Homeland by Barbara Hambly Page B

in his arms at the depot I didn’t know what to think myself. It was the first time that I thought that I might not
want
to leave Greeneville—only I knew I really
did
. (You’re absolutely right about not being able to think clearly.)
    “…. the time that God has taken pains to interpose between you.” I remember when I was a little girl, Mammy used to tell me: “In front of every door that it’s best you don’t walk through, God has placed an angel with a flaming sword.” Needless to say, I did
not
appreciate this piece of advice! But hearing it again, now, like Elizabeth Bennet re-reading Mr. Darcy’s letter several times, I see what it actually says. Thank you.
    And of course I don’t think you’re being “coarse” for tellingme not to let Justin seduce me if he gets the chance. I have never understood why “nice” ladies don’t talk about how babies get born. I helped Cook with the accounts in the kitchen since I was a little girl. What I
didn’t
learn listening to her and Mammy Iris, when they forgot I was there, talking about Pa and the housemaids, could be written on the back of a visiting-card. It always sounded sort of silly to me. Mammy slapped me for asking about it, but Payne and I used to hide and watch when Den would put one of Pa’s stallions to the mares. Obviously, God invented this means of producing colts. It can’t be
that
different for human beings.
    And I will say, that when Justin took me in his arms in the cave, suddenly I
did
understand why girls let themselves be seduced. (And suddenly a lot of novels make a lot more sense.)
S ATURDAY , M AY 31
    The night before Julia and I left Greeneville, I asked Mrs. Johnson about Patsy Poole. She told me that the night of the storm, when Justin brought Patsy back to the cabin, it was to find that Emory had gotten out of the cabin and into the woods. It was looking for him, that delayed Justin taking his wife down the mountain, until the road washed out.
    While the battle was going on at Shiloh, I thought about Justin a lot. If he were killed, I’m not even sure who his commander would tell. I got a letter—with a beautiful little drawing—from Mr. Cameron in Virginia. He was drafted, as little and as sick as he is. The draft was suspended in Tennessee because
so
many men were sneaking across the border, that there was no one to raise crops, but the other States made such a fuss they may put it back.
    The blockade has everyone grumpy and on edge, because it’s very hard to get coffee or tea or wine or PAPER! This is the last of the precious, precious cache from Aunt Sally’s first husband’s desk. You
must
find, and read,
Northanger Abbey
, whose heroine keeps thinkingshe is in a book by Mrs. Radcliffe instead of by Miss Austen. If that does not make you laugh, nothing will.
E VENING
    Every morning and every night, dearest Cora, I pray for you when your baby comes. I wish I could pull Peggie’s hair, too, or at least tie a gag in her mouth. I promise you, everything Dolly and the midwife told me about childbearing sounded awful, but
not something that you couldn’t get through
. (I don’t know why I’m writing this: by the time you get this letter, your Little-Miss-Fidgets will have been born and probably be heaps prettier than Tommy. Aunt Sally says he looks like a jack hare).
    Even though Aunt Sally’s right and Tommy does look like a hare, I’m making a chalk portrait of him and Julia. I wish I could be there, to make a portrait of your child. One day I will.
    Love, Susanna
Susanna
    Ashford, Vicksburg, Mississippi
To
Cora Poole, Deer Isle, Maine
c/o Eliza Johnson, Elizabethton, Tennessee
W EDNESDAY , J UNE 18, 1862
J ULIA’S B IRTHDAY
    Dear Cora,
    Julia turned twenty-one today. I gave her a portrait of herself and Tommy, and reaped unexpected dividends in the form of three (!!!)commissions to do portraits of other people’s children. And, Aunt Sally’s best friend Mrs. Bell (her dear departed was some relation to one of Aunt