He sighed again and rubbed his eyes, wishing he could rub Julia from his mind. He returned to his mail. His weekly letter had arrived that morning from New Haven, and he carefully slit the envelope open with a knife. James felt his chest tighten as he unfolded a childish drawing of water and boats, the tall masts pointing to a bright orange sun. His daughter had scrawled a note to him across the top.
Dear Daddy,
We saw some ships today. I drew a picture of them for you.
Love, Kate
James left the two-page letter, written on cream vellum stationery, inside the envelope, unread. Lost in his thoughts, he was only vaguely aware of the front door groaning open, then banging closed again. A moment later he heard a man’s voice speaking from his office doorway. “Excuse me, Doctor…”
James looked up to see a tall, dark-haired man in an officer’s uniform watching him. The soldier was very thin, as if he might be recovering from an illness or an injury. Yet there was an intensity in his gaze, a predator’s alertness in his posture that James found unsettling. He quickly folded his daughter’s drawing and stuffed it back inside the envelope as if he were ashamed of it, though he couldn’t have said why.
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” the stranger said. “I’m Lieutenant Robert Hoffman. I’m looking for my—”
“Julia.”
James said the name aloud, finishing the lieutenant’s sentence. He heard the longing in his own voice and hoped her husband hadn’t.
“Yes, Julia Hoffman. I was told I might find her here.” The lieutenant stood rigidly at attention, as if awaiting military inspection. James rose and extended his hand.
“James McGrath. Julia told us you’ve been held prisoner in …Richmond, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Then I assume there must have been a prisoner exchange. How fortunate for you.”
“There wasn’t an exchange,” he said without emotion. “I escaped.”
“Ah. And Julia doesn’t know. She …well, I expect she’ll be overjoyed to see you.” James looked down at the top of his desk, pushing papers around, unable to face the man. He felt absurdly pleased that Robert Hoffman wasn’t handsome and was stunned to realize that he was jealous of this man—Julia’s husband. James wondered how Lieutenant Hoffman would react if he knew that James had kissed his wife. And that she had kissed him back.
“Is she here?” Hoffman asked. “I’ve come to take her home to Philadelphia with me.”
There was an aloofness in his manner that James found disturbing. Hoffman’s gaze was austere, unsmiling. A man who was about to hold his beautiful wife for the first time in a year and a half shouldn’t seem this cold and indifferent. James knew how prison could profoundly alter a man, and he felt a ripple of fear for Julia.
“She’s upstairs,” James said. “If you’d like to wait here, I’ll go fetch her.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
It required a great effort for James to move his feet, as if someone had nailed them to the floor. The stairs seemed steeper than he remembered, and he had to grip the banister as he climbed them. When he got to the wardroom door he stood for a long moment, watching Julia. She sat in a chair beside a patient’s bed, writing a letter he was dictating to his family. The soldier saw James first and stopped midsentence.
“What’s wrong, Doc?”
James wondered if the terrible pain he felt was visible on his face. Julia looked up, too, then quickly stood.
“What happened?” she asked.
James forced himself to smile as he walked toward her. “Nothing …that is …I have wonderful news, Mrs. Hoffman. Your husband is here.”
“What…?”
Julia swayed, and the paper and pen slid from her hands to the floor. The color leeched from her face as if she’d severed an artery. James gripped her arms to steady her.
“Hang on. I’ve got you.” He cleared the knot from his throat. “It’s true …your husband is waiting downstairs. And he’s fine—all in one piece, I’m happy to say.”
“Robert is …here?”
“Yes. He has come to take you home.” James could feel her body trembling beneath his hands, and he was afraid to let her go for fear she would topple over. “Do you think you can walk, or would you like me to help you?”
“You can let go of me,” she said. “I can walk.” Her face was very pale.
James released her, then watched as Julia slowly crossed the room like a woman in a dream. He felt relieved that he didn’t have to help her. He didn’t want to watch as she ran into her husband’s waiting arms.
