Uncertain Glory (14 page)

I counted on my fingers. “Twenty-eight, I think.”

“Then we'll win,” said Owen, confidently. “There are more of us. And”—he stood very tall—“my father is going to be a soldier. He's going to enlist this morning.”

“I wish my father would enlist,” Charlie burst out. “He says he's too old, and that I need him here. He keeps saying he's the only family I've got. But I'm almost a man. I think it's just an excuse. I don't think he wants to go. Maybe he's scared. I told him that, too.”

“Maybe he's thinking of you, Charlie,” I said. “I wish my pa wouldn't go.”

“Your pa?” said Charlie, turning to look at me. “Your pa's enlisting, too?”

“He went this morning, like Owen's father.”

“Your father's older than mine! See? My father
is
just looking for an excuse! And I'm going to tell him so, next time I see him.” Charlie slammed his hand against the wall. “If only I were eighteen, I'd sign those papers in a minute. I wouldn't even think twice about it.”

“We're not getting anything done here,” I said. “Let's get started. Charlie, you operate the press for the identification cards while I start setting the type for the Act. After you finish printing the cards, you can work on the Rules Governing Troops, for the second column. We'll work until about twelve-thirty, then I'll go home and mind the store so Ma and Pa can keep their appointment. While I'm doing that, both of you can get something to eat and check the telegraph again before we meet back here this afternoon.”

“Then I'll write up a box about Virginia seceding,” said Charlie.

“Good idea,” I agreed. “We'll put that on the front page of the
Herald—
maybe even at the top. It'll show how important it is that people enlist as soon as possible. But let's get the cards printed first.”

“You go ahead and work on that,” said Charlie. “I'm going to talk to my father again. I'm going to tell him both your fathers are enlisting. Maybe that will make him feel like he should enlist, too!”

He grabbed his jacket from the floor and raced out, not even stopping to shut the door.

Chapter 27

Wednesday, April 17, early afternoon

“You're certain you can handle the store yourself?” Pa asked.

Hadn't he noticed that since Ethan's death I'd often been left in charge of the store?

“He'll be fine, dear.” Ma adjusted her best bonnet and lace wrap. The way she dressed advertised the latest offerings we had for sale.

“When Charlie and I interviewed Miss Gramercy on Monday, she said a spirit only communicated with her when there was a message to be delivered. Maybe Ethan said everything he needed to the last time he spoke to you, Pa,” I said. They were so excited about their meeting; I didn't want them to be disappointed.

“I hope she'll hear something,” said Ma. “But even if she doesn't, we'll know we tried to tell Ethan how much we love him and miss him. How much we thank him for coming back to us for that brief moment when he did speak through Miss Gramercy.” Ma was now pulling on her best silk-lined kidskin gloves. “The idea of being able to communicate with Ethan is so very exciting. I'm glad your father was able to reserve a session for us.” She gave Pa a special smile.

“We won't be long, now, Joe,” Pa reminded me, as though I were Owen's age. He straightened his waistcoat once more. “We reserved a forty-minute session, so we should be back in an hour, should anyone need our help in the store.”

“I'll be fine,” I repeated. Then I asked, “Pa, did you do it this morning? Did you enlist?”

“I did as I said I would, son.” Pa looked at me proudly. “I'll be in the first group to march out of Wiscasset to fight for our Stars and Stripes.”

The door closed after them.

I walked through the shop as I had thousands of times, straightening the items for sale. I could have done it blindfolded.

One whole corner was filled with sewing supplies: Needles for knitting and plain sewing and fancywork; threads and buttons of all kinds. Stacked bolts of flowery spring fabric were arranged to appeal to women thinking of warm days to come.

