Beloved enemy

There was a time when Julia Stanton’s fondest wish was to be Samuel Ward’s wife. But that was before the war. As pro-Confederacy sentiments clash with the Union troops occupying Baltimore, fear and suspicion turn friends to foes. Julia chooses the Confederacy…Samuel does not. And his decision is one she’s sure she’ll never forgive.

Samuel would gladly give his life for Julia. Still, he cannot go against the certainty he feels that slavery is wrong—even after his beliefs cost him Julia’s love. Yet as they work to comfort a city in turmoil, Samuel prays God’s guidance will lead them to common ground. For where there is courage and faith, two divided hearts may come together once more.…

“Julia, we need to talk.”

“What is there to discuss? Did I not make it clear that I wish to sever our engagement?”

“You made that perfectly clear last night.”

Last night. Pain gripped her heart. Just thinking of her brother’s departure to join the Confederate Army brought tears to her eyes.

“Then you understand,” she said.

“Julia, I have nothing to do with the soldiers occupying the city or with Edward’s enlistment.”

“That’s right. You don’t. You haven’t done a thing to stop it. You abandoned Edward and the rest of the volunteers when they needed your help.”

“What is it that you wish me to do?” he asked. “Shall I ride to Virginia tonight? Would a saber and an officer’s commission truly make you happy?”

Emotions tore through her. “It is far too late for that, Samuel,” she said. She was doing her best to keep her voice steady, in control. It would do no good to argue with him. She had already said everything that needed to be said.

He had made his decision. She had made hers.

SHANNON FARRINGTON

is a former teacher with family ties to both sides of the Civil War. She and her husband of over eighteen years are active members in their local church and enjoy pointing out God’s hand in American history to the next generation. (Especially their own children!)

When Shannon isn’t researching or writing, you can find her knitting, gardening or participating in living history reenactments. She and her family live in Maryland.

Her Rebel Heart

Shannon Farrington

www.millsandboon.co.uk

And now abideth faith, hope and charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.

—1 Corinthians 13:13

For Will and Sarah

May you always remember that God is Sovereign

And history is His Story

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Dear Reader,

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

Baltimore, Maryland 1861

Samuel Ward watched the rising sun and wondered why he had even bothered to go to bed the night before. He hadn’t slept, nor had he expected to. How could he when the woman to whom he’d pledged his love and devotion had broken his heart?

Julia’s words sliced through his mind.

You are a coward. I will not marry you.

He raked his fingers through his reddish-brown hair, trying to comprehend such a declaration. Just a few weeks ago, they’d been happy and in love. Their future had seemed secure. But the bloody conflict that had divided the nation into North and South had divided Sam and Julia, as well. The final straw had come last night when word had spread that Federal troops were in the process of occupying Baltimore. Angry and frightened, Julia had wanted him to say that he’d support the Confederacy and drive the Northern troops out of their home. But he could not say it. He could not support States’ Rights. And that was something she could not accept.

The hole in his heart was vast but as a history and rhetoric teacher at the Rolland Park Men’s Seminary, he had a duty to perform. He picked up his watch and gathered his books. He knew the campus would be in an uproar because of what was happening in the city. He prayed for wisdom.

Help me, Lord. Help me follow Your path.

When Sam arrived at the seminary the halls were filled with talk.

“That army is going to arrest anyone with Southern sympathy.”

“Those that had it left town last night.”

“They won’t be the last to leave. You can be certain of that.”

Sam walked into his classroom. He stopped briefly to glance at the painting of Francis Scott Key, which hung prominently above the blackboard. The father of the “Star Spangled Banner” had once been caught between two opposing armies. Samuel couldn’t help but wonder if Fort McHenry would once again be the center of rockets’ red glare.

One month ago, Confederate forces had fired upon Fort Sumter. President Lincoln called for volunteers to put down the rebellion. When Northern troops tried to pass through Baltimore en route to Washington they clashed with pro-secession citizens. Rioting commenced. The soldiers opened fire. People were killed.

His country was at war. So was his family.

He took out his books. When his students filed in he called the roll. Five were missing. He stared at the empty chairs, rumors of their departure circulating around him.

“They rode to Carroll County last night,” one student volunteered.

“They packed their haversacks with foodstuffs and took their pistols.”

“They will be in Virginia before the week is through.”

Julia’s brother Edward was a member of the Maryland Guard. He and many other men from the state militia had gone south last night. Sam wondered if his students would fall under Edward’s leadership. He prayed that wherever they were this morning that God would protect them.

The remaining men in the classroom wore faces of uncertainty. All they wished to discuss was the army that had invaded Baltimore. They were just as divided as the city. Some were for the occupation.

“Life will get back to normal now because of this show of force.”

Others were not so sure. “What do you think General Butler’s true intentions are?” one of the men asked.

Sam drew in a deep breath, wanting to remain calm and unaffected by it all, or at least show as much to his students. The last thing they needed was a teacher stirring up their concerns by airing his own fears. But his anxiety over Edward’s safety and his despair over the loss of Julia’s love made it hard to sound optimistic.

“I should hope that his intentions are as he stated in his proclamation, to ‘…enforce respect and obedience to the laws.’”

The notice from the Union General had been printed in the local papers that morning. Anyone who could get their hands on one had read it.

For months now the newspapers had been reporting on Maryland’s possible political future. The state legislature swung one month toward Federal sovereignty and then unfettered States’ Rights the next. Now Maryland’s position had been determined for her. She would be kept in the Union by force.

“We have much to attend to today,” he said, trying to keep the political discussion limited. “Please open your books to chapter four.”

Sam tried to continue with his lesson plans but his heart was heavy and his students were distracted. The combination of which did not make for a very engaging time of study. He ended up dismissing the young men early.

“Look after your families,” he told them.

The students seemed grateful to go. They rose quickly from their seats and hurried for the door. Their teacher, wishing to join them, moved to pack his books in his satchel. But where could he go? The Stantons, Julia’s family, were the closest thing he still had to family. But her words the previous night had made it quite clear that she would not welcome his company any longer. Her words were still ringing in his ears.

You are a coward. I will not marry you.

A knock on the door frame caused him to look up. There in the opening stood Dr. Charles Carter, the dean of students.

“And how are you today, Mr. Ward?” he said evenly as though it were any other spring day.

Sam had only known the man for a short period of time but he had come to respect him. Dr. Carter was a by-the-book disciplinarian but impartial and evenhanded, as well.

“Well, sir. And you?”

Dr. Carter smiled a tempered smile. “Oh, well enough.” He stepped toward Sam’s desk. “How was your class? The attendance in particular, if I may ask.”

Sam sighed and gave the man his report.

Dr. Carter nodded silently, as though he had suspected such. “I am afraid to say that this is the case in many classrooms this morning,” he said. His eyes swept the empty room then turned back. “Do not be discouraged, young man. The hand of Providence still guides.”

Sam appreciated the remark but did not have time to express so.

The dean then asked, “Have you a moment?”

“I do, sir.”

“Then would you walk with me?”

“It would be a pleasure, sir. I was headed outside myself.” Sam quickly packed his satchel and closed his classroom.

“These old rooms get so musty in the springtime,” Dr. Carter remarked. “I much prefer the fresh air.”

Sam followed the man to the end of the hall. They descended the large, walnut staircase, crossed the main foyer and stepped out onto the tree-lined campus before Dr. Carter spoke again.

“I couldn’t help but notice the small volume on your desk just now. Tell me, Mr. Ward, if you will be so kind, do you find Frederick Douglass’s words captivating?”

Heat crept up Sam’s neck. His tie and collar seemed a little too tight. He hadn’t even been aware that an autobiography of the former Maryland slave was lying on his desk. He must have placed it in his satchel with his other school books that morning.

He had bought the book in Philadelphia during his time at the State Street Teacher’s College. It was there he had first been exposed to the true realities of slavery. The more he learned, the more his conviction had grown that he could not support an institution that allowed one man to own another. It was a “state right” he could not condone for anyone’s sake. Not even Julia’s. Sam wondered where Dr. Carter’s inquiry was leading but he answered truthfully.

“I do not find them so much captivating, sir, as I do haunting.”

Dr. Carter nodded, though his face gave little indication to what he thought of the admission. “Why is that?” he simply asked.

Sam wished now that he hadn’t agreed to this walk. Slavery was a dividing issue. The last thing he wanted was to cause controversy between him and one of his colleagues. But he could not deny the certainty that he felt in his heart. He had no wish to offend, but he wouldn’t deny his beliefs. He answered the question carefully.

“We are all created in the image of God,” he said. “We should treat each other as God treats us.”

Dr. Carter stopped beneath one of the maple trees. He turned to Sam and smiled.

“I, too, share your thoughts,” he said.

“You do?”

“Yes. Have you ever met Mr. Douglass?”

“I have. A few months ago.”

