Leigh Ann's Civil War (4 page)

"Love you too, sweetie. Now we'd both best get dressed for supper."

***

As I walked into the dining room and saw the food being set down on the table, I whispered aloud, "This is better than the marriage feast of Cana in the Bible."

Teddy frowned. Louis gripped my shoulder as he pulled out my chair. "Don't be blasphemous," he chided.

The supper was like Mother used to have when she had special guests. She was not here, although her place was set, as always, at the opposite end of the table from Pa's.

But this evening there was a card on her fancy gold and pink plate. Teddy nodded ever so slightly at Louis, who said to me, "Fetch that card for me, will you, Leigh Ann?"

I lifted it off the plate and gave it to Louis, who read it. His face blanched and he handed it over to Teddy.

"It's an apology," Louis said. "A friend of hers is sick. She can't come."

"Damned liar," Pa grumbled.

"Pa," Teddy admonished.

Teddy read the card, too. And his eyes were absolutely sodden, like somebody had died. He set it behind him on the buffet and we commenced to eat.

Cannice had outdone herself. We dined on drum fish and prawns, stuffed peppers, steak and onions, roast turkey and jellied sliced chicken bits, tender glazed ham, mashed potatoes, pâté de foie gras, Hamilton green peas in creamed sauce, carrots in browned sugar, and Cannice's special light-baked buns. For dessert there was vanilla-frosted pound cake and Georgia peaches in cream. And in the middle of the table there was a pyramid made out of jellied candies.

The men, of course, had their share of Madeira and their other favorite wines.

As we enjoyed dessert, a silence fell. We were starting to digest the real reason for the supper along with our food. Of a sudden no one knew what to say.

Louis spoke. "If someone could coin a good way to say goodbye, he'd end up richer than the men who found gold here in Roswell," he said quietly.

Teddy nodded. Carol reached her hand out on the table and Teddy covered it with his own. Viola's eyes filled with tears.

"None of that," Louis told her severely. "We'll have none of that, now."

I just sat wide-eyed. My head was throbbing. My family never failed to fascinate me. They were better than a good book. One never knew what would happen next.

Louis spoke again. "America is a myth," he said in soft, measured tones. "The sooner we get to learn that, the better off we'll all be. The sooner we'll stop breaking our hearts over her."

Everyone sat respectfully, listening. Cicero, the dog, who always sat next to Teddy at meals, thumped his tail on the hardwood floor approvingly.

"And now," Louis went on, "we're either going off to kill that myth, or to save it, and the only problem I have is ... Not going off to fight. No true Southern male minds that. The only problem I have is that I don't know which I'm going off to do—kill it or save it. And that's what troubles me."

Silence. Everyone was moved.

Cicero inched closer to Teddy, sensing uneasiness. Teddy reached down and rubbed one of the dog's long reddish-brown ears. Cicero settled down.

Then Teddy spoke in a mild voice. "Well, I can't let my big brother outdo me. I've something to say, too, though it can't come up to what Louis said. What I'm about to tell you all is simple, and I'd like you all to keep it in mind in the days ahead. It's this:
This place where we all live is not a plantation. It's a homestead.
"

The force of it hit us in the face, in the stomach, and everywhere else you can be hit by words. After that, nobody knew what to do. Viola must have thought the same thing, too, because at that moment she got up, tears streaming down her face, and she hugged Teddy.

I got up, too. So did Carol and Louis. The only one who remained seated was Pa.

We all started hugging one another and saying wonderful things and making promises and giving one another advice to be followed until we were reunited with the boys again.

Surprisingly, Viola, who loved reading stories about knights and warriors, whose idol was Joan of Arc, said to Louis, "Don't be a hero, Louis" and then, "Teddy, you either, we'd rather have you back. We need you," and then, in turn, my brothers mouthed endearing things to us.

Then, gradually, we dispersed. Teddy and Louis still had to have their meeting this night. And Viola's beau, young Johnnie Cummack, who was also leaving tomorrow, was coming to call.

"Will you be all right on your own?" Viola asked me. "I'm going on the verandah to wait for Johnnie."

I said yes, though my headache was getting the upper hand.