When she reached the door, James suddenly realized that Julia was about to walk out of his life forever. He would never see her again. “Good-bye, Mrs. Hoffman,” he called after her. “I …I think I speak for everyone when I say …it has been a pleasure working with you.”
She paused, nodding slightly, then continued her dreamlike walk without answering. His words had sounded cold. They were not at all what he’d wanted to say, what he wished he could say. He heard the stairs creak one by one as she descended them. He realized he was holding his breath. He quickly crossed the room to shut the door behind her, hoping to muffle the sound of their joyous reunion. When he turned around again, he saw all of the soldiers watching him.
“Guess that’s a happy ending, right, Doc?” one of them asked quietly.
“Yes. Yes, it is. Mrs. Hoffman’s husband has been locked in a Rebel prison. … He just told me that he escaped. … Remarkable, really …escaping.” James bent to pick up the pen and paper that Julia had dropped and saw that his hands were trembling. He needed a drink.
“You don’t look so good, Doc,” the man in the bed beside him said.
James lowered himself onto the chair where Julia had been sitting. The seat still held her warmth. “Just thinking about my own wife,” he murmured.
“Yeah,” the soldier said. “I know what you mean. It’s been a long time since I held my wife in my arms.”
James waited until he was sure the Hoffmans were gone before returning to his office downstairs. He rummaged noisily though his desk, opening and slamming drawers and cupboards, desperate for a shot of whiskey. Then he remembered the medicinal brandy he carried in his bag.
The first swig burned all the way to his stomach. He couldn’t imagine that he’d ever enjoyed this taste. He sank down in his chair, grimacing as he swallowed a second shot and a third. He remembered quite clearly the last time he’d drunk this much, but he didn’t care.
His wife, Ellen, stared at him from across his desk. He picked up the photograph and studied her face. Then his eyes moved to little Kate’s face, beside her. Guilt struck him like a blow to the stomach. It was wrong for him to feel what he felt for Julia Hoffman, wrong to remember the power of her kiss that night in Fredericksburg when he couldn’t remember what Ellen’s kisses were like. He laid the photograph facedown on his desk.
“Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife.” Well, here was one more reason for God to condemn him—as if there weren’t enough reasons to send him to hell already.
Lieutenant Hoffman had returned to claim his wife. She would go home to Philadelphia with him. James wouldn’t need to see her every day and think about her every night or remember how glorious her hair had felt beneath his hands.
He took another drink and set the bottle on his desk. He began twisting his wedding ring, gently at first, but gradually tugging it harder and harder until he managed to yank it all the way off. His hand felt naked without it. But why wear a symbol that no longer had meaning—unending love …until death parted us?
Now that the ring was off, James didn’t know what to do with it. He finally dropped it into the envelope with the unread letter and his daughter’s drawing, then stuffed the envelope into the drawer with all the others and closed it. He was staring blankly at the brandy bottle when two of the ward matrons came to his office door.
“Is it true what some of the soldiers are saying?” Mrs. Fowle asked. ?
??Has Mrs. Hoffman’s husband really come for her?”
“It’s true.”
Mrs. Fowle clapped her hands. “Oh, that’s wonderful!”
“I wonder why she didn’t introduce him to us?” Mrs. Nichols said.
“The man hasn’t slept with her in more than a year,” James said gruffly. “I’m sure he had plans for the evening that didn’t include introductions.”
The two women stared at him in shock. Mrs. Fowle’s cheeks turned bright pink. “I see that you’ve been drinking,” she said coldly. “Even so, your vulgarity in the presence of women is inexcusable.”
“Then go away and let me get drunk in peace.”
‘“As a dog returneth to his vomit,”’ Mrs. Nichols quoted, ‘“so a fool returneth to his folly.”’
When they were gone, James took a long drink of brandy, then wiped his mouth. He leaned his head back, staring up at the cracked ceiling, waiting for the once-familiar numbness to flow through his body, waiting for it to dull his thoughts and erase his pain.
