Yankee in Atlanta Read online

  “Well!” Edward removed his hat. “I was about to say, Ruby, this is my aunt, Vivian McKae. But it seems you need no introduction!”

  With no thought for propriety, Ruby threw her arms around the older woman’s neck, laughing in disbelief.

  At length, Edward cleared his throat, his coffee eyes sparkling. “May we come in?”

  “Oh! Forgive me! The McKaes were our neighbors when we lived in Seneca Village, you see! Before they evicted us and used the land for Central Park. I used to tend to her children!” Ruby stepped aside and ushered them through the door.

  “Welcome, welcome!” Caroline swept into the entryway. Aiden stumbled along behind her, sending Dickens scurrying for safety.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Waverly!” Edward bowed. “I have the pleasure of introducing to you my aunt, Vivian McKae.”

  “How do you do, Mrs. McKae?”

  “Charmed, I’m sure. But please do call me Vivian.”

  “And you must call me Caroline. This is Ruby O’Flannery, and behind me we have her son, Aiden.”

  “Oh! He is just precious, Ruby!”

  Edward caught Caroline’s gaze. “You’re not going to believe this, but Ruby and my aunt were neighbors years ago.”

  Vivian bent down and reached her hand out to Aiden, who promptly grabbed her finger. “Such a beautiful son; you and Matthew must be so proud!”

  Ruby’s heart dropped into her stomach. “Matthew has passed on.” And if he had not, he would certainly not be proud of Aiden. Or of me. “The war.”

  “Oh, God rest his soul. I’m so very sorry, dear. Jack is fighting, too.”

  “Is he? He always had so much spirit. And Caitlin? How is your bonnie lass?”

  A shadow passed over Vivian’s face, and she shook her head. “I have not heard from her in quite some time.”

  “She is teaching out West then? I remember she had her eye on that.”

  “That isn’t—that isn’t likely.”

  A chill passed over Ruby. Does Vivian not know where her daughter is? It didn’t make sense. That lass was the one holding the family together after James died. What in heaven’s name had happened?

  “Wherever she is, we shall all pray God keep your daughter safe, Vivian. Now. Shall we move to the dining room?”

  Ruby scooped up Aiden. “I’ll let Cook know you are ready to be served. Enjoy your meal.” She bobbed in a curtsy.

  “Thank you.” Caroline nodded. “Unless—” She looked between Ruby and Vivian. “I know this is rather unusual, but considering you two have a bit of catching up to do … Ruby, do join us at table this evening, won’t you?”

  Ruby’s heart grew wings and fluttered heavenward. “Aye—I mean yes, I’d like that very much.”

  “Aiden, too.” Caroline leaned in close. “Why don’t you tell Cook not to plate the dinners tonight, just set the covered platters on the table and we’ll serve ourselves so you’re not going in and out between courses. Then go change, dear. I’m sure you’d feel more comfortable if you weren’t in your maid’s uniform.”

  “Yes, mum.”

  “We’ll wait for you.” Edward held out his hands to Aiden, and the boy lunged to him.

  When Ruby returned to the dining room in her lace-trimmed lavender poplin gown, Edward seated her between Aiden’s highchair and Vivian at the large walnut table. As he sat across from her, candlelight gleamed in his deep brown eyes. His smile warmed her more than usual. Vivian McKae is Edward’s aunt! She could not believe it.

  As soon as Edward finished blessing the food, the dinner party began eating their salads. Ruby cut her tomatoes and cucumbers into tiny pieces and set them on Aiden’s wooden tray. She watched out of the corner of her eye as juice and seeds squished between his fingers. As long as it doesn’t land in his hair …

  “It’s so lovely to meet Edward’s family,” Caroline was saying. “He’s been such a joy to have around these last several weeks.”

  Vivian beamed at her nephew. “I always knew he’d grow into a fine young man.”

  Ruby watched Edward’s face. He smiled, but she could not quite read what was behind it. He had told her some of the story, how he’d found her, and how his father had wanted to cut her out of their lives. How very odd the whole thing was.

  Aiden banged on his tray for more food, and Ruby cracked open a hard roll, allowing the steam to escape in wispy curls before pinching hunks of the soft white bread for her son.

