I Shall Be Near to You(85)

‘We can’t leave it here,’ I say. ‘Ain’t right.’

‘May I?’ Will asks, and puts his hand out.

I set the Bible in his hand. He looks at it. Turns it over. Flips open the clasp.

‘It’s got a name in it,’ he says, real quiet, and there on the first page, in someone’s fine handwriting, is the name Benjamin Harlin and underneath 32nd Virginia.

He turns the thin paper, looks to see if there is anything else written in that Bible. He flips ahead and the book falls open right in Psalms: Blessed be the Lord my strength, which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight. And flattened between the pages are two four-leaf clovers.

‘You keep it,’ I say.

‘No,’ Will says, and looks at me. ‘It should go back to his people.’





CHAPTER

34


The dark creeps from the mountains toward the valley and the fields where all our dead are buried. I hug my knees and sit next to the pit fire Will is tending, the cold air at my back. Loud singing and laughing drifts down the ridge, the glare of campfires lighting the tents like lanterns. Shadows swallow up the tents scattered at the edges of the battlefield until all that’s left is the bright spots of flames flickering in the night.

I am working at keeping my mind swept bare when Will asks me, ‘You going to write Jeremiah’s folks? Send them that letter of his?’

Every feeling comes rushing over me. I just shake my head.

‘You’ve got to send it. At least his letter,’ Will says.

‘Don’t want to.’

Will looks at me like that is the worst thing. ‘What do you mean?’

I can’t explain it right. How all I’ve got left is two letters. How I can’t send any more of him away.

‘Long as I don’t send that letter, he’s still living to them,’ I say.

That stops Will right as he’s poking one of the logs with a stick. ‘They’ll be hearing news of the battle,’ he says real quiet. ‘And it won’t be long before they see the casualty list. They’ll be starting to think if they haven’t heard word …’

Will is right. I know he is.

‘You want me to write them?’ he asks.

It is a kind offering, but it is wrong. ‘No,’ I say. ‘I’ve got to do it.’

Will nods. After that we are silent. Nothing passes between us but the cracking and popping of the logs in the fire. The flames work their way through the biggest log so that it glows orange behind the black bark.

Will shifts and stands, saying, ‘I’m going on over to find Thomas. He’s been wanting to read the Bible.’

He looks at me so if I weren’t sure before, I know now what he is doing.

‘I’ll be back in a bit.’ He hands me the stick he’s been using to work our fire and digs that tattered Bible, the one from the battlefield, out of his knapsack.

He steps away from the small circle of light the fire casts, a dim shape moving along the ridge back to camp, to where the rest of the boys are.

I take Jeremiah’s letters out, the cold air chilling my breast before I can get my jacket buttoned again. How did he ever think I could send the last of him home to his family, that I could do these things without him, that I could push everything aside, and live with only memories of him?

I drag my knapsack to me, telling myself I am going to do what is right, but that don’t help one bit because I start crying.


I GET HOLD of myself and dig inside my knapsack to find my letter paper. It is rumpled and I don’t have a thing to write on but my knees. I iron a sheet against my pants, but those wrinkles stay and I want this letter to be nice. I think about waiting, finding some fresh paper. But the paper don’t matter and maybe writing it I will feel something of him flutter through me again. I ain’t doing right by him, keeping the truth of things from his folks.

September 20, 1862

Near Antietam Creek and Sharpsburg

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Wakefield and family,

It is only because My Heart breaks to do it and is Broken already that I did not Write sooner. You will have heard, I think, how this Army met the Rebels at Antietam Creek and how we have had Victory. From what I saw there was Nothing that we won with this fighting and now we have Lost so Many. Our Regiment saw heavy fighting in a Cornfield and I was there with Jeremiah. I did not see how the enemy got him but with his Wounds I think it was canister. I Found him after it happened and he was still Living and he knew me and was Very Brave. There wasn’t a thing to be Done for him but I do not think he Suffered long. I Tried to get him to where it was Safe, but he was Gone too quick. I held him when he Passed to the Other Side and the Last words he said was, Home. Home. So you can know that his last thoughts were of You and of Good Things and He died in the Company of Someone who Loved him. There are others here who Miss him but that is not the same as what it is to lose a Son or Brother or Husband.

They told me his body would not make the Journey home, so he is Buried here. He is Resting under a very Tall tree near to where we Fought. It is a Pretty place, with farms and trees all around and there is a Marker there so if you wanted to Visit you would know him. I have Gone to see him there.

I am sending the Letter he wrote for you if the Worst should happen. He wrote it before we saw our First Battle and I Know he Never wanted to Send it. He was Always Thinking on Coming Home and the Farm. Now he is Gone to his Other Home and waits for us there. It is a help for me to know that and I hope for you too.