Another corner was filled with mourning goods: black and purple fabrics and threads; ready-made mourning hats for both men and women; black capes and gloves; black-bordered handkerchiefs for the bereaved; and black-bordered envelopes and stationery, so sad news could be conveyed appropriately. Ma also stocked pins, lockets, and rings designed to hold strands of the deceased's hair that could be braided and arranged carefully, perhaps in the shape of a lily or other mourning flower, and kept as a remembrance. Wide black ribbons and wreaths were designed to hang on front doors to let others know the occupants of a house had lost someone dear to them. There was even a box of glass vials to hold tears shed in memory of a lost loved one. Death was a part of life. This section of the store was one of our most profitable.

I re-wound black ribbons that had loosened from their rolls. Many customers who'd bought items from this section were now asking Nell Gramercy to contact those they'd lost. Was paying Nell for her services
any different than their buying mourning jewelry? How many people in town would be coming here to buy mourning apparel after losing a husband or father in this war? I thought of Pa, and Mr. Bascomb, and Edwin Smith.

The shop bell broke my thoughts. It was Charlie.

“Why are you here?” I asked. “You didn't come back to the office. Owen and I have finished the cards for Mr. Pendleton. I thought you were going to deliver the cards, and then write the article about Virginia seceding and set type for the Act.”

“I thought I'd keep you company for a while,” he answered.

“I'm not lonely. I wish I could have gone with my folks.” I finally decided to tell Charlie where my parents were. “They reserved a private session with Nell Gramercy. I'd like to hear what—if anything—Ethan might say, but someone had to mind the store.” I didn't tell Charlie Ma and Pa hadn't asked if I'd like to go with them.

“They're paying money for that? Nell was just lucky the first time, to say something significant to your father. Most likely it won't happen again,” said Charlie.

“Part of me's afeared Ma and Pa will be disappointed,” I admitted.

“And lose their money,” Charlie pointed out. “How much is she charging for a private session?”

“I didn't ask. But Pa said it was hard to schedule a time. Many people in town want to talk with her.”

“I'll bet she's making a small fortune,” Charlie said. “I suspect the war is adding to her coffers. How do you think she and her aunt and uncle paid for those fancy clothes they're wearing?” He walked toward a part of the shop concealed by a rose-colored velvet curtain.

“Charlie, get away from that corner! You know you're not supposed to go over there.”

“No one else is here this afternoon. What harm would it do to look? You work here, and it hasn't done you any grave moral damage.”

I moved over in front of the curtain and crossed my arms. “I'm in charge of the shop, and I don't want anyone to come in and see you behind there. It's indecent. No boys or men are allowed in there except Pa and me, and that's only because we work here. Most of the time Ma handles that department herself.”

Charlie made a motion as if to part the curtain, but then backed off. “All right, all right. Relax. I've seen corsets and stockings and petticoats and drawers before. They hang on the laundry line at the Mansion House every day. I was just teasing.”

I kept my eyes on him. Charlie couldn't always be trusted when he had mischief on his mind. “You'd be a big help to me if you'd go back to the office, get the cards we printed, and deliver them to Mr. Pendleton. Owen should be back any minute. One of us should be in the office when he's working, in case he has questions.”

“All right! But setting type hour after hour is boring. You have an hour off; I needed to stretch my legs a little.”

I bit my tongue. Charlie'd taken the whole morning off so far as I could tell. But, then, it wasn't his print shop. “I'll be at the office as soon as my parents get back.”

He'd only been gone a few minutes when Mrs. Parsons came in to buy a bonnet for her niece in Camden. She spent fifteen minutes debating whether a pink hat with white flowers looked better than a white
hat with pink flowers. She bought a yellow bonnet with ribbons instead of either of them.

Then Mr. Chase stopped by to see if Pa would usher at the Congregational Church on Sunday morning, and Widow Quinn bought some red silk embroidery floss for a cushion she was stitching for her sister's parlor.

When the bell on the shop door jingled again it was Ma and Pa. I gave Pa the message from Mr. Chase and then asked, “Was Miss Gramercy able to contact Ethan?”

Ma's smile answered. “She did! And he sent you a message.”

“Me!”

“He said he missed his little brother Joe, but that you had work yet to do in life. He would see you again someday, when your work was finished.”

“He wished us all well,” added Pa, “and said he had no pain where he was—only joy. That the next world was not to be feared.”