“You were educated in Philadelphia, yes?”

“That is correct, sir.”

They started walking once more, choosing the stone path that led to the library.

“Fine work they are doing in Philadelphia,” Dr. Carter said. “Fine work, indeed.”

Sam wasn’t certain if he was referring to education or something else. He sensed it was the latter.

“I met Mr. Douglass once, myself,” Dr. Carter said. “In Boston.” He glanced at Sam. “There is fine work going on in Boston, as well.”

Sam did not reveal that he had once been there, as well; but by now he was beginning to suspect that Frederick Douglass and the fine work up north were related. Coupled with Dr. Carter’s first question, he reckoned that the Dean of Students had sided with the abolitionist cause. He seemed most curious to know what Sam’s position was.

“It is fine work,” Sam said. “Something I think that there should be more of.”

Dr. Carter’s eyes practically sparkled with excitement. From his vest pocket he produced a small scrap of paper. He handed it to Sam. “Then perhaps you would be interested in meeting some of my friends.”

Sam studied the note. It was an address in the Fell’s Point area. “Are your friends engaged in fine work?” he asked, borrowing the phrase.

“They are and they are always looking for God-fearing young men such as you to be part of such.”

He was cautiously intrigued. He had met a few abolitionists in Philadelphia. Most of them were kindhearted, wonderful people. A few, however, had such wild, vengeful looks in their eyes that frankly, they scared him. Sam wanted no part of a group like that. He believed judgment should be reserved for God alone.

A group of students exited the library. They walked toward Dr. Carter and Sam.

Dr. Carter’s countenance changed, a firm disciplinary look replacing the smiling excitement his face had just shown.

“Four o’clock, next Friday,” he said matter-of-factly. Then he opened the door to the library. Sam watched the white-haired gentleman walk into the building. Then he slipped the scrap of paper the man had given him into his own vest pocket.

Dr. Carter had left him with many questions. Abolitionists were a varying lot, and Sam wasn’t exactly certain what he might be getting into. He would appreciate his future father-in-law’s counsel. But given what had taken place with Julia, he wondered if Dr. Stanton would receive him. Does he know about our broken engagement? Will he side with Julia? He decided to take the chance. After all, he was concerned for their safety.

Heeding his own advice to look after one’s family, he hurried to visit the Stantons.

The streets of Mount Vernon were nearly deserted that afternoon. Barricades had filled the streets; but, as of today, the citywide state of “armed neutrality” had given way to at least the appearance of submission. Maryland state flags and the Palmetto flag, the symbol of South Carolina and secession, had been removed. The armed men that had been patrolling the streets for the last month were nowhere to be seen. The Federal guns pointing at Monument Square had discouraged outside activity.

Sam was eager to be indoors as well. To his relief, Dr. Stanton greeted him warmly when he arrived. He invited Sam to join him in the study. The man had surrounded himself with his medical journals.

“I came to see how everyone was,” Sam told him, “and to see if you were in need of any assistance.” And, if I may, get your opinion about something, he thought.

Dr. Stanton nodded. “I thank you. My wife has spent the entire day in bed.”

Sam’s concern rose. He decided to forgo his planned request for advice. Dr. Stanton had more pressing concerns.

“I am sorry to hear that. Is she ill?”

“Not really. Edward’s departure has broken Esther’s heart. She doesn’t know what to do.” He rubbed his mustache. “I suppose we all are that way. All I can seem to concentrate on are my medical books. Julia has busied herself in the kitchen. She has baked four loaves of bread today.”

Sam caught himself smiling, though it was a sorrow filled one. Julia had always baked when she was upset or angry.

“Is there any word from Edward?” he asked.

“No, and I fear that there won’t be for a very long time.”

Neither man knew what to say next. Dr. Stanton went back to his journal. Sam sat quietly and stared at the ceiling. He could hear the rattle of pots and pans coming from the kitchen. He wondered if Julia knew he was here.

“How were your classes?” Dr. Stanton asked.

“I had five missing from my history class alone.”

“They left to fight?”

“So the rumors say.”

Dr. Stanton sighed long and slow. He tugged at his spectacles. “And those that remained?”

“Their minds were far from the Roman Empire.”

“I imagine so.”

Sam heard the rustle of her petticoats even before he saw her. Julia’s approaching footsteps drew their attention to the door.

“Father, we are in need of wood for the stove…”

The moment she saw Sam an unnerved expression filled her blue eyes. The rest of her words escaped her. He purposefully maintained his gaze. His heart was pounding.

Julia brushed the trace of flour from the front of her green cotton day dress and slowly regained her composure. She looked at her father.

“Will you ask Lewis to fetch some?”

Sam seized the opportunity. “I will see to it.”

“Oh, thank you, son.”

Son. Dr. Stanton had always called him that. Nothing had changed from his perspective it seemed. Julia, however, did not even acknowledge his presence. She turned her head and looked away as he passed by her.

Sam did not let her actions discourage him. Instead of hunting down Lewis, the family stable hand, he walked to the lean-to.

There was no wood available. He was not surprised. It was Edward’s job to see that the kindling box remained full. With all of her baking Julia had depleted the supply that her brother had last chopped. Sam picked out several logs in need of splitting. He could not ease the tensions in his city or his nation. He couldn’t protect Edward, his students or Julia. But this was something that needed to be done that he could do. He took off his frock coat and set to work.

Julia watched him from the kitchen window. Sleeves rolled up, hair falling over his forehead, arms taut with the ax; in a matter of minutes Samuel had already split enough wood to last for the rest of the day.

He has always been such a hard worker.

She had known Samuel Ward since she was a child. Their families had attended the same church. When his parents had died of typhoid fever when he was but sixteen, he’d practically become a member of their family. Mother doted on him. Father took pride in his accomplishments. Edward treated him like a brother. And she…she fell in love with him. The time he’d spent away from Baltimore, continuing his studies at the teachers’ college in Philadelphia, had been almost unbearable. She’d felt that she couldn’t wait for him to come back to her, so they could begin their life together.

He was the quiet, steady type, far different from her outspoken, impulsive nature. As different as he was though, he completed her. And, up until last night, she could not imagine life without him.

The knot in the pit of her stomach tightened. She turned from the window and moved to the stove. She had responsibilities, none of which included watching him.

I am right to break the engagement. I thought I knew him but clearly I did not.

A pot of chicken soup was waiting to be heated. Julia planned to take a bowl up to her mother. She knew it would make her feel better.

She stirred the cold mixture then moved to the counter. She punched down a mound of rising dough then kneaded it carefully. She could hear the chop, chop, chop of Samuel’s ax. She tried to ignore it. She slipped the dough into a waiting pan.

A few minutes later, the back door opened with a creak. Julia resisted the urge to turn around. She busied herself by wiping the flour from the table. She then washed her hands. From the corner of her eye she watched him.

Samuel carried in the wood for the kindling box. He quietly loaded the crate then moved to the stove. Julia started to object, ready to say she could light the fire herself. She turned to face him fully. Just one glimpse of his brown eyes brought a lump to her throat.

I promised to love him, she thought. I promised him forever.

She backed away and Samuel’s attention returned to the stove. He stuffed it with kindling and day-old copies of the local newspaper, The Baltimore Sun. He struck a match. The fire ignited and he then turned back to face her.

The lump in her throat grew bigger. Thank you, she knew she should say, instead out came, “Why are you here?”

Her words were sharp and accusatory but Samuel did not flinch. He simply looked at her, his eyes melting her hard stance.

“I think you know why,” was all he said.

She swallowed hard and watched as he closed the burner lid then went to the pump to wash his hands. Julia held her breath, her emotions drifting through anger and remorse, respect and disdain.

Samuel dried his hands and rolled down his shirtsleeves. When he turned toward her she quickly busied herself at the table with another pile of dough.

“Julia, we need to talk.”

She punched down the soft, sticky mound. “What is there to discuss? Did I not make it clear that I wish to sever our engagement?”

“You made that perfectly clear last night.”

Last night. Pain gripped her heart. Just thinking of Edward’s departure, of the arguing that had taken place, brought tears to her eyes.

“Then you understand,” she said.

“I understand that you are upset,” he said, “and rightfully so. You are worried about your brother.” He paused. “For some reason you are taking it out on me.”

Her spine stiffened. She turned and glared at him. “Some reason?”

“Julia, I have nothing to do with the soldiers occupying the city or with Edward’s enlistment.”

“That’s right. You don’t. You haven’t done a thing to stop it. You abandoned Edward and the rest of the volunteers when they needed your help.”

“What is it that you wish me to do?” he asked. “Shall I ride to Virginia tonight and join Edward? Would a saber and an officer’s commission truly make you happy?”

Emotions tore through her. If he joined Edward, then yes, she believed she would have a measure of peace. Samuel could look after him. But experience told her otherwise.

He cannot be trusted. He is not a man of his word.

