The Calm and the Strife Read online

Wes, cursing himself for his timidity, slid back among the branches where he could search the crowd of children by the creek. Finally, he spotted Ginnie, standing by herself on the bank, dressed in white, watching placidly as the boys splashed around in the icy water. From the cover of the branches, he had the opportunity to study her without self-consciousness. She was tall for thirteen, half a head taller than Julia and already as tall as he was. There was a poise about her, a personal dignity that showed itself as she stood by the water, just far enough back to avoid getting wet, yet close enough to enjoy the cool air off the creek. The light from the sun, streaming through the trees, came to rest on her dark hair like a halo.

  Julia walked up to her, whispered something in her ear, and Wes saw Ginnie turn to look in his direction. Unconsciously, he pulled back into the shadows, but not before he thought he saw a look of disappointment on her face. He wished he had accepted his sister’s invitation, but now there was no way to come down gracefully from his hiding place.

  A moment later, a shout from down by the water attracted Wes’ attention. He saw that several of the boys had come out of the water to seize a girl who had been watching them. They dragged her, fully clothed, into the water with them while she screamed in a mixture of pleasure and shock. Before she had even had a chance to surface, the boys set off in search of other prey. Suddenly realizing that they had focused on Julia and Ginnie, Wes found himself reacting before he had time to think.

  Breaking through the branches, he jumped to the path below and reached them just as Julia landed in the water with a shriek. She surfaced immediately, sputtering, her mouth agape. Wes tried to get between the boys and Ginnie, but they brushed him aside and yanked her toward the water. He reached for the person closest to him, but the boy’s slippery arm slid through his grasp and Wes succeeded only in clawing his flesh. Then Ginnie was in the air, screaming, and a second later she landed with a splash beside Julia.

  The boy Wes had scratched now turned to look at his attacker. Wes saw that it was Jack Skelly, the son of a well-to-do shop owner. Of all the town’s bullies, Wes despised Skelly the most. He was an arrogant kid, already taller than Wes even though he was two years younger. Skelly knew Wes hated being ribbed about his size and never missed an opportunity to make some snide comment.

  “Well, look who showed up. The runt!” he shouted to his friends. The other boys laughed, forming a circle around Skelly and Wes. Skelly examined the long red welts on his arm where Wes’ fingernails had raked him, then looked back with a sneer. “You scratch just like a girl, runt.”

  “Why c...couldn’t you leave them alone?” Wes stuttered, glancing nervously around at the others.

  “C...come on and make me,” Skelly aped, to the great amusement of his friends. He walked up to Wes and started giving him short, vicious shoves in the chest with the heel of his hand, pushing him backward, challenging him. “Why don’t you do something about it?”

  Wes’ anger suddenly bubbled over and he rushed forward, lowering his head to try to butt Skelly in the stomach. But Skelly saw him coming and sidestepped, grabbing his coat and spinning him around toward the water. Off balance, he teetered for a second until Skelly gave him a final shove. Wes toppled into the water with a huge splash alongside Julia and Ginnie who were struggling through the water toward the bank. He rose instantly, rage flaring through his entire body. Laughing boys lined the bank of the creek, pointing and jeering. Several of them slapped Skelly on the back in admiration.

  Wes watched as Ginnie and Julia allowed two of the boys to help them out of the water. They both looked back at Wes and for a moment he thought they were going to join in the laughter. This was too much for him. He turned away and struggled toward the opposite bank, clawing his way out of the water with the help of a tree branch. Running south along the creek to get out of sight of the jeering faces, he crossed the stream again and ran back up the hill. His wet boots slipped on the rocks and he nearly fell several times, gasping from his frantic effort to escape the mocking laughter. He kept running long after he was out of sight, but the sounds of derision continued to float in the air, chasing him farther and farther away.

  His anger and exhaustion congealed into tears which he wiped away savagely with the back of his hand. The branches and undergrowth tore at the skin on his hands and face as he shoved his way upward toward higher ground. He imagined the boys laughing and joking with Ginnie, helping her down the hill toward town as she blushed under their attention.

