Favorite Scenes: Truth Telling

Image: “View of Gettysburg from the Northwest,” Library of Congress; https://www.loc.gov/resource/ppmsca.35052/ I know it’s not exactly clear, but the photo was taken in 1863. However, it does give an idea of how the town looked from one angle.
 

Before we leave Walk by Faith, the second book in the Saint Maggie series, I would like to offer up more two scenes that involve the same characters having a continued conversation.

If you’ve read the series, then you know that Emily Johnson is Maggie’s closest friend, even though Emily’s ancestors came from Africa and Maggie’s came from Europe. They become friends in 1850, when Maggie needs someone to help her with the cooking at the Second Street Boarding House. The women bond when they realize that they both have experienced the heartbreak of miscarriages, and soon find that they have enough in common to become friends who are as close as sisters.

In the scenes below, it is July of 1863 and Gettysburg has been occupied by Confederate forces. Only Maggie, Emily, Lydia, and Frankie have remained behind in the old Smith house, Eli’s family home. Everyone else either is in the army, serving as war correspondents, or safely removed to the home of Eli’s sister about 7 miles north of Gettysburg.

At this point in the story, Lydia (who is a doctor) has been called out in the middle of the night to help with an emergency at the Union School hospital. Earlier in the day Frankie and her friend Gus are “missing in action,” because they had raced out of town ahead of the retreating Union army and now cannot return.

It was not uncommon for soldiers to take up residence in or around a house when they were in control of an area, and Captain Morrison and his men arrive at the Smith house. Afraid that Emily will be taken away and sent South, Maggie tells the captain that Emily is her servant and must stay with her to help care for the house and the wounded soldiers within it, since she (Maggie) is expecting a baby. The two women then cook a meal for the new arrivals.

The scene below takes place in the Smith house kitchen as Maggie, Emily, and Captain Morrison finish their dinner. Their conversation eventually turns into a truth-telling session between the Union ladies and the Confederate captain.
 
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… Maggie and Emily cooked as tasty a supper as they could for both their newest guests and their wounded. The Confederate soldiers dined outside on the porch while Maggie and Emily ate in the kitchen with Captain Morrison.

“I haven’t had this good a meal in ages,” Morrison commented as he sopped up the chicken gravy. “These biscuits are light as a feather.”

“Emily made them.”

“Did she?” Morrison met Emily’s eyes. “I just might trouble you for your family recipe, Emily.” He sat back and thoughtfully dabbed his lips with the napkin. “Interesting custom you have, Mrs. Smith, of letting your help eat at the table with you.”

Maggie checked Emily’s face. It was as if her friend had dropped a curtain over a window so no one could see in. Maggie smiled charmingly at the Captain. “We work so closely together I feel as if Emily is part of my family. In these topsy-turvy times surely no one can begrudge me a little company.”

Morrison smiled. “You are a generous woman, Mrs. Smith.”

Maggie looked down at her plate and pushed a few green beans around with her fork. Then she met Morrison’s eyes once more. “Why are you being so kind? You’re the enemy.”

Captain Morrison was touched by the question, although he thought Maggie a bit naïve and ignorant of politics. “Well, I believe it’s because you all want to tell us what to do.”

“Bunkum,” Maggie replied, borrowing Eli’s slang. “Tell me, Captain, do you have slaves?”

He nodded. “Three. They came to me when my father died two years ago.”

Emily spoke up now. “Do you treat them well?”

“I do.”
​
“Why?”

He thought. “Well, I don’t know. It just seems the right thing to do, doesn’t it?”

Maggie’s hazel eyes were steady on his. “But why is it the right thing? Is it because it is foolish to ruin your own property? Or is it because they are people?”

The questions surprised him.

“You see our Bible says there is neither slave nor free, that all are one in Christ Jesus. So how do you see them?”

Morrison paused. “The truth?”

Maggie nodded.

He sighed and stared into his teacup. “Ladies, I am a farmer. I’ve worked my own land since I was twenty-one. I am reasonably well-educated and serve my town as a lawyer when there is a need. I have managed to provide for my wife and sons. I didn’t need slaves. My father’s will gave them to me.”

“Why didn’t you let them go free then?” Emily said.

“Manumission in Virginia is a tricky thing. I could free them, but they would have to leave the state within the year or be enslaved once more. Two of them are quite old. Where would they go?”

Emily leaned toward him. “Why don’t you ask them what they want to do?”

“An astute question.” He sipped his tea. “Why don’t I? Well, sad to say, it never occurred to me.” He looked directly into Emily’s eyes. “But perhaps this war will settle things.”

“Perhaps it will,” Emily agreed.
 
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A few days later, Lemuel, a young man from Blaineton, who holds a grudge against Maggie and has joined the Confederate army, comes to the house. When he discovers that the two women are there, he attempts to take Emily away to send her South. Maggie intervenes, only to have an enraged Lemuel drag her into another room, intent on raping her. At this, Emily runs upstairs, finds Grandpa O’Reilly’s pistol, returns downstairs, and uses the gun to stop Lemuel cold. Morrison and his men have been out of the house but soon return to hear a different version of the night’s events. Emily is not mentioned as the one who shot Lemuel. Instead, one of the wounded soldiers, who is Lemuel’s bullied brother, claims that it was he.

Later, when Emily and Morrison are left together in the kitchen, they continue their unusually blunt conversation.
 
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…Morrison leaned back in his chair.  “What is your last name, Emily?”

“Johnson.”

“Mrs. Johnson,” he said softly. “Then so you shall be.” His eyes met hers. “Once again, Mrs. Johnson, I am sorry for Private Lemuel Opdyke’s vulgar behavior. His death was brutal but deserved.”

Emily nodded.

“I thought you would like to know that Opdyke’s brother will not be charged.” He glanced down at his glass then back up at her again. “One needn’t fear it will be otherwise, no matter who shot him, you see.”

Emily did not know what to think. It seemed as though he suspected the truth, if not knew outright. If that were the case, then he was exhibiting unexpected kindness. She didn’t understand why he would do such a thing, seeing as how he was a Confederate and she was colored. She thought a moment. “Captain.”

“Yes?”

“How do you see me, and folk like me?”

“May I be honest?”

She nodded.

“You were always there when I was growing up. You see, where I come from, if you’re white, you just don’t think about colored folks all that much, unless of course something is wrong.” He sat back in his chair. “Does that offend you?”

“Wouldn’t it offend you?”

“It would, indeed. And I apologize, but I figured the truth was in order.”

“Your apology is accepted.”

“If you don’t mind, Mrs. Johnson, I’d like to hear a little about your life here. What you do, what your family is like, what your hopes are, your dreams, your faith.”

Her amber eyes narrowed. “If I do that, then I’d like to hear about your life. I need to know the truth. I’ve always been of the opinion that you folks were devils.”

He laughed heartily. “Oh, Mrs. Johnson, we are not devils.”

“And we are not property, Captain.” Emily smiled wryly. “I just figured the truth was in order.”

Morrison chuckled and held up his glass in a toast. “Mrs. Johnson, I think maybe God put us together this night for a reason.”

“Maybe so,” Emily replied and lifted her own glass.
 
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That’s where their conversation ends. Have they found common ground? Do they understand each other a bit more? Maybe. Maybe not. But two different people from opposing sides somehow have managed to speak to each other bravely (on Emily’s part), candidly, and without rancor.

And that is more than I can say for some of the conversation going around these days.
 
The next couple of blogs will focus on favorite scenes from book three, A Time to Heal.
 
In the meantime, practice kindness and have an open mind and open ears.
 
Later, gators,
 
 
Janet R. Stafford