“It is far too late for that, Samuel,” she said. She was doing her best to keep her voice steady, in control. It would do no good to argue with him. She had already said everything that needed to be said. He had made his decision. She had made hers.

Sam watched her in silence for a few moments. Her face showed fatigue. More than likely she had slept just as little as he. He imagined that after his departure she had spent the long night pleading with Edward not to go south.

Even still, she was beautiful. Her dark curls had escaped her bun. Much of her hair now hung long and loose about her shoulders. Sam had rarely seen it that way. He liked it.

His eyes drifted to her unadorned left hand. He wondered what she had done with his engagement ring. Last night she had ripped it from her hand and held it out to him.

He had refused to take it back.

Look at me, Julia.

Seconds passed. He knew she could feel the weight of his gaze. Finally, she spoke.

“If you will excuse me, Samuel. I have work to tend to.”

He drew in a shallow breath, knowing he had a decision to make. He could argue. He could refuse to leave. He could force her to turn around.

But when a lady makes a request, a gentleman will oblige her.

Walking out of the kitchen was one of the hardest things he had ever done. He wanted to take her in his arms, to set things right. He wanted to convince her that her anger toward him was pointless. He loved her. She loved him. He could see it in her eyes.

But Julia Marie Stanton was a stubborn woman. No amount of convincing could change her mind. She would have to do that for herself.

He was determined to wait until she did.

And in that time spent waiting, he’d pray that she would one day see things from his perspective.

He walked back to the lean-to. He placed the ax on the shelf then gathered up his outer clothing. Rather than return to the house by way of the kitchen, he entered through the garden door.

Dr. Stanton was still in the study. His spectacles were perched upon his nose, medical book still in his hands. He looked up.

“Thank you, son. Will you stay for supper?”

The offer was tempting. Goodness knows he wanted to. Even apart from his longing to stay with Julia, there was also the comfort to be found in time spent with Dr. and Mrs. Stanton. The prospect of returning to his lonely, cheerless home held little appeal in comparison.

But he had caused enough tension in the house already.

“Thank you, sir,” he said. “But I have some errands to run this evening.”

“Ah, I see. Be careful. I was out this morning and I noticed several boys in blue.”

Sam nodded. “What do you think the next few weeks will bring?”

Julia’s father shrugged. “Hard to say but I hope it is little more than an intimidating presence.”

It reminded Sam of the answer he had given his students.

“After all,” Dr. Stanton added, “the state legislature voted on their own accord to remain loyal to the Union. Let us hope and pray that that is the end of it.”

Sam shook his hand and headed out to the street, praying silently but most fervently that Dr. Stanton’s words would prove true. But the sinking feeling in his heart warned him that there was far more trouble awaiting them still.

From a crack in the kitchen door Julia had seen Samuel’s broad back as he talked to her father. She had not been able to hear what they said. She wondered if he had told her father of their broken engagement. She wondered if Samuel had taken that moment to seek his advice on how to win her back.

Well, he won’t win me back. He has proven his intentions. I will stand on my convictions whether he comes to chop wood or not.

From her vantage point she watched him shake hands with her father. Then as Samuel turned, Julia let the door close. She returned quickly to the stove. As she stood stirring the chicken soup, she heard the front door shut.

She peeked out the window. Samuel was walking down the street in the direction of the harbor. His hands were thrust deep in his pockets. His topper was set low on his forehead but she could tell he was deep in thought. Was he thinking of Edward? Was he thinking of her?

Her father came into the kitchen. Julia immediately left the window.

“He has gone to have a look about the city,” he said, knowing exactly whom she was staring after. “Now, do you want to tell me what is going on?”

Julia turned from the stove to look at her father. She could tell that he had also endured a long, sleepless night. Tired lines were prevalent on his face. His left leg, which had been injured in a carriage accident years before, must have been bothering him. He was favoring it.

“I am making soup for Mother,” she explained.

“I’m not talking about soup, Julia.”

Her father’s tone was firm, almost scolding.

Samuel has talked to him, she thought. I knew he would. “He told you, didn’t he?”

“He?” Her father repeated, eyebrows arched. “I assume you mean Sam. And no, he didn’t tell me anything. It was your indifference toward him when you came asking about the wood that caught my attention. Now what is going on?”

Julia could feel her cheeks reddening. She knew her father liked Samuel. He always had. Would he understand her position? Would he support her decision?

She stirred the soup once more, stalling, searching for words.

Her father was drumming his fingers on the kitchen table. She knew he would not leave until she had given him an answer.

I will have to make it known sooner or later. It might as well be now, she thought. “I have decided not to marry him.”

The drumming stopped. “Does he know this?” her father asked.

Julia kept her eyes on the soup. Little bits of carrots and chicken were floating in the broth. “Yes. He knows.”

He grunted. Then there were several seconds of silence. “When did you decide this?” he asked.

Julia put down her spoon. It was obvious that her business in the kitchen was not going to deter her father’s questioning. “Last night.”

“Last night?”

“I told him so when Edward—” Fresh grief over her brother’s enlistment choked her voice. She looked at her father, hoping her eyes could convey the rest. Surely you must feel the same.

Her father drew in a deep breath. “I see. Is this about you and Sam or is it about Edward?”

“It is both,” she admitted. “You have seen what has happened here. That day at the train station… Father, the soldiers fired upon us! Our fellow citizens were killed!”

“I know, Julia. I treated the wounded.”

“Yes, and Edward has decided to do something! He’s gone to Virginia to fight. But Samuel, he won’t go! He won’t defend what he says he cares about!”

“Because he won’t go to Virginia?” Her father sighed. “Perhaps I set a poor example. Perhaps I remained neutral on this issue for too long. The issue of States’ Rights, slavery included, never affected us.”

“They affect you now,” she said, “or they soon will. Northern soldiers have guns turned on this very neighborhood. If we don’t stand against them, how can we ever be safe again?”

“And you think Samuel joining the Confederacy will change all of that?”

She blinked, not knowing how to answer.

Her father continued. “Sam has traveled. He has experienced life and drawn from others’ life experiences. As a result, he carries a wider perspective of the world. He has spoken to me a few times about a man named Frederick Douglass.”

“Yes, I know. The man from Boston. He mentioned him once.”

The subject of slavery may have been a contentious topic in the nation for years but not so in the Stanton household. Julia’s family did not own any slaves and none of their closest friends did either. Julia had never truly formed an opinion on the subject—and saw no need to now. The plight of a man living in Boston mattered very little to her compared to the safety of her family and friends right here in Maryland.

“Did he tell you he is a former slave?” her father asked. “A former Maryland slave?”

“No.”

“Well, perhaps he wished to spare you the indelicate details. The things he spoke of have given me cause to think.” He paused. “Rights are all fine and good until they infringe on the rights of others.”

Julia shook her head. She still didn’t see what that had to do with anything here in Mount Vernon. “But what about the soldiers?”

“I don’t like their presence any more than you. Sam doesn’t either, for that matter. But, given the scope, the turmoil that this nation is now facing, I understand why they thought it necessary to occupy Baltimore.”

Julia let out a disgusted sigh. Her father had always encouraged her and Edward to express their own opinions. She did so now. “How can you even say that? What if their occupation leads to more trouble on the streets? It won’t be safe for Mother or me to venture outside.”

“Soldiers follow the orders of their commanding officers, of the president. The Bible tells us to pray for those in authority over us. If the military leaders remain honorable then we have nothing to fear.” Then he added, “As for your honor, should the worst come, I have no doubt that Samuel Ward would give his life to protect you.”

She felt her chin begin to quiver. Samuel had promised her such but she didn’t believe him. He had professed loyalty to her family as well; yet he had abandoned her brother when he needed him most.

“Edward and Sam are two very different men,” Dr. Stanton said. “They always have been. You know that better than anyone. Their friendship worked because they complemented each other’s strengths, each other’s weaknesses. They accepted one another’s differences.”

Scenes of years past flashed through her mind. Edward and Samuel had been schoolmates and best friends for as long as she could remember. Tears filled her eyes when she thought about what their relationship had become.

“And now?” she asked.

“Disagreements come to every relationship, some large, some small. It is how those disagreements are navigated that determines the future course of the relationship.”

Silence hung heavily. Like the steam from the stove pot, it permeated the kitchen. Finally, her father asked, “Is that soup ready?”

Julia had nearly forgotten it. She removed it from the heat. “It’s ready.”

“Then I will take a bowl up to your mother.”

She filled a dish and placed it on a tray. Then she sliced up a loaf of bread, buttered it and laid it with the soup. She handed it to her father.

“Thank you, child.” Then he turned for the door.

Julia was left alone to think about what he had said.