“It made me shiver, hearing that girl talk,” said Ma, putting her outside bonnet carefully under the counter and replacing it with the one she wore inside. “I'm so glad we were able to arrange a time with her.”

“Nell Gramercy's gift is a true one,” said Pa. “We're blessed she chose to share it with us in Wiscasset.”

“I have to get back to the
Herald
office,” I said, patting Trusty on his head. “I'm glad the meeting went well.” I hugged Ma, and then I hugged Pa, too. How long would it be before I wouldn't be able to do that?

To my surprise, Charlie was alone in the office.

“Where's Owen?”

“Don't know. He hasn't been here,” he said. “I took the cards to Mr. Pendleton, and he gave me the five dollars right off. The money's in the desk.” Charlie gestured to where I put any paper money we earned. “For someone who wants to learn the business, Owen seems to have disappeared.” Charlie slammed a font tray down on the table. “The day we need him most.”

I didn't answer. Owen had been with me all morning; Charlie hadn't.

“I'm glad you're here,” I said.

“I've been looking at the Act. It's printed on twenty pages now, but I think with smaller fonts, we can do it on ten. It's going to be ten full pages, though, and we've only just started the first.” Charlie looked at me.

I nodded. “You're right. We're going to take four of the pages and distribute them, with one or two boxed items, like one for the news from Virginia, as an issue of the
Herald.
That will mean we don't have to print the
Herald
in addition to printing the Act. But it's still going to be a lot of work.”

“Do we even have enough pieces of type?”

I shook my head. “We'll have to set two pages, print them, then set another two pages. We have no choice.”

Charlie whistled. “Godfrey mighty. When does all of this have to be done?”

“First thing Monday morning. At the latest.”

Charlie shook his head. “I do like that we're among the first to know what's happening with the war. Some boys our age don't even understand what's happening. But to get all that typesetting and printing done, we'll hardly be able to sleep from now until Monday.”

“You're right. Without both of us, the job can't be finished.” I hoped Charlie wouldn't think of an excuse to be somewhere else, as he sometimes did when there was work to be done.

“Then why are you talking instead of setting type?” Charlie handed me a type tray. “I stopped at the telegraph office on my way back from Mr. Pendleton's. There's no news to concern ourselves with for the moment—although the Sixth Massachusetts has left Boston for Washington.”

“While we're still recruiting here in Maine. I wonder how many men have gone to Edwin Smith's house to enlist today.”

“And how long it'll take him to get his quota,” Charlie said, setting pieces of type on the table. “Captain Tucker said one hundred men, but that's a lot for a town the size of Wiscasset.” He reached to set another line.

“What did Mr. Pendleton say when you left the cards we printed with him? Is he getting much call for portraits?”

“I almost forgot. He wants to put an advertisement in the
Herald
this week, reminding families of his services. He was pleased with the cards. We only spoke briefly; two families were in his office, inquiring about appointments. One man wanted a portrait of his promised lady to carry with him. She was sniffling and crying and was all upset.” Charlie's fingers were flying over the type.

Would Pa want to take a picture of Ma with him when he left? I'd saved out one of the cards for him. What if he were hurt somewhere, and no one nearby knew who he was? I'd make sure Pa filled it out and took it with him. Just in case.

We were interrupted by heavy steps on the stairs leading to the office, and then, a knock.

“Mr. Bascomb!” Charlie said, opening the door. “What brings you here this afternoon?”

“I came to talk with Owen,” Mr. Bascomb said, looking around the room.

“Owen isn't here,” I said. “He left about twelve-thirty and hasn't been back. We assumed he went home to you.”

Mr. Bascomb frowned. “He was home, sure enough, but I had to give him some upsetting news, and he ran out. I assumed he'd come here. If he's not here, then I don't know where he is.”

“If you don't mind my asking, what was he upset about?”

For a moment, Mr. Bascomb was silent. Then he spoke slowly, saying each word distinctly, as though to ensure his words were understood.