Beauty From Ashes (64 page)

Still standing at his office window peering at the open doorway of the telegraph office, he tried to put Pete’s quixotic ways to one side and focus his curiosity on the unusual sight of the stranger, who even now was surely sending an urgent message. Urgent? The way the man had hurried, twisting his ankle in the process, must mean a real emergency. Why? The man was dressed in ordinary travel clothing. There was no sign of the military, either Northern or Southern, in his appearance. He was certainly too fat for active service with either Army.

As Sam stood at his window, wondering whether to make a run for the telegraph office to ask questions or to stay put in case a much-needed patient came by, he saw three other men rush from the telegraph office, each stopping a different person on the street to deliver what certainly looked to be a surprising message. The men spreading the word spoke rapidly, pointing, gesturing this way and that, and those who heard scattered at once in opposite directions.

“Uh-oh,” Sam murmured to himself when he saw one talking, gesturing man stop Buster Matthews’s mother, Beaulah. Telling Beaulah

was the same as hand-delivering the actual 869 telegram all over town! Worse, because she could embroider more skillfully with her tongue than with a needle and thread. When he realized that people were yelling to each other on the street, he leaned out the open window hoping to hear what they were actually saying. Over and over, he heard the same four words: “The Yanks are coming! The Yanks are coming!”

By the time Beaulah Matthews and a hundred other Mariettans had repeated the words, the story had grown to terrifying proportions. In effect, the stranger had been sent on the morning train to telegraph Atlanta for help because the Federal cavalry was even now on the Coosa River below Rome, Georgia, just over the Alabama line, heading south into Georgia toward Marietta itself!

Marietta seethed with the news, and in such a small community, Sam knew it would quickly spread into the whole of Cobb County. “Federal troops are coming to burn the whole town,” Sam’s first patient told him breathlessly. “They might be here tonight, but surely by tomorrow!”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Sam,” another patient, a lady who never really needed medical

service anyway, said, “but I’ll just have to rush right over and get my children out of school—take ‘em home where they can feel safe with me. I hear all women and children are being told to stay inside their own houses.”

“Every man in town will be out and hard at work in no time. Mark my word, Doc. I know you need the money, but I can’t wait for no doctorin’ today,” a bachelor in his thirties informed Sam. “You best get your gun an’ come on out too! The men are plannin’ to garrison the courthouse and shoot down the Yankee devils just as quick as they start advancin’ across our Square!”

Sam’s thoughts had flown to Pete, but he was torn between knowing he should stay in his office, because someone was bound to be injured, and rushing to make sure Pete and her family were safe. Not knowing which way to turn, he just stood in his office and did nothing.

On the third day after the alarm spread across the once quiet, peaceful county, Louisa—still staying at the Cole cottage because Georgia was expecting another child—met Anne on the street halfway to her house. Each was trying to reach the

other because of the still-terrifying emergency 871 gripping the town.

“Louisa, my dear friend,” Anne said, grasping both her hands, “are things all right at the Cole cottage? I know there’s been no sign of a Yankee invasion, but what about dear Georgia?”

“She’s doing fine, Anne. The new baby could be right on time, and, bless Georgia, at least she has her man beside her. I know my romance with Dix is different, not as dramatic as yours was with Lieutenant Fraser, but I do miss Dix. I pray he’s all right out there in the country at Woodlawn.”

“Probably safer than those of us in town,” Anne said.

“And you, my dear, are you able to sleep at night? I hear folks all over town say that they spend nights peeping out cracks in closed shutters, fearing every tree branch that moves in the wind and casts a shadow. Are you and Pete and Selina afraid without an able-bodied man in the house? I know Captain Stubinger would do all he could, but the poor fellow is so crippled. Henry Cole’s barber, James Johnson, tells

him that your man, June, insists your new son-in-law will never be well again.”

Anne laughed a little. “There’s no such thing as a secret in this city, is there? But June’s right, I’m afraid. As for my being afraid at night with no able-bodied men around—no. Not afraid, I think. Just lonelier than ever. It’s not in a woman’s nature to depend only on herself, Louisa. It’s in our natures to do all in our power to care for those we love—especially our children—but not to fend for ourselves.”

