For new readers to this story, I linked Chapter 1. Chapters 2 - 4 are linked under September, 5 - 10 under October, 11 - 18 under November, 19 - 27 under December, and 28 - 32 under January 2019.
Destination Hope – Book 5 – Reconciliation
A Novel By:
Charles J. Patricoff
Copyright © 2014 by Charles J. Patricoff. All rights reserved.
Chapter 33
1870
As a community leader, Nathaniel answered the call to serve once again.
An overcast morning greeted the early birds who desired to gain entrance into the assembly building and find their designated meeting areas. This last Saturday in March seemed colder than mid-winter. Nathaniel wished he had worn a heavier overcoat.
Waiting in line to have his credentials verified, he noticed the large barn-like structure just beyond the southern outskirts of Nashville, Tennessee. He resisted thoughts reminding him that his tax contributions had helped raise the coliseum. I suspect I’ll come back to this place at the end of the approaching growing season to buy needed livestock, God willing.
Grateful for his short, two-hour train and carriage cab ride, Nathaniel wondered how the men from Memphis in the west and Johnson City in the east had fared in travel and local accommodations.
As he waited, he searched the landscape and could not help but have a sense of appreciation for the new construction rising throughout his state’s capital city. Everywhere he stared, he saw a crane with loads of stone, brick, or broad-wood beams. Like Washington. What is it about capital cities? I suppose the doling out of tax revenues starts at home. If only his small town, some twenty-five miles south would demonstrate such growth. He fought the piercing dart of envy and focused his purpose for this visit.
Vote for the New Tennessee State Constitution signs dotted the surrounding fairgrounds. He hoped to navigate to his designated area and assigned seat fast. The letter from the convention leadership stated that the doors would open at seven and the assembly called to order at nine sharp. I need time to locate the Knox County delegation. I hope my old friend made it.
Nathaniel stood in an already well-developed, long-snaking line of sunrise-greeting delegates. He observed the composition of new, would-be public servants—men who hoped to become full-fledged citizens should the people and states adopt the Fourteenth Amendment to the Constitution. More and more Negro men assumed the place of former Confederate officers. Few Rebel soldiers, regardless of rank, lowered their dignity to swear an oath of allegiance to the restored Union and its unchecked, expanding Federal government.
With time to reflect, he tried to put things into perspective. Life seems to have settled into a normal pace. Mayor Merritt still plays with William after church, but I haven’t observed any of the behaviors Ellie worries about, the possessive gestures she sees. He examined the line’s progress. Well, I just need to get through this day. When I return home, I’ll have to begin preparing our fields. He took another step forward.
Some thirty minutes passed before Nathaniel made it through the gates. He found himself in another serpentine line leading into the arena. Once inside, the banners for various future candidates hung from every rafter, appeared as if plastered to every wall, or were draped from temporary vendor stalls. Faithful supporters of the new Constitution Amendments walked the halls wearing embroidered buttons and clothing declaring their reasons for ratification. In Nathaniel’s opinion, most failed to convey a message, few revealed artistic talent, and some seemed silly, at best. Why not say, “It’s the right thing to do”?
Nathaniel moseyed through the arena, which had as its initial purpose the continued auction of slaves and livestock. With the peculiar institution removed, other amusements—like the rodeo and equestrian jumping competitions, with side gambling—filled the void. As he wandered, he watched the stagehands scramble to complete the platform decorations and dignitary seating arrangements.
After meandering for fifteen minutes, he managed to find the Knox County Delegation’s assigned area. Talking to himself, Nathaniel said, “This is where the delegates from Marvin’s county will sit.” The odor of swine filled the coliseum. Nathaniel tapped his boot on the temporary, wood-planked floor. “They must have conducted an auction around here, or maybe they—”
“Who’s the loony, skinny fugitive-from-reason talking to this time?”
Nathaniel’s smile erupted causing wrinkles to surface from his cheeks to his forehead. He swung around so fast he almost knocked the crutches out from under the arms of a grinning man with the familiar voice that Nathaniel had hoped to hear.
“Whoa there, Pastor Graham. You could kill a body with that much enthusiasm.”
Nathaniel did not care if anyone would think his next reaction inappropriate. He embraced his old friend, Mr. Marvin Jenkins. “You are a sight for these sore, aging eyes.”
Marvin struggled to retain his balance, adjusting to Nathaniel’s wrestling hold on his upper arms. His eyes shifted from one side of Nathaniel’s head to the other. “You’re getting a little gray about the temples, I see.”