Chapter Two

Sam kept walking until he ended up at the wharf. Sunset was approaching and the local fishermen were making their way back to port. Their vessels were loaded with rockfish and blue crabs, a bountiful harvest from the Chesapeake Bay. He had often come to watch the ships roll in. It was a satisfying sight, a long hard day of work ended, the harbor tranquil and deep.

Tonight the local vessels had to steer and maneuver more than usual for the Baltimore harbor was also full of military ships. Their masts stood stall and black against the orange and purple sky. Sam tried to focus on the crabbing vessels. If he stared at them alone, life appeared to be peaceful.

But life isn’t peaceful nor will it be for quite some time.

Sighing, he turned toward Federal Hill. An American flag flapped in the evening breeze while men in blue stood as sentinels over the city. Sam sadly thought how appropriate the hill’s identity now was. Named nearly one hundred years before, it was on that very spot that Marylanders had celebrated the ratification of the Federal Constitution. No one then ever dreamed the site would be prime high ground for an occupying army with guns turned on its own citizens.

When I stepped off that train I walked onto a battlefield, he thought.

His fists clenched and his blood raced just thinking of that April day. Sam had returned home having completed his studies and graduation exercises in Philadelphia. As they had planned through their letters, Julia and Edward had met his train.

The President Street station was filled with citizens and Massachusetts soldiers. Sam had assumed the regiment was on their way to Washington, but had paid little attention to them. Though the business in South Carolina and Virginia was tantamount to insurrection, it had not concerned him. His only thoughts were of Julia, their long-awaited reunion and the July wedding they had planned.

She had been waiting for him beneath the clock, a red and black bonnet on her head and the smile on her face that he found so irresistible. Samuel had barely spared a glance in Edward’s direction as he’d drawn her in, at least as close as her hoop and ruffled skirts would allow.

“I have missed you,” he’d said.

Her eyes had been full of love. “I have missed you as well.”

As they’d exchanged words of devotion and promise, neither one noticed that the Massachusetts soldiers had formed a column, that they had begun to march toward the southbound train lines on Bolton Street. None of them had realized how angry the citizens around them had become until someone bumped Julia from behind. She’d crashed into Sam’s chest. The crowd was fast becoming a mob.

“We should leave,” he’d said to Edward.

“Indeed. This way! Double quick!”

They’d turned for the street. Edward ducked as a stone whizzed past his head. Rocks and bottles were flying. Sam did his best to shelter Julia from the debris while her brother led them through the crowd. The citizens were shouting insults at the soldiers. Some of the soldiers were beginning to answer back. Sam feared they would soon use more than ugly words.

“Where is the carriage?” he’d asked Edward.

“Over here!”

They’d done their best to cross the street. Pressing hard against the angry flow, they had been like salmon swimming upstream. By the time they’d reached Pratt Street, paving stones were being ripped from the roadbed. Carts and wagons were overturned. Julia tripped twice on her skirts.

Tears had silvered her lashes. “What is happening? Why is everyone acting this way?”

“Hurry. We must hurry.”

Screams erupted as a volley of gunfire sent the masses scurrying. “They are shooting at us!” Julia cried. “The soldiers are shooting at us!”

Instinctively, Sam shoved Julia into a narrow alley, knocking loose her bonnet. He and Edward then fell in behind.

He’d thought that would be the end of it, that cooler heads would prevail and peace would return. He was wrong. War had come. His best friend had left to fight and the woman he loved now wanted no part of the life they had planned together.

Sam’s shoulders fell with another long, labored sigh. He knew the conflict between him and Julia stemmed from that day on Pratt Street. She had recently confessed to having nightmares about the incident and was wary of walking anywhere in public. She loathed and feared the Federal soldiers who had brought such chaos and destruction to her city.

Nearly a dozen Baltimoreans had died and countless others were wounded. Edward sought his solace in taking a stand against troops who would open fire in the presence of innocent civilians. Sam understood such a response but he could not bring himself to join Edward’s cause.

And yet to do nothing…

He snatched his topper from his head and raked his fingers through his hair. Standing on the dock, he gazed at the might of the Federal forces. Would scenes like the one at the train station be repeated? Were worse things to come?

Where are You God? Have You turned Your back on us, on this city? What are we supposed to do now?

Though Sam waited, God did not answer. A cool breeze blew over the harbor. The smell of fish drifted past his nose. By now it was almost dark. Replacing his hat and thrusting his hands deep in his pockets, he turned back toward Mount Vernon. The shops along Pratt Street were closing up for the evening. The lamplighter was making his rounds. Sam walked past him. The man nodded pleasantly, then moved on to his next lamppost. Sam couldn’t help but wonder which side the man and his family had chosen.

Are they pro-Union or pro-secession? Are they united or divided?

By the time Sam reached Monument Square he met up with a small contingent of Federal soldiers. Even in the semidarkness he could see that their uniforms were new and blue. They had brass buckles on their belts, polished muskets on their shoulders. He wondered if they had ever seen conflict before.

A corporal in the group eyed him suspiciously. Assuming he was just another renegade in a neighborhood full of Southern sympathizers, the man fell out of step long enough to glare at Sam. He nodded politely to the soldier, then kept walking. He had no quarrel with the corporal and he wanted to keep it that way.

The neighborhood doors were shut tight and the curtains drawn. The Stanton home was no exception. As Sam passed by he wondered what Julia was doing at that very moment. Had she baked another loaf of bread? Was the kindling box empty? Resisting the urge to knock on the door and find out, he kept walking.

He lived a few blocks north of Mount Vernon. His was a quieter street and his brick home more modest than those in Julia’s neighborhood. Sam’s home was furnished sparsely, little more than the necessities. He had never minded the bare solitude before. It was conducive to study. Tonight, however, the house just seemed empty and cold.

I will start the stove, he thought, warm up something to eat.

He checked the kindling box. It was running low. He immediately thought of Julia and the look on her face when she saw him in her father’s study. Pain squeezed his heart.

She did not wish to see me.

Sam lit a lantern. Once more he took off his frock coat and went outside. He picked up his own ax and set to the task of splitting wood. That which had earlier been done as a labor of love was now an act of drudgery.

Sunday morning dawned warm and humid, a foretaste of the oppressive summer to come. Julia dressed for church but found that her mind was far from worship. She was concerned about what the atmosphere of the morning service would be like. Many of her fellow parishioners already knew of Edward’s enlistment and those that didn’t would soon find out. She wondered what some would say. There had been tension in the congregation before the occupation of the city. Many families supported States’ Rights. Just as many others professed loyalty to the Union.

Oh, Lord, please don’t let there be a scene.

She climbed into the back of her father’s carriage. The seat seemed so empty without Edward beside her. She wondered where her brother was that morning. Had he and the rest of the Guard crossed safely into Virginia? What, if anything, had he had to eat?

After whispering a prayer for his safety her thoughts returned to church. She wondered if Samuel would be waiting on the front steps when they arrived. He always walked to the building early, saying he enjoyed the serenity of the Lord’s Day morning. He would wait for her carriage to come to a stop then help her out. He’d give her hand a squeeze. She would smile.

I won’t smile this morning, she thought, even if he is there.

Her father rolled the carriage to a stop in front of the church. Fellow worshippers clustered about the yard but Samuel wasn’t there. Julia felt an odd mixture of disappointment and relief. She climbed slowly from her father’s carriage then followed her parents into the building.

The windows were open, yet the room was stuffy. Creatures of habit, most parishioners sat in their usual pews each Sunday. Today, the people were scattered about. Longtime friends were now on separate sides of the aisle. Even some families were divided. A tension filled the air. No one seemed to be breathing.

Julia knew exactly what had happened. A chill ran through her. They have chosen sides, she thought. And now they will watch to see what we do.

She glanced at her father. He did not hesitate. Dr. Stanton led his wife to their usual pew, five from the front on the left-hand side. They sat down. Julia adjusted her hoop. She opened her fan. The chill had passed and now she was sweating.

Within seconds after taking their seat, Charlie Johnson, a local businessman and friend of the family, slipped in behind her father. He whispered, though his words were loud enough that Julia could hear them.

“Thomas, for goodness’ sake, what are you doing? Edward has enlisted. Why are you sitting on this side of the church?”

Julia blanched. She realized to what Mr. Johnson was referring. They were sitting with those members who had expressed their support for the Federal occupation. Families with sons fighting for the Confederacy were seated on the right side of the congregation. Julia wanted to shrink from view.

Her father did not flinch. “We are sitting where we always have, Charlie,” he said calmly. “This is our family pew. It always has been. It always will be.”

Mr. Johnson let out a huff but moved back to his seat without further argument. A murmur swept over the congregation. Julia sat frozen, eyes staring straight ahead. She was glad that her bonnet limited her view to what was directly in front of her. She did not want to see what was happening around her. She knew the whispers were about her family.

The pew creaked and Julia realized someone else was approaching. She held her breath, fearing another confrontation about their seating arrangements. She cocked her head ever so slightly, just enough to see who was coming.