“I’m not sure you’re right about that, Anne. Your own actions and the way you’ve learned to live your life without a man beside you prove you wrong. You’re the most resourceful woman I’ve ever known. I was quite sure you were safe through all our recent scare, but I left Georgia with her nurse just now because I found I simply had to tell you that while I’m still nearby. If this scare passes, and somehow I think it will, Dix says the house will still be ready to receive its mistress sometime this summer. You will visit me often, won’t you, when we get our guest room completed?”

“As often as I possibly can, Louisa. You know how lost I’ll be without you. Mina baked

fresh buns. Please come have some with me 873 now?”

“She uses precious flour and sugar to bake cinnamon buns?”

“I smelled the spice before I knew what she was doing. Anyway, I doubt I have the heart to stop her.” Grasping Louisa’s arm, Anne said, “Oh, Louisa, do you think this ghastly war will ever end? Does anyone really think it will ever be over?”

“I see no sign of its ending. Nor does Dix. Nor does my son-in-law, Henry. You hear often from your son fighting somewhere north of us. Does John Couper think there’s any chance it could end?”

“Sometimes I don’t know what to think of my son’s letters! Each one is sweet and considerate of his sisters and me. He cares so much for our welfare, but I’ve told you until I know you’re sick of hearing it that the boy loves military life as much as his father loved it. He owns his own business but is ready to drop that if, after the war, he can only find a position in the Army. It breaks my heart. I struggle to accept it, but I don’t understand it at all. I

didn’t with his father. Louisa, can’t you walk on to my house for a good, good, long talk?”

“I wish I could,” Louisa said. “Had I found you at home, I only meant to stay a few minutes. Henry Cole hires the best possible nurse, but he doesn’t like it one bit when I leave Georgia alone with her.

I’ll come for that good visit soon, I promise. I don’t suppose Pete’s any closer to marrying poor, lonely Dr. Sam, is she?”

Anne sighed. “No, I see no sign of any change of heart or mind in Pete. It really isn’t fair to Sam, in my opinion.”

Anne walked slowly back to her own house, still unable, even with all the tragedy and hardship in her world, to deprive herself of the inevitable joy of just looking at her handsome house. The light from the late spring sky was white-white today, and her white columns gleamed their graceful welcome as she went slowly up her path.

“I have this beautiful home because of my beloved son, John Couper,” she said to herself. “Oh, John, my wonderful husband, John, I have this beautiful home because of our son. If only I

could talk to you for just a few minutes, 875 darling! I need your help so much with our daughter Pete. You always seemed to understand Pete far better than I ever did. She made you laugh. She made all of us laugh, and could that be the reason I never expected Pete to be confused by anything? Did you ever think she would grow up and reach a place in her life when she truly didn’t know what she wanted? Sam is so kind, so good to her. He loves her dearly. I’m going to be joining you someday not far off, John. How I want to know Pete is in good, strong, gentle hands. They won’t be like yours, John. No man ever had hands like yours, but Sam’s hands are healing hands. Gentle, healing hands. I do wish Pete could talk to you. Even if I can’t, I’d gladly help any way I could to fix things so that Pete could talk to her father.”

Nearly a week of quiet nights and reasonably quiet days passed before most of the citizens of Marietta could believe that the Confederate cavalry had actually met and turned back what they were by then calling the Blue hordes from the North. Even the strongest Unionists

among them—those who declared themselves publicly and those who kept their political loyalties to themselves— still feared an invasion of Cobb County, a few months ago a prosperous, growing community whose future appeared brighter every day. Any form of destruction in Cobb County seemed impossible. Even Henry Greene Cole, surely one of the staunchest supporters of the Union, had rejoiced inside himself at every Yankee victory on the battlefield, even those considered small and inconsequential to most. He had found it hard to believe that anything could happen to mar the safe, solid plans every businessman held for the area.

The telegram to Atlanta stating that the Yanks were coming changed his feeling of safety for Marietta. “I don’t want a word of this mentioned to Georgia,” Cole told Louisa Fletcher as the two shared breakfast the morning of May 10, the day Sam believed the Coles’ new baby would arrive. “My wife must be spared every added fear, and we mustn’t forget that God is good to have sent us Dr. Sam Smith to attend her. The man is, I’m convinced, a truly strong Unionist. We can trust him to understand how inflated rumors about Confederate victories in

the field, or even the possibility of 877 an invasion from the North in the vicinity of Cobb County, would upset Georgia.” Finishing his almost tasteless coffee brewed from okra seeds, he added, “I’m sure Georgia told you, Mrs. Fletcher, that we plan to name our new child after the late, great, true Unionist, Daniel Webster, if the child is a son.”

