Page 56 of Under the Tulip Tree
A hint of worry edged its way past my normal apathy. “Do you think it’s serious?”
“I don’t know. I hope to see Dr. Ridley at the service today and talk to him about it.”
I glanced at the refrigerator, realizing this was the reason Mama hadn’t been to the market. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help, Mama.”
She studied me a long moment. “What is it about this Frankie that you find so fascinating you keep going back?”
I gave a slight shrug. “She lived in a time I’ve only read about. She experienced things we never will. Just yesterday she told us about the Battle of Nashville. I barely remember reading about it in school, and yet Frankie’s telling of it made me feel like I’d experienced it myself.” At the look of horror on Mama’s face, I chuckled. “I don’t mean the gore and all, but the emotions of waiting for the battle to begin, the frigid weather.” I recalled Alden’s and Frankie’s discussion about the rebuilding of the Civil War fort. “Did you know the Works Progress Administration is rebuilding Fort Negley? Won’t it be wonderful to see what it looked like and walk around inside?”
Mama made a sound of disgust. “We lost the Battle of Nashville, Rena. Why on earth would we want a reminder staring down on us from atop a hill in the middle of town?”
I realized then Mama and I would never see eye to eye on the past.
Mama left for church an hour later. She checked on Dad and found him sleeping peacefully. I felt a twinge of guilt for not volunteering to stay home until she returned, yet the thought of dealing with my father sent me hurrying to leave the house when I heard Alden’s car pull into the driveway.
Frankie was waiting for me when we arrived at her house. “Is Alden not coming inside?”
“No,” I said, hoping my disappointment wasn’t too obvious. A friend from the Works Progress Administration had asked to meet with him, although Alden didn’t say why. I turned to see him wave to Frankie before he drove away.
“Well, it’s just you and me then. Jael is at the church. She loves singin’ in the choir and teachin’ the kiddies in Sunday school.” She noticed the small sack I carried. I’d asked Alden to stop at the market so I could purchase the makings for a meal of pork chops and vegetables.
“I’d like to make lunch, if that’s all right with you.”
She gave a deep chuckle. “Don’t no one ever have to ask if they can cook a meal for me. I’ve had plenty-a time in the kitchen and I’m more than willing to let you young folks take over.”
After putting the groceries away and pouring us each a cup of coffee, we settled in the living room.
“I can’t remember where I left off yesterday,” she said, staring out the window. “After you children left, my mind kept a-going. It’s hard to turn off the memories once they start flowing.”
I took out my notebook and turned to the last page. “You said a white woman you’d never seen before came to the camp to ask for volunteers to help in the hospitals.”
“Oh yes, I remember now.” She shook her head, squinting as though seeing the past in her mind’s eye. “That Miz Michaels was right. You can’t imagine the terrible things a bullet or a cannonball can do to a body. Nell wouldn’t go with me, which was just as well, but me and some others climbed up into the wagon the woman brought. We drove into town, not knowing what we was getting ourselves into. You’d have thought it was market day, the streets were so crowded despite darkness falling upon us. Dozens anddozens of army wagons called ambulances flew hither and yon, bringing in the wounded and going back out for more.”
She took a sip from her cup, then set it down on the low table between us. Her eyes squeezed closed, and I wondered, not for the first time, if remembering all the hurt and pain from the past was good for a woman her age.
“I never left the hospital once I stepped inside. For days I had me no knowledge of what was going on outside the walls of that old gun factory. I couldn’t have told you what time of day it was until someone lit the lamps when night fell again. Can’t recall eating, sleeping, or even going to the privy, but I guess I did.” She met my gaze, an anguished look in her eyes. “If I’d known what was ahead of me the day that woman came calling for volunteers, I would have turned tail and run.”
Blood.
Blood everywhere. On everything, staining the wood floors, the walls, me.
“More light! I can’t see a thing.”
The army surgeon bellowed even though I stood across the table from him. He didn’t look at me but stayed focused on the soldier whose leg he’d just sawed off. Thankfully the patient had ceased his screaming once the chloroform took effect, but there were plenty of agonizing cries echoing throughout the building to prevent his from being missed.
I held the kerosene lantern higher, my arms aching, while keeping my eyes averted from the ghastly scene below. Itwas well past midnight, I guessed. I’d arrived at the hospital sometime after the guns had gone quiet, and now streams of wounded and dying men continued to flood through the door downstairs.
“Clean this man up. Then come assist me with the next one.” The gray-haired man dipped his hands in a basin of red water, seeming not to notice the color of it, before moving away to the next moaning patient.
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I was simply too exhausted. I just stood there with the lantern in my hands, illuminating pools of red on the long table and the ash-colored skin of the man whose life had just been altered.
“Here, let me take over.”
I turned weary eyes to find a white woman next to me. She wore an apron over her dark dress, now covered with blood. I’d seen her downstairs when I first arrived. Her authoritative voice went out over the masses as she directed men carrying in the wounded, pointing some up the stairs to surgery while others had to wait their turn.
I handed the lantern to her.
“There’s coffee downstairs. And sandwiches. Get some rest. I’m told the fighting will resume once the sun is up, which means we’ll receive more men come daylight.”
