Josephine (2 page)

“I hope so, because I love him so much.”

Having never been in love, Jo didn’t respond. After observing Trudy these past few months though, Jo wasn’t sure she wanted anything to do with Cupid and his arrows, especially if being struck addled your brain and made you willing to marry a man who would probably want to take his mama on the honeymoon. Jo kept that opinion to herself, as well.

“My stars, would you look at that?” Trudy exclaimed.

Jo turned to see what had caught Trudy’s attention. Coming onto the church grounds were some men dressed in Union blue. The mostly female crowd went silent. Most of the soldiers were on crutches, or walking with a cane, while a few were being pushed along in large, wooden-wheeled chairs by more able-bodied comrades. The uniforms on all the men were frayed and old, but they were clean. Someone in the crowd began to applaud, and soon, the air rang with hand claps, loud shouts and cheers. Jo and Trudy added their boisterous tributes, as well. Both of their families had men in the fight, and it wasn’t often that the common folk had the opportunity to express their deep appreciation for the sacrifices the troops were making on behalf of the nation.

Still clapping, Jo asked, “Why do you think they’re here?”

Trudy shrugged.

Mrs. Patricia Oswald, a relatively new member of the community, made herself visible to the crowd. She held up her hands and the crowd quieted.

“I’d like you all to meet my son, Calvin, and these are his friends.”

Calvin, leaning on his cane, waved. The other men raised their hands, as well. Mrs. Oswald hadn’t lived in the community long enough for Jo to know her son, but he appeared to be about Daniel’s age.

Mrs. Oswald continued, “He was wounded down in Georgia, and when he came back here to recuperate he invited his fellows to come along.” The look on her face made everyone laugh.

“So, I’ve opened my home to Calvin and to other men of the race who need a bit more care before they can go home to their families. The church has offered to be one of the sponsors of this effort, and that’s partly why we’re all here tonight. I have enough space for a good twenty men, but the money for none. It would help me and the men if you’d place whatever you can afford in the milk jug that is being passed around. The soldiers and the church would consider it a blessing.”

She then added, “The reverend has suggested that the men might benefit from the company of some of the ladies in our community, so if any ladies here tonight have the time to write letters, read or visit with the men, those efforts would be a blessing, as well.”

Jo decided she would take Mrs. Oswald up on her offer. Heaven forbid anything should happen to the soldiers in her family, but if any of them were wounded or hurt, Jo knew she would want someone to be kind to them while they recuperated. “I think that sounds like a wonderful way to help out, Trudy, don’t you?”

Trudy nodded. “Just as long as I get to help that gorgeous one with the cane.”

Jo saw the man in question. He had chocolate-brown skin and a nice face indeed. She laughed. “Aren’t you supposed to be engaged?”

“Engaged isn’t married,” Trudy cracked.

“I think you need to go back to Bert,” Jo responded. “A moment ago you were declaring how much you loved him.”

“I do, but—don’t you think that soldier is handsome?”

Jo worried about her friend sometimes, and this was one of those times. Jo took Trudy firmly by the elbow and steered her back in the direction they’d just come.

Trudy sighed heavily. “I suppose I shouldn’t be mooning over strange men. I do love Bert.”

“Yes, you do,” Jo agreed firmly.

As Jo and Trudy made their way back across the grove to where Bert stood with his mother, Jo nodded and smiled at the people she knew. Most of the women here had known her all of her life, and Jo felt warmth inside at the roles they’d played. There was Mrs. Lovey, Jo’s first Sunday school teacher and very first customer at the shop. Seeing another woman she knew well, Jo stopped for a moment to receive a hug from Mrs. Firestone, Jo’s old piano teacher and one of her mama’s best friends. Last week, Vera Firestone had received a letter from the government notifying her that both her husband and only son had been killed in a battle in South Carolina. Jo hugged her fiercely and felt the tears sting her eyes. Jo had known both men well. It was hard for her to believe she’d never see them again. That someone in her own family could be taken by the war was not something she wished to think about, and at that moment she would have given anything for a letter confirming their safety.

While Trudy went back to Bert, Jo looked around for her mama and Belle. There were so many folks about it took her a moment. She soon spotted Belle by the drape that had been strung between two trees to create a makeshift powder room. Behind the drape were a few chairs and a large standing mirror.

As Jo and Belle spent a few moments talking about the soldiers, a voice drifted out from behind the drape, and both young women went stock-still, hearing, “Ah, yes, Josephine Best did my hair. Isn’t it lovely?”

Jo’s eyes widened. Why, that was Old Lady Donovan speaking!

A voice Jo didn’t recognize responded, “Well, it appears as if she did a marvelous job. Turn, and let me see the back. Oh, it’s lovely. I’ll bet she earned quite a tip?”

