Songs of the Shenandoah (13 page)

“I most certainly do. I met him and his precious Ashlyn back out West. He's the kind of man one won't easily forget.” He eyed Seamus from top to bottom, making no effort to disguise his disgust.

“What news do you bring from the war?” Pastor Hudson asked brusquely. “That is why you are here, right?”

“It's been a couple of years since I've been in Taylorsville, having been somewhat engaged in N'Orleans.” Percy turned his gaze toward Ashlyn. “I thought maybe I would soak in the welcome of those I haven't seen for some time. Get the opportunity to meet some of my kinfolk.” He glared at Grace.

“We are most grateful for your service to our cause, Percy, but this is a church service.”

“Colonel Barlow, Preacher. Colonel Barlow. I am not a boy sitting in your pew. There is decorum to maintain.”

“What news, Colonel Barlow?” The words were spoken through clenched teeth.

Pastor Hudson must know. Ashlyn must have told him.

“Having just arrived from Richmond,” Percy began, with an emphasis seemingly designed for self-import. “General Jackson will be on the move. The enemy is approaching. There will be great war in our area, I am afraid to report.”

There were gasps and worried conversations began to spread.

Fletch stood and his face was clenched with anger. “You best take good care of our boys.”

The room silenced.

Percy eyed Fletch with contempt. Then he put his hat on and adjusted it firmly. “Yes. We will most certainly take care of your boy, Virgil Fletcher. I was well pleased to see young Anders was drafted to the cause and might finally bring some honor to your family.”

Coralee began to cry.

Seamus glanced over to Anders and saw the fear in his eyes. Then he looked to Grace and she was crying as well.

“There are others here who look . . . capable to serve and should be willing to do so.” Percy scowled at Seamus. “Then again not all can be trusted.” He turned to Pastor Hudson and nodded, then he marched away and out of the door.

“I never did like that boy,” Nell Turner said.

Others chorused in.

“Now . . . now, people.” Pastor Hudson waved his arms to quiet them. “Let us not forget the words Seamus shared with us. These are dark times. We must encourage one another.” He glared at the doorway.

“What about that pearls and swine thang?” someone said.

“Now again. Let us all pray for our brave soldiers. And Percy as well. Then you can be on your way. This news means those soldiers will need to be fed, and if that's our way to serve, we shall, with God's blessing, do it well.”

Pastor Hudson prayed, and in a short while they were all filtering out of the building, in a decidedly somber mood. He turned to Seamus. “Don't worry about what was said, son. They'll only remember the part about the enemy approaching. Dark times indeed.”

“So,” Seamus said, “I suppose this whole bit about me doing the sermon, that was your idea?”

“Oh no.” Asa chuckled. “That was your bride. I was worried about what you might say, to be plain. I knew you had a cloud over you and was concerned you'd just drag it over my people's heads. But she's a persuasive woman. She said to me, ‘I trust him.'”

Seamus laughed as he saw Ashlyn and Grace waiting for the others to depart before making their way to him.

“And she was right. Ashlyn was right about you. You have a gift, son.” Asa looked him in the eye. “In fact, something came to me while I heard you preaching.”

Grace came up and put her arms around Seamus and buried her head in his chest. “I am so proud of you, Da!”

He wanted to correct her for interrupting his conversation with the pastor but was too comforted in her arms. His friendship with his daughter had grown so much in the past year. Ashlyn leaned over and kissed him tenderly on the cheek. Since she had returned to the South, it was the first time she had done so in public, but the room was empty except for Asa.

She turned to Pastor Hudson and gripped his hand with both of hers. “How will I ever thank you?”

“Thank me? Thank Him.” He looked toward the ceiling. “God spoke through your husband today. And as I was just sharing with Pastor Hanley, there is something quite urgent I need to show him.”

Seamus wasn't sure what startled him more. Being called a pastor or the urgency in the man's words. “Is that so?”

Pastor Hudson kept his focus on Ashlyn. “Our job is not complete. Have this young man ready and with a lunch packed. I'll be knocking on your door before the sun rises.”

Ashlyn shrugged and grinned. “As you say. We shall tuck the young man into bed early, won't we, Grace?”

“Yes, we will.” Grace took her father's hand and tugged him toward the door. “Good-bye, Pastor Hudson.”

Seamus and Grace left Ashlyn and the pastor behind and walked out of the door and into the bright sunshine of the day. “Da?”

“Yes?”

“Who was that man? The one in the uniform?”

Seamus feared this question and expected it would somehow haunt their daughter all of her life. And even though he had years to think of an answer, there wasn't one he could bear offering up now.

“Hopefully a man you won't see again.” Yet as these words emerged from his mouth, he knew it was unlikely they had seen the last of Colonel Percy Barlow.

Chapter 15

Songs of the Shenandoah

“Had I known you were part burro, I would have never agreed to this.” Seamus stopped, put his hands on his knees, and took a few gasping breaths of the moist, morning air.

Up ahead of him, Asa continued to churn his short legs up the sinewy trail rising sharply into the Massanutten Mountains. He marveled at the old pastor's constitution.

Asa paused and leaned back against a thick oak just beginning to show green buds on its angling branches. “I am up here as often as I can once it warms. It's rare during summers that I miss a day, except, of course, for Sundays, weddings, funerals, and when Fletch is pit roasting a swine for the town.”

“And I thought all of this time you were busy about the good work of the church.” Seamus staggered his way up to the man, his boots sinking in the soft soil.

“But Seamus. This is the most important work of my job.”

Seamus had been in Taylorsville for a while, but this was the first time he had traveled up this particular path, which now seemed embarrassing considering how close he lived to the foot of the mountains and how spectacular and inviting the scenery was that surrounded his farm.

