A Basket Brigade Christmas (24 page)

A generous smile curved his lips. “You’ve made me very happy by taking special measures so that we can have time together.”

“When you departed, you said you wanted to talk about our future. I’d like to discuss our future as well.”

He lightly grasped her elbow and led her to the small alcove where they would have a bit of privacy. As she looked deep into Jacob’s eyes, an unexpected yearning ignited deep inside. He cupped her cheek and whispered her name. In the flickering lamplight, his eyes shone with undeniable longing, and she tipped her cheek deeper into his hand, reveling in his touch.

“Although we’ve known each other only a short time, I asked to be reassigned because I wanted to be with you more often. In our short visits together, I’ve come to care for you a great deal. I think you already know that. I admit that Matthew’s comments gave me some momentary concern, and I let my jealousy get the best of me. I’m sorry for my behavior. I handled the matter poorly, but I’m thankful we parted on good terms yesterday.” His voice reedy, he inhaled a deep breath as if to gain the strength needed to continue. “Since then, I’ve had a chance to pray about the future, and I truly believe you are the woman I am destined to wed.”

Sincerity laced his words, and Sarah’s heart leaped with joy. He’d spoken the words she had hoped to hear—had prayed she would hear. She reached for his hand and clasped it within her own. “You’ve made me so happy, Jacob. I prayed your thoughts were the same as my own.”

“Then you’ll permit me to court you?” He lightly squeezed her fingers. “At least as much courting as I can manage, what with my travels back and forth.”

“I can’t think of anything that would give me greater joy. And you can be sure that I understand your time is not your own. The Union must come first for all of us, but I do feel much more fortunate than the ladies who love a man who has been sent to the front.”

His eyes radiated love as he leaned down and placed a tender kiss on her lips. Then he smiled down at her. “I hope my kiss didn’t offend you. I should have asked your permission.”

She touched her fingers to the stubble that darkened his jawline. How wonderful to have these moments alone, for with their responsibilities, who could say when they would have another opportunity? When she voiced her thoughts, Jacob tapped his breast pocket.

“I have already received permission to return to Decatur by private train rather than on one of the hospital trains. That way, I can return as soon as the wounded soldiers are settled in at the hospital in Chicago. I figure that will give us at least two or three hours each trip, and there will be some days when there will be delays, so I may even have an extra day or two. And I don’t want to hear any objections due to train fare. I’ve been saving my money, and I can think of no better way to spend it.”

Sarah momentarily considered telling him that it might be best to save the money for their household needs should they decide to marry in the future, but she immediately pushed aside the thought. Even though they’d been discussing the future, voicing such a presumptuous statement would be unseemly. Talk of household furnishings should wait until there was a proposal and wedding plans. Besides, Jacob was right. They needed more time together, so purchasing train tickets made perfect sense.

“May I have one more kiss before we get back to our duties?”

Her stomach fluttered in anticipation as she tipped her head to look into his eyes. Her pulse thudded as she lifted her hands to his chest. She gave a slight nod, and he slowly lowered his head. His mouth took hers, his lips gentle and then more urgent as he deepened the kiss. She turned weak at his touch, and when he suddenly pulled away, her knees buckled and she leaned into him to gain her balance.

A shiver raced through her as he traced his finger along her lips. “I think we’d better get back to our duties before someone comes looking for us.”

He was right. To have someone find them would cause no end of embarrassment—not to mention the gossip. Her name would be the main course at every dinner table in Decatur and a humiliation to her family. She took his arm as they stepped from the alcove, but already she missed the warmth of his embrace.

Gray clouds draped the morning sky and were a close match for her father’s gloom as he shuffled around the bakery. He’d been in a sour mood all morning. The doctor had arrived to examine her mother before Sarah had returned home last evening. While she understood her father’s despair, the doctor’s report hadn’t been devastating. Perhaps something else was causing his glum behavior. Her stomach knotted. Was something wrong with Samuel? Had they received word but not told her?

Her father’s shoulders slumped over the worktable as he kneaded a mound of dough, a job that could tire the arms of the strongest, especially when her mother wasn’t here to take over for a short time so his arms could regain their strength.

Instead of sifting the flour for the next batch of loaves, Sarah stepped to his side and nudged his shoulder. “Let’s exchange jobs for a while, Papa. I’ll knead the dough and you mix up the next batch of bread.”

She reached in front of him and plunged her hands into the dough, not permitting him an opportunity to object. He gave a slight nod. “I could use a rest. I miss your mama’s help.”

“I know you do, and I’ll try to do more to help you.”

His jaw twitched. “You can’t do your job and mine, too.”

“You’re doing your job and Mama’s, so if we divide the work, it will be easier. I’ll do as much as I can when I’m not helping customers or making the deliveries.”

Samuel was the one who had devised the plan to deliver bread. No matter the weather and no matter how weary he might have been, her brother had made certain that the orders were made in a timely fashion each day. When he’d joined the army, the deliveries had fallen to Sarah. While she didn’t mind on days when the weather cooperated, she’d grown to abhor making the rounds when sleet pelted the buggy or the snow became so deep that she had to use the old sleigh. Her father had threatened to cease the deliveries when Samuel departed, but their customers had raised a hue and cry that made the cessation impossible. With many of the men away from home, having their bread delivered was one less chore for the ladies, and a time-saving pleasure they’d come to depend upon. They’d rallied against the idea with such vigor that neither her father nor Sarah had been left with a choice. The deliveries would continue, and Sarah would make them.

The frown that tightened her father’s features slowly eased, and he nodded. “We will give it a try and see how it works—for both of us. You have your mother’s duties at the train depot each day, too.”