It was Samuel.

He was dressed in his finest brown frock coat, Bible in his hand. His face was calm, undisturbed. He looked like he was the only person in the building who had come to worship.

He nodded to Julia’s parents. Then he sat down beside her, just as he had every Sunday for years. He gave her a long measured look. The weight of his gaze caused her to tremble. She wanted to ask him what he was doing joining them as if nothing had changed. But given what had just taken place with Charlie Johnson, the last thing she wanted was to cause more contention over the seating arrangements.

He smiled at her. Though she tried to ignore it, her heart was fluttering.

Reverend Perry then took to the pulpit and the service began. Julia could not say what songs they sang or what Scriptures they read. She was distracted by Samuel’s presence. Part of her welcomed it, the other couldn’t fathom it.

How can he sit beside me as though nothing has happened? I have told him that I do not wish to marry him. Why can’t he take no for an answer?

She stole glances at him. There he sat with his Bible on his lap, lost in reading. It was as though, in his mind, there were no guns, no war, as though all the world was right. Julia was even more puzzled. How can he act this way? Doesn’t he care? Doesn’t he worry for Edward’s sake? For the sake of this city?

It was only when Samuel bowed his head did she realize that Reverend Perry was closing the service in prayer. Julia also closed her eyes. She tried to focus, to be respectful.

“Lord, we humbly ask Thee to grant President Lincoln wisdom.”

A murmur rippled through the right side of the room. Julia was as surprised by his words as the rest of the group was. All thoughts of conversing with the Almighty dissipated and her focus shifted to Reverend Perry’s words alone. She held her breath. The Reverend did not stop with his petition for Lincoln. He also prayed for the officers and soldiers occupying the city.

He is making his position known, she thought. He is obviously siding with the Union.

“And we ask Thee to guard our young men who have chosen to fight…”

In shock, her head went up. Just when she thought she had him pegged as a supporter of the Federal Army, the Reverend prayed for the safety of eight men who had enlisted for the Confederacy. All eight were sons of the congregation. When Edward’s name was mentioned, tears squeezed past her eyelids and a cry escaped her lips. Julia had to fight hard to keep from breaking down completely.

Just when she felt her composure crumbling, she felt the warmth of a hand slide over and around her trembling fingers. Samuel had taken her hand in his. His touch conveyed the love, the strength, the same comfort as it always had. In spite of herself, Julia clasped it tightly while whispering her own prayer on Edward’s behalf.

GODCOMFORTHER, Sam thought. He stole a glance at Julia’s face. Her head was bowed and she was clutching a lace handkerchief to her mouth. He could understand the pain she was feeling. Edward’s departure was bad enough but coupled with the way he had parted, the tension in the family that night, it only made things worse. Sam regretted every minute of their conversation.

Edward had been called to the armory during a dreadful thunderstorm. Little did Sam know Federal troops were in the process of occupying the city. When Edward returned home that night he announced the terrible news.

“The armory has been stripped,” he’d said, his face a mixture of wild emotions. “Any man who would take a gun and hide it was given one.”

I was angry that he had brought the muskets to the house. I know he only hoped to protect his family with them but I didn’t see it that way then. All I could think of was Federal soldiers tearing the house apart to find them. All I could think of was what they might do to her.

“Edward,” Sam had said, “the Northern troops will realize what has happened. They will search the houses. They will find the guns. If you hide them here you are putting your mother and sister at risk.”

“Then I’ll take the muskets with me. I’ll take them south, tonight.”

Everyone in the room realized what he had just said, though shock stole the words of objection from their lips. Only Julia had been able to find her voice.

“No, Edward! No! You can’t do such a thing!”

Her mother then also began to plead. “Son, please. Think about this. You don’t want to do this.”

“Yes, I do. I am going to personally see that the Federal Army is thrown out of Baltimore!”

He’d looked to Dr. Stanton. “It is our duty to protect our city, our state. Father, I know you can’t fight. Your leg would never allow it, so the duty is left to those who can.”

He then looked at Samuel. He’d held out a musket. “Come with me.”

Tossing the invading army out of the city for the sake of Julia’s safety so strongly appealed to Sam that he nearly reached for the gun, until he realized, defending States’ Rights meant defending them all.

“No,” Sam had said.

Edward lowered the musket with a look of shock on his face. “What did you say?”

The thoughts fired through his head. Protect her and freedom! Fight! It took everything Sam had within him to stand firm.

“I said no.”

A scowl crossed Edward’s face. “Not even now? You won’t fight, even now? You won’t defend the rights of your state?”

“By defending rights are you including slavery?”

“I’m not fighting for slaves one way or the other! Look man, a Federal battery has taken aim at our front door! If we don’t stand against such tyranny, who will?”

“I won’t go with you.”

“Then you are a coward.” Edward then turned to Julia. “You should give serious consideration to the kind of man you are marrying.”

Sam stared now at Julia’s ringless hand in his. Hers was so delicate, so fragile compared to his gnarled fingers. Lord, forgive me, I thought Edward was acting like a fool. We both just wanted to protect her. I understand why he felt the way he did.

He stroked her fingers, praying for reconciliation. After what had happened on Pratt Street every fiber, every nerve in Sam’s body pleaded for him to fight. It was not cowardice that kept him from doing so. It was the belief that God had chosen another path for him. I cannot condone slavery. If only Julia could realize that.

Sam had tried to explain it to her. When Edward had thumped up the staircase, muddy boots, muskets and all, Julia had turned her eyes to him. He saw the doubt in them, the fear. He knew Edward’s words carried great weight.

“Julia,” he said as he moved to embrace her, “You know I would give my life for you but this isn’t the way—”

“Go with him, Samuel. Please.”

Her request had shocked him. “Do you really want me to leave? Do you really know what war is?”

“No, of course not! I don’t want you to go! I don’t want any of you to go! I don’t want any of this to be happening!”

“Then think about what you are saying. We must stay together! We must convince Edward not to go south.”

“He won’t listen! He would rather die than dishonor his state! Samuel, please! Go with him. Only you can take care of him.”

“Julia, I can’t willingly support the position the South is taking. I can’t condone slavery.”

Pure confusion filled her eyes. “But we don’t even own slaves!”

“I can’t support a government which allows others to do so.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth he realized how ridiculous they sounded. He had sealed his fate.

“You have supported one thus far!” she said, tears hardening into anger. “How many Maryland plantations on the eastern shore rely on slaves? You are using that as an excuse! I have never known you to march with the abolitionists! Edward is right! You are a coward!”

She ripped the engagement ring from her finger. “I will not marry you!”

Sitting beside her now, he continued to hold her hand as Reverend Perry prayed. Sam knew Julia had begged him to join Edward not because she wished for war but because she feared for her brother’s safety—and for their own. He had no quarrel with her brother. He would give anything to see their relationship restored, their family reunited.

Lord, I believe that slavery is wrong but my own state supports it! And what of Dr. Carter and his abolitionist friends? What if they are radicals? What if they advocate the methods of John Brown?

The newspapers had been full of stories just a few months ago concerning the raid on Harper’s Ferry. The town was held hostage. People were killed.

I don’t know which position is right or which side to be on. All I know is that I love her. Show me Your will…

If Reverend Perry had meant for his prayer to be a comfort, it had just the opposite effect. When the congregation was dismissed many of the women were in tears and the men were grumbling.

Julia was pale, pensive, lost in her own private world. Sam led her from the pew, her arm through his. The air inside the church was stifling and he worried that she might faint. He steered her to the door and down the front steps. A slight breeze wafted across the churchyard. Julia seemed glad for it. Her face pinkened.

The fact that she was allowing him to lead her was a good sign. Perhaps today we can iron out our differences. We can commit to navigating the unknown together.

Once outside, parishioners began conversing. Reverend Perry’s prayer was the subject of much of the discussion. Sam caught snatches of it as he walked Julia to the carriage.

“That man is riding the fence! Waiting to see which side prevails!”

“Praying for Lincoln! He should be praying for the souls of those on Federal Hill!”

Sam ignored their words. He waited as Dr. Stanton helped his wife inside the carriage. He studied Julia. She was still silent but her color was definitely improving with the fresh air. While they were waiting, Warren Meade, one of Dr. Stanton’s patients, approached them. Julia’s father had recently set his broken arm.

Sam nodded to the man and Dr. Stanton smiled when he saw him. “Warren, how’s your arm today?”

“Fine,” the man said gruffly.

“The pain is diminishing?”

“Yes, but I am not here to talk about that.”

“Oh?” said Dr. Stanton.

“I am here to tell you that I have found a new physician.”

Julia’s father blinked. “Is something wrong?”

The man was obviously angry and whatever the disagreement between patient and doctor, Sam thought it best to give them privacy. He helped Julia into the carriage. His back was to the ongoing discussion. Julia had just taken a seat when all of a sudden, Warren Meade said loud enough for everyone to hear,

“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.”