Their hike had taken them through a forest of maple, birch, and ash, and at higher levels they came upon red oak and cherry trees. The lower trunks of these sky-reaching inhabitants were draped with moss and at the ground around them, mushrooms and fern rose from the moist, dark soil. Already the white blossoms of the serviceberry were visible.

Adding to the dewy freshness of the sights were the vibrant sounds of this warm day. Upon passing ponds and trickling streams they heard the chirrups of bullfrogs, a fluttering of insect wings, and the woodsy gossip between warblers and chickadees. Adding to the chatter were the arguments of gray squirrels and the tapping of woodpeckers foraging for termites in the bark.

At almost every turn, a clear vantage point of the vast farmland below offered insights into why this part of Virginia was the chief food provider for much of the South, which made it a strategic priority of defense by the Confederate army.

The sun was well above the horizon in the east, yet the bending of light remained, casting interesting shadows and shapes on slopes around them. Just when Seamus was wondering if their ascent would ever end, they rounded a corner and came upon a large granite boulder perched on the cliff's edge, which almost appeared to be a couch carved out of stone.

“Ah, my morning respite. Come, son. Have a seat with me.” Asa climbed his way onto the boulder and then plopped his backpack beside him, which he opened and began to probe inside.

Seamus didn't waste time in following the pastor up as he was anxious to rest his throbbing feet. He was no stranger to difficult work and labored for many hours each day on the farm, but this steep climb put a strain on muscles and joints he seldom used.

Once he settled, Seamus took in the spectacular valley beneath him. For miles and miles he could see the rich quilt of hundreds of farms weaved together, of corn, hay, barley, and herds of horses, sheep, and cattle. It was a magnificent setting, and with the pain of the climb behind him Seamus now understood why his friend frequented this location.

“This morning should be painted on canvas.” Asa took in a deep breath, and it was as if his entire body smiled. He pulled out a knife from his pocket and unfolded it open. Then he sliced into a small block of orange cheese and offered a piece to Seamus, which he gladly accepted.

The pastor carved one for himself and savored it. Then he pointed down below with his knife. “Look. There is the Grimwald farm. And that's where the Simpsons live. Yours is just out of view, but I can see the farms of most of our congregants here. This is where I come to pray as much as I can.” His wrinkled face glistened with sweat, which he wiped with the back of his hand. “I pray for you and Ashlyn and Grace. But especially for you.”

“Oh?” Seamus laughed. “I suppose I am in need of much prayer.”

“Yes you are. As I am as well.” A small tuft of his silver hair blew in the wind. He narrowed his eyes, as if he was measuring what he was about to say. “I hope this doesn't come across as presumptuous.”

“Go ahead, Pastor.” Seamus lowered his eyes.

“I have been through your valley before.”

Valley? Of course he has.

“No.” He smiled and sliced another piece of cheese. “Not the valley down there.” Asa reached out the knife and Seamus pulled off the slice. He had forgotten how much better food tasted when in the wilderness.

“No. I am talking about the valley of shadows. The darkness.”

Where was all of this heading? Seamus missed his old mentor Brother Chuck dearly and wondered if Asa could fill that role here in Taylorsville. “I don't know. I believe I left this darkness you speak of . . . back in California. We are doing well now since arriving. Ashlyn. Grace. Myself.”

“I'm afraid the valley is not something you can move away from. It comes with you everywhere you go.” He pressed his hand against his chest. “It lies in here. And oh, it is painful. Worse than any wound. But I suppose you don't need to be told any of this.”

The sun had shifted to where it was beginning to get in his eyes. Seamus put his hand above his brow to block it. “Maybe life was meant to be difficult for us. Some more than others.”

Asa squinted. “You believe this?”

Seamus glanced down. He thought he saw a carriage moving on a distant road. “I hope it's not true, actually.”

“It doesn't need to be.” Asa pulled a handful of strips of dried meat out of his pack and handed one to Seamus. “I have the answer, if you are asking.”

“That looks like Fletch's possum jerky.” Seamus reached out for it and bit into it, and the taste of salt and smoke filled his mouth.

“Or it could be the skunk.” Asa chuckled. “You have to learn to laugh at them.”

“Is that your secret?”

“No. That's just so you don't strangle them.” Asa took a bite and chewed, then he tilted his head. “The valley. The darkness. No. That's a place we lose ourselves in. We can't blame that on a moonshiner. Or some disappointment in our pasts.”

“I don't know what you mean.”

Asa lifted his canteen, uncorked the top, and took a drink. “It isn't the people in your church. The neighbors. The crooks. The murderers.” He waved his arm around him. “The world, which crushes in on us. The death of a nation. The battles of war. We'll always have those.”

Seamus was struggling to understand.

“Those aren't what control us. Those are merely the distractions.”

“The distractions?”

“Yes, son. From the gift.”

“The gift?” Seamus worried if there would be a point to all of this.

“The ability to listen.”

“I am listening.”

“No. All you hear are the noises. And you've allowed them to press on you. To wear you down. Just as what happened to me.”

Asa had a peace in his green eyes, a stillness in his soul, that Seamus yearned for, but it seemed so distant. Had Seamus ever experienced that? Yes, he had. But so long ago. And the Southern pastor had no idea what Seamus had been through. From the deep disappointment he saw daily in his father's eyes. To his many failures in life.

“You don't like me comparing my life to yours, do you?” Asa jutted his chin out. “No one could ever be in as deep or dark of a valley as you? Isn't that what you think? That's the biggest lie of all.”

Who was this man? How was he able to peer deep into the hidden chambers of Seamus's heart?