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July 22,1914, 5:00-5:30 P.M.
- University of Georgia Press
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July 22,1914, 5:00-5:30 P.M. C HARLIE FELT GROTESQUE, A circus fool. He lay on his bed and listened for the late afternoon train on the Georgia Railroad tracks, which would come any time, rattling the windows, purring through its heated groove toward Augusta.The idea that Sarah had seen the advertisement, was even still alive—that she would rail south to be with him on the day of a speech he could not even give properly now—was preposterous. An hour before, in a damp wall of heat behind Grace House, he had burned the pages he had written earlier in the day,turned their fine sentiments to ash. He would simply rise and say a few words of thanks, say them as a farewell to Branton and to this life at the same time. Perhaps he would just say tharjk you and sit down. The other veterans, Josiah Biggs, James Felden, and T.D. Varnell , would be cupping their ears, would have heard only the rattle of a plate, a cough in the crowd. Ghosts flowed around him.Jack Dockery, Duncan McGregor, General Patrick Ronayne Cleburne. And there was his father, pleading for love from the podium, asking sinners to come forth in the name of the Lord. There were soldiers like Tyree Baskins and Isaac Kennon. Bob Rainey, shot through the throat, whispered greetings from the dead. Warren Prather, from whom he had bought the Eagle, stepped forward in his death lineaments. Charlie recalled the Bondurants and how they 272 PHILIP LEE WILLIAMS had saved him from the sickened cramp of wounds, how Mary Emma had loved him back to life. He thought mostly of Sarah. He closed his eyes as he lay on the bed and thought of her voice as she read Dickens or Byron, as she spoke of her hopes, the loss of her family in Boston, the shadow of pain and sorrow . He thought of her warm lips pressing his own urgently,warmth on warmth. He spoke the name of Martha Jane, his other daughter, too far away to come, and her husband and children, and their love for him. The door creaked back on its hinges, and Belle swayed into the room, her tail wagging, her tongue hanging out. Charlie sat up on the bed and threw his legs off. "Just sitting in here feeling sorryfor myself," he said. He went to the broad window that looked away from the sun, and long shadows crept from Grace House toward the cemetery. Belle nuzzled his leg. "Should have gone ahead and drowned in Turner's Hole this afternoon. That would have wrecked their celebration of battle." Belle wagged at his voice. Then a slight drumming that grew louder. Belle's ears arched, and she ran from the room, into the hall, and down the steps. Charlie came slowly after her, breathing heavily with each step. The front door was open, and a young black man of about sixteen peered through the screen. "Well,Jim, I waswondering when you'd drop around to see if Iwas still alive," said Charlie. "I ain't come around to see if you was still alive," he said. Charlie smiled. He wasvery glad to see him. "Mama sent me to see do you need anybody to help you with anything before you talk this evening." "Have you ever sat on the gallery up there?" asked Charlie. He pointed to the balcony above them that ran the length of the front porch and looked out over Main Street. "Not as I know of," said Jim. "Come on then." Charlie ascended the stairs slowly, Belle attending him like a nurse awaiting a fall. Jim ran two steps, waited, ran two more. They came to the top of the stairs and then turned around them and walked slowly to the glass-paned doors that gave on to the gallery. Charlie opened the doors and went out, and they sat side by side in heavy rockers and looked at the swaying hum of cars that passed below them in the street. "Hit's a grand house," said Jim. "Your grandmother used to look for me at supper time," said Char- [18.117.91.153] Project MUSE (2024-04-17 22:30 GMT) A Distant Flame 273 lie. "Probably my mother would have called to me, but I would be out here reading or playingwith mylead soldiers, and I'd look up, and your grandmother would be standing there...