As eager as she was to be safely inside, Julia was not ready to endure divided seating arrangements and political barricades. When she stepped into the sanctuary, however, only Reverend Perry was present.

“Thomas!” the man said, immediately coming up the aisle to greet her father. “And ladies…how good of you to come.”

“I had several visits to make this morning,” Dr. Stanton said. “I feared we would be the last to arrive.”

“On the contrary,” Reverend Perry said. “You are the first.”

Julia glanced around. Though grateful there were no icy glares or judgmental remarks, her heart still sank. Will we be the only ones? Isn’t there anyone else who will pray for this city? For our brave men?

She brushed away the discouraging thoughts and lifted her chin with determination. I will do so. I will pray for Edward and for Baltimore.

If Reverend Perry was disheartened by the lack of attendance, he did not reveal it. He quickly led Julia’s family to the front pew and started the service.

“Let’s begin with a hymn.”

Without the benefit of pipe organ or additional singers, the four of them joined in singing, “How Firm a Foundation.”

The meager voices barely filled the space between the walls but Julia reminded herself that where two or three were gathered, God himself was in attendance.

They finished the hymn and sat down.

Reverend Perry then prayed. He did exactly as he had done before, praying for the safety of the city and for the protection of all soldiers involved in the war. When he fell silent, Julia’s father carried on. With heartfelt sincerity he prayed for the congregation. He asked that they would be able to put their political differences aside in order to present the gospel of Christ.

Though he did not mention the man by name, Julia wondered if he was not thinking of Warren Meade. Her nerves bristled as she remembered his words. She stiffened even further when she thought of Samuel’s clear unwillingness to defend her brother’s good name.

Edward seeks to protect us from danger, from the tyranny of those Federal soldiers. Samuel would simply let them have their way.

Julia did not lift her voice in public but she did pray silently for Edward’s swift return. She then remembered the citizens who had been injured on Pratt Street.

And for them and their families, Lord…please comfort them. Please don’t let such a thing happen again!

She heard her mother’s voice. Somewhere near the end of the prayer, the back door opened. Footsteps quietly, rhythmically came down the aisle. They stopped midway. A pew then creaked.

Someone else has joined us! Oh thank You, Lord!

Her faith stirred and hope soared until she recognized the petitioner’s voice.

“Lord, Almighty, thank You for hearing our prayers…”

Samuel! She clenched the lace handkerchief in her lap. How dare he come!

Any spiritual comfort she had previously felt evaporated. All she could think of was the man sitting just a few rows back; the one who had promised to love and protect her, yet, hadn’t the courage to do so.

He is probably here to wish for Edward’s destruction, to condemn all those who support States’ Rights!

She was so busy imagining what he was praying for that she failed to hear what he was actually saying.

“My sins, Lord… Forgive me for my sins.”

Though Sam had intended on coming to this meeting to pray for Edward, he could not get past the need to confess his own faults to God. For too long he had simply gone about his life with his plans for the future, Julia, his teaching position, an honest but comfortable life here in Baltimore.

He had never once considered God may have other things in mind.

Frederick Douglass’s experiences flooded his thoughts.

The man in his autobiography had shown owners whipping and cursing their slaves while simultaneously quoting Scripture to them. He also told of plantation owners who bowed their heads each night at supper to thank God for their food only to then turn around and starve the very hands that had farmed it.

The former slave explained that he loved the Christianity that Christ had preached, the message of love, peace and purity. Yet, in America, Christ’s message had become polluted. Those who called themselves followers yet whipped women and stole babies from their mothers’ arms were corrupt and hypocritical.

Where am I in all of this? Sam wondered. What form of Christianity do I cling to?

Sam had never owned another human being. He had never beaten or cursed any man. He attended church each week, read his Bible daily. He prayed faithfully yet he couldn’t help but sense there was more to it.

Does Jesus expect more from His followers? Does His sacrificial love demand it?

Sam had always sought to live a life of peace, to show others the love of Christ.

…As ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto Me…

The Savior’s words pricked his heart. One of the least of these… who were the very least? Who did society, the law and government itself claim as the least?

Sam knew full well the answer to his own question.

Simply refusing to join those who supported slavery, or at the very least allowed it, was no longer enough. He knew that now. He would attend Dr. Carter’s meeting. He did not know what else may be involved but he sensed the Lord was urging him to find out.

“I will do Your will, Lord.”

And following God’s will, Sam realized, meant placing Julia in His hands. Sam could not continue to spend his strength worrying and planning how to win her back.

He had to focus on being obedient. He had to trust.

What was happening, Julia could not fully explain. The Reverend and even her own father were now in tears. A shiver ran through her for she could sense the Almighty’s presence in the place.

Oh, Lord, thank You for hearing our prayers. Thank You for what You will do here in this city.

After a few moments, eyes opened, heads raised. Reverend Perry concluded the meeting by extending an invitation.

“I ask you to join me tomorrow and each day thereafter at noon.”

Her father quickly said they would. When the Reverend looked to Samuel, Julia bristled.

He explained it was impossible to reach the church at noon but, “I will gladly give what time I can.”

Wonderful, Julia thought sarcastically. I suppose I will have to get used to him.

When the service was over her mother and father continued to speak with Reverend Perry. Julia waited a step away, discreetly eyeing Samuel from the safety of her lace trimmed bonnet.

He approached her slowly.

“I wanted to offer my apologies,” he said before she could speak first.

She was taken aback. “For?”

“For pressing you. For not honoring your wishes.”

His brown eyes were fixed on hers. Julia couldn’t help but think of the love that had filled them the night he’d asked for her hand, of the ardor with which he had kissed her.

Heat flooded her face. Her skin was tingling and her mind churning.

“It was wrong of me to visit the house and to sit in your family pew,” he said. “It will not happen again.”

She opened her fan, hoping her voice was smooth and calm. “Thank you, Samuel.”

“You are welcome. Good day, Julia.”

He turned and walked up the aisle, through the doors and out into the warm May sunshine.

After he had gone, her parents were ready to depart as well. Julia followed them to the carriage. A chill had now settled over her.

“Did you bring your sewing basket, dear?” her mother asked. “We can drop by Sally’s on the way home.”

“Oh,” Julia said absentmindedly. “No. I did not. I completely forgot about the sewing circle.”

She was still mulling over what Samuel had said. Part of her felt relieved, the other struggled with the finality of it all. Why did she suddenly feel so guilty?

This is what I wanted. I will not marry a man like him.

“Well, then,” she heard her mother say. “We will just drive home. You can walk back to Sally’s after you gather your things.”

“Perhaps I will stay home this week,” Julia said.

“Why is that?”

“I don’t feel much like visiting.”

Every week, she and her neighborhood friends met together for conversation and needlework. The real reason she did not wish to attend today was that the girls were scheduled to begin the lace for her wedding gown. The white dress had already been sewn. All that was needed to complete it was the finishing trim. Julia had not yet told any of them about the broken engagement.

She dreaded doing so.

Some of them, like her closest friend Sally Hastings, would understand. Her brother Stephen had left for Virginia the same time Edward did. Sally had even at one time had eyes for Edward. The woman could sympathize with Julia’s pain.

Prissy, opinionated, Rebekah Van der Geld would not. Rebekah had recently expressed disdain for the growing secessionist movement.

“It is treason,” she’d said flatly, “and anyone who fights for the Confederacy deserves to be hanged.”

Julia sighed. She had once considered Rebekah a friend but did not any longer. She wondered how the girl continued to come to their group when she clearly held such an opposing view.

Why must politics invade every aspect of life? Why can’t we just go on living?

Her mother spoke. “I talked with Sally briefly yesterday at church. She told me she was hoping you would come today. I think she misses Stephen terribly.”

Julia’s agitation was replaced with concern for her friend. She knew what Sally was feeling. She wanted to comfort her and perhaps, if they had a moment in private, she could tell her about Samuel. It would help to have a friend’s blessing when her guilt over the broken engagement came calling.

“Perhaps I will go,” she said to her mother, “but are you sure you want me to?”

“Life must continue, Julia, despite hardship, despite grief. The best thing we can do for Edward, for all of us, is to pray and then go on living.”

When Julia arrived at the Hastings home, Sally met her at the front door. She gave her a hug.

“I am so pleased that you came,” she said. “We must catch up when the others have gone.”

“Yes,” Julia said. “I would like to.”

Sally took her hand and ushered her into the parlor. The other girls were all there, sisters Trudy and Elizabeth Martin, Emily Davis and sour-looking Rebekah Van der Geld.

The girls smiled. Rebekah stared. She sat with her back straight and rigid as though she was ready to pounce on any subversive political idea. The black bonnet she wore was too big for her head. Julia thought she looked ridiculous.

