chapter two

I had finally fallen asleep when I hear tiny taps on my window. I run to the window and look down.

Peter is standing in the dark, tossing small pebbles up against it.

"Lavinia", he hisses.

"Peter!"

I run down the stairs in only a nightgown and wrapper.

"Lavinia...my leave is short, and our legion heads out in a few days. I...I..."

And suddenly he's on one knee.

Don't you dare faint now, Lavinia, I scold myself.

"Miss Lavinia Ashley, you're my every dream come true. Make me the happiest man in the world, and agree to be my bride. I promise to dedicate my every waking moment to your happiness."

"Yessssssss!"

Dogs are barking. Mamma is up and fussing and she shrieks like a pea hen when she sees me, almost naked, in Peter's arms. But I'm to be his wife. And I figure we can do whatever we want.

I have to wear Mamma's dress, no time for one to be made, and we say our vows in the Episcopal church down the street.

I get one night in my gorgeous husband's arms...and he leaves. And I cry for days.


Charleston, S.C. 1864

There was news of Peter. I kept repeating the phrase in my head until I was awake enough to understand it. My maid Mom Annie was standing over me, shaking me and repeating the words.

"There's news of Peter", I repeat.

"Miss Lavinia, you get downstairs and talk to the doctah", Mom Annie orders.

I spring out of bed. St. Michael's bell reveals it's 3 am.

I march down the stairs barefoot in nothing but my long floor length nightgown, silk wrapper, and a braid of blonde hair that fell to my waist. I'm covered enough for an emergency.

"Dr. Mitchell", I say, coming into the room. Charleston hospitality could not falter, not even at 3 am, even when I was desperate for news of my husband. "Someone please get the doctor a cup of coffee."

"I thank you, but I have decline it", Dr, Mitchell said. His hair had turned gray in the last year. "Mr. and Mrs. Wentworth?"

Peter's parents were probably being shaken awake at this moment as I had been. "I'm sure they're comin", I say.

"Afraid I can't wait, you'll have to tell them. His unit fought its way through Georgia all the way here. Damn Yankees are holed up in the swamps and in the harbor. His unit was taken unawares. Most are dead I'm afraid...."

I stop breathing. I need a chair. Or a hand up. Or a coffin.

"No, no, I'm sorry, I should have told you about Peter first", the doctor said, shaking his over-worked head, "He was shot in the leg. He's in a field hospital somewhere between here and Columbia. But last I heard, he was alive."

"Oh thank God", I sigh.

Those damn hospitals, just because he was alive when he went into one didn't mean he would be when he came out.

I take Mom Annie's hand and squeeze it.

"As you know this wretched war is about to be over", the doctor says.

"Surely our boys won't give up when we could still win, doctor." This from Bethanny Wentworth, Peter's rotund and ill-informed mother, as she tiptoes down the stairs.

"There aren't many of our boys left", the doctor sniffs ,"Best this be done while there still are." There was a time everyone thought like Bethanny Wentworth, that we could win at all costs. Now most people just desperately prayed for an end.

"If he survives, he probably won't be sent back at this point...you'll see him again after the war", the doctor continues.

"Peter?" Jeremiah Wentworth asks, following his wife down the stairs.

"Wounded, but alive", the doctor says, "Lavinia can fill you in, I have to be off."

"Thank you for taking the time", I say, "To drop by and fill us in personally."

He nods. Everyone south of Broad St. knows each other.

"What did he say?" Peter's father asks, frantic.

"He's wounded, but all right. He's in a field hospital between here and Columbia. And you heard him say we can expect him not to be sent back at this point. Thank God. This should be over any day", I say, as steadily as I can.

"The Confederacy, surrendering. What will we do?" his mother asks.

"Survive as we always have", her husband says.

"Good night", I tell them, going back up the stairs. There's nothing to say for now. Nothing to do but pray, and I can do that all on my own.

Field hospital, the Carolinas

Peter screamed. He didn't care if it was manly or not. He screamed so damn loud, he thought it was somebody else.

The ball had gone straight with his thigh, shattered the bone, and tore the muscle.

"No!" he shouted, hot, and red faced as the surgeon came over with a pitiful bottle of whiskey - and a big saw.

"You're hot and feverish already, son", the doctor said, "It's infected, it's gotta come off."

"If come near me with that damn thing, I'm gonna use it on you!" he spat.

"Simmer down, Peter."

It was John. John Wilkinson, his best friend in the world.

John held his shoulders.

"If you're my friend, you won't do this", Peter yelled.

"It's because I'm your friend that I am, and you'd be doin the same thing if the tables were turned", John said. "You can live without a leg."

"No I can't! The brains in my family isn't even a blood relative", he laughed, tears he couldn't force away starting to run down his cheek, "Lavinia. I wasn't ever any good at school, the only things I could ever do were ride a horse, shoot a gun, and waltz. Now what?"

"You're a Wentworth, you weren't going to have a profession anyway", John reminded him.

"That kind of thinkin is in the past. What if the money's gone? What if it's all gone, what if the house is burned, what if...tell Lavinia I release her from her vows, tell her...I won't have her shamed because of me."

"Oh for god sake, Peter", John moaned, "Doc. Get on with it."

Peter's ear splitting scream joined the screams of so many others, the ground running red with blood.