“Of course. A very substantial one, and the girl was most grateful.”

Jo started to go charging inside, but Belle reached out and grabbed Jo’s arm. “Don’t you dare go in there.”

Jo was so angry she could spit. “Did you hear that?”

Belle nodded. “I did, but come away. If you start a commotion, it’ll draw your mama, then all perdition is going to break loose once she finds out what’s going on. We promised your father we’d keep your mama out of trouble, remember?”

Jo knew that Belle was correct. Jo had inherited every bit of her mama’s fire, and she’d been working real hard as of late to not be such a hothead. Right now, however, she wanted to explode. That woman hadn’t paid her a Confederate cent! How dare she turn around and act as if she had!

Belle steered Jo away from the curtain. “Come on. Let’s go sign up to help the soldiers.”

“The next time I see her…”

Belle said, “You will say nothing. We both know we have to respect our elders, even the ones who lie through their teeth.”

Jo could tell by Belle’s tone and glittering eyes that Belle wasn’t happy with Mrs. Donovan, either. Jo quipped, “How about I just shave her bald the next time she comes around then?”

Belle tossed back, “Only if you let me help.”

Jojo laughed. “I love having you for a sister.”

“I love you too, Jojo.”

two

On
Sunday, after leaving church the Best women joined the small caravan of buggies and wagons traveling to Mrs. Oswald’s home to visit the soldiers. There were eight vehicles in all, and Jo, seated beside Belle while Cecilia drove, was extremely proud to be part of such a caring community. “I didn’t know so many were coming,” she exclaimed, eyes bright with excitement. Jo turned around and waved happily to Trudy and her mother riding in the wagon behind them. “It feels like a parade.”

Belle smiled. “Yes, it does. It shows how big all of our hearts are here.”

Jo could only agree. Over the years the people of Whittaker had sheltered runaway slaves, donated to abolitionist causes and kept themselves abreast of issues affecting the race and the nation. Volunteering to help Mrs. Oswald and the soldiers seemed the natural thing to do. Jo figured that helping the men might help take her mind off Daniel, her father and Mr. Palmer, too. During this morning’s church service, she’d put the Best menfolk in her prayers, then promised the Lord that she would stop pestering Him about their safety, but because she loved Dani and her father so much, Jo knew it would be a hard vow to keep.

The house Mrs. Oswald lived in was an old mansion built by a now-deceased coal king. In the years since his death, the interior had been sectioned off into smaller areas and turned into a boardinghouse. It was old and desperately needed a new coat of paint, but thanks to the repairs done by Jo’s father last year, the roof was sound, a necessity when facing the fierce Michigan winter.

A smiling Patricia Oswald came out onto the porch to greet them. She was short and plump, and wore her slightly graying hair parted down the center and pulled back in line with the current style. The sight of the dozen or so women now gathered seemed to please her. “Thank you all so much for coming. It’s such a beautiful day, we decided being out of doors might prove fun. So follow me. The men are in the back and very eager to meet you.”

The shady grove behind the big house was all set up for a picnic. There were large trestle tables topped with food, and chairs and benches had been set about. Jo, walking alongside Trudy, roughly estimated there to be about twenty men in attendance. All looked grand in their worn blue uniforms, even the men in the wooden wheelchairs.

Introductions followed, and Jo had to admit that being viewed by so many smiling young men made her a bit self-conscious, but she buried the reaction and concentrated on Mrs. Oswald’s voice. One of the last men to be introduced was the soldier Trudy had been so taken with at the church’s gathering on Friday night. “That’s him!” Trudy whispered excitedly while clutching Jo’s arm.

Jo sighed. His name was Dred Reed, and he was by far the handsomest man in attendance. He had dark velvet brown skin and a thin mustache that seemed to add an air of danger to his face. Jo hoped Trudy wouldn’t make a fool of herself before the afternoon was over. Better still, Jo hoped Reed was married. That way Trudy would have to direct her affections back to Bert Waterman where they belonged.

When Mrs. Oswald finished, everyone in attendance was encouraged to chat, eat and become better acquainted. Jo could see a soldier with a cane slowly making his way over to where she and Trudy were standing. For a moment, Jo thought his interest lay in the food table positioned to her left, but then she realized his eyes were on her alone.

Apparently, Trudy spotted him, as well. “Looks like you caught a live one, Jo. Reel him in slow, now.”

Jo laughed. “Hush. Can’t take you anywhere.” But all the while Jo was trying not to acknowledge that his obvious interest had filled her with an uncharacteristic case of nerves. She didn’t know what to do with her hands—didn’t know if she should look at him, or look away. She finally told herself to relax. It wasn’t as if she’d never been approached by a young man before; she had, but something about her always seemed to throw them off.

