Wilted

“The girl is not going! It is no place for a child!” Father yells. My father never yells, certainly not at my mother. “Come now Percy, you are being ridiculous. The Pattersons and Adams plan on taking their children. It will be a lovely chance for her to socialize,” Mother replies as if the matter were settled.

From my place on the stairs, I cannot see them, but I hear my father’s footsteps, and I imagine him slowly walking across the hard wood of his study floor. His voice was calm and steady as he says, ”The Pattersons and Adams can catch fire to their houses, and you will see me comfortable in my home. A Battle is no place for my daughter. Should you choose to ignore my forbiddance I shall choose to ignore providing your allowance.”

I hear Mother gasp and the sound of fabric rustling as she undoubtedly stood in offense at his threat. Before I can hear her response two familiar hands rest on my shoulders. “I thought I would find you here. Come now you are supposed to be soundly asleep.” Nana whispers and leads me down the hall and out of hearing distance.

The brush tugs at my head as I begin to wonder, “Nana, why are there battles?” I ask. She pauses a moment before abandoning the brush in favor of her fingers as she runs them through my hair. “We have battles when we have something important to fight for,” her gravely voice replies. Yet my curiosity is not satisfied, “What are they fighting for now?”

“Well, some people thing its proper to own another person. To make them a slave and consider them property,” she answers simply. “That’s a fight worth having, but Father is worried that no one is taking the war seriously.” I state matter-of-factly. To which she chuckles and lifts me into her arms.

My legs dangle as I rest my head on her shoulder. “Such big talks for a body so small. Barely into your seventh summer and already in politics, eh?” she says laying me down and lifting my covers over me. “Leave talks of the war to your father. You focus on rest,” placing a kiss on my head she turns and goes to her room across the hall.

I try to do as she said but my mind travels to other statements made by Father and his friends. “McDowell has the life befit a nobleman who never leaves court. He’s not fit to command an army. The troops are untrained, some of them no more than boys. And the masses going on about a quick victory. Did they learn nothing from what happened at Sumter?”

The war is nearly all anyone can speak of. Some like Father worry, others like Mother act as though it is an occasion or event for one to look their best for. As sleep claims me slowly I drift into dreams of field of flowers and muskets.

A songbird’s determined whistle wakes me. I see sunlight filling my room. Nana didn’t wake me with a tray, so breakfast is not ready yet. But I hear faint noises from outside my window. Looking out I see the carriage being loaded out in front of the house. I turn to run down, but Nana is entering with a full tray and raised brow.

“And where do you think you are going Miss? You have not broken your fast nor are you dressed. A lady is never seen in her night clothes,” she says resting the tray on my small table. “Come and eat, your parents are not leaving for another hour.” It was enough to get me to eat quickly so I did not miss saying farewell.

In between the occasional reminders to sit straight and use my utensils properly, bits of the conversation from the night before comes to mind. “Nana, are you happy?” I ask. Her eyes widen in surprise, “What brought this on?” she asks, dabbing at her mouth her cloth napkin.

“Do you want to leave and fight?” I ask hoping her answer is no. she pulls me into her lap and squeezes tight. “My sweet, it is true that I feel this war must happen to relieve the suffering of others. It is also true that your mother and father treat me very well. They give me a wage and food and board. There is not a day that I am dissatisfied with my employ. This old woman will likely work here long enough to see you marry at least.”

I lean into her for a moment and then hop off her lap to finish my last few bites in a hurry. I endure the tugging as Nana ties my hair up in what Mother calls ‘appropriate fashion’. And struggle into the light pink skirts Nana picked for me. Then I am free to run downstairs.

“Father!” I yell running down the front steps. I do not stop when he turns and sees me. I instead push my legs to go faster, and he laughs as he catches me up. “Oh, my pretty girl, you must be more careful, or you will ruin your nice dress. It compliments your sun-colored hair so well,” he says with my arms wrapped around his neck.

