Shannon Farrington - Her Rebel Heart

“Slavery is a sin! God won’t protect men who fight for it!”

Sam cringed. He knew the reference was in regard to Edward. Julia knew as well. Her eyes narrowed. Her jaw stiffened.

“Don’t pay any attention to that,” he said to her. “He doesn’t realize what he is saying.” He reached for her hand.

She pulled it back. Her eyes held the same look that Edward’s had the night he left for Virginia.

“Samuel,” she said slowly, mouth set tight. “I must ask you not to visit my house or sit in my family pew again.”

He was stunned.

Warren Meade must have stormed off after making his point, for Dr. Stanton climbed into the carriage.

“It is time to go,” he said. He sounded as though there was a lot more that he wanted to say but was holding his tongue. He glanced at his wife, his daughter, then at Sam. “Son, will you be joining us for dinner?”

Sam could not get past the look of contempt in Julia’s eyes. She had apparently classified him in the same category as Warren Meade. He wanted to tell her that he thought nothing of the kind about her or her father. He wanted her to know that he prayed for Edward daily, just as she.

But he could not find the words.

Dr. Stanton was waiting for an answer. Sam looked at him.

“No,” he said. “Thank you, but I must tend to some things at home.”

Dr. Stanton nodded. He gave his horse a click. “Then soon,” he said and the carriage rolled away.

The carriage rocked back and forth as the wheels rolled over the cobblestone. No one said a word. They traveled in silence toward Monument Square. Federal soldiers were stationed periodically throughout the public gardens. Hands shaking, Julia closed her eyes. She did not want to see them. The sight of the men was nauseating.

She tried to think of happier times as she wobbled in her seat. She remembered how, as a child, she and Edward would ride to church. Julia would be dressed in her finest laces. Edward would purposefully tug at her skirts, trying to wrinkle them. He would knock into her as they turned corners, overexaggerating the carriage’s motion.

“Edward!” she would whine.

“Julia!” he would answer back.

They would fuss. They would argue. Their mother would scold them into silent submission but they could never remain quiet or still for very long.

She then thought of her first carriage ride with Samuel, their first outing as a courting couple. Edward was chosen as the chaperone. Planted squarely in the front bench seat, he purposefully sped through the streets of Baltimore. He’d taken corners with lightning speed and had managed to find every bump in the road.

Samuel had only laughed, and slapped Edward on the shoulder. “Drive faster!” He’d slid his arm around her. Shocked, Julia looked at him.

He’d grinned innocently. “I am just making certain that you don’t fall out of the carriage.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. Samuel had done the same.

Friends and coconspirators, she thought. Now they are on opposite sides.

A family must stick together. A church should stick together.

She had seen the flash in Samuel’s eyes when Warren Meade made his vehement declaration. She knew it had angered him. He knew it had angered her.

But he did nothing. He didn’t even turn around and face the man. He just stood there! He let the man condemn my brother, my family!

Her anger swelled.

Samuel isn’t the least bit interested in defending Edward’s name, or any of the rest of my family. For all I know, he agrees with Warren Meade.

She crossed her arms in front of her, mind certain. I have made the right decision.

Chapter Three

On Monday morning, Julia and her mother set about their regular routine. They prepared breakfast then moved on to the tasks of laundry and housekeeping.

The foyer floor still showed signs of mud from the night of Edward’s departure, so Julia readied the linseed oil and hot water to give it a good scrubbing. While she worked, she prayed for her brother and all the other men who had traveled south.

Bless them, Lord, and keep them safe. May they all return home soon.

As heartsick as she was, Julia moved about the house at a productive pace. Everywhere were signs of Edward; a book in the parlor, his work boots at the back door. She returned all the items to their proper places. Then she aired his linens and beat his rugs. She wanted his room fresh and ready for his return.

When it was time to begin midday meal preparations, she noticed the kindling box was once again running low. She went to the lean-to and gathered up as much wood as she could carry. She was painfully aware of who had split the logs but she did her best to ignore the fact.

I now know what kind of man Samuel is. Edward’s enlistment, as awful as it is, in a small way is a blessing. At least the relationship was severed while it still could be. If I had married Samuel Ward, goodness knows how my life would have turned out.

She carried the wood across the yard and then into the kitchen.

“Thank you, dear,” her mother said as she laid it in the box. “You should hurry now and change.”

Julia wiped the front of her dress. Wood was wood, yes, but her yellow day dress wasn’t that dirty. “Why?” She asked.

“For the prayer meeting, of course.”

Julia had no idea what her mother was talking about. “What prayer meeting?”

Esther gave her a quizzical expression. “Reverend Perry called for a prayer meeting today at noon. He announced it yesterday at the end of the service.” She paused, the corner of her mouth revealing just the hint of a smile. “Weren’t you listening?”

Julia could tell by the look on her mother’s face that she did not need to answer that question. Her embarrassment for not giving her full attention to the Lord was only surpassed by the humiliation that her mother knew exactly why she hadn’t been listening.

Samuel had been distracting her.

All that she could fully remember of the worship service was that Reverend Perry’s prayers were not well received.

“The congregation is so divided,” Julia said. “After yesterday it is a wonder that he would even call such a meeting.”

“That is exactly why he is doing so. Hurry now. Change your dress. Your father will be home shortly.”

Julia went upstairs to make herself ready. She wondered what this meeting today would involve. One thing she was certain of, she would not be distracted by Samuel Ward this time.

By scheduling the event during the noon hour the Reverend surely hoped to draw folks on their lunch break. Samuel would never be able to make it from the seminary in Rolland Park all the way to the church on Charles Street and back in one hour.

I will be free to pray for my brother’s safety and for the concerns of my city without his disapproving eye.

Her father returned from his morning rounds and the family started off. Julia rode mostly in silence, eyes drifting from one house to the next. There were no visible markers but she knew many of these homes had a son or brother who had chosen to fight.

Bless them, Lord. Bring them home soon.

When the carriage rolled past one of the local taverns, several Federal soldiers were standing outside. Julia made the mistake of looking at them. One man had the audacity to wink at her. Clutching her Bible tightly, she focused her eyes on her father’s stovepipe hat.

Her hands were trembling. All she could think of was that day at the train station, when Federal gunfire nearly led to her being trampled and sent eleven of her fellow citizens off into eternity.

The bell chimed the hour as Dr. Stanton brought their carriage to rest in front of the church.

“Come now,” he said as he helped Julia and her mother to the street. “We mustn’t be late.”