“You’re one to talk. Looks like you’ve found the secret to putting on a few pounds.”
Marvin rubbed his overlapping roll of cold weather insulation. “I had to make up for my missing limb, don’t you know. But Margret, she sure can cook. She loves to bake, too.”
They continued to tease each other about their respective maturing attributes and recalled memories of their college days and war years as delegates from every county began to fill the grand hall. With affection, they remembered lost friends and family members.
While men found their seats, a small disagreement blew up between a long-time delegate to the State Assembly and a Freedman newcomer. Much to the elder statesman’s surprise, he had taken the wrong seat and offered a less than sincere apology. Once settled, both Marvin and Nathaniel recognized their reunion would be cut short before it got started, without discussing any weighty current matters.
As a rotund man in a gray, wool suit shoved past, Nathaniel said, “I guess we’d better get ready for this day.”
“Ah, this circus. Give your one vote for your district and then put on a funny hat.” Marvin asked, “What are you doing for dinner tonight?”
“I planned to take the late afternoon, southbound train so I could be home tonight. Why?”
The assembly leader pounded the gavel, signaling the five-minute warning. Marvin grabbed Nathaniel’s arm and shouted above the rising thousand voices, which thus far ignored the master of ceremonies. “Think about joining Margret and me at our hotel for dinner. I have an important proposition I want to discuss with you.”
“Margret’s here?” Nathaniel searched the throng of delegates.
“No, she’s shopping in downtown, Nashville. This stuff bores her to tears. She’d rather have a tooth extracted. But I know she’d be delighted to see you.”
Nathaniel considered his dilemma. He had promised Eleanor he’d return that evening. But he did want to hear Marvin’s proposal. He offered the best he could for the immediate: “I’ll let you know during our break around noon.”
Marvin nodded. He adjusted his crutches and moved into the row to find his seat.
Nathaniel turned away to relocate his area. I hope he doesn’t ask me for money.
After the Constitutional Convention decided to send the issue to the people for their vote, Nathaniel took a cab back to the Nashville train station. He hoped his wire to Eleanor would reach her within the hour. Regardless, he considered it far more important for her to understand his reasons for meeting with Marvin and Margret for dinner. He restated his promise to catch the first southbound train to Franklin and he expected to reach home before the mid-day meal.
Then he hired another cab to take him to Marvin’s hotel. When Nathaniel entered Nashville’s newest lodge, he concluded that it revealed the elegance and grandeur of the famous Willard Hotel he’d enjoyed while he stayed in Washington, D.C. He mused, “A body could get used to a life style like this.” He caught his reflection in a full-length, ornate mirror and self-corrected. “But you’re a simple man of simple means, and you live by simple, yet sound, ways.”
The front desk commanded the left side of the main floor. Nathaniel heard the clerk ask, “May I help you, sir?”
Nathaniel approached. I wonder if he heard me talking to myself. “Yes, sir, I’m supposed to meet a friend. He’s staying here.”
“May I have his name?” the clerk asked.
“Mr. Marvin Jenkins.”
The clerk rifled through his registry book. Nathaniel noticed the hotel’s crest embroidered on the clerk’s black blazer. The left sleeve rolled and pinned revealed the younger man’s personal loss. His eyes glanced upward from the page. “Chickamauga.”
“I wondered.”
The clerk said, “I couldn’t help but notice your limp and the burn scar on the back of your neck.”
Nathaniel pointed at his neck. “Second Manassas.” Then he motioned down in the direction of his right knee. “And Gettysburg.”
The clerk nodded. The military brotherhood seemed to represent an eternal bond among otherwise perfect strangers. The clean-shaven clerk said, “Mr. Jenkins is registered. He is in suite 522. Our two elevators are located past the staircase where you came in, and to the left.”
Nathaniel thanked the clerk and strolled to the lifts, grateful that he did not have to climb five flights of stairs.
That evening, Marvin, Marvin’s wife, Margret, and Nathaniel enjoyed a lavish meal with rather expressive conversation recalling some of the less than impressive speeches presented at the State Assembly.
Nathaniel took a sip of his after-dinner coffee. “It’s sad in a way.”
Margret tilted her head, causing her auburn hair to fall away from her shoulder. “How so, cousin?”
“Oh, speaker after speaker seemed to be mimicking how President Lincoln delivered his simple, yet so profound orations. However, everything offered sounded braggadocios and shallow.”
“How would you know what Lincoln sounded like?” Margret asked. “You never heard him speak.”