"We have to retire to the library," Louis said. But before he and Teddy left the room, both turned to look at Viola.

"Remember," Teddy cautioned, "you bring him to the front parlor. And the door stays ajar."

Viola stamped a satin slipper on the floor. Louis smiled. "Sorry, sweetie. We know he's leaving tomorrow. But that's just
why
we want the door ajar."

Louis kissed her forehead and went out of the room with Teddy. Carol went into the back parlor to play the piano. Viola went out to the verandah, where enough torch lights were lighted to make even an innocent kiss county business.

I was the last to leave the dining room. And what I did, stealthily, was look at the card from Mother that Teddy had put on the buffet.

It was an insult of the highest order.

There was no sick friend. There was no goodbye to the boys.

It was a
carte de visite,
a calling card such as the one used when one came to call and, finding no one home, left the card announcing they had been there. There was nothing at all personal about it.

And likely Mother had had someone deliver it for her.

It was an insult to the occasion, and my brothers knew it.

***

Because I was feeling so terrible, because my head felt squeezed in a lead hat, I went directly to my room, closed the door, and sat on my bed. The lace summer spread had been folded back, and my dolls—Miranda, Suzy, Baby Cassie, Judy, the cornstalk doll that Viola had made for me, and Jemima, the pioneer doll—all sat on a pine chest. The windows were open and organdy curtains fluttered in the late-dusk breeze. The mosquito netting around the bed was arranged just right.

Night was coming. I heard the hoot of an owl, the last going-to-sleep sound of some birds, the barking of Teddy and Louis's hound dogs in the pen. Then the hoofbeats of a horse rapidly making its way down the tree-lined approach to the house. Viola's Johnnie.

I took off my shoes and my silken hose, my dress and petticoats. Standing in my chemise and pantalets, I looked in the standing mirror. I would
never
get bosoms like Viola. Once I had stuffed the top of my chemise with cotton and it had done the job perfectly, but then old Teddy had looked at me crossed-eyed and whispered something to Viola and she'd taken me upstairs, where she removed the cotton and scolded me.

Oh, I was miserable. I took off my underclothes. I should wash myself good, all over. Viola had taught me that if I felt too sick or tired, I at least
must
wash my face and hands, my neck, under my arms, and between my legs. I commenced to do so. There was a basin of warm water. I dipped the soft flannel cloth in, lathered it with scented soap, and honored Viola's instructions, then dried with the even softer towel, put on my cotton, lace-trimmed nightgown, got into bed, and secured the mosquito netting. But I could not sleep.

I dozed once, and all I saw were men marching and aiming guns, as I'd seen them doing in practice. I
heard
the guns. I saw men falling. My dreams came in jerky fragments of fear. I awoke with a start. Sweat covered my brow and my nightgown was drenched with it. I sat up shaking with cold. The lead hat on my head was even heavier now. But the terror I felt was worse. I knew better, but it seized me and shook me the way Cicero shakes an old towel in a game of tug-of-war.

Teddy had promised me a powder like Abraham Lincoln used. He must have forgotten. The house was dark. I tiptoed out of my room and made my way shakily down the stairs. I could see light from under the door of Pa's library.

My head resounded at every chime of the grandfather clock. The door of the front parlor was ajar, as Teddy had instructed. The soft, romantic glow of candlelight flickered from within. I wanted Viola. But I would never forgive myself for barging in on her last night with Johnnie. So what to do?

Carol was out of the question. That would be like going over to the Yankees.

I felt myself drawn to the door of the library. From within I heard muted male voices. I lifted my hand to knock, could not, and pivoted away. Dizzily, I fell. Stupid me. What was I doing on the floor? Quickly, in a move that I supposed was ageless, I reached and pulled my nightgown down to my ankles.

Two things happened at once. From one direction I heard Viola's voice. "What is that?" and "What happened?" from directly behind me, that being Louis.

"Leigh Ann!" He helped me up. Then, "Teddy, this child looks like yesterday's grits!"

In a bunny-hopping minute everybody was there and I was so embarrassed, I wished I could slither away like a garter snake. Teddy was saying, "My God, I forgot the powder." Viola was crying that she just knew she should have put me to bed and it was all her fault.