  He finally reached his tree and leaned against its familiar bark to catch his breath. His muscles ached from the rapid climb and his jaw clenched as he thought of ways to get back at Skelly for today’s humiliation. He looked up into the canopy of green overhead. Then, as he had so many times before, he climbed, using the toe-holds he had cut years before.

  He had discovered this tree with Julia when they were both much younger. There were two trees, actually, side by side. Julia and he had been walking in the woods one day when she climbed a big maple and proclaimed it her “house.” Wes, playing along with his little sister, had climbed the tree next to it, a majestic elm, and sat himself on a branch across from her. They pretended that they were grown up and living in houses next door to each other. It was an escape from childhood, from Gettysburg, from everything that made Wes feel badly about himself. The view through the dense branches was beautiful and he could see the farmlands for miles around. Later, he had frequented this place to think and dream. Now, settling himself on a large branch fifteen feet above the ground, he ran his fingers over his initials which he had carved high on the trunk that first day long ago.

  He was shivering, partly from emotion and partly because the breeze was chilling his wet clothing. He struggled out of his coat, hanging it carelessly over the branch above him, and listened to the cicadas and the bird calls, willing them to drown out the laughter which still echoed in his head.

  “Wesley, are you up there?”

  Julia’s voice, shockingly loud in the silence of the forest, caught Wes off guard a second time. He remained quiet, hoping she would give up her search and go home. He had no desire to talk to anyone, not even his sister.

  “You’re dripping, Wesley. I know you’re up there.”

  Wes sighed, closing his eyes in frustration for a moment. “What do you want?” he grunted, not bothering to disguise his irritation.

  “Come down here,” she ordered. “I want to talk to you.”

  “No!”

  After a moment, Julia said in a softer tone, “There’s someone here who wants to see you.”

  Peering down through the branches, Wes caught a glimpse of white and froze for a moment. Then, summoning his courage, he grabbed his coat and started to work his way down through the branches. Dropping to the ground, he confronted them silently. But when he glanced at Ginnie, he was surprised to see a red swelling around her eyes that told him she too had been crying. It hadn’t occurred to him that Ginnie might have been upset by what the boys had done. He thought she was enjoying the attention. He was irritated, however, by this intrusion into his private space, and he turned to Julia.

  “Why’d you bring her here?”

  Ginnie’s face fell and she turned away to head back down the hill. Julia took hold of her arm, stopping her, then turned to glare at Wes. “Because both of us are soaked to the bone and we don’t want to go home and get yelled at.”

  “Oh,” was as much as Wes could manage.

  Ginnie pulled away from Julia. “It’s all right, I’ll just go.”

  She took a few steps before Wes found his voice. “Wait! Please.” He touched her arm lightly and, as she turned, Wes saw hurt and loneliness in her eyes and it brought a rush of compassion.

  “Please come back,” he said. “You can dry out before you go home.”

  She allowed him to lead her toward Julia’s tree. Julia climbed up and seated herself on one of the lower branches where she could catch a bit of the afternoon sun. Wes laid his coat on the lowest branch an
d beckoned to Ginnie. She considered the coat, then looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “It’s soaking wet.”

  “So are you,” he responded lightly. She laughed at the comment and sat on the coat, dangling her feet. Her white dress stuck to her legs and dripped on the ground, and the disconsolate look gradually returned to her face. Several wisps of wet hair escaped from the hairpins that usually held them neatly in place. They hung before her eyes betraying an inner misery.

  Wes knew little about her personally but, along with everyone in Gettysburg, he knew about her family. Her father, James Wade, was a drunkard who several years ago had stolen some money, gone to Richmond for a week and apparently spent it all on alcohol and women. The authorities arrested him when he returned to Gettysburg and he landed in jail. This left Mary Wade, Ginnie’s mother, the sole support for Ginnie, her older sister, Georgia, and two younger brothers. Mr. Wade returned home when he had completed his sentence, but his outrageous behavior finally forced Ginnie’s mother to have him committed to the town asylum.

