the group, pushed Debbie Lu out of the way and stood toe-to-toe with the new boy. “Don’t you talk to my sister like that.”

“Or what?” The cute boy’s eyebrows furrowed and he lowered his head a tad.

Cordelia eyed the exchange. Her brain told her to run while she had the chance, but her feet stayed rooted to the spot. What did he think he was doing facing off with the Wilson kids? They were well-known scrappers.

Tim Wilson raised his left hand.

The cute boy’s right fist shot out and punched Tim square in the nose.

Tim’s hands cupped his nose as blood squirted down the front of his shirt and splattered his sisters.

The girls screamed. Both hightailed it down the alley.

Cordelia grimaced. An involuntary sigh pushed from her chest. This boy wasn’t afraid of them.

“I’ll get you for this,” Tim warned in a nasal tone.

“Yeah, well, when you’re not bleeding and wanna stop playing house with your sisters, be sure and let me know.”

Tim pointed a bloody finger at the boy. “Hey, you take that back or I’m gonna beat your—”

“Oh, no! I’m sorry,” the cute boy interrupted, his voice pleading. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Cordelia’s heart sank. So much for her fearless hero. She couldn’t blame him, but somehow it felt worse than Debbie Lu’s fist in her belly.

Which way should she run before Tim called his sisters back to finish the job?

The boy added, “Yeah, I’m sorry. I meant to hit your sister.”

Tim scowled through the mess dripping from his chin. He sputtered, but before he could speak, Cordelia’s rescuer faked a lunge. Tim recoiled with a girlish squeal and sprang after his sisters.

Cordelia’s eyes widened as she stared at the back of the cute boy’s head.

He turned to face her. “Do you talk?”

She hadn’t spoken a single word to her surprise hero. A nervous smile crossed her lips. Her dry throat croaked out the word. “Yes.” She swallowed hard and wet her lips. “Thank you for helping me.” A flutter settled into her tummy.

He looked down at the mess of blood on his own sleeve. With a look of disgust he ripped the shirt off and threw it to the ground. A rolled up tube of paper fell from his back pocket. “Jeepers creepers, I gotta lose that. If my ma sees blood on my shirt I’m gonna be in real big trouble for fightin’ again.”

Cordelia smiled. “I could explain for you. You were very brave—”

“No! Pa told me if I got in trouble in this town, he was gonna . . .” He kicked at the shirt. He locked his fingers together over his head, resting his arms against his ears. “I’ll run away before . . .”

Cordelia tipped her head to the side to look up into his downcast eyes. “Before what?”