  Conversation ebbed and flowed around Ruby as she did her best to keep Aiden happy, or at least quiet, between her own bites of stewed mutton chops and mashed potatoes. But by the time Ruby passed out the lemon cheesecakes that had been waiting on the sideboard, not one of them had mentioned the draft riots, though the troops patrolling the city now exceeded ten thousand.

  “I did receive some news yesterday.” Caroline dabbed her napkin to her mouth and smoothed it back onto her lap. “It’s my daughter Alice.” She flicked a gaze to Edward and Vivian. “I hope you’ll forgive me for speaking so candidly, having just met you, Vivian. But as a mother yourself, I’m sure you understand. Alice is with child.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Vivian clasped her hands.

  Caroline put up her hand then, and Ruby’s heart skittered. “It goes hard with her. Jacob asks me to come to them at Fishkill.”

  Oh no. “You will go soon?”

  Caroline nodded. “As soon as arrangements may be made. I’ll take Dickens with me, of course. Jacob says you and Aiden may join me.”

  Ruby locked eyes with Edward until he looked down. His fork broke off a piece of his dessert and pushed it around his plate.

  “If you come, you will come as guests,” Caroline continued. “The Carlisle estate has servants aplenty already, and need no other help.”

  Suddenly, the lemon cheesecake was too tart for Ruby’s taste. She sipped her goblet of water slowly, as her mind raced. The fresh air and countryside would be so good for Aiden, Ruby was certain. But to leave now would be to forfeit all the clients she had built up during the last eighteen months. Surely they would find another seamstress to sew for them in her absence, and who was to say whether they would bring their business back to her when she returned?

  She turned and looked at her son. What was best for him?

  The question scraped at her. Surely he would find it best to run and play on the wide, smooth lawns of the Carlisle estate, to have a mother who had time and energy to play with him, rather than endlessly diverting his attention with a toy so she could steal a few moments to stitch a hem.

  She sighed. But my stitches are turning straw into gold for his education. A mother who plays with her toddler all day long is all very well and good until it is time for him to enter school and she has not the money to pay for it. She must think of the long-term investment rather than the short-term indulgence.

  “Ruby?” Caroline’s voice was gentle. “You have a choice, you know. You are not required to come. Just realize that if you stay, I’ll not be here to help with Aiden. Keeping your clients well-supplied with the latest fashions will be much more of a challenge.”

  Her heart sank. Caroline was right. And what was the use of staying here if she had not the time to—

  “Clients?” Vivian’s eyes flashed.

  “I’ve been sewing dresses, saving money for the lad’s future.”

  “What a grand idea! You are so wise to do so. If it’s someone to watch your son you need, look no further. You watched Jack and Caitlin for me many a time. Now it’s my turn to return the favor.”

  “And I’ll be glad to help whenever I can. If you choose to stay, that is.” Edward arched his eyebrows.

  “Well, my dear boy, if she stays, you’ll be back on duty to check on her as you did while I was in Gettysburg,” Caroline said. “Can you manage that?”

  “I am at your service.” Lines crinkled around his eyes. “And hers.”

  As he held her in his gaze, something rippled through Ruby. Just as quickly, she dismissed it. Edward was a g
ood man. And someday, he would make some woman—a woman far better than myself—a very good husband. In the meantime, they could at least be neighbors.

  “In that case …” Ruby’s face warmed as three pairs of eyes fixed their attention on her. “Give my best to Alice. I rather think we’ll stay.”

  Atlanta, Georgia

  Monday, July 20, 1863

  “King, this is the only time I’m going to say this. I really wanted to be your friend. But you’ve enslaved your people.”

  Caitlin watched from across the chess board as Analiese pointed her bishop at Caitlin’s king. To Ana, chess was not just a game. It was theater.

  “I’m trapped! I’m trapped!” Ana pinched a pawn by its head and shook it, sending up a fake wail to match the drama of the moment.

  “Now you’re captured!” Caitlin swooped in with her knight and plucked Ana’s pawn from the board. The girl howled in mock despair.

  “Miss McKae? A word, please.”

