Falling for the Enemy

Aftermath

                                                                                    Henry                                                                        

I can hear the screams coming from downstairs but my crutches are on the other side of the room leaning against the wall.  Sarah had placed them there when she brought me lunch so they wouldn’t be in my way when I was eating but now they looked as if they were a mile away.  Struggling and feeling completely worthless I try in vain to make my way to my crutches but in my effort, I end up falling on the hardwood floor in pain. Gripping my leg I can still hear the screams.  The screams are that of a small child’s.  

    Something terrible is happening to Adam but I am unable to do anything about it because I am a damn cripple.  I continue dragging my body towards my crutches, sweat pouring down the sides of my face.  I can feel the pain burning stronger in my thigh, and then silence.  No more screaming until I hear her voice. Catherine is screaming at someone and the child’s screams have stopped.   She is angry, very angry.  Whatever was happening to Adam has stopped now and it wasn’t from my doing.  It was from a very capable southern girl’s doing.  Still crawling towards my crutches I finally make it to the other side of the room.  Leaning my body against the wall I rest for a moment and then grab onto one of my crutches and ever so slowly I begin pulling my body to a standing position.  I have never felt so completely worthless and helpless in my entire life.  I don’t even feel like a man anymore.  I place all of my body weight onto my right leg and onto the two crutches that are supporting my body on each side.  Throwing open the door I begin maneuvering towards the stairs only to be stopped by Mr. Cooney himself.  

“Everything is fine Mr. Washburne.  We have taken care of the situation please return to your room.” Coughing in his handkerchief Mr. Cooney guides me back to my room and to my bed to lie down.  

“You need to rest Mr. Washburne and so do I.  So if you would please stay in bed it would help put my mind at ease and then I will be able to close my eyes and sleep easily in my own bed.” I nod and Mr. Cooney slowly makes his way towards the door and closes it quietly behind him. I can hear him shuffle down the hallway, first his steps and then his cane makes contact with the floor and continues this way until I can no longer hear him. My mind begins to race with different scenarios playing out in my head.  What could have caused that young boy to scream with such fear and pain?  I am picturing gruesome things that would make me scream in that manner when my door opens in a quick sharp movement.  It is Catherine and she has a crazy look in her eyes.  She closes the door behind her and then begins pacing the room in front of me.  She says nothing and just continues pacing back and forth like she is battling with herself as to whether to stay or to go.  I finally sit up in my bed and interrupt her thinking 

“What happened downstairs?”  

Catherine freezes with her back towards me.  I cannot see her face and I have no idea what she is thinking.  

“It was Adam” she whispers just barely audible, still not facing me and looking out the window instead.  

“He beat him,” she says sounding completely and wholly disgusted. 

“No, he didn’t just beat him.  He was trying to kill him.” She says again still not looking my way.  

“Who beat Adam?” I ask becoming angrier.  

“Sankey” is all she says.  Neither of us says anything for what seems like forever, both of us processing the fact that the screams from Adam were being caused by another human being.  Catherine turns to look at me, her blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight. She is not crying but it looks like something has changed inside her eyes.  

“We are wrong…..we are wrong about everything.” She says shaking her head. Swallowing I am afraid to say anything that may drive her out of the room.  She visits my room so little that I am afraid that I will say something that will forever keep her away, and for some reason, I don’t want to drive her away.  I want her to seek me out more often than less.  I sit silently, looking into her eyes.  She begins shaking her head and sits down on the bed next to me.  

“I need to check your dressings.” She says quickly changing the conversation topic.  She begins instinctively moving her hands to my thigh, rolling my pant leg up to reveal the wound, and then she removes the old dressings and cleans the wound.  Pulling the drawer out from the nightstand she gathers new dressing in her hand. She then places the new dressings on my wound, rolls my pant leg back down, and covers my leg with the blanket that she folded down to reveal my wound.  

“It looks much better.  It’s almost completely healed now.  All you have to do is build up the strength in your leg again.”  She stares blankly at my thigh where the wound is. She is not seeing my leg covered by the blanket she is somewhere else. 

“Is Adam okay?” Coming back to the here and now she nods and gives a little smile that barely touches the corners of her mouth.  

“He is badly bruised and in a great deal of pain but he will heal physically.”  

“Did you stop it?” I ask inquisitively.  

“Not fast enough.”  Catherine stands and picks up my wash pan.  She walks over to the open window and throws the water outside.  

