By Way of the Rose (40 page)

It took Sarah's breath away.

“Oh this is beautiful,” she gasped. She reached out and picked one of the blossoms. “This is the flower from my dream! I've had many dreams about these flowers, but I never knew what they were. When you picked me up and I slept in the back of your wagon to come here, I dreamed of these flowers. My mother was talking to me and I was dancing in the sun with everybody who loved me and these flowers were in my hair! They had little dew drops all over them that glittered in the sunlight. I heard my mother saying to me, ‘from great sorrow comes the purest beauty,’ she said ‘dance my sweet Sehoya, dance, ‘ as if urging me to be happy.”

“Ma told me that years ago, ‘from great sorrow comes the purest beauty.’ Nobody's ever told you that? You've never seen these flowers or heard of them before?”

“No, only in my dreams. Do you know what they are?” Sarah looked at Peter.

“They're called Cherokee Roses. They're named after the Cherokee.” Sarah listened in wonderment as Peter told her the legend of the flower as he'd heard it from his mother.

“Their sorrowful tears created this beauty. That's why Ma says, ‘from great sorrow comes the purest beauty.'” He placed a flower in Sarah's hair and swung her around. “Come, Sehoya, dance!” he smiled. Sarah spread her arms and twirled in the sun. She and Peter laughed and danced amidst the blossoming signs of new hope. She felt light as air and so happy. A sweet soft fragrance filled the air. It wrapped itself around them. Sarah lifted her face into the wind's soft whisper and received its kiss.

John joined the Union Army. Mr. Tyson and the rest of John's Northern friends were angry because Lincoln had said that the South would retain their right to own slaves, even if the North won the war. They were strictly fighting to retain the Union. But John didn't care. He wanted to fight. He had an anger in him that almost frightened him. Here he was, the boy who once couldn't stand to kill an animal for food, now ready, willing and able to fire a gun into his fellow man.

It was a hot and humid day in July when the first tragedy hit the North at Bull Run. Canons exploded and guns blasted. John fought like a wild animal. His rage was released on the battlefield. He didn't know who this man was that had overtaken his body... he was a ruthless, angry killer. This once gentle boy, who couldn't even shoot a bear, was now killing men. Many of them, one after another, and liking it. But, alas, even with all of his effort in this ferocious battle, the Union lost Bull Run. John and the other northern troops scattered towards Washington, afraid that the Capitol would be taken.

The cannon fire, the horrible screams and gunshots still rang in his head. The vision of the man standing just beside him who had been hit by a cannon ball wouldn't leave him. The sight was too gruesome to forget, yet he longed to. He didn't belong here! This was hell, he was sure of it! He didn't like this man he'd become.

The sights and sounds of the bloody battle filled his mind and he began to weep openly as he trudged along. There were men all around him on the road heading North but he didn't care if they saw him. He just didn't care! “Help that soldier up!” John heard someone saying. He opened his eyes. He was that soldier and he was laying on the road. Two men laid him on a gurney and shoved him on the back of a double deck ambulance. He woke in the hospital, “Have a nice rest?” The nurse spoke softly.

“I guess I did.” He noticed her light brown hair was disheveled and she looked very tired, but she was still a beautiful and welcome sight to behold. He tried to sit up.

“Here, let me fix you.” She propped the pillows behind him. Her bodice was saturated with sweat and it looked as if she hadn't rested in days. “I'll be right back with your dinner.” She smiled. John looked around the room at the other men lying in all those other beds. Some were missing limbs, some were groaning and crying while others were in shock. One man was sitting in the middle of his bed rocking back and forth and gazing at the blank wall.

“Here you are.” The young nurse set the tray of beans and chicken in front of him. “That's better than hardtack, I bet you!” She smiled.

“What happened? Why am I here? Is something bad wrong with me? I can't remember anything.”

“Don't worry, nothing's wrong with you. You just have a touch of nervous fever.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that you need your rest.”

“How long of a rest?”

