Distant Flame

Summer and Fall, 1862

Summer and Fall, 1862 ACK DOCKERY'S FOOT GREW worse in early June, and for a time amputation seemed likely, but the infection finally abated, and he was able to ride to Grace House on his horse, Sal. Charlie and Sarah were sitting on a blanket in the pecan-leaf shade when Jack dismounted and came over, a single crutch under his right arm. He perspired freely but smiled with such warmth that Charlie stood and waved. He and Sarah had been playing chess, and Sarahwas resigned to loss. Stonewall Jackson's Valley campaign in Virginia had been a glorious success, according to the newspapers, but the Federal army was swelling and spreading, and their resolve, if anything, grew, Charlie heard. The Confederate General Joseph Johnston had been severely wounded at the Battle of Seven Pines. Now in mid-July, the war in Virginia had turned into a field of blood. Betsy fretted about Tom, since his unit had been near Malvern Hill, a fierce battle on July 1. Other families in town were getting word that their sons were not coming home again. If Tom had survived, he had not written, which to Betsy signaled disaster; to Charlie, it simply sounded like Tom, too busy to bother with a pencil. The church council had told Betsy the family could live in Grace House for six months while they sought a new minister . The council would rent another house for the Merrills. Betsy nodJ 192 PHILIP LEE WILLIAMS ded, broken. She visited her husband's grave twice a week with fresh flowers and whispered prayers. Charlie grew in stature, and most days he seemed stronger and happier , growing toward war. He took long walks during the day and spent hours target shooting at cans and distant fence posts. His strength grew as his aim narrowed. On his cheeks, he felt the first threads of a beard, studied his face in the mirror and saw it elongating slightly, cheekbones more prominent, eyes darker and more sunken. As his body changed, he was afraid that it might not stop at adulthood but go forward into some monstrous shape from which he could not return. A few days before, when a storm had settled over Branton for aday, he and Sarah had been in the parlor of Grace House, where Sarah had played Chopin with dreamy perfection, and Charlie watched her, broken with affection and desire. Betsy and Martha had gone to his Aunt Kay's house for the day, and wiljh lamps unlit, the parlor was dark and cool, a steady wind waving the \(rhite lace curtains into the room. Charlie leaned back on the settee, and he wanted the day to last for years. If he had more courage, he thought, he would sweep her into his arms and love her. "I know that one piece and maybe three more from memory," said Sarah. She slid next to Charlie, and her eyes sparkled into brightness. "They taught me French, piano, and a little geography,but no more.Je suis unejeunefille. Out?Mais oui, monsieur. They were preparing me to marry a fine Boston gentleman. But they were too distracted in fighting each other to press my education very far. I've learned much through reading." "I've gone to Mr. Marker's School since I was little," said Charlie. "And then Papa taught me, too. My French is poor, but I read Latin passably and a little Greek." "I see." He could tell she was fumbling for words. He wanted more air. The room was cool and dark and enfolding, and he watched his hand reach for hers and take it, hold it. There seemed no volition in the act, as if his hand were seeking out a kindred shape. "What do you think of me?" asked Charlie. "You mean ..." "What do you think when you look at me? Do you feel sorryfor me?" "No. I think you have a number of fine qualities, and you have been a friend to me when few else would. To be from the North is worse than A Distant flame 193 being a slave. At least people here seem to understand the colored. They look upon me as a species bred from stupidity and for hatred." "I've never thought that of you." "Of course, but you love me." Their eyes locked. He thought: It is true. I do love her, and...