“True, but I’ve read most of of his speeches, and I think I have a very good sense of his tempo, measure, and artful use of the English language. Above all, he always spoke with substance, balanced with humility. His Gettysburg Address might be the best example, for he made his plea for national reconciliation in less than three hundred words. He seemed to master the biblical instruction to avoid all idle chatter, and that is a rare quality, indeed.”
“That’s a discipline I should employee,” Marvin said.
“You could say that again,” Margret said, whimsically.
All three laughed as Marvin gave a squinted glare at his wife.
As the lightheartedness subsided, Nathaniel noticed Marvin engage Margret. He winked. She nodded. Marvin folded his hands and leaned forward to peer around the flickering candlelit centerpiece. He cleared his throat. “Well, I didn’t invite you to join us for dinner just to discuss politics, the war, departed friends, and the good-old days.”
Nathaniel swallowed a lump that almost choked him. He’s your friend; hear him out. Nathaniel reiterated Marvin’s statement from before the assembly. “You said you had a proposition for me.”
“That’s correct. But before I get to that, Margret has something she wants to tell you.”
Nathaniel shifted his attention to his cousin. She has that glow I’ve seen before. I could guess what she’s about to say. Then he chided himself. But, you are a gentleman, and a gentleman never asks such things of a lady. He waits.
“You’re going to be an uncle,” Margret said, grinning from ear-to-ear.
“Congratulations,” Nathaniel said while offering a warm, confirming smile. He swiveled his head to Marvin then to Margret. “Congratulations to you both.” He asked Margret, “When?”
“Early fall.” She reached for Marvin’s hand. “We’re so excited.”
Nathaniel pursed his lips. Reflecting on his new-found appreciation for the feasts of Israel, he thought, Maybe he’ll be a Feast of Tabernacles baby. “Good. How are you feeling?”
“So far, so good,” Margret said. “I get a little sick in the mornings, but that’s normal…at least I’m told it is.”
“This is wonderful news.” Nathaniel cocked his head in Marvin’s direction. “You old dog. I’m surprised you had it in you.”
Marvin smirked and gave the tabletop a slight slap with his right hand. “You’d be surprised.”
Nathaniel threw up his hands. “Spare me.” He glanced at Margret. “How’s your sister?”
“Louise and Michael are still trying, but she hasn’t been able to carry a child since the one she lost five winters ago.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.”
Margret relaxed and leaned her cheek on the palm of her right hand. “Well, I think we can all agree—the Lord has a purpose for everything under heaven.”
Surprised by her answer, Nathaniel asked, “I think I understand, but what do you mean, and how does it relate to your sister and brother-in-law?”
“Do you remember when I wrote you a letter about how we found those two young boys?” Marvin interjected.
Nathaniel nodded.
“And when we lived in Petersburg, a Negro sergeant who led a Yankee patrol turned out to be their pa?”
“Yeah, I thought it was another sign and wonder from God—reuniting lost family members,” Nathaniel said.
Margret twirled a lock of her hair. “Well, Louise thought so, too. She persuaded Michael that so long as God has withheld children from them, they should use their talents and resources to help other families separated by the war find each other, if possible.”
Nathaniel felt a rush of emotion. He leaned back in his chair and sighed.
Marvin studied Nathaniel. “What are you thinking, Nate. Remember, I’m your best friend. No other man knows you as I do.”
Nathaniel took a deep breath. “I can’t think of a better act of kindness.” A myriad of thoughts raced through his mind. He settled on an explanation. “We sailed our doomed ship-of-state upon a sea of blood and built our former fortunes on the corpses of those who wanted to live free. But the war came, and we committed fratricide on a scale never seen before in human history. We are the miserable ones, the wretched survivors of the hell we created for ourselves and uncountable others. I believe we all must do something to make things right. What you just told me about Louise and Michael, well, I can’t think of a more admirable venture. I wish I had thought of it.”
“You never were too bright, Nate, and much too serious,” Marvin jibed.
Both Margret and Marvin laughed.
Maybe he’s right. Nathaniel forced a chuckle. “Okay, okay, what’s this proposition you want to present?”
“If anyone knows how to kill a joke and ruin a party, it’s you, my friend.” Marvin took a sip of his water as Nathaniel gulped his coffee. “All right then, here goes. I know the general economic condition that we all face. Heck, that seemed to be the common theme at today’s assembly: what can we do to stimulate growth?”
