Beauty From Ashes (60 page)

Jessie knew, of course, that on 811 each ride to town, Paul visited the Jasper post office. She knew he had been there today, but there was no way she could have known that the dreaded letter had come. Still, the look on her plain but expressive face showed that she’d been waiting, watching, in order to be there because he would need her as he’d never needed her before today.

Jessie could tell he had galloped his horse hard, but his slow, almost feeble appearance as he dragged himself up their front steps told her only that something horrible had happened.

As usual, when he reached the porch where she stood, he nodded a greeting, then said, “I—I need you, Jessie. I’m keeping a promise to Fraser by hurrying straight to you before I read this.” From his shirt pocket he took out the letter and handed it to her.

Jessie glanced at the envelope and stood, holding it. “This is addressed to you, Paul dear.”

“I know,” he said. “But I promised Fraser I wouldn’t read a letter like this without you beside me.”

“You promised Fraser?”

“Yes. The day he left. It was July 1861, over a year ago. Why do you think he asked that, Jessie?”

For Jessie, it suddenly fit together. “He asked because he gave me instructions for you the night before he took the train. I have a promise to keep too.”

“Fraser asked you to promise something— special?”

“It was more than asking. He begged me to tell him I’d do exactly as he said. There’s a sealed letter from him to you, Paul, in the tray of his big trunk upstairs in his bedroom.”

Paul stared at her. “My son got you to promise something he didn’t even mention to me? I know how devoted he was to you, Jessie, but—was

“Paul! How devoted he—was? Are you sure this letter is to inform you that—that our boy is— dead?”

“Yes. I somehow know.” Tears streamed down his cheeks. “I also know you loved him enough to call him our boy, too.” On a hard sob, he asked, “Come with me, Jessie. Come upstairs to Fraser’s room and let’s find his letter together.”

They climbed the stair to the room young Fraser

used, and within no time Jessie had found 813 the sealed letter to the boy’s father.

“I brought Major Brown’s letter upstairs with us,” she said, breaking the seal on the letter. “It was written near Sharpsburg, Maryland, dated September 24, 1862. Sit down here on the bed beside me, Paul. Would you rather know what Major Brown has written, or shall I read Fraser’s special letter to you first?”

“Jessie, oh, Jessie, I know he’s dead! I know it, but I can’t bear to hear it yet! Please read my boy’s note to me first.”

“All right, Paul. This is what Fraser wrote.”

“My dear Papa …

When you take me to board my train, I will beg you to promise to carry out a special request. Miss Jessie has already granted the request I made of her. For many years I have thought that my grandmother, Anne Fraser, and you have not always been close friends. Thanks to Aunt Pete and Uncle John Couper Fraser, I no longer believe this to be true. I felt sure when I was in Marietta that Grandmother Anne had

discovered how much she had misunderstood you in the past. I now pray that you will send Miss Jessie to Marietta to tell my grandmother if you learn that I am dead. I do not expect to die, because I am going in full faith that this is God’s Cause and a noble one—fighting for the freedom of my native land, the Confederacy. Men do die in war, though, from disease and guns. So Grandmother will not experience the pain alone of learning of my death, I would rest so much easier if Miss Jessie, my greathearted stepmother, was with her. Along with us, my grandmother has endured the loss of my mother and my grandfather, Lieutenant John Fraser, so adored by her, and so I want to cushion any further loss a bit if possible. My beloved stepmother, Miss Jessie, is one of the world’s strongest, most sensitive women. Please know how deeply I love you both and trust you to grant my request.

Signed, your loving son,

John Fraser Demere.”

For several minutes Paul Demere paced the room, fighting back hard, racking sobs. Then he stopped where Jessie still sat on Fraser’s

bed. “You told the boy you’d go 815 to Marietta?”

“Yes. I’ll go gladly. It may help Anne Fraser a little to see for herself how much I loved her grandson, too.”

“Jessie?”

“Yes, Paul?”

“It certainly helps me that you know how much I loved Fraser’s mother, Annie. From my heart, I thank you for that.”

“I’ve always known, Paul, and I love you so much that what’s left for me makes me happy every hour of my life.” She waited a moment, then asked, “Don’t you want me to read the major’s letter to you about our dear boy?”

“No. Just glance at it, please, and let me know if he—suffered a long time before he died.”