Julia’s elegant traveling suit felt fussy and uncomfortable to her after wearing plain clothes for so long. She looked at her reflection in the boardinghouse mirror as Phoebe fastened the long row of buttons down the back. It hardly seemed possible that she’d helped Phoebe get dressed only this morning. Julia had thought she would be seeing Phoebe off for home; now the tables had turned—and so quickly that Julia was still reeling. With few belongings in the sparsely furnished room, it hadn’t taken her long to pack.
“Seems funny, us both going home, don’t it?” Phoebe asked.
“I’m as surprised as you are, believe me. But Robert is very eager to leave, and our family doesn’t want us to waste another moment.”
Phoebe finished closing the last button and sat down on the sagging bed. Julia went to the mirror to tidy her hair. “I’ll bet you’re excited,” Phoebe said.
“Yes …and no.” Julia’s reflection looked wavy and unfocused. She couldn’t tell if it was from the mirror or the tears in her eyes. Her feelings were all jumbled together, the happy ones and the sad ones, as if two orchestras were playing conflicting tunes. Her cousin Robert was alive and safe, and she was overjoyed to see him. But a chapter in her life was ending forever and she felt a terrible loss.
“I didn’t even have a chance to say good-bye to everyone at the hospital,” Julia said. “I had to leave right away so they wouldn’t find out …you know…”
“That he’s your cousin and not your husband.”
“Yes. And so Robert wouldn’t find out how I’ve been using his name all this time. I feel terrible for lying. Please, don’t tell anyone.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t reckon I’ll ever see any of them again. Besides, I know how it feels to have your lies found out. Folks look at you differently, and they feel like fools for believing you.”
“At least my lies didn’t hurt anyone, as far as I know. And at least I got to be a nurse for a while.” She brushed away the tears that rolled down her cheeks.
“What will you do once you’re back home?”
“I don’t know.” And that was the worst part, Julia realized. The future was like a huge empty room with nothing to fill it. After working so hard for so long, she didn’t know how she would suddenly face that void. The only glimmer of hope she saw was in her relationship with Nathaniel Greene.
Julia put her hairbrush in the steamer trunk and closed the lid. She had tossed most of her clothing in without folding it properly, and now she had trouble fastening the latches.
“Want me to help you sit on that?” Phoebe asked.
“Yes, I think you’d better.” When they finally got it closed and locked, Julia said, “I’m sorry I won’t be able to take you to the train station tomorrow.”
“That’s okay. You know, I been thinking …maybe I’ll stay an extra day or two and look around Washington City if that’s okay. I didn’t get to see much of it when I was in the army.”
“I’m sure that would be all right. I’ve paid the rent here for the entire month of April. I just thought …aren’t you in a hurry to get home?”
“Ain’t nobody waiting there for me like they’re waiting for you.”
“How long has it been since you were home, Phoebe?”
“More than a year and a half. How ’bout you?”
“Just over a year.”
“It’s funny, ain’t it?” Phoebe asked. “After all we’ve been through, we’re both right back where we started. Nothing’s changed. Even the war still goes on.”
Julia had left Fairfield Hospital just as she’d found it a year ago, with Mrs. Fowle and the other matrons at war with Dr. McGrath— and with James sitting alone in his office, barely speaking a civil word to the nurses. The matrons still believed that he was an alcoholic. Julia had been afraid to tell them the truth, afraid they’d ask too many questions about how she had gotten close enough to him to discover his secret. Her face would surely betray her if she talked about James. The women would surely see her feelings for him— and her guilt. Those feelings were still very strong, too. They’d rekindled all over again when James had held her today in the wardroom. And though she knew it was wrong, she was filled with grief because she would never see him again.
“I’m going to go now, Phoebe,” she said quietly.
“You need help with this trunk?”
“Robert and the carriage driver will be up in a moment to fetch it.” Her eyes filled with tears as she pulled Phoebe into her arms for one last hug. “Good-bye, then.”