Marvin seemed to gather strength. “God has blessed our lives more than we could have ever dreamed or imagined. Because He has blessed us, we want to be a blessing to you and your family—after all, He used you to help me make a sound, eternal decision. Therefore, I…we…want to give you some breeding livestock: cattle, hogs, goats, you name it, whatever you need. And, like I said earlier, I know you, Nate. I’m confident you can’t have considerable yield from your farm when you have a poverty-stricken congregation that needs tending. You sir, are the type of man who will go without eating for days, to make sure your wife and child have enough. So we will not take no for an answer.”
Nathaniel sat like a wooden totem pole. He blinked. He stared, stunned.
“Nate, say something.” Marvin waved his hand, causing the candle flame to dance.
“I told you,” Margret said. “I feared it would be too much for him to take in all at once.”
Nathaniel blinked again and said, “No, I’m fine.” He held up his right hand as if swearing to the truth. “I was listening.” He examined the concern on Margret’s face, and the inquisitiveness on Marvin’s. He said, “It’s a most generous offer, and I do appreciate it more than you know.”
Marvin cocked his head toward Margret and out of the corner of his mouth said, “Here it comes.”
“No, you don’t understand. I want to accept your offer, but I must insist on presenting you a counteroffer.”
Marvin tilted his head like a dog. “I’m confused.”
“You are my good friend. I trust God has put this gift idea on your heart and in your mind, and,” he shifted to Margret, “I assume you are both in complete agreement.”
Margret nodded.
“Then, trust me when I say, I need to obey God in what I’m convinced He has made clear to me regarding His revealed will.”
Marvin leaned back in his chair. A suspicious expression surfaced. “You’re not going to let us provide you with a blessing, are you?”
“Hear me out.”
“Do I have a choice?”
“No.” Nathaniel smiled attempting to relieve the tension he knew he had created. “When David was king over Israel…”
“Oh, come on, Nate.”
Margret grabbed her husband’s hand and with a tone of a mother correcting her child’s misbehavior, she said, “Marvin, please.”
Marvin rolled his eyes and then turned his head toward his pleading bride. He nodded his consent.
Recognizing Margret’s rescue, Nathaniel took advantage of his opportunity. “As I was saying, as king he committed a sin, and the entire nation suffered for what he did.”
“What did he do?” Margret asked.
“Suffice it to say, he disobeyed God. He sought a resolution and he received instructions to offer a sacrifice at a particular place, a threshing floor.”
“You’re not going to sacrifice these animals, are you?” Marvin asked.
“No, but there is a good chance we will consume some, or sell others. Regardless, we will benefit from having them, and I want to follow the principle David demonstrated.”
“Are you talking about that time one of David’s subjects wanted to give him his threshing floor and three bulls to sacrifice after he ordered a census, which God did not ask him to do.” Margret asked.
“That’s correct. In a word, David acted out of presumption. So, when he arrived at the threshing floor, the owner of the property offered to give David his place and his bulls for the sacrifice, since David didn’t have any with him. David made his position clear—he could not, he would not present an offering to the Lord that cost him nothing. Please understand; I must obey His revealed will. I need to pay for what I can afford.”
Silence governed the table’s atmosphere for what seemed an hour. But after about one minute, Marvin said, “Okay. I understand. I think I have a solution for all of us.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’ll sell you my animals at a,” he winked at Margret, “let’s call it a quantity discount.”
“I’m not buying volume items like yarn or soap.”
“It all depends on the product my friend.” Marvin grinned at Nathaniel. “It all depends on the product.”
Margret shot her gaze at her cousin as if searching for his approval and acceptance.
Nathaniel reached for his water glass, picked it up and held it up as if he would offer a toast. Then he extended it toward his friend and cousin. He nodded and commanded with his eyes for them to follow his lead. Marvin grabbed his water glass and held it up; Margret did likewise. The three hotel dinner guests clinked glasses and Nathaniel said, “Deal.”
“Ellie, I’m home,” Nathaniel shouted as he ascended the few steps to their farmhouse. He noticed the barn door propped open with their rusting shovel. That’s odd. He flung the front door open and expected a warm, welcoming greeting. “I have some wonderful news.”
No one occupied the house, not even Bailey.
He examined the dwelling. It appeared that she had been gone for quite a while. She probably went into town to pick up provisions. His eye caught sight of a letter resting in partial folds on the table. He retrieved it. “It’s addressed to Eleanor. I don’t see a postmark—maybe a rush hand delivery.”
After reading a few lines, his jaw dropped. Then, as if the paper weighed more than he could carry, he released his grip and, like a falling leaf, it drifted to the floor. He groaned, “Ellie.”
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