Somewhere in the World

Chapter 28

Washington, D.C.

July __, 1864

Dearest Margaret,

All is well here in Washington. There is not much news of the war I may share with you, but needless to say our outlook is brighter now that General Grant has taken charge of our Army. His decisiveness and strategic mind are just what this Army needs, and I am hopeful that he will bring this conflict to a successful close before too many more days pass.

There is much to be done here, and my days are full of activity. I never realized the complexities (or bureaucracies) involved in outfitting troops. I am quickly learning. Nicholas sends his fondest regards. He and I do spend evenings dissipated, as you suspected, but only with cigars and whiskey, Margaret. These respites enable us to make it through the nights without our loved ones.

As hot as Massachusetts can be in high summer, it is nothing compared to our nation's capital. The heat is stifling, and the dust and flies even worse. I am able to walk from my lodgings to the office, but on days such as today, indulge in a carriage ride to save my uniform and my spirits. I remember you telling me of the heat and humidity of your summers in Williamsburg. I begin to understand, and apologize for not being more sympathetic to your remembrances. I only wish men's suits could be fashioned of linen or muslin.

How is Mother? She writes of the mill and how well orders are progressing, and how Watson has been a great help—but I hear nothing of how she fares? I know you both well enough to know you will look out for one another. I am glad that you have become good friends. Tell Tansy that the food here is nothing compared to hers. How I long for her pies and compotes!

All of this is noise compared with what I want to tell you: I love you. I love you. I love you. I could fill the entire sheet with these words, cross and re-cross my lines until no empty space remains upon the page, and it would not be enough to give compass to my love. Please write to me soon and tell me how you are, how you make it through each day, what you see, what you think. Every breath you take is precious to me, every thought of the utmost importance. I keep you in my thoughts by day, I hold you to my heart by night.

Your loving husband,

John

Pausing at the entrance of the parlor, Margaret pressed the letter to her heart, overcome with love for her absent husband. When the letter had arrived, she had gone to her room to read it, not wanting to be interrupted. She had read it several times, but could not bear to put it down. It was all she had of her husband. With great reluctance, she folded the missive and slipped it into her apron pocket.

Although she led a busy life and received letters from him every week, she missed his physical presence—his wry glances, his slow smiles, his deep voice. When he had been home, he did not need to be with her in the same room for her to feel the reach of his calming presence—just knowing he was in the mill office as she went about her day gave her great comfort. His departure felt like a hole had been blasted in her soul, and the chilly wind blew in constantly.

The house was quiet for the most part—being summer, Tansy prepared as many cold collations as she could for meals, so that the kitchen was quiet and dark. She and Jess were occupied most days with the garden and the burgeoning collection of animals they kept. In addition to the chickens, they now had a goat named Nanna from which delicious cheeses made a frequent appearance at their meals, as well as several geese whose orange-yolked eggs were an added bonus. Margaret and Tansy had planted several apple and pear trees at the bottom of the yard with visions of compotes and pies dancing in their heads. Isaac had dug the holes for them on solemn promise that he would have a pie a week from their kitchen. And Margaret's herb garden flourished, so that she was able to share her bounty with neighbors as well as with Dr. Donaldson who appreciated the lavender and comfrey for tinctures and teas.