Jessie scanned the single page quickly, then, with her hand on Paul’s, she whispered, “He didn’t suffer at all. It was almost instantaneous. A bullet in his head. They don’t think he even realized what happened.”

When Eve knocked at Anne’s bedroom door earlier than usual on Saturday

morning, September 27, Anne’s first impulse was to be as cross as she felt. Instead, she checked herself and acted on her newly made vow to remember that she wasn’t the only anxious, worried mother and grandmother in the country. North and South, women—sweethearts, wives, sisters, grandmothers, aunts—were all suffering the singular pain always endured by those who stay at home when there is war. Trying her best to keep her new vow not to fall into a pit of self-pity had helped some. When she read letters from John Couper and Fraser Demere in which they reported their safety and good health, Anne found a special solace until she realized that anything might have happened to either of them while the letter was en route to her.

There was little any woman could do about thoughts like these, but at least she could try outwardly to fulfill her mission as mother to her girls— especially in the letters she kept writing to poor, misguided Fanny, now in Ringgold on the nursing staff of a Confederate hospital. Still, everything she did was outward. Too much of the time she felt as though she was playing a role, not fulfilling a mission.

Her determination held, though, even with Eve,

who had barged in just when Anne had finally 817 fallen into a deep sleep.

“Mornin’, Miss Anne,” Eve said too cheerfully as she jerked open the draperies to let in the now familiar slant of clean, white light —light that Anne prayed never to take for granted but sometimes was too worried to notice. “I got a surprise for you an’ that the reason I’m here so early on a Saturday morning. Looky here!” Eve held out a letter.

Anne grabbed the envelope and clasped it to her breast because it was from John Couper. Then she demanded to know why Eve had waited all night to give it to her, since the train bringing mail from Virginia always came at night.

“June an’ Big Boy jus’ got it when the pos’ office opened today. I waited as long as I could to give it to you ‘cause you ain’t been sleepin’ at night. You want I should get the water fo’ yo’ bath now?”

“No! Don’t get anything. I’m sure you’ve looked and know already this is from John Couper, so stay with me. We’ll read it together. Sit down here on the bed and I’ll read it aloud.”

“Yes’m.”

“Do you have to go on saying `yes’m`? I don’t feel as though I own you anymore. Can’t you just say all right?”

Eve grinned at her. “All right, Miss Anne.”

“It’s short. Less than one page. And dated September 16, 1862.”

“Dearest Mama and Girls …

Just a line or two so I can go to sleep tonight with a clear conscience. We go into battle tomorrow, as far as we know, and I need my sleep, but there is good news. I have just learned that my nephew, young Fraser Demere, is also to report for duty here in Sharpsburg, and since he is now a sergeant, I have permission to meet with him at the first opportunity after we have licked the tar out of those Yanks! It will be so good to see him again, and I will write as soon as I can and let you know exactly how Fraser is faring. My love to all of you. I have just watered and groomed my faithful horse, Bay Boy, and will probably be asleep before I’m settled on my pallet. More soon.

Your excited and confident son,

John Couper Fraser 819

P.S. If several days pass with no word from me, don’t worry. It will only mean we are traveling and busy as frisky bees.”

Anne took a deep, trembling breath. “Oh, Eve, Eve, it’s good that John Couper and dear Fraser will have a chance to see each other, but dear God, hear us plead for their safety. Take care of them both, please!”

Another letter, this one from Jessie Demere, reached Anne in Marietta before fresh word from either John Couper or Fraser Demere.

“A letter from Jessie Demere!” Pete said excitedly when she handed her mother the letter from Florida. “I think it’s wonderful that she wrote to you. I know you never liked her, because she was the woman Paul married when Annie died. Can’t you see this is going to help you over that hurdle, Mama? And goodness knows you’ve got enough hurdles to get over these days!”

“Stop spouting, Pete, and I’ll see what Paul’s wife has to say.”

“Are you scared it might be bad news about Fraser?”