“We weren’t certain that you would come,” Trudy said. “We heard about Edward.” Her voice was sweet and genuine.

Julia liked her and her twin sister. Their older brother George was considering enlistment. She sat down next to them. “Has George decided?”

“He wants to go,” Trudy said, “but fears what it will mean for Mother.”

Elizabeth leaned forward. She looked exactly like her sister but for a few freckles on her nose. “George has been the man of the house ever since Father passed away. He feels torn between two duties.”

“Both honorable,” Julia said.

Rebekah huffed.

Julia shot her a look. Sally stepped between them with a tray of cold tea. She smiled.

“It is warm this afternoon, isn’t it?”

Sally Hastings had a peaceful presence that could stabilize almost any situation. Julia envied her friend’s ability to do so. She wished she were more like her.

“Thank you,” Julia said as she took a glass.

“There are tea cakes as well,” Sally said. “Rebekah, will you serve them?”

Rebekah got up from her seat and did as Sally asked, though not as graciously as her host. Julia took an orange-glazed tea cake from her tray if only to be polite.

“How is your father feeling?” she asked, knowing he had been ill with stomach pains.

Rebekah’s face softened but only a bit. “Much better, thank you.”

When the refreshments had been served, the young ladies got down to business.

“Well,” Sally said. “We have finished our other projects and given what has been happening these last few weeks, I thought that perhaps we might do something different today.” She paused, eyes sweeping the room. “We all know at least one man who has gone to serve. Perhaps we could take on a project for the regiment.”

Elizabeth looked delighted by the suggestion. “I have heard that there is a group of ladies in Carroll County who are at this very moment sewing a coat for General Lee.”

Trudy nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. Yes. Let’s do something of that sort.”

“Why?” Rebekah grumbled. “Your men left in full uniform.”

Emily Davis was an only child and had no relatives serving as of yet but she liked Sally’s suggestion as well. “What about sashes?”

Sally nodded, though hesitantly. “Yes, but wouldn’t that be only for officers?” She looked about the circle.

The women had no idea.

“What about a regimental flag?” Elizabeth suggested.

“That could get you arrested,” Rebekah announced. “Haven’t you read the paper? No displays of Confederate regalia, no Confederate music… Why I even read a notice concerning red-and-white-striped stockings.”

“For goodness’ sake, what is wrong with striped stockings?” Sally asked.

“Red and white have been deemed pro-secessionist colors. Anyone found wearing such could be arrested.”

Sally blew out her breath and Julia’s face heated as she thought of her own red and white stockings which were tucked beneath her hoop and petticoats. Part of her feared catching the attention of some impudent Yankee rascal on the way home. The defiant streak in her wished to display the stockings proudly.

“Well,” Elizabeth said. “If they insist on spying on our ankles then I suppose we will have to wear extra petticoats to hide them.”

“Indeed,” Emily said.

“Speaking of stockings,” Trudy said. “What about socks for our men?”

“You mean ordinary, plain ones?” Sally asked.

“Yes. Of course. Surely no one, even Yankees, could object to sending our men socks. They will need them for winter.”

The thought of Edward still on the battlefield come Christmas time was too much to bear. Julia looked at Sally. She must have been thinking the same about Stephen. Her chin quivered.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t last that long,” she said.

“Why are we so concerned with the soldiers?” Rebekah asked. “Aren’t we supposed to be making lace?”

The women stopped. They quickly looked at Julia.

“Oh, my dear, I am so sorry,” said Sally. “Forgive me. I can’t believe I forgot.”

Julia felt incredibly uneasy but it had nothing to do with Sally’s forgetfulness. “It is all right,” she said. “We have all had other things on our mind.”

A heaviness blanketed the room. No one seemed to know what to say and Julia had no idea where to begin.

“Dear me,” Emily said at last. “Samuel hasn’t gone, has he?”

“No,” Julia said, feeling the color creep up her neck.

“Finally, a wise man,” said Rebekah.

All eyes were on Julia. The knot in her stomach tightened. She couldn’t bring herself to say what she knew she must. She didn’t want her friends to know that her fiancé had refused to join her brother. She also couldn’t stand to hear Rebekah sing Samuel’s praises for doing so.

“The wedding,” she said weakly, “has been postponed.”

A collective sigh went about the room. Even Rebekah looked concerned.

“Edward was to be Samuel’s best man, wasn’t he?” Sally said, obviously thinking that was the reason.

“Yes.”

Julia’s friend tried to smile, to sound hopeful. “I am certain he will be home soon.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “They all will.”

The women dabbed their eyes with their handkerchiefs. Emily then spoke. “I think we should continue with our original plan and work on Julia’s lace. That way everything will be ready when the time comes.”

The others nodded in agreement.

Julia tried to object. “That is very kind of you but it isn’t necessary.”

“Nonsense,” Sally said. “I would rather look ahead to happier times.”

“So would I,” Trudy said.

Julia could hardly argue with that. If looking forward to a wedding that would never actually take place was what it took to lift her friends’ spirits, then Julia would not interfere. Not today, when she was already uncomfortable and upset over her encounter with Samuel at the prayer meeting.

“Thank you,” she said meekly.

“Now,” Sally said, eager to begin, “which pattern did you choose?”

When the hall clock chimed four, they put their newly constructed lace in their baskets and agreed to meet again the following week. Julia was slow in packing up her supplies. She put away the dining room chairs while Sally bid her other guests goodbye. When she came back into the room, she spoke softly.

“I wanted to tell you something,” she said, “but I didn’t want to say it in front of the others, especially not Rebekah.”

“What is it?” Julia asked.

“My father will be handling the mail.”

Julia did not understand. Mr. Hastings was a member of the city council. “He has taken a new job?”

“No. The Confederate mail.”

“Oh.”

“When our brothers are able to write, the letters will come through special channels, not the regular post,” Sally explained. “Bring your letters here to mail them. It will be safer that way.”

Julia nodded. She hadn’t thought about how to mail letters to an opposing army but she was glad someone else did. “I hope we hear from them soon,” she said.

“So do I. Now…what is bothering you? I know it is more than Edward. You barely mentioned Sam at all today. That’s not like you.”

Julia sighed, hoping the others hadn’t noticed. “I was going to tell you. I just didn’t know how.”

“Tell me what? Did he do something to upset you?”

“It’s more what he didn’t do.”

“I don’t understand.”

Julia motioned to a chair. “Perhaps we should sit. This may take a while.”

Sally did so and as Julia spilled the entire story she listened most sympathetically. “Oh, Julia. I am so sorry. I didn’t know he held abolitionist views.”

“Neither did I, until recently. What do you think?”

“About Sam or slavery?”

“Both.”

Sally shrugged. “Slavery is legal but…”

“But what?”

“My father says there are some who abuse the law. That they treat their slaves as though they were subhuman. That’s not right.”

“I don’t think so either and I can understand why Samuel would be angry about that.”

“But?”

“But look at what has happened in our city. This has nothing to do with slaves. To say he will not fight because the Confederacy supports slavery sounds like an excuse to me. There is an army outside with guns. They are telling us what music we can and cannot sing, how we may dress. They opened fire on my family right in the middle of Pratt Street!”

“I know,” Sally said. “That’s why Stephen enlisted.” She paused. “And you’re angry with Sam because he didn’t.”

Julia looked at her. There was no need to reply to the last statement. Sally already knew her thoughts.

“You still have feelings for him, don’t you?”

Julia sighed heavily. To deny it would be a lie but to acknowledge them was to deny her brother’s honor.

“I can understand your dilemma,” Sally said.

“You can?”

“Certainly. If my fiancé refused to defend our city I would feel the same.”

She saw doubt in Sally’s eyes and she knew she was keeping something back. “But?” Julia encouraged.

Sally shrugged. “Perhaps it isn’t cowardice.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Sam is a man of conviction. Although it may not be the same conviction you share. It takes courage to stand up for what you believe when no one else believes the same.”

Julia sighed once more. “He came to the prayer meeting today.”

“What prayer meeting?”

“The one at the church.”

Sally looked embarrassed. “I forgot about that. Father must have as well. He said yesterday that we would attend.”

“It was only my family, Reverend Perry and Samuel.”

“Did he sit with you?”

Julia shook her head. She explained what happened after the service had ended.

Sally’s eyes widened. “He said he would honor your wishes?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

Finality hit Julia with a thud. The engagement had been severed. Samuel Ward would not be her husband.

“I should have been more open with the others,” she said. “I should have told them everything.”

“Well,” Sally said slowly, “there is no need for gossip, especially from Rebekah.” She squeezed Julia’s hand. “Things will sort out in time.”

She knew Sally was right.

But how much time would have to pass before Julia knew happiness again?

Chapter Four

The following morning, Sam finished his first class and walked to the third-floor faculty room for a meeting. The assembly had been called unexpectedly and all were eager to learn why. He took a seat amidst his fellow history and rhetoric professors. The discussion of war was already churning.