“I will get you fresh water.” And with that statement, she leaves.   Catherine is not the one who returns with the wash pan, instead, it is Mary.  Mary is a very pretty girl, who I don’t see very often, except for when she sneaks in here to bring me something behind her sister’s back.  She is very different from her sister.  She’s very sweet and exactly what I expected of a southern girl.  She is very formal and proper and she looks the part.  Her hair is always perfectly pulled back into a bun without a single strand of hair out of place.  The only thing Mary is missing is the big hoop skirts.  Instead, she wears plain dresses just like her sister.  These are not the dresses that these southern belles are used to wearing but they make the best out of the situation at hand.  From what I can tell Mary runs things on the inside of the house along with the help of Sarah and Samuel.  Lately, she is often the one who brings me my meals each day and she stops and converses with me to exchange pleasantries dutifully.  I notice when she is with me she is uneasy.  I suspect it is because she has been told to stay away from me by her older sister on various occasions.  Today’s topic is the unexpected warm weather on this March afternoon.  

“I can’t remember the last March in which spring came so soon.” She says fanning herself with her hand as I take a bite of the stew she has just brought me.  “

Yes this is very warm for March, but in North Rotta, our March weather is never this warm.  So I have very little to compare it to except for the Northern weather.”  Nodding she says 

“Yes, North Rotta is known to have very harsh winters, correct?”  

“Yes, it can get bitterly cold in the winter in Pennsylvania but I always enjoyed the snow.  When I was little we used to have snow battles.  My brothers and I would each build our own fort and stock the forts with piles of snowballs to use as ammunition. Pausing to remember simpler times.  "Yes, I have many fond memories of the winters in Pennsylvania.”  Mary just smiles 

“Yes, boys and their toys,” she says smiling, and then starts to leave the room.  “Before you go Miss Cooney, can you tell me more about what happened with the boy today downstairs?” Mary stops and politely walks back into the room to respond to my question.  “The boy was being improperly punished by our house guest Mr. Sankey and my sister promptly and rightfully so, threw him out of Moher and he is never to return or he will be shot upon sight.” She says in a stern voice.  I can see she agrees with her sister but she will never come straight out and say that her old beliefs as a slave owner are wrong but I can see it in her eyes.  She is feuding with the same conundrum that her older sister is battling with.  These girls have seen slavery but they have never seen this side of slavery.  Any way you look at it slavery is ugly and immoral but the Cooneys were sugarcoating it.  I don’t think any of the Cooneys are seeing any positive sides now, and I am happy that they are coming to this realization.   

            As March continues with its warm spurt I use this time to utilize my crutches and to explore the property.  I am hoping that by forcing myself to move about the plantation that I can rebuild some of the strength in my leg.  No one pays much attention to me as I explore.  Everyone just continues on with their work.  It seems that I have become familiar enough to the family that they no longer feel the need to keep an eye on me every second of the day but they still do not trust me enough to openly talk with me throughout the day and Catherine obviously only trusts me when her family is awake and not when they are asleep because she is still sleeping just outside my bedroom door every night.  In recent days I have often found myself by the slave quarters spending time with Adam.  We are both healing now and we often keep each other company.  

“So what do you like to do when you aren’t cooped up in this house all day?”  Adam smiles 

“Fish!” he states enthusiastically. Adam is a cute boy, with chocolate brown eyes and short black hair.  He’s a handsome young lad. 

“Do you have all the equipment needed to go fishing?” I ask curiously.  

 “Sure, grandpa and I go fishing all the time with the poles he made us.  Do you want to see?”  I nod and Adam leaves for a few minutes and returns back with two fishing poles. 

 “Well get up let’s go,” Adam says lightly kicking me with his foot.  

“Where are we going?” I ask confused even though I know he is talking about going fishing.  Adam rolls his eyes 

“We are gonna go fishing and I’m gonna show you how it’s done” he says taking the lead in front of me.  “Are you sure Catherine and your mother wouldn’t mind?”  “I go fishing all the time, it never bothered them before”  I give a low laugh 

“Well, that was before a United Army was in your house.”  Adam just shrugs and continues walking.  I hobble behind him using my homemade crutches the best I can.  I have never been to this part of the property before but it’s beautiful.  He leads me to a stream that has a few deep fishing holes.  We plop down on the ground in front of the hole that Adam is just sure will have fish in it.  Adam begins digging in the dirt and mud near the stream searching for worms for our hooks.  After a few minutes, he has found 7 fat juicy ones.  He hooks the worm on my pole and does the same for his and we cast our lines into the water.  Sooner rather than later Adam gets a bite on his line.  He knows exactly what to do and easily pulls the fish up and out of the water.  