“Good-bye.”
Julia tried to turn her thoughts toward home and her family as she hurried from the room. But a terrible sense of loss followed her down the stairs like a shadow and settled in the carriage seat beside her.
PART TWO
The path of the righteous is like the first gleam of dawn, shining ever brighter till the full light of day.
Proverbs 4:18 NIV
Chapter Nineteen
Washington City
April 1863
Phoebe hurried through the crowded streets, wishing she knew what time it was, hoping she wasn’t too late for dinner at the boardinghouse. One week after Julia left, Phoebe was still in Washington, still living in her rented room. During the day she wandered the muddy streets, searching the faces of all the soldiers she passed. She hadn’t stayed to see the sights as she’d told Julia but rather to try to find news of her old regiment, to learn where Ted was and what he was doing. Since Phoebe didn’t know where to go in Washington to find out such information, she spent each day walking through the streets or watching new recruits drill, remembering the year she had spent in the army with Ted.
As she revisited some of the places they’d gone together, Phoebe kept hoping she’d see his boyish grin or hear him shout, “Hey, Ike!” If she could just see him from a distance, one more time, then she would go home happy.
Today’s search, like all the others, had proven fruitless. She’d passed thousands of soldiers and had become skilled at scanning each face, but none of them had been Ted’s. Then, when she reached the main thoroughfare near the boardinghouse, Phoebe suddenly did spot a familiar face. Dr. McGrath stood out from the crowd with his dark auburn hair and ginger beard. He carried a leather bag and walked with his sturdy shoulders hunched, his head down, as if moving forward into a stiff wind, even though the April evening was mild. Phoebe watched him from across the street, and when she saw him turn off the main street into a narrow lane she knew he was lost. She had taken that wrong turn herself and found out that it led to a dismal part of town where the former slaves lived.
Phoebe quickly crossed the street, threading her way around carriages and teams of horses, lifting her skirts to keep them out of the mud. She pushed through the crowd on the other side and found the alley the doctor had turned down. He was a block ahead of her, almost to the shantytown beneath the railway trestle. She hurried to catch up.
A crowd of Negroes suddenly rushed toward Dr. McGrath w
hen he reached the end of the street, old people and children and women carrying babies. They quickly surrounded him and carried him along like a hero returning from battle. He wasn’t lost, after all. Phoebe followed at a distance, wondering what was going on.
Dr. McGrath stopped in front of one of the shacks, took off his coat, and rolled up his sleeves. Then he bent to duck inside with his bag. He stayed in the shanty for ten long minutes, but Phoebe couldn’t make herself leave. Drawn to stay for reasons she didn’t understand, she slowly edged forward to listen.
When the doctor finally emerged from the shack again, the people flooded around him, clamoring for his help. “Don’t worry,” he said, holding out his hands. “I’ll stay until I’ve seen everyone.” He glanced around at the growing crowd—and suddenly spotted Phoebe. She knew she must look out of place here, a tall white woman in a sea of dark faces. “Miss Bigelow?” he asked in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
It was hard to answer since she really didn’t know. “I-I saw you on the street …and …I’m staying in a boardinghouse near here.”
“I thought you went home.”
“Not yet. Listen, do you think…? I mean …I could help if you want.”
He started to shake his head, and she could tell he was about to say no, but then he stopped. He studied her for a long moment, then said, “All right. I could use some help.”
For the next several hours, Phoebe worked as the doctor’s assistant—holding a candle so he could see to stitch up a cut; handing him the supplies and instruments he needed; holding down a feverish patient to keep him from thrashing. They tended children who were sick with measles and croup, yanked a dock worker’s dislocated arm back into its socket, and delivered a baby who was born feet-first. Phoebe had never witnessed a birth before, and tears streamed down her cheeks as the doctor laid the squalling child in his mother’s arms. Phoebe thought she understood why Dr. Mc-Grath wanted to do this work—why he needed to do it after witnessing so much destruction and death on the battlefield.