“Indeed my daughter did tell me, Mr. Cole. And how the country needs another Daniel Webster!”

The baby—a boy—was delivered without incident later that day and duly named for the great orator.

Pete left home a little before noon that day and, as usual, headed first for the post office, found nothing of consequence for anyone in the family, and—her mind already made up—went straight to Sam’s office. She expected a handful of patients to be waiting but was happily surprised to find the outer room empty, so she walked in her determined way right into his private treatment rooms. They were empty too. Sam was nowhere in sight.

Annoyed now, she said to herself, “Pshaw! How dare he not be here today, of all days? How like a man! I thought he meant it when he vowed not a minute passed in any day when he wasn’t longing to marry me!”

And then, while she stood, hands on hips, in the middle of his private office, she heard Sam’s cheerful whistle as he took the stairs to his second-floor suite two at a time. Near the top, only an empty room away from where Pete stood, he broke into song, the comical lyrics of a new ditty called “Jeff in Petticoats.”

“Oh, Jeffy D! You flow’r of chivalree, Oh, royal Jeffy D!”

In an exaggerated Southern drawl, Pete demanded, “Doctah Sam Smith, I declare! How dare you sing a song that makes fun of our great Confed’rate President, Jefferson Davis?”

So surprised he could only stand and stare at her, Sam gasped, “Pete! Pete, in the name

of heaven, what are you doing here? How 879 does a man compose himself in the face of a surprise as glorious as this?”

“I’ll show you how!” she fairly yelled.

And without another word, both her arms were around his neck, and they stood in his treatment room locked in a long, deep kiss as unconcerned as though there was no danger at all that a patient might appear.

“Pete, Pete, how I do love you! You’re a completely mad woman and I love the very ground you walk on. Could I please have just a spoonful of the dirt you walk on, gorgeous, flaming Pete?”

“No, you may not have even a spoonful of the dirt I walk on. You may have me, Sam! I opened my eyes today, looked out at the May sunshine, and knew I wanted to marry you—now. Not next week. Not next month. Now! Just as soon as whatever has to be done can be done.”

“Pete!”

“My name is Rebecca after my ladylike Grandmother Couper,” she teased, “but, you may call me Pete.”

“That’s good. Thank you, ma’am, because you’re just

not a Rebecca.”

“Well?”

“Well what, Pete?”

“Do you or do you not want to marry me, sir? All this time I seemed totally unable to bring myself to leave Mama with John Couper off at war and Selina married to a man who’d give anything he owns to get back into the Confederate Army, but it isn’t as though you and I will be moving to Prussia or Japan! You have a medical practice right here in Marietta, and my mother lives in Marietta, too. It also isn’t as though Mama doesn’t want me to marry you. She loves you like a son. Well, she loves you as much as any woman could love another son. Her life will always revolve around John Couper. I’ve known that for years. But you and I look fine being second-best. How many more reasons do I have to think of before you agree to marry me, Dr. Sam, sir? And where have you been this morning? Tippling a bottle of wine with some wastrel friend in celebration of our not having been invaded by the mean old Blue hordes?”

Pete had been half teasing. Only half, but thinking that the tone of her voice could not

possibly hurt or anger him, Pete 881 took his face in both her hands, then playfully kissed the end of his nose. Sam did not even smile. Instead, he locked his fingers around her wrists and pulled her hands away.

“That’s the real reason you’ve been refusing to set a definite wedding date, isn’t it? My drinking.”

“Did I accuse you of drinking too much? Have I said one word about drinking?”

“No, but I happen really to love you, Pete. And I was hoping you had stopped thinking about my drinking too much because you loved me enough to control yourself.”

For a moment Pete just stood there staring down at her own hands, which had so recently held his dear face. “Sam, I did come here to tell you I’m really ready to marry you. What else can I say? And I think you know me well enough by now to know that I don’t say anything I don’t mean. I want to marry you. We’ll be so complete together, you won’t need to drink. We need each other, Sam. I miss my beloved nephew, Fraser Demere, so much, I’ve honestly come to see that I do not want to go into my old age alone in the