  The family’s reputation, tarnished by this whole affair, was even more defamed when Mary conceived another child during this period. The scandalmongers, always eager for new material, debated as to whether the child was legitimate or not. But, regardless of its origin, there was now another mouth to feed. Ginnie’s mother, assisted by Georgia, worked constantly as a dressmaker to keep food on the table for her family, while Ginnie helped around the house and looked after the boys.

  The repeated scandals had made the Wade family outcasts of a sort. Wes saw them going about their business quietly, keeping to themselves most of the time. He knew that some of the local tailors employed Mrs. Wade during their busy season, but they did it furtively, without the knowledge of their customers. Wes’ father however, also a tailor, had never offered her any work and derided those who did, preferring not to associate with her.

  Something in her manner drew Wes outside his shy shell and he smiled at her, searching for something to say that might cheer her up. It made his own hurts seem less urgent. “I’m sorry, Ginnie. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them.”

  Ginnie looked at him and Wes saw in her eyes the beginning of a smile. “At least you tried. Thank you for that. You looked like Sir Galahad charging into the battle. I’m sorry that you got into a mess trying to help me.”

  Julia chimed in, “Wes, you sure made a big splash down there.” The girls both started to laugh, and Wes felt his anger begin to melt away. He grinned, then joined in their laughter.

  Ginnie giggled for a moment, then retreated into her somber mood. “I wish they’d just leave us be for once.” Wes nodded, noting the subtle connection implied in her statement.

  Julia looked off down the hill into the distance. “That Jack Skelly is such a brat.”

  The mention of Skelly broke Wes’ quiet excitement and brought the anger surging forward again. “Someday he’ll be sorry.” He shot a black look down the hill.

  Ginnie looked at Wes sternly. “You mustn’t bear a grudge, Wes. It isn’t Christian.”

  “Christian?” Wes scoffed. “You call throwing people in the creek Christian?”

  “Well, we mustn’t be like them,” Ginnie said, as though speaking to her young brothers.

  Wes held his tongue but he resented her pious remark. He believed in God to a certain extent, but when somebody hurt you, you had to get even. He imagined a dozen ways in which he would make Skelly pay for today’s outrage.

  Ginnie spoke again, but this time her voice was quiet and reflective. “My father came from Virginia. Someday I’m going to move there and get away from all of this. I’m going to marry someone with land and money and he’s going to take me to his mansion in the South. Everyone there will treat me like a lady, like somebody special. Not like here. No one will make fun of me or my family. They’ll respect me. And I won’t have to work all day, doing the chores...and doing my sister’s work, too. We can just spend the whole day sipping lemonade and discussing anything we want.” She waved her hand lightly, as though dismissing all the unpleasantness of Gettysburg.

  As her voice trailed off into the wind, Wes stared at Ginnie, unable to speak. He was deafened by the sound of her words, blinded by the images in her dreams. She had just described his own daydream. She had exactly the same hopes for the future that he did. In that instant, Wes knew that someday it would be he who would carry Ginnie Wade off to the great mansion, it would be he who would sip lemonade with her, talking the day away.

  Julia jumped from her branch, shattering the mood. “Well, I’m going home. Might as well get the yelling over with. All this dreaming has made me hungry.” She turned to Wes and Ginnie. “You coming?”

  Ginnie hesitated for a moment, looking at Wes. He held her gaze, then broke into a shy smile. “Stay for a while.”

  Ginnie smiled back, calling to Julia who was already starting down the trail, “I’ll see you later.” Julia shook her head in amusement and set off for town alone.

  Chapter 2

  RESOLUTION

  Gettysburg, Pennsylvania

  August 1856

  Ginnie ran the last three blocks to her house on Breckenridge Street, returning from her meeting with Wes. She had seen him as he left work almost every day during the past month, and their afternoon walks had become a habit which made the rest of her day bearable.

  But today was different. The usual excitement she felt after such meetings was nothing compared to this afternoon. Her joy brimmed over as she raced to tell her sister and mother the news. Wes was moving to Virginia with his job and had asked her to wait for him. He planned to return to Gettysburg when he had earned enough to marry her and take her south with him. To Ginnie, it was too good to believe and she could barely contain herself. She rushed into the house out of breath, calling, “Georgia! Georgia! Mama!”