“A week or so... but now, eat your dinner before it gets cold.” John didn't feel like eating. He glanced back at the man who still rocked to and fro.
Nervous fever? Didn't that mean you had been touched in the head? Didn't it mean that you had gone a bit insane?
“Come on, now.” The nurse held a fork towards John. He breathed hard as he took the utensil from her. He scooped a fork full of the beans into his mouth. They were a welcome change from the hardtack and pork rations. He bit into the chicken and the juices dribbled down his chin. “Good, huh?” She smiled at him.

“Yes, very good. Thank you. Um... um, what is your name?”

“Everyone calls me Nurse Mary.”

There was a sudden commotion from across the way. The rocking man was now up and standing over the bed of a badly wounded soldier and yelling.

“You dirty, filthy Rebel! You killed my brother! You killed little Johnny! I'll get even... you'll pay now!” He proceeded to choke the helpless man who had no arms and only one leg. Mary rushed over to restrain him and he fought against her. “I'm going to kill him! I'm going to kill the dirty Reb! Don't you stop me! Get out of my way!”

“He's not a Rebel, Officer Turk, he's Union. The Rebs shot him too!”

“Are you sure? Maybe he's a spy? Maybe he's here to kill us while we sleep!”

“No, he's not a spy. I know this man. He's Union through and through.” Officer Turk squinted his eyes at the man.

“You'd better be Union! You'd just better be! Don't you try anything, I'm watching you!”

“Come on, get back in bed.” Mary led him away. Then she went out to get the doctor. Soon after, the man was being moved to a private room where he couldn't harm anyone else, or himself. Mary came back shaking her head as she said, “I thought he was going to finish the Reb's job on that one. He'd just begun to get better, too.”

“He's got a lot of hurt and anger in his head.”

“We all have hurt and anger but it's no reason to give up and go out of your head.”

“You've never been on the battlefield, I see.”

“No, and this is as close as I want to get to it. The only thing that gets me through my day is the thought that I am helping these men in some way.”

“You certainly have helped me. When I woke up and saw you standing over me, I thought you were an angel.”

“Oh, me an angel? How sweet, but I fear you'd have a rude awakening if you got to know me.” She laughed.

“Rude awakenings don't faze me, I've had one or two already. We never truly know anyone, no matter how well we think we do, ain't that right?”

“So, who was it that ‘awoke’ you?”

“It doesn't matter now. Just a past acquaintance and this damn war... excuse me ma'am.”

“No need to excuse yourself, I feel the same way about this shitty damn war, sir!” She laughed. John was shocked at her bluntness. A woman speaking in such a way was unheard of but he found himself laughing. He liked her straightforward manner.

“You certainly are a refreshing surprise.” He chuckled again.

“I know I shock most people but I am who I am.”

“Unlike most women. Just about every woman I've ever known has shown me a false front. A sort of charade.”

“Fronts and charades are not just exclusive to women, you know? I've had my fair share of men who try to pretend that they're more than what they are too.”

“You've been in a bad relationship yourself, huh?”

“How did you ever guess?” She rolled her eyes. “And I'm guessing that you've had your heart broken by a fair maiden named Sarah?”

“H-how did you get that name?” John was shocked.

“Didn't you know you talk in your sleep about your sweet dreams?”

“No I didn't. But Sarah's not a
sweet dream
, she's more like a nightmare. One I don't want to talk about.”

“Yes, sir.” Mary nodded her head sternly then chuckled before leaving the room.

Time seemed to drag. The hours ticked by and John counted everyone of them. He wanted out of here, but to go where he did not know. He didn't want to return to battle but that was all the awaited him outside of here. His mood was sullen.

“Maybe you should be getting out of bed and walking around a bit. Might do you good to take a breath of fresh air,” Mary said as she plumped his pillow up.

“Will you walk with me?”

“Sure, it would do us both good to get out in the open for a while. It does get kind of stuffy in here.” As they walked Mary asked, “So, just who is this Sarah person who plagues your dreams? You call for her almost every night.”

“Just someone that I loved more than life. She's with me like a curse,” he began. Before he knew it, he was spilling out all the details.

“You know what I think?” Mary cocked her head to one side when he'd finished his bitter story. “I think that you're blaming her for not grieving herself to death. You were dead for all she knew. You should have been happy for her. Happy that she found the strength to go on with her life and love again. Don't you think what you've done to her is self-centered and stingy?”