“Father, must you go to battle?” I ask with worry. “We are not going to battle, my Darling, we are going to watch a battle.” Over his shoulder I watch Mother fuss with her skirts and snap at the attendant to not crush the lunch basket.

“But what about the dreaded Scott man?” I ask, not to be deterred. But Father gives me a perplexed look, “What dreaded Scott man?” he asks, and I give a sigh. “The man you said sued to go to war,” I huff. He is clearly confused for a moment then his brow smooths and eyes widen, and he gives a low laugh. “Your ears have been where they should not,” he gently chides as he carries me to the bottom of the stairs.

Kneeling to eye level, he tucks a stray hair behind my ear, and heaves a heavy sigh. “You need not worry. Dred Scott was a slave that sued for freedom. I was speaking of how them denying him of his freedom led to the war. None of which is for you to fret about. Now, we are going to be five miles from the fighting. Just close enough to see and not come to harm. Here,” he reaches over and plucks a marigold in bloom, “Put it in water and we shall return before it wilts.” He places a warm kiss on my forehead and makes his way back to Mother.

I run behind them as they leave, yelling my farewells, and Mother turns to wave as they leave the gate. When they are out of sight, I remember the flower in my hand. Running inside, being careful not to harm it, I excitedly ask Nana for a vase, and deliver it safely to the water.

The day moves slow. I try to focus on my lessons until Nana sighs in defeat. “You won’t know today’s lesson tomorrow with how restless you are,” she says, and I am dismissed. I check the flower and it is still crisp. So, I sit in my swing in the heat of late July and watch the road. There is no cloud of dust down the way, so I know no one is coming.

Nana calls me in for lunch and we eat in quiet except for the corrections to my posture. When the food is gone, I move to make my way back to my swing but am stopped at the door. “An afternoon pony ride may lift your spirits,” Nana says. It does sound enjoyable, but I shake my head, “No I don’t want to be far when they arrive.” She does not stop me again.

Supper goes much the same way, but she forgets to correct me. Her eyes glance towards the front hall every few minutes. They were supposed to be back by now. I keep checking the marigold and it continues to look sadder and sadder.

As the sun sets Nana and the maids stand at the front windows, while I watch them from the bottom of the stairs. Everyone is worried watching the front gate. Hoping to see their safe return. The last rays of sunlight are touching the horizon and we hear hooves.

“Oh, thank goodness, they’re back!” a maid squeals, bringing all of us to our feet. She opens the front door for them but steps back looking both confused and concerned.

Mother rushes in, her hair has come undone, and her dress is torn and dirty. I have never seen her in such a state, and I look out the door at the empty carriage. She is alone and I do not recognize the carriage. It is very different from the one we normally ride in.

“Mrs., what happened?” Nana asks, quickly guiding Mother to a chair, “Where is Mister?” Mother lets out a wail, tears run down her cheeks, and she presses he head into Nana’s chest.

“That fool of a man! That foolish, foolish man! The battle went horribly. We lost and the soldiers retreated. All the spectators panicked. It was chaos! They blocked the roads so the doctors couldn’t get through to get to the wounded. We were held up and he feared we would block the soldier’s retreat. He grabbed a gun and a horse and rode off like a madman. Speaking nonsense about covering the soldiers. I waited behind for him and went to the wall tent, but he never came back. Our carriage was stolen, and a sergeant gave me a horse and cart and sent me home while they look for him. Oh, I just don’t know what to do!” She weeps into Nana’s chest as the rest of them look around with wide eyes.

The rest of the evening goes by in a blur. Nana helps Mother to her room and assists her to bathe and dress for bed. I sit in my room unsure of what to do. Nana comes and tucks me into bed, but she says nothing.

As the house settles in the night and the quiet begins to feel like a blanket I slip from my bed. The halls are empty as I step lightly through them and down the stairs. The vase sits in its place on the small table in front of the window. Moonlight streams in making the clear glass look like its glowing.

The flower is bent over the side of the vase. Its petals touching the dry glass. It is wilted.