Trudy said sagely, “And he’s not bad-looking, either.”

No, he wasn’t, Jo admitted to herself. He had beautiful brown eyes and a firm jaw that reminded her of her father. Jo glanced around the grove to see where her mama might be, then spotted her talking with Belle and a small group of men at a table a few yards away. The distance would prevent Cecilia from being privy to any conversation Jo and the approaching soldier might have. Jo loved her mama dearly, but sometimes daughters didn’t want their mamas involved in everything.

When the young man finally came abreast of them, he smiled and said, “Afternoon, ladies.”

Jo and Trudy responded in kind.

He then asked, “Might I interest you in joining me in some lemonade? My name is George Brooks.”

Batting her eyes flirtatiously, Trudy answered before Jo could speak, “Why, certainly. We’d love to. Wouldn’t we, Jo? My name is Trudy Carr, and this is my best friend, Josephine Best. You can call her Jo, everyone does.”

Jo wanted to sock Trudy, but thought such an act might make for a bad first impression. “Where shall we sit?” Jo asked George instead.

“I have a friend guarding some chairs over there.”

Since his arrival, he hadn’t looked away from Jo once. Being the object of such undivided attention made her more nervous and uncertain, but she forced herself to speak calmly. “Then why don’t you lead the way.”

Once the cups of lemonade were retrieved, Jo and Trudy followed George over to the chairs he had alluded to. The friend turned out to be Dred Reed.

George made the introductions. “Dred, this is Trudy Carr, and this—” he paused a moment and met Jo’s eyes “—is her friend Josephine Best.”

Jo had never had a young man gaze at her so intently. Heat spread across her cheeks. She forced herself to turn away and concentrate on something else. The terribly handsome Dred nodded a greeting to Jo and Trudy, then graciously gestured them to the vacant chairs. “Welcome, ladies. It’s always a pleasure to be in the company of such beauty.”

Trudy tittered like a silly adolescent. Jo rolled her eyes.

For the next half hour, the four young people conversed pleasantly. When the subject of hometowns came up, Jo learned that George hailed from Jackson, Michigan. Dred called the small western Michigan town of Niles home.

“I’ve never been to either place,” Jo admitted, “but I know Jackson is the next sizable town west of here.”

Trudy was mooning over Dred as if he were a dessert, but she managed to add, “I know that Niles was one of the first Michigan settlements founded by members of our race.”

Dred smiled at her and said, “Not only are you lovely, but educated, as well—a rare combination these days.”

Jo thought Trudy might swoon from the compliment. Dred reminded Jo of Daniel’s childhood friends, Adam and Jeremiah Morgan. The Morgan brothers were born flirts and had never met a young lady whose head they couldn’t turn. Dred was definitely turning Trudy’s. At the rate Trudy was becoming enamored, Jo guessed that by the time this visit ended Trudy’s head would be spinning on her neck like a plate turned on end.

Trudy began telling the soldiers about the years she and Jo spent at Oberlin. Jo pretended to listen but was more interested in taking peeks at George without him noticing her interest. He caught her more than once, though, and when their eyes met, the slight tingle in her blood that resulted was unlike anything she’d experienced before. Jo dropped her eyes shyly.

Trudy went on with her stories. When she started in on the episode about the cow that came to one of their classes, Dred laughed uproariously. Jo noted that Dred seemed to be showing a real interest in Trudy. Just then, Trudy’s mother, Barbara Carr, suddenly walked up. Both George and Dred stood politely.

Mrs. Carr inclined her head slightly and said, “Good afternoon.”

They responded deferentially.

Mrs. Carr said, “Trudy, there’s a young man over there who needs a letter written. I told him you had a beautiful hand.”

Jo wondered if Mrs. Carr had seen her daughter flirting with Dred and had come to put a stop to it. Jo knew Trudy didn’t want to leave, but the cool look on Mrs. Carr’s face was all anyone needed to see.

Trudy stood. “It was nice meeting you both,” she said a bit tightly to both Dred and George.

“Nice meeting you, as well,” Dred responded, his eyes on Trudy.

Jo could see Mrs. Carr looking between Trudy and the soldier. Mrs. Carr then said, “Come, Gertrude.”

Jo winced inwardly. Trudy
hated
being called Gertrude. It was yet another indication that Mrs. Carr knew what Trudy had been up to. Mrs. Carr used Trudy’s given name only when provoked. Jo hoped her best friend hadn’t landed herself in trouble.

As the Carrs set off across the field, Jo decided that the time had come for her to make a graceful exit, as well. It might have been all right for her and Trudy to be with the soldiers together, but now that Trudy had gone, Jo wanted no questions from her mama.