“I didn't mind that she went on with her life. But she was loose. Something I never would have believed she would do.”

“Have you never known the pleasure of a woman? Have you never
been loose
?” Mary questioned.

John stuttered over his words as his late nights in the brothels of Boston flashed through his mind. “Everyone knows it's different with a man!”

“Oh, it is, is it? I suppose everyone else but me knows that.” She abruptly stopped walking and stiffened her back. “It's just as important for a man to keep himself
clean
as it is for a woman. You never thought about your future wife as you were defiling yourself with harlots, did you?”

“I wasn't in love with anyone when I was ‘defiling’ myself, but Sarah was supposed to have loved me when she did this. She lied to me.”

“Look, I really don't know either of you, but it's obvious that you still have feelings for her. If I were you, I'd get over it and make peace. You're just hurting her and torturing yourself over something that doesn't amount to a hill of beans.”

“Hill of beans? Something that rips another person's heart out can't possibly be just a ‘hill of beans'! And what do you suppose should be done with the little bastard she's got?”

“So, she did something that you wouldn't have wanted her to do. At that point her actions had nothing to do with you. It was her life to do with as she saw fit. Maybe that's how she found comfort in your
death
. And a baby, my dear sir, is a miracle, one that should always be cherished and loved. So that's what I think should be done with the
little bastard
.”

Mary made John feel uneasy, yet he let her go on. This was the first time he dared listen to any sort of defense of Sarah. But he still did not want to give up his ‘delicious’ hate. Hate felt better than being vulnerable again to hurt. This wall of hate kept his heart safe. Kept him from seeing Sarah's side or even wanting to know it. Knowing her side might entail admitting that he had been wrong.

“Can we just forget about that for now and talk about something else?”

“Sure we can. You know, the doctor says you should be ready to leave the hospital in a day or two. Soon as we get a few more groceries in you.”

“Back to the fighting?” John sighed. “I swear I don't believe we're going retain the Union.”

“You think the South is going to beat us?”

“Bull Run was our first test and we failed it. Those southerners have a rifle in their hand before the teat leaves their mouth.” It had been a long time since he'd talked to anyone like he talked with Mary. It was comforting.

When the time came for him to leave he sought her out. “I just couldn't leave without seeing you.” He hugged her. “Having you for a nurse almost makes me want to go out and get wounded just so I can come back here.”

“Stop your foolishness!” She pushed at him. “Get on out of here and keep yourself safe.”

“I will.” He grinned as he threw the strap to his haversack over his head and walked away.

A year passed, then two. Sarah wrote to Greta often, but never told her what Nathan had done. The war went on and on in one bloody battle after another. Now, it was 1863. Most of Arkansas, except for the southwest, was occupied by the Union. Their soldiers boldly marched through the streets of Jericho, Arkansas.

This was to be Sarah's last week of teaching. The ride to and from the school had become too dangerous for her to make by herself. Most of the men were kind, but there were plenty of others who hated everything to do with the South. Most of these types chose to rape and murder women and children.

Sarah stopped at the post office to gather her mail. There was a letter from Peter, thank God.
He was still safe!
She breathed a sigh of relief. She stepped from the platform to see a tall, red haired man in a Yankee uniform. She thought she recognized him. She looked closer and sure enough, it was him, Doug Mahaffey! Somehow or other, it was good to see him again. She walked toward him, almost running. “Doug, Doug Mahaffey!” She called out.

“Yes?” He turned. His eyes lit up. “Sarah DuVal. Of all people, what in the heck are ya doin’ here?” Without even thinking, she found herself hugging him. She was so excited, she failed to see the glares from her southern neighbors. The local teacher hugging a Yankee officer in the middle of the street! How shameful!

“It's been so long! It's so good to see you again.” She smiled.

“It's been too long! I thought ye were in Tennessee, what are ya doin’ way over here and how in the heck are ya?”

“Wonderful... really for the first time in my life, I'm totally happy.”

“It shows... ye look even more beautiful than I remember.”