Grinning he says “Looks like we are having fish for dinner tonight.”  

“Way to go kid,” I say as I remove the fish from his hook and pat him on the back gently so I am sure I do not injure his old wounds.  I don’t know how long we are out next to the stream but we are able to catch two more fish before she finds us.  

“What do you two think you are doing out here?” she asks in an annoyed tone.  Well, at least she’s not angry, I think to myself.  

“Well, Adam here is showing me where all the best fish holes are at,” 

I say looking into her clear blue eyes.  Her eyes can be very beautiful if they weren’t always filled with so much disdain and anger all the time.  Adam jumps to his feet to show Catherine our catches of the day.  

“Look, Miss Catherine, I caught two fish!” he shouts excitedly.  

Smiling, Catherine says “Looks like fish for dinner tonight!”  

When she is with the boy she is more relaxed.  She smiles more and her smiles aren’t forced around him.  I think that this must be more of who she was before the war started.  It would have been nice to know Catherine before the war.   She is a very attractive woman; tall and lean, with dark hair flowing to the middle of her back.  She always has her hair tied in a braid and I often find myself wondering what she would look like if her hair flowed freely.  Her features are fine and delicate and her bottom lip is fuller than her top lip and I find myself wondering if she’s ever been kissed before.  As soon as the thought enters my mind, I quickly remove it.  What the hell am I thinking?  She is a southerner whose fiancé is a confederate soldier and I am a soldier in the union army.  I turn and look away from her and back to the stream.  “You mind if I give it a try?” she says sitting down on the ground next to me.  

“Be my guest” and I hand her my pole.  She casts the line into the fishing hole and sits down quietly staring out into the water.  Adam comes to sit on the other side of Catherine and here we are, the three of us fishing, as our comrades battle each other somewhere else.  I find it to be ironic and duplicitous at the same time.  How can I be sitting here fishing when my brothers in war are dying for our country? “I shouldn’t be here.” I say disgusted.  Catherine doesn’t respond she simply looks my way questioning me with her eyes.  

“I should be on the battlefield with my brothers ending this war.”  “So it is my understanding then that when you are entirely healthy you fully intend on rejoining the United forces.” She says moving her gaze back out to the fishing hole.  

“Yes, I must go back or I will be seen as a traitor and a coward.”  

“I often find that men are destroyed easily by their pride,” she says still not looking at me.  

“If I were your Nathan would you want me to abandon the war effort and return to you a deserter?” I ask, demanding an answer with my eyes.  I can tell she is thinking about this. 

“Yes, because at least he would be alive…. Whether he is seen as a deserter or not, he would still be alive.” She says sadly. I need to change the subject quickly. 

“I am curious. Why do you and your family call the plantation Moher?”  She breathes in a deep breath relieved that the subject has been changed.  This is an easy topic for her to discuss with me.  “My grandfather is from Ireland and he always said the most peaceful and glorious place that he had ever seen were the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland.  He always told Mary and me that it was the closest to heaven he would ever get.  So when he came to the United States he wanted to bring a piece of his homeland with him” she looks at me again with her clear blue eyes, finally, some of the tension has left her face and her forehead is smooth.  For a moment she’s just a girl, sitting near a stream, spending time with two acquaintances. “So tell me about your home,” she says still staring out into the stream, moving her pole ever so lightly to tempt the fish to bite.  “I am from Easton, Pennsylvania.  I have two brothers, one younger and one older. My father was a lawyer but died from influenza when I was 15, and my mother, well she is my mother. ”  “Did you not get along with your mother,” she says turning to look into my eyes.  “I love my mother dearly but she is quite overbearing and very demanding.  She expects only the best.”  Catherine nods accepting my answer.  The truth of the matter is that my mother was never the same after my father died.  Sometimes I used to think it would have been better if she would have died instead of my father because she seemed to give up after he died.  She was wholeheartedly devoted to my father and loved him with every fiber in her body, and I admire that kind of love but she still had three sons to raise, and she just gave up on life.  I still remember the day my brothers and I told her that we were joining the war effort; any light that still remained in her eyes dimmed and died that day.  She was against any of her sons entering into battle.  I think she feared that she would be left completely alone when the three of us left and she couldn’t bear the thought of that. Maybe that’s why I admire Catherine so much because she never seems to give up.  “Did both of your brothers join the war efforts too?” she asks prodding me for more answers.  “Yes, last I heard my oldest brother was in the eastern theater with the army of the Potomac preparing to attack General Lee’s army at Fredericksburg and my younger brother was still positioned in Pennsylvania at Camp Curtain training the new recruits. I haven’t heard from them in months.  I do know that the battle at Fredericksburg did not fall into favor of the Union Army so I fear that the worse may have come upon my oldest brother. I am anxious to be back with my unit in New Bern so I can seek information about the welfare of both of my brothers”  “Henry, you never did tell me what happened the day you came to my barn.” And she stops and leaves the conversation open for me to continue with the story.  “I was out on a scouting mission when we stumbled upon a small group of confederate soldiers that had been separated from their division.  Prior to sending the four of us out on a scouting mission, General Foster had believed that all of the Confederate troops had been pushed to the North Bank of the Neuse River and that it was safe to send a small group of us out to scout alone.  He was obviously wrong.  We were outnumbered and I am unsure of what happened to the other three officers that were with me.” I say in a low tone.  My mind returns to that day, and I am back in the woods exchanging ammunition with the Rebel soldiers that outnumbered us.  