  It was soon obvious that no one was home. Ginnie sat heavily on the divan, sighing in frustration. After a long, impatient wait she heard the door open, and ran to the front room as Mary Wade led her children into the house, the voices of Ginnie’s younger brothers filling the place. Ten-year-old Jack was full of mischief, most of which was directed toward his five-year-old brother, Sam, who at present was yelling about some recent grievance and chasing Jack around the room. Ginnie’s older sister, Georgia, came in behind the boys carrying the newest Wade, Harry, born only eighteen months ago. Georgia maneuvered her way through the rambunctious boys to put Harry in his crib.

  Mary closed the door and gave Ginnie an angry look. “Where were you? You knew we had an appointment with Dr. Greene this afternoon.”

  Ginnie’s excitement instantly drained away. The appointment had completely slipped her mind. Harry was ill with a fever, but her mother had told Ginnie to meet them in the doctor’s office so he could examine her, too. Mary had made it clear that they could not afford repeated trips to the doctor. She scowled as she removed her hat, and Ginnie waited for the inevitable reprimand to begin. Georgia marched by her younger sister wearing a superior look.

  Mary continued, “You were seeing that Culp boy again, weren’t you.”

  “Yes,” Ginnie responded defensively.

  “Well, this will be the last of it. You are forbidden to see him anymore. You have too much work to do around here. I can’t afford to have you go running off to see him every afternoon.”

  Ginnie was speechless for a moment, her mouth open in shock. Eventually she found her voice, speaking rapidly and with great force. “Well, it just so happens that Wesley is moving to the South and he has asked me to wait for him. He’s going to return in a few years and we are going to be married.” Immediately, she knew that this was the worst possible way to share her news.

  Mary turned, her face reflecting astonishment. Georgia rushed from the other room when she heard the statement, shouting, “What did you say?” Ginnie had known that Georgia would be jealous of the news because she was older and didn’t yet have any male callers. Mary put her hands up to quiet her daughters, tr
ying to regain her own composure.

  “You will do nothing of the sort, young lady,” she shouted. “You will tell that boy tomorrow that you will do nothing of the sort.”

  Ginnie felt her resolve beginning to crumble but stuck out her chin, determined to make her mother agree. “I already told him yes.”

  “I don’t care a fig for what you told him. You’re too young to be making any such decisions. If you won’t tell him, then I’ll go see his father and that’ll put an end to it. I have half a mind to have him arrested for immoral behavior toward a child. Now, you go to your room. There won’t be any dinner for you tonight.”

  Ginnie’s composure dissolved as the tears coursed down her face. She rushed past her brothers, who were enjoying the family fireworks, and into the room she shared with Georgia. She slammed the door dramatically before falling onto the bed and giving way to her frustration and rage.

  Awaking early in the morning, she found Georgia in the bed beside her as usual. She stared at her sister in the gathering light. Georgia was only two years older than Ginnie, but those years seemed to make a great difference. Georgia, being the eldest, was responsible for helping Mary run the business. That left Ginnie to perform the chores that Georgia never got around to doing, claiming she was too busy helping her mother sew. Ginnie felt that her sister treated her like a slave and that Mary let her get away with it. As Ginnie looked at her in the morning light, she remembered the look of superiority on her face the previous night and could not bring herself to remain beside her for another second. She got up quietly and dressed, then slipped out the front door onto Breckenridge Street.

  With a quick glance back at the house, she hurried away. Her mother would be rising soon. Ginnie held her breath as she headed toward Baltimore Street, expecting at any second to hear her mother’s voice calling her back. Finally she reached the corner, turned left and sighed in relief.

  Baltimore Street was peaceful in these early morning hours. It was wider than the side streets, used by the larger carts and carriages. Ginnie could see several carts already moving through the mist up toward the town square, farmers with loads of hay and produce for the wealthier families residing in the center of town. As the morning light played over the mist, Ginnie could almost imagine she was in a dreamland in which everything was all right. Here there was no one to judge her or tell her what to do, no people to stare at her as she passed, whispering behind their hands when they thought she couldn’t hear. She was alone in her own world.