Teddy said, "Quiet, Viola, it isn't. Go back to the parlor with Johnnie," and "Take her up to bed, Louis—I'll get the powder," and "Her nightgown is damp with sweat." Then he looked apologetically at Viola. "Sorry, honey, you'll have to change her."

Viola told Johnnie she'd be down in a minute. Louis carried me upstairs and both of them waited outside my room while Viola changed my nightgown, powdered me down, and assured me that yes, I
would
someday have bosoms.

I told her to go downstairs, that this was a good time to kiss Johnnie. And she flew out of the room.

Louis put me to bed. Teddy came with the powder and some water. I lay there propped up on pillows while the two of them paced, continuing their meeting.

I heard words like "crop yield" and "still good local demand for the cloth," and "Jon Bench's salary for looking after Pa."

Teddy had a pencil and pad, and they were going over items already written down, it seemed. I was getting sleepier and sleepier, but I hung on to consciousness until I heard the words I was waiting for.

Viola to be given full authority, in lieu of ours, to be in charge of Leigh Ann until we return.

I fell asleep.

The next morning the sun was a written red promise in the east, my headache was gone, and I was about starved. The grandfather clock struck six. I grabbed my robe and slippers and ran downstairs.

My family was in the dining room at breakfast. Eggs, ham, fish, fruit, biscuits, grits, and coffee were set out on the table, as if nobody had eaten last evening. Pa was being handed a dish of food by a striking young man with a face like a god and one arm that hung limp. He smiled at me. There was a certain amount of boldness in the smile. I didn't like him.

"Leigh Ann! You all right?" they asked in unison.

I pronounced I was.

"She looks as good as Cinderella," Louis said.

"I think Cinderella was written by a crazy person," I put forth. "Who else would write a story for children about a man marrying a girl just because her shoe fit right?"

Louis choked on his coffee. "Where does she get these ideas?" he asked.

"Living with all of us," Teddy said, "and listening when she isn't supposed to."

I noticed that the boys were dressed in jodhpurs and regular shirts. "We were up at four," Louis boasted. "Took our horses on a last ride. Saw first light. God, this homestead is beautiful."

Viola fixed me a plate of food and tea. From across the table her eyes twinkled at me and I knew she had gotten her share of kissing Johnnie last evening.

"Jon," Teddy said, "this is our little sister, Leigh Ann. You've been told about her. She's of no concern to you."

"Yes, sir."

"Leigh Ann," Teddy told me, "Jon is in our employ to care for Pa's every need, to keep him company. You are not to bother him, tease him, or hover around him. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," I mimicked Jon.

Teddy dismissed him and frowned at me. "You don't give me much assurance of behavior when I'm leaving," he said sadly.

I went around the table and hugged him. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

He kissed the top of my head. "I know you are. Now go eat."

***

There wasn't much time now. Teddy stood up, reached into his jodhpur pocket, and drew out three gold doubleeagle pieces of coin. He gave two to Viola and one to me.

"They're Yankee," he told us. "Coveted around here. They're worth twenty-five dollars each. Hide them."

Now Louis winked at me. And the burying of his silver that we'd done only yesterday seemed like ten years ago.

"Now I think we ought to change into our uniforms, Louis. We're due for muster at nine and I've still got to see the mayor."

"Yes, sir!" Louis stood up and saluted.

We laughed as we were meant to. "Why do you have to see the mayor?" Viola asked.

Teddy put his arm around her shoulder. "That paper I left with you? I'm registering a copy of it with the mayor's office. I'm having it notorized."

"Oooh." Viola was taken aback. "Thank you, Teddy."

"It'll strengthen your claim," he said.

***

Of course, we were going to the square to see them off. Viola and I, Cannice and Careen, Primus and a few of the other favorite servants, even Cicero. All but Carol. She could not bear public scenes, she told Teddy. So she went with him to their room to help him dress, but they were in there a long time. Teddy came downstairs, still buttoning his shirt, his jacket not yet on. We waited for him in the center hall. Louis gave him a sly look.

"We were saying goodbye," Teddy apologized.

"Well, maybe you've finally found the right words," Louis said as he helped his brother button his jacket. "You'll have to tell me what they are sometime."