“Not really. Somehow I think Paul would have written anything like that to me. Hush and I’ll read it. Then we’ll know. It’s not long,” Anne said, unfolding the letter. “And I’ll thank you, Pete, not to give me a lecture about my attitude toward either Jessie Demere or Paul. At least not now. The letter’s dated only a week ago from Jasper, Florida. `Dear Mrs. Fraser … This may seem impertinent and rude to you, but my husband and I came to the decision together, and there is nothing courteous to do but let you know at once that by the time you receive this, I will be on a train headed for Marietta. When I tell you why I must pay you this visit, I’m sure from what sweet Fraser has told me about you that you will agree Paul and I made the right decision. I should arrive in Marietta on October 8, which I believe is Wednesday. Most sincerely, Jessie Sinclair Demere.` Pete! Wednesday?”

“This is Tuesday, Mama. She’ll be here tomorrow!”

“I know it’s tomorrow. Go get Eve. Tell her

I need my hair washed and that we’ll 821 put Mrs. Demere in Fanny’s room. Eve will need to make the bed with fresh linens and dust the room well. Big Boy should also beat the carpet.”

When Wednesday, October 8, arrived, perfect autumn weather came with it. An even clearer, whiter light filtered down over the Marietta house Anne loved so dearly, with just enough pale gold in the air to remind her of how John always laughed because she vowed the very air on St. Simons Island turned gold in the fall. She smiled at the thought, despite her minute-by-minute worry that Jessie Demere would be making the long, hard trip from Florida only because she had bad, maybe even tragic, news about blessed Fraser. Sadness, worry, hammering anxiety, had come to be like a steady drumbeat in Anne’s head, so for the instant it lasted, she welcomed her almost involuntary smile.

Pete and Selina were dressed and ready to meet

Jessie’s train at the depot in town when Sam, who insisted on escorting them, stopped his well-maintained though secondhand buggy in the lane before the welcoming, shining house.

“You really didn’t need to come with me, Selina,” Pete said, turning to face her sister riding alone in the upholstered buggy seat because Pete, as always, was sitting up front with Sam. “You could have stayed at home with Mama to keep her company, and you didn’t have to get dressed up to ride into town. I’ve told all of you, no one ever needs to dress up for Miss Jessie Demere. One reason I liked her so much is that she’s so down-to-earth and natural—not dressy or fussy about anything. Sam, have you noticed how no one ever listens to me in our family?”

Sam’s good laugh had its usual effect on Pete. Her heart sang because she loved his laughter, and it usually meant that he was truly sober. She had sniffed rather shamelessly when she kissed him first thing. He hadn’t had one drop to drink. “No one listens to you, Pete?” he asked, all smiles. “Everyone listens to you because—was

“Because it’s the only way to get you to shut up,

Pete. And stop trying to boss us 823 around,” Selina snapped.

“Sam,” Pete demanded, “tell her I don’t boss anyone!”

“I’m all the way out of this little female fracas,” he teased, “except to declare that you both look utterly charming this morning.”

“Flattery will get you anywhere you want to go,” Pete said.

“Well! If that’s true, my gorgeous Pete, I want to go to the altar at St. James Episcopal Church within the hour and marry you.”

“How in the name of heaven can you think of a new way to ask me to be your wife—every day? You do, you know. I don’t even have to keep track anymore. I just know you’ll think of something.” Scooting closer to Sam on the driver’s seat, she laughed. “And don’t you dare stop. Don’t miss a single day! Do you hear me?”

“If that isn’t bossing, I never heard it,” Selina snorted.

“Will it make you homesick for Florida having Jessie here?” Pete asked, her pert, handsome red head cocked to hide how much she cared

about his answer.

“What if I do get homesick for Florida?” he joked.

“I’m not being funny,” Pete answered sharply. “And don’t think you can hide it from me if you are, because I’ll know.”

From the passenger seat Selina said, her voice suddenly sad, “We’re all being so silly and really quite unfunny because we’re all worried to death about the reason Miss Jessie’s coming all this way. It’s dreadful news she’s bringing. I just know it is. Eve knows it, too. She has one of her knowings. She told me this morning. Why, when Mama isn’t even here, do we have to try to be funny and pretend we think Mrs. Demere’s just making that ghastly trip up here to be sociable?”

On a sudden, deep sigh, Sam said, “I don’t know, Selina. People just do dumb things sometimes.”

Selina decided to stay downtown in case there was mail at the post office for anyone, but especially for her from her beloved George Stubinger. “I don’t even know Miss Jessie yet and I’m sure Mama won’t mind,” she told Pete and Sam as she headed for the post