“Were you in the battle south of Moher, near Goldsboro days earlier?  We could hear and see parts of the battle here.” she states sadly.  Nodding my head I begin by saying 

“Yes, I was in that battle.  It was at the Goldsboro Bridge. I was in charge of a small division of men that helped secure the bridge.  It had become known to us a few days prior that the bridge was important to the Rebel Army because it was being used as a major transport for supplies to their army.  We hoped that by taking over the bridge that we would be preventing precious supplies from reaching the Rebels and in turn it would allow us to defeat the Rebels quicker because they would be without the necessities they needed to fight a battle. We were able to destroy the bridge. However, I have been informed by your father that the Rebel Army was able to rebuild the bridge within weeks, and it seems our mission was in vain. We only attacked the bridge to aid in the battle at Fredericksburg, but you and I both know how that turned out.  We lost many men at the bridge, and our entire mission was unsuccessful because of the defeat at Fredericksburg.” I feel knots growing in my stomach, as I begin to think of what may have happened to my brother at Fredericksburg.  I have been trying to push the thoughts of my brothers from my mind but sitting here talking with Catherine has brought all of the terrible thoughts that I have been trying to keep at bay to the surface.  

“I can see that you are very concerned about your family so we should talk about other things. What was your profession in North Rotta?” She says drawing my attention away from the terrible thoughts pooling in my brain.  

“I was a lawyer like my father.  He was the most honorable man I ever knew, so it is my goal in life to follow in his footsteps.” Catherine crinkles her nose.  “How old are you Henry?”  “I am 22,” I say.  “If you already have a profession and you are 22, why are you not married?  Or are you married?” she asks curiously.  “I… well… I… was not interested in marriage in North Rotta.  I was too busy with my education.  That is a strange question to ask a man.”   

“I’m sorry I didn't mean to be rude.  It just seems to me like you are a rather nice man, other than the fact you are a United dog, but other than that fact, you seem more than normal so I don’t understand why you haven’t taken a wife yet.”  

    I can’t help but laugh when she says this to me.  I seem normal and nice so she is wondering what I am hiding from her that would keep me from finding a woman that would marry me.  

“Tell me more about this Nathan you talk so much about.” Looking her in the eyes I can see that this is not a topic she wishes to discuss with me but since I was so forthcoming about my life she obliges.  “

I have known Nathan for most of my life.  Our fathers were business associates, and on occasion, we would cross paths.  As we grew older, we grew fonder of one another and just days before he left to join the Confederate army he asked my father for my hand in marriage.  It will be a very advantageous marriage; his father is an owner of one of the largest lumber companies in South Rotta.  So when Nathan returns we will be married and I can restore Moher back to its prime before the war ravaged it.  I'll also be able to properly take care of my father and sister and Samuel’s family.” She says looking at Adam and rubbing his head gently.  

“So you are marrying him for his position in society?” I ask offended by what she just said.  Standing up she straightens her skirt and picks up our catch and then begins in a very terse tone “Mr. Washburne, I think we have spoken long enough for today, and to answer your last question no, I am not marrying him for his money.  I don’t know how things are done in the north but we do not always have the opportunity to spend a lot of time alone with southern men.  They are often busy and working hard, so Nathan and I are very amicable towards one another and to me, that equals a good match.”  She says turning on her heels and walking away.  Shouting after her I say 

“What ever happened to marrying for love?”  she says nothing and continues walking, no not walking but stomping away.