Though his mood had lightened, he still appeared lost in thought. “Are you worried about Mama—or Samuel?”

He glanced her way. “Both.”

Sarah dug her fingers into the dough. “Have you had any news of Samuel? Something you haven’t told me?” Her scalp prickled when her father didn’t immediately answer. She withdrew her hands from the mound of sticky dough as panic seized her. “You have, haven’t you?”

“We received a letter that had been sent by one of his friends. He’d given it to the fellow and asked him to send it to us if he was injured in battle. The letter held no particulars about his wounds or what had happened. Only a note in Samuel’s handwriting, explaining that if we received the letter, we would know that he’d been injured.” His voice cracked. “Or killed.”

Sarah swiped her hands down the front of her apron as if the gesture could sweep away the unwanted news. A lump formed in her throat, but she pressed her father for further information. She wanted to know where the battle had occurred, if the letter had any sort of marking to indicate the place from which it had been mailed or any snippet that could offer a clue as to Samuel’s whereabouts and the extent of his injuries, and when had it been received.

Her father waved her toward the worktable and the mound of resting dough. “You need to work the dough or the bread will not rise as it should. There isn’t time to be idle.” Instead of his usual commanding tone, his voice was thin and somber.

“Yes, Papa, but can I read the letter when I’ve finished?” She was hurt that she hadn’t been told immediately upon her return home last evening or when she’d entered the kitchen this morning. If she hadn’t quizzed her father, she wondered if he would have waited even longer to give her the news.

He nodded. “You can read it. I picked it up at the general store yesterday, but you’ll discover the letter says nothing more than what I’ve told you.”

Sarah had been in the general store to make bread deliveries to Mr. Logan yesterday morning, and he’d not mentioned any mail for their family. Then again, ever since Milo Wilson had left his job at the store to join the army, the mail didn’t get sorted with any regularity. There was no telling how long it might have been sitting in one of the mailbags dropped at the depot. There was no denying Mr. Logan put the needs of his store first and his position as postmaster second, and many wondered if the town would be better served if the position was given to Silas Tait over at Maddox Mercantile. Of course, Silas wasn’t the type who would agree to the position without first making certain that Mr. Logan had no objection.

When her father finally placed the first loaves in the oven and set the other bread to rise, he relieved her of her kneading duties and handed her the letter.

Her heart caught at the familiar sight of her brother’s handwriting. To think of him injured and lying in a hospital tent in the freezing cold caused her hands to tremble. What would she do without Samuel? Until Samuel went off to war, they’d always been together. Inseparable twins, they had been more than brother and sister—they were best friends and confidants.

Sarah pored over the letter, seeking any word or phrase that might give her some clue, but her father had been right. She gleaned nothing further from the missive. Disappointed, she scooted off the stool and shuffled across the room. Her father gestured toward a shelf where he stored supplies, and she tucked the letter alongside a large crock.

“Does Mama know?”

“Yes. I asked the doctor if I should tell her. He said it wouldn’t affect her condition and thought I shouldn’t withhold the truth, but I’m not so sure I did right. She barely slept, and I heard her crying last night. I think it would have been better if I hadn’t said anything.” After a glance toward the stairway, he turned back toward Sarah. “Maybe you should go up and spend some time—cheer her a bit. The bread won’t be ready to deliver for quite a while.”

She nodded and turned toward the stairs. Her father’s request was reasonable, yet how could Sarah cheer her mother when she needed cheering herself? She silently chastised herself as she climbed the steps. Her mother needed to be comforted, and her needs should come first if she was going to recover. Sarah straightened her shoulders and silently prayed that the Lord would heal her mother and that He would give Sarah the peace she needed to encourage her.

The carpet runner in the hallway muffled Sarah’s footsteps as she approached her parents’ bedroom. She stopped near the door and peeked into the room. Her mother’s hair lay fanned across her pillow, and her eyes were closed. But then, her mother’s eyes fluttered open, and she motioned Sarah forward. “I’m not asleep. I was praying. Come sit with me. Your father has told you the sad news. I can see it in your face.”

Sarah sat near her mother’s side. “I don’t think he would have told me if I hadn’t asked why he was so gloomy.”

Her mother’s lips tipped into a sad smile. “You know your father. He thinks he should keep all the bad news to himself and bear the burden on his shoulders alone. If Dr. Kirkland hadn’t told him I was strong enough, I think he would have withheld it from me. If he had done so, I would have been furious when I finally discovered he’d heard something and hadn’t told me.” Her forehead creased in a frown. “We must increase our prayers for Samuel and all of our boys who are fighting for us. The Almighty is our only answer in all of this.”

Her mother burst into a fit of coughing, and Sarah reached behind her pillow to lift her into a more upright position. “You should remain calm, Mama. When you become emotional, your cough worsens. We have all been praying for the safe return of our boys. Every evening after we’ve prepared to serve the wounded, the ladies of the Basket Brigade gather together and we pray until the train arrives. And you know that I have been praying for Samuel’s safekeeping since the day he departed.”

“I know.” Her mother’s response was barely audible before she began to cough anew.

Sarah shook her head. “Don’t try to talk right now.”

When the raspy coughs finally subsided, Sarah held a cup of water to her mother’s lips. After her mother took several swallows, Sarah lowered her to the pillow. “Maybe I should come back later.”

Her mother grasped her hand. “No. I want you to stay with me a bit. I’ll be fine. Tell me about the ladies of the Brigade and how things have been going.”

For the next half hour, Sarah set aside her own sadness and regaled her mother with the success she’d experienced working with the ladies. “They have been so helpful and willing to do whatever I ask of them. The challenge of meeting the trains and serving the men has changed me so much, Mama.”