LITMIR.BIZ

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the thought of Elizabeth remaining in perpetual mourning.

      “I wanted to thank you.”

      Dr. Evan Mackay’s voice broke in to his thoughts. David looked up to see the Scottish-born physician once again standing before him. He quickly stood and reached for the man’s outstretched hand.

      “I am humbled that you selected me as one of the pallbearers.”

      All the other men David had chosen had each expressed the same sentiment. They considered it an honor to provide final escort for one of their comrades.

      “You are soon leaving for the train station?” the army physician asked.

      David checked his watch. It was nearly three o’clock. “Yes. Within the hour.”

      Dr. Mackay nodded, then glanced quickly about, as if what he were about to say was to be held in strict confidence. “I would advise against Miss Martin accompanying the body to the station.”

      “Why is that?” David asked.

      “I don’t believe she is up for the task. My wife is with her now.” He leveled his gaze. “You should go to her.”

      “Go to her?”

      The Scotsman nodded. “See for yourself.”

      Though the man was no longer David’s superior, the instinct was still there to follow his commands. Especially since David knew the order was surely given out of concern for Elizabeth, for the doctor’s wife and she were close friends. Still, he balked.

       You’re the physician and family friend. If she is having difficulty in some way, what can I do? She doesn’t want to see me. It isn’t my place.

      Yet Dr. Mackay stared at him as if it were. David then realized, with Elizabeth’s father dead and her brother away at war, he was the closest she had to any male relative. As much as she may wish for him to leave her alone, it was his duty today to look after her.

      Handing the physician the plate of chicken, David walked toward the parlor. The light was dim. The house was shuttered, and many of the windows were draped in black. The fires were lit, but winter’s chill still invaded every space. Appropriately, the place felt like a tomb.

      Rounding the corner he found Elizabeth seated before his brother’s casket. Mrs. Mackay was beside her.

      “But you know we must,” he heard her say.

      Seeing Elizabeth’s head bowed, her shoulders shaking, pierced David’s heart. She had held her composure for so long, but here in the final moments it was crumbling. Quietly he approached. Tears streaked her face, but her eyes were as sharp as steel.

      “No, David. Not yet. I won’t let you take him.”

      She thought he had come to begin the processional. Now he knew why Dr. Mackay thought it unwise for her to go to the train station.

       She cannot bring herself to say goodbye.

      He knelt before her. “Elizabeth, I want to...help.”

      “Haven’t you done enough already?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but he clearly heard the anger. “You caused this!”

      Guilt and grief rained down upon him. He felt torn between allowing her privacy and remaining with her. He foolishly chose the latter.

      “Elizabeth, I’m sorry... I never should have interfered.”

      “If you had left well enough alone, he would have married me. Things would have turned out differently. I know they would have. We would have been...so...”

      Happy, he thought.

      Anger gave way to anguish. Great sobs shook her entire frame. Mrs. Mackay immediately took Elizabeth in her arms and tried to soothe her. Frozen in his place, David wished there was something he could do to ease her pain.

      “I loved him!” Elizabeth cried.

      “And he, you,” Mrs. Mackay whispered. “No one on this earth could have loved you more.”

      That isn’t true, David thought. That isn’t the whole story. Suddenly he wanted her to know why he had done what he did. He wanted to tell her he’d been in love with her from the moment she first walked in to his ward. His mind told him the confession would bring relief to him, but he knew for her, it would only bring more pain. So, he kept his mouth shut. Just like he had done every other time she was near him.

      By now her cries had drawn the attention of the entire house. Her mother, sister and her other friends soon surrounded them. Trudy looked at him, her expression a mixture of embarrassment and pity. “Don’t worry, David. We’ll take care of her.”

      “No,” Elizabeth cried.

      “Let him see to Jeremiah,” Miss Hastings insisted. “It is what is best.”

      “No...”

      “Come with us, Elizabeth,” Mrs. Mackay gently urged.

      The women pulled her to her feet, escorting her to the staircase. He watched helplessly as Elizabeth disappeared in a swirl of hazy black crepe.

      “David,” he then heard her mother quietly say, “perhaps it would be best if you now see to your brother.”

      “Yes, of course.”

      He did not have to search far for the other men. Elizabeth’s cries had drawn each of them to the parlor, as well. In quiet reverence the pallbearers took their places alongside Jeremiah’s casket. David claimed his position at the head of the processional, his body and mind now numb.

      Jeremiah’s flag-draped coffin was carried through the front door, the barren garden and out to the street. Carefully it was placed in the hearse. The pallbearers and remaining men then formed a line behind the black-adorned carriage. All of the women had elected to stay behind. David wondered if they were still surrounding Elizabeth. Were they offering words of comfort to her, words he could not give? Words she would not accept from him?

      He glanced toward the upstairs windows. Part of him wished to return to the house, seek her out, if only to say goodbye. The rest of him knew it was better this way.

      Just then, Mrs. Martin stepped from the porch and embraced him. “God keep you, David,” she whispered. “May He ease your troubled heart.”

      “Ma’am,” he said, “I wish there was something I could do...”

      “I know you do, son, but there is nothing to be done. Return to your home, and may God keep you from any more sorrow.”

      Not knowing what else to say, he respectfully kissed her cheek, then directed the men to move. The processional made its way through the slush-covered streets toward the train station. As they passed through Monument Square, carriages halted. The citizens of Baltimore removed their hats out of respect for the fallen Union soldier, although in all probability many of them had advocated secession. Honoring a life took precedence over politics this day, yet the gesture offered David little comfort. He wondered how many more funerals this city would witness before this war was over.

      At the President Street station, Jeremiah’s casket was loaded on to a freight car. His fellow soldiers offered a last salute, and the men of Baltimore, their final condolences. David then boarded the northbound train, solemnly claiming a seat.

      Within a few moments he heard the whispers around him. Though the mood was still somber, his fellow Massachusetts comrades were speaking of what they would do when they reached Boston. David tried to focus his thoughts forward, as well, reminding himself that he also was going home.

       But I am returning alone...

      The car lurched forward as the train began to roll. The coal yards, docks and military fortifications soon gave way to snow-covered fields and ice-encased forests. Glass-like icicles dangled from bare tree limbs. He tried to focus on the peaceful scene outside

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