Page 36 of Junie

Chapter Thirty-Six

“The Glorious Cause has begun in earnest!”

Mr. Taylor slaps the torn letter in his hand onto the dining table with a smile, shaking the teacups and serving dishes.

“Our newborn country is now in a fight for our way of life against the Yankees. It seems from this letter here from Uncle Taylor in Montgomery that President Davis has seen fit to lead us into war.”

It has been three weeks since Junie and Caleb set their escape plan, three weeks of monotonous servitude punctuated by their nightly trysts. From her place behind Mrs. McQueen, Junie casts a look over her shoulder at Caleb, who is refilling Mr. Taylor’s tea. His free hand trembles at his side.

War was not part of the plan.

“My goodness, what does this mean?” Mrs. McQueen says, pulling her cup to her lips. The mug reeks of brandy.

“Well, ma’am,” Mr. Taylor says, chuckling as he sits down in his seat. “It means I intend to fulfill my God-given duties as a Southern gentleman and gallop to the closest battle I can find with my best horses in tow, that’s what. I’m keen to defend the honor of the Confederacy with my life, as every man with a drop of dignity ought to. I’ll depart tomorrow to enlist and meet my regiment in Montgomery.”

Violet’s eyes perk up from her plate.

“You’re leaving tomorrow?”

“Yes, I must, my dear,” he says, taking her hand in his. Violet’s shoulder tenses. “This letter here says the first regiment leaves tomorrow, and I intend to be part of it. Now, I’m certain you’ll miss me greatly, but it is my duty, and I do not intend to hear a word of you stopping me. Besides, I’m certain this misunderstanding will be sorted in a few weeks’ time, as soon as those lily-livered Yanks get a taste of Southern fists and guns.”

“Dear, you know I would hate to be in the way of you completing your duties.” Violet swirls her tea with a spoon.

“Good, then. Caleb, start packing my things and prepare the horses. You and I will leave for Montgomery at dawn.”

“You want me to come with you then, sir?” Caleb asks. “And return to the house once you’ve enlisted?”

His hands are in his pockets, but his arms still tremble.

“You think I’d leave an able-bodied Negro here?” Mr. Taylor chuckles. “No, boy, you’re not returning nowhere. I intend to volunteer you for the army. Should be the greatest honor of your existence, I’d think, to protect your way of life from those interloping Yanks.”

Junie catches Violet’s stare in her periphery but ignores it. Her eyes try to find Caleb’s, but his head is slumped forward, focused down at his shoes.

“Caleb, on second thought, you ought to go now to see about the horses,” Mr. Taylor says, standing up from the table. “I’m sure they’ll need a good deal of preparation. Take the two best we’ve got, and come round to my chambers to collect my things once they are prepared.”

“Yes, sir,” Caleb says, curling his hands into fists behind his back. He pushes the back door open and lets it slam behind him.

“Now, ladies,” Mr. Taylor says, tossing his cloth napkin on his plate. “I intend to be in the library until after dinner tending to my affairs, and I do not want to be disturbed. Tell that cook I’d like a large dinner prepared for my going-away.”

Junie prays Violet and Mrs. McQueen will follow him out, giving her a moment to chase after Caleb, but they linger in silence over their lukewarm cups of tea and cold eggs. By the time they leave the room, the clock has nearly chimed eleven.

Junie stares around the empty room, limbs shaking, as the full force of Mr. Taylor’s declaration hits her.

He’s taking Caleb.

Mr. Taylor is taking Caleb to war.

Her mind takes her back to the river that December, when she fought the cold current only to end up on the bottom, staring into the indifferent darkness.

It doesn’t matter how hard she tries, or how well she plans. The darkness will always take what she loves. The darkness will always win.

Junie can’t cry here, not now. The room is a mess of dishes and half-eaten food. There’s no one left to help her, so cleaning will take at least an hour.

She balances the soiled dishes of half-eaten ham in her arms. Her arm shakes, and the top two plates careen to the floor with a crash. She gasps, her eyes widening. The house is silent; they didn’t notice. She walks to the closet to fetch the broom, sweeping up the broken porcelain and meat. Her eyes narrow as she spots a folded paper underneath the dining table.

It’s Mr. Taylor’s letter.

She crouches down, crawling to retrieve it. She unfolds it and holds it next to the golden candelabra in the center of the table.

Bellereine

Lowndes County, AL

Dear Mr. Beauregard Taylor III,

I write to you with the news we have all been waiting for with bated breath and mettled hearts. Our dear new nation, the Confederate States of America, is now at war with the interloping North who dare to deprive us our freedoms and way of life. My dear nephew, I always dreamed you would know the honor of battle, the glory of killing those who threaten the dignity of our people, and now you will. Come to Montgomery, our blessed capital, at once. My regiment will march by sunset on the first of May, and I intend to have you by my side as my lieutenant.

Proudly,

Captain Henry Taylor

The words are meaningless to Junie. What difference would the North possibly make? She drops the letter on the table and goes back to sweeping when she freezes.

The letter told Mr. Taylor to arrive in Montgomery by the first of May. If he’s leaving in haste to arrive before the regiment departs, the first of May is tomorrow. This means today is the last day of April.

The last day of the month. The day the boat travels up the river.

Junie’s pulse quickens. She hides her tray of dishes off the back porch stairs, then sets off running for the stables.

If they can leave before midnight, they can make it on the boat together.

—

When she gets to the barn, she finds Granddaddy grooming Mr. Taylor’s chestnut mare.

“Granddaddy,” Junie asks, her breath catching in her throat. “You know where Caleb went?”

“Think he’s gone back to the big house,” he says. “Gotta pack for Mr. Taylor.”

“So he told you, then, about the war?”

“Mhmm. Figured it would happen sooner or later, the way the white folks have been carrying on.”

“Did you know Taylor means to take Caleb with him?”

Granddaddy pauses, putting the brush down.

“He ain’t tell me that part.”

“Well, that’s why I got to find him. I got to talk to him and—”

“Grandbaby,” Granddaddy interrupts. “You can’t stop this. I know you care for him, but you can’t—”

“I love him, Granddaddy. I love him the way you love Muh or Auntie loved Uncle George. I won’t lose him. I won’t lose nobody else I love, not like I lost Momma, or Daddy, or Minnie, or Bess. I won’t lose nobody—”

Granddaddy pulls Junie into his arms as her sobs start. She shakes against him, tears soaking into his familiar jacket as he holds her.

“It’s not fair, Granddaddy, it’s not fair,” she cries.

“It ain’t, Baby,” Granddaddy says. “No, it ain’t.”

He pulls back from her, his wrinkle-rimmed eyes meeting hers.

“Nothing about this life is fair, Baby. There ain’t hardly nothing we got control over. But one thing they can’t take from you is your words.” He takes off her bonnet, using the fabric to wipe her tears again before rubbing his hand over her hair. “You’ve always had such pretty hair, reminds me of your Muh’s when I first met her. Your momma’s, too, when she was young.”

Junie sniffles. “Why’d she cut it, then?”

“Just somethin’ that happens when you get older,” Granddaddy says, voice wavering. “It don’t matter, anyway, hair and all that on the outside. What matters is that you love somebody, Baby. Tell that boy what you want to say, use those words you know so beautifully. Tell him what’s in your mind and your heart, even if it’s something old Granddaddy wouldn’t like.”

Junie laughs, sniffing.

“I love you, Granddaddy,” Junie says. “I know I ain’t said it enough but—”

“I know, Baby, I know. Granddaddy loves you, too. Now go on and find him.”