  She looked up, and flinched at the sight of him. He stood tall, his eyes darkened to gunmetal grey the same shade as his flannel shirt. A cartridge box sat on his waistbelt, his Spiller and Burr .36 caliber revolver in his holster. He’d get something resembling a uniform when he mustered in at camp, along with a haversack and canteen, Caitlin knew. But at this point, if a Rebel soldier didn’t bring his own weapon, he’d have to wait to pick one off a Union body at the next battle.

  “Papa?”

  “Just a moment, Dear Heart. I’ll come in and talk to you.”

  Caitlin’s hand was on her heart as they stepped into the hallway. “Now?”

  He nodded, and her nose pinched as she cast a glance over her shoulder at Ana, still prattling away with the chess pieces. She turned back to Noah and waited for him to speak.

  He cleared his throat. “While I’m gone, I expect more refugees will be passing through Atlanta. With Rosecrans at Tullahoma and Bragg at Chattanooga, there will inevitably be a battle, sending thousands more refugees this way.”

  “I expect so.”

  “You are to let them in.”

  She blinked. “For a week? A month?”

  Noah kneaded the back of his neck. “As long as they need shelter. And food. You are to feed them as well as you can. If a stranger comes to this house in need, you are to let her in, as I have taken you in. As I was taken in myself.”

  Caitlin paused. “Excuse me?”

  “I know what it is to be a refugee. After the revolution—” He waved his hand as if to reach across the ocean, to his former life. “In Switzerland, France, England. For two years. Were it not for the kindness of others, I would never have survived at all, let alone come to America. Let it never be said that the house of Noah Becker turned away a refugee. Please.”

  “You were a refugee,” she repeated, and a new perspective layered itself upon what she thought she knew of this man.

  Noah smiled ruefully. “Yes, an outcast. At least, that’s how it felt for a very long time. Of course, since I will not be here, I would only approve of your taking in women and children.”

  “Only women and children?” Somehow, they laughed at this. Virtually all refugees were women and children, with nearly every man in the army.

  “Do I have your word? You will do your best? I realize I am asking much of you. I need you to be hospitable on my behalf.”

  Caitlin pursed her lips, but nodded.

  “Papa? Do you want to play with me?” Ana slipped her small hand into his, and tugged him into the room.

  Noah’s heart skipped a beat, and his stomach rolled. He could not put off this goodbye any longer. When Noah pulled his daughter onto his lap and kissed her cheek, Caitlin shut the double doors to the room.

  “When will you be back?” Ana tucked her head under his chin, her silky hair soft against his throat. She picked at his buttons.

  “It will be a long time, I’m afraid.” He kissed her hair and marveled that she still had dimples for knuckles at the age of seven.

  “How long?”

  Noah sighed. The truth was so hard to bear, even for him. “Three years, or until the war is over.”

  “Oh my! I think that must be about one hundred days!” Her two missing front teeth gently lisped over the words.

  “Ach. Ist das wirklich wahr? Three hundred sixty-five days in one year, so three years is …”

  “More than one hundred.” Her hand dropped into her lap.

  “It is more than one thousand.”

  “Oh! I think we will never reach the end of that!” Ana’s voice wobbled. “Who will tuck me in at night? Who will be my Papa while you’re gone?”

  The question sliced through Noah’s heart, and tears bled from his eyes. Lord, how will I ever get through this? “I will always be your Papa.” He forced the words around the lump lodged in his throat. “No matter what. And you will always be my daughter.”

  Her bright blue eyes shone with tears. “I will miss you too much, Papa!”

  “I’ll miss you too, more than you know.”

  “Wait.” Ana climbed off his lap and scurried to one of the chairs.

  When she returned to Noah, she held out a little doll, made of a handkerchief draped over a cotton ball and tied with string around the neck. She had drawn eyes, a smile, and hair on the head. “This is for you. I made it myself.”

  “Ah! Why not keep it so you can play with her?”

  “No, Papa. She is for you. So you can remember me. She can keep you company when you get lonely, too.” Ana pressed the doll into his hand, and closed his fingers over it.

  “Thank you.” His throat closed around his voice. “I love you, Dear Heart.” He wrapped his arms around her. “Be good for Miss McKae. Do what she says. Your heavenly Father is watching over you.”