“It is no wonder that attendance is falling,” one man said. “An invading army will do such a thing.”

“It will keep many a young man hiding in his root cellar.”

“Only because by hiding there he has an excuse not to finish his assignments.”

Several of the teachers laughed and the conversation continued to swirl. The staff shared their opinions and concerns of what the coming weeks may hold. Sam did not add to the discussion. His mind kept drifting in and out of focus, somewhere between God and Julia much of the time.

He could not forget the look on her face yesterday as he’d approached her, eyes hesitant and suspicious. Her dark hair had been covered by a butternut bonnet. Sam couldn’t help but wonder if she had chosen the color on purpose, as a statement of her political position. Edward and his fellow Maryland Guard members had left town in uniforms of the same color.

More than anything, Sam hoped that in time Julia would see he was not against her or her family. He wished for an opportunity to speak with her, to reaffirm his love. He prayed they could reconcile their differences.

But he had promised God he would follow His path wherever it led, whether Julia joined him or not. It appeared that path meant traveling the antislavery route.

Sam had not yet spoken to Dr. Carter about his plan to attend the abolitionist meeting. He intended to do so upon the first opportunity.

The conversation around him still buzzed, though it had shifted from the Federal occupation to the question of slavery. His ears perked when mathematics department chair, David Longsworth, spoke his mind. “I fail to see what all the division is about. Property is property. As an owner of such I have full authority over what belongs to me.”

The word “property” when referring to a human being was nauseating to Sam.

If men were created in God’s image how could the color of one’s skin change such? Men were men. In Sam’s mind there was no question.

Longsworth shifted to the economic benefits of slavery. “How are we going to produce goods in this country without slaves? On my word, without them the economy would collapse overnight.”

Money, Sam thought. It is all that some seem to be concerned with. What about the suffering of our fellow man? What about the God-given thirst for freedom deep inside us all? He drew in a deep breath, ready to express such.

At that very moment, Dr. Carter entered the room. He called for everyone’s attention.

“Gentlemen,” he said. “I am afraid that I have some disturbing news.”

Silence covered the room like a shroud. Sam’s heart immediately began to pound. What has happened? Has there been further bloodshed? Is Julia safe?

“I was approached by one of General Butler’s aides this morning,” Dr. Carter said. “I have been told that the Federal Army is in need of our facilities.”

Wordless, worried expressions showed upon each faculty member’s face. Sam looked the same.

“Therefore, effective immediately, our classes will be suspended. We will resume teaching when the seminary can secure a new location.” Dr. Carter paused. “You are dismissed, gentlemen.”

The dean of students walked to the door and exited the room. The rest of the faculty, Sam included, sat in stunned silence.

“So the Yankees have commandeered the school,” Longsworth said finally.

“And put us all out of work,” said another.

A sickening feeling washed over him as Sam sank back in his chair. My best friend, my fiancée, my teaching position… Air slowly escaped his lungs. Lord, I want to believe You have everything under control, that You are working these things for our ultimate good.

Help me trust You.

Julia had been at the market since it first opened that morning. She had bought flour, two cones of sugar, eggs and a host of other necessities. She was just about to return home, when she spied her favorite delicacy.

Strawberries! They have strawberries.

Her basket was already heavy. Besides that, her reticule was running low on coins but the longer she stared at the red, ripe fruit, the more she wanted them. She couldn’t resist purchasing a quart. I love strawberries. I look forward to them every year. Samuel loves them as well. They are his favorite fruit.

She smiled to herself as a plan formulated in her mind. I know what I will do; I will make shortcake and then when he— She came to her senses. There was no reason to bake shortcake. Samuel wouldn’t be dining with them anymore.

Her heart sank a little deeper in her chest as she stared at the berries. They didn’t look quite as red or luscious as they had just a moment ago.

“A quart, miss?” the vendor asked.

Still, she wanted them. “Yes. Please.”

She shifted her basket to the other arm and counted out the coins in her reticule. She had just enough so she handed the vendor the money. It was then out of the corner of her eye that she noticed a blue uniform. The man was standing straight and tall, just a few steps from her. A large, brass buckle with the letters U. S. wrapped his waist. He appeared to be watching her.

Images of Pratt Street raced through her mind. Her mouth went dry. She desperately tried to remember what color stockings she had put on before leaving the house.

Are they white? Yes. Simply white.

She tightened her grip on her basket and stared straight at the vendor. If I don’t get in the soldier’s way then he won’t bother me.

The man handed her the quart of berries. Julia put them in her basket. She stole a peek in the soldier’s direction. He was still watching her. A shiver ran through her. Her heart began to pound. She looked back at the vendor. She tried to smile.

“These berries will be delicious.”

The man tipped his slouch hat. “Enjoy them, miss.”

Julia dropped her reticule in the basket. She hoisted the heavy parcel higher on her arm. She turned.

The blue uniform stepped forward. Julia swallowed. Ears thudding, she took another step. He came up along side her.

The Federal soldier smiled at her. “Help you with that, miss?”

Julia did not smile back. By now, her heart was racing. “Thank you, no,” she said. She hurried away from him, walking as fast as the heavy basket would allow.

The pop, pop, pop of musket fire echoed in her ears as she mentally replayed that dreadful day at the station. The sight of blood-splattered cobblestones filled her memory. A thousand terrible images raced through Julia’s mind and just as many petitions for protection.

Lord, please don’t let that soldier follow me. Please don’t let him!

She hurried on.

The market was crowded with people and items. It was difficult to get back to the street. A barrel of pickles with children clustered about it blocked the easiest route. Moving opposite, Julia rounded the corner where the chickens were sold. Their featherless bodies hung limply from a line strung across the stall. She peeked through them to see if the Federal soldier was following her.

He was coming in her direction.

Julia hoisted the basket and took off once more, only to run directly into the chest of another uniformed soldier.

“Excuse me!” she gasped, nearly dropping the basket.

He took hold of it. “Help you with that, miss?”

She could barely breathe. Lord, help me! “No. No, thank you.”

He turned her basket loose and tipped his kepi as he stepped out of her path. “Good day.”

The way to the street was clear. Julia walked as quickly as she could. The basket was cutting into her arm but she did not stop to shift its weight. All she wanted to do was get away from there.

Once she passed the market’s perimeter she took off running, caring not by now if her petticoats or her stockings were showing. She kept running but the yards of dress fabric and her hoop made it impossible to keep up the pace for very long. Out of breath, arms and legs aching, she stopped in front of a ladies hat store. She glanced backward.

Neither of the soldiers had followed her.

She set the basket down taking a moment to rest. As the panic faded, the thought struck her that perhaps the men were only trying to be kind. Feeling foolish yet not wanting to take any chances, she picked up the basket. It was then that she noticed her prized strawberries had gotten crushed beneath a jar of honey. To make matters worse, the sticky red juice now stained Julia’s dress.

Oh, no…

Feeling deflated, she trudged for home. She had just enough time to put away the groceries and set her dress to soaking before the prayer meeting.

The Federal soldiers were already setting up camp as Samuel left the seminary’s main gate. Their canvas tents covered the center green and supply wagons choked the road all the way back to Mount Vernon.

Sam tried to think charitable thoughts concerning the men but it was difficult. Though his tenure here at Rolland Park was short, he had grown to love the place. He did not enjoy being driven from the grounds.

When he would return to pursue his life’s vocation, he did not know. The only way he could console himself was the thought that at least now he could attend the prayer meetings on time.

He walked back home and deposited his books on the parlor table. After eating a quick meal of cornbread and buttermilk, he started off. He would be early for the meeting but Reverend Perry might have need of assistance in some way or another. Goodness knows Sam needed something to do.

As he passed by the Stanton home, Sam couldn’t help but wonder what Julia was doing at the moment. He had given his word to the Lord that he would follow Him regardless of the cost but that promise didn’t quell the ache in his heart. Julia was the only woman he had ever loved. He prayed for her unceasingly. He missed her even more.

He arrived at the church well before noon. Reverend Perry was happy to see him.

“Samuel, welcome! I thought you would not be able to join us until later.”

He explained what had happened at the school.

“Dear me,” Reverend Perry said. “I am sorry to hear that.”

Sam knew it would do no good to dwell on the issue so he moved the conversation forward. “I would like to be of assistance if I may,” he said. “I think the prayer meeting is a noble idea.”

“Thank you, but I cannot take credit for it.”

Reverend Perry explained that the idea for the noon meeting came from an event in New York City four years earlier. During a financial crisis, the city had experienced a laymen’s revival.

“It was an interdenominational event,” he said. “The churches were filled to capacity for months. Thousands came to know Christ.”

“Do you believe such a thing could happen here in Baltimore?” Sam asked.

The Reverend’s eyes were full of compassion. “For eternity’s sake, I do hope so.”

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