Jo stood. “I must be going, too.” She noted how crestfallen George looked in response, so she added gently, “I’m sure we will meet again soon.”

The smile he gave her made Jo’s heart beat fast.

“I hope so,” he told her. “Thank you for your company, Miss Josephine.”

“You’re welcome, and thank you for yours.”

Smiling, Jo left them with a wave, then walked over and joined her mother and Belle.

On the ride home, Cecilia asked Jo, “Did you have a good time?”

“I did. The men seemed very nice, don’t you think?”

“Yes, and I saw those nice young men you and Trudy were sitting with.”

“His name is George Brooks. He’s from Jackson.”

“He seemed polite.”

“Very,” Jo said in a dreamier voice than she’d intended.

Her mother chuckled. “That polite, huh?”

Jo was immediately embarrassed. “I meant—”

Belle reached over and patted Jo’s hand. “You don’t have to explain. We understand.”

Jo dropped her head to hide another round of blushing. “He’s very nice.”

Cecilia asked, “And the other one?”

Jo was still thinking about George’s smile and didn’t respond until Belle elbowed her playfully. “Jo, wake up. Your mother asked about the other one.”

Jo shook herself back to the present. “What other one?”

Belle rolled her eyes amusedly. “The other soldier—”

“Oh. His name’s Dred Reed.”

Cecilia said then, “Trudy seemed to be having a good time with him.”

Jo went still for a moment as she tried to gauge her mother’s mood. Jo then responded cautiously, “I—Trudy was just being nice, that’s all.”

Cecilia nodded. “Well, I hope she remembers she’s about to marry. Corinne Waterman is just looking for an excuse to cancel the engagement. You might tell Trudy that.”

All Jo could say was, “Yes, Mama.”

That night, Jo recited her prayers, then climbed into bed. Lying there in the dark, she reminisced on the day. It had begun in church, with her mama and the other choir members singing beautifully, and ended with the visit to Mrs. Oswald’s and George. George. She had no trouble conjuring up his smile or his memorable brown eyes. Maybe the next time they met she would ask him how he’d been injured, and how long he planned to stay with Mrs. Oswald, if that wouldn’t be considered too forward. According to Jo’s mama, not all of the soldiers they’d met today were friends of Mrs. Oswald’s son, Calvin. Some of the men had been sent to stay with Mrs. Oswald by the veterans’ home in Grand Rapids to recuperate before being ordered back South to fight. Others were on their way home and simply waiting to be retrieved by family members. Jo wondered what category George fit into. She had no plans to fall in love with him or anything like that; she planned to leave such silliness to Trudy, but Jo would be the first to admit that she wouldn’t mind seeing George again. Soon.

Jo never opened up the shop on Mondays, preferring to use the day to prepare her business for the week to come. With that in mind, she set about cleaning up. Once that task was accomplished, she checked over her supplies to make sure she had enough of her special hair oil. She made it herself out of bergamot, oils of lemon and orange and a few other secret ingredients she refused to divulge to anyone. Ever the businesswoman, she had dreams of peddling it to women all over America, but with the war on, the dream had to wait.

Satisfied now that she had enough oil, hairpins, ribbons and the like, Jo took a break and settled into one of the chairs to read the latest edition of
Harper’s Weekly.
She’d been an avid reader all of her life, but with the war on she devoured every newspaper she came in contact with for reports on the fighting down South. One of the first stories she read today had to do with President Lincoln promoting Ulysses S. Grant to lieutenant general. According to the report, the last military man to be so honored was General George Washington. Another story detailed the dire straits of the Confederacy. Richmond had fallen to the Union on April fourth, and President Jefferson Davis had had no other option but to flee along with the terrified populace. Their troops had no food and their manpower was so depleted that the Confederate Congress was now requiring every able Southern man from age seventeen to fifty to serve in the Army.

Jo put the paper down. She wondered about her father and her brother. It seemed every adult male she knew was away fighting the war, and she found herself thinking about them all: her papa; her brother, Dani; Belle’s papa; Trudy’s papa. For the most part, Jo kept silent about her fear for them because she knew her mama was worried, too, and because Jo was supposed to act strong like the rest of the women in the community. Yet, she’d never lived through anything like a war before, especially a war with so much at stake. The child inside Jo wanted the world to be the way it was before, with everyone home and safe, but the young woman she’d become knew that could never be. The country was indeed at war; the Union, and the fate of three and a half million slaves, hung in the balance. Her fears notwithstanding, what her father and the others were doing was right. She’d just have to keep saying her prayers.

A short while later, Jo locked up the shop and walked the short distance back to the house. She decided that tomorrow she would spend her whole day helping Mrs. Oswald with the veteran boarders.