  Suddenly, her little face knotted, and she fled the room, each footstep on the stairs stomping on Noah’s heart. His empty arms and lap felt cavernous, cold. Would he ever see Ana again?

  He could not dwell on such a question, not now. He waited at the bottom of the stairs, listening, to see if she would come out again and call his name. She didn’t.

  It was time.

  Out on the porch, he found Caitlin sitting on the front steps, her patched-over plaid dress fanned out around her. Rascal leaned into her, and she scratched behind his ears while his wagging tail whapped the floor. The door clicked closed behind Noah, and she rose to meet him with red-rimmed eyes.

  “Ana’s run to her room.” His voice was thick.

  “She will come back. And so will you.”

  “She gave me this.” He opened his palm to reveal the doll. “To keep me company when I get lonely for her.”

  Caitlin laid a hand on his arm. “I’m sure you’ll miss her, but I will write you the little things she says—when she plays chess, when she says her prayers at night.”

  “You must tell me when her new teeth come in. And how she progresses in her studies.”

  “Of course.”

  “Promise.” Noah placed his hand over hers. “You will tell me what I’m missing. And you must tell her how much I love her even when I cannot.”

  “Yes, yes, I will. And I’ll take care of her as if she were my own.”

  He nodded. “I trust you.” What choice did he have? “I trust you. I’m giving you my Heart, you know.”

  Her brown eyes swam in unshed tears. “I know,” she whispered.

  “Thank you.” Noah dipped his head to touch the top of hers. “The Lord bless thee, and keep thee: The Lord make His face shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee: The Lord lift up His countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.”

  He stepped back and smiled at her, a lump bobbing in his throat. Without thinking, he hooked a strand of her hair behind her ear, then cupped the side of her face in his hand, her scar barely grazing his palm. “Take care of yourself,” he breathed.

  Then, as if the floor beneath his feet was suddenly ablaze, he whispered, “Goodbye, Miss McKae,” and left.

  “IF THE W
AR CONTINUES four years longer, it seems to me those who escape death from bullets or pestilence must die of excitement, for there you see nothing but war. You eat war; you hear war; you talk nothing but war; and when you retire to your bed you dream of war. You wake tired of war but the despot has you by the throat, with a thousand bayonets bristling round you, and you must fight or do worse.”

  —SALLIE CONLEY CLAYTON, Atlanta resident

  Atlanta, Georgia

  Saturday, September 26, 1863

  Eleven dollars a month.

  That was what Caitlin had to work with from Noah’s new salary as a private in the Confederate army. He had left her with some savings, but at the rate of inflation, they would burn through that in short order.

  Caitlin’s lips cinched as she studied last month’s grocery receipt at Noah’s secretary in the office.

  1 lb. black pepper … $10

  1 lb. coffee … $10

  1 ham … $54

  5 lbs. flour … $50

  2 lbs. butter … $20

  And she had eleven dollars a month. Out of this money, she had to pay Saul and Bess their wages, plus her own? What would be left? Even if she could spend the entire sum on food, how much would that get?

  Winter was coming. They would need fuel for the fireplaces. A dress without holes in it would be nice, too, for both her and Ana. But purchasing one was absolutely out of the question, with the simplest merino gown costing no less than four hundred dollars.

  Pulse trotting, the print in front of her swam in her vision. Raggedy clothing she could handle. Starvation she could not. She had known hunger before, and had sworn she would never taste its bile again. Yet here it was, stalking her, chasing her, its rotten breath hot on her skin.

  Caitlin raised her eyes and looked out the back window toward the detached kitchen. What she saw, however, was already behind her.

  If only she could leave it there.

  Hunger felt every bit the same here in Atlanta as it had in New York City. If she closed her eyes and listened to the traffic nearby on McDonough and Fair Streets, she could imagine herself as part of the crowd, next to her father again in a hackney, on their way to another prayer meeting at Burton’s Theater on Manhattan’s Chambers Street. Three thousand people gathered daily to pray and hear Henry Ward Beecher speak there, while thousands of others sought heaven’s gates all over the city. Most of them were desperate. All of them were hungry.