Assassin by Anna Myers

Author:Anna Myers
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 2005-09-27T04:00:00+00:00

11

Arabella

HER STORY

We all hoped that the war would be over before 1864 came to an end, but it was not. Each day Mr. Lincoln looked older, as if he too led the hard life his soldiers endured. The lines in his already craggy face seemed to deepen each day, and the sadness in his eyes was too much sometimes for me to see. I would turn my head from him and blink back tears. I wrote to Steven about him. “I worry that his heart may just explode with sorrow, his own and his country’s. I wonder how long a man can live with such agony.”

No one was barred from his door, and the line of people each day was long. Once on my way upstairs to the sewing room, I noticed a little girl waiting to see the president. I worked for several hours and came back down the stairs just as it was her turn to speak to Mr. Lincoln. “We don’t usually have children here,” said the secretary who sat at the door. “Why would a child need to see Mr. Lincoln?” The door was open, and from inside the room Mr. Lincoln called, “No, let the little maid speak to me.”

I was very interested in what the girl could have to say to the president. She did not hesitate. “Mr. Lincoln,” she said, “they are going to shoot my brother for falling asleep at his post. My mama and papa are gone now to the army post to say good-bye to him, but I came here. Please don’t let my brother be killed. He is the only brother I have, sir, and my mama and papa will never stop crying if he dies.”

Tears were rolling down the little girl’s face, and she dropped to her knees, her hands folded beneath her chin as in prayer. I saw tears in the president’s eyes too. He stood, went to the child, and put out his hand. “Get up, child,” he said. “Your brother will live.” She took his hand and kissed it.

He sat back down then and wrote a note and handed it to a waiting soldier. “Go with this man,” he said to the child. “He will make sure your brother is pardoned. God knows I wish I could spare every mother and father the heartbreak of losing their boys.”

The thought crossed my mind that I could go to Mr. Lincoln and ask him to pardon my father, but then I realized the president would want Father to promise not to go back into battle against Union soldiers. I knew my father would never make such a promise. I remembered the letter he had written to me.

“Dear Daughter,” he wrote. “I am being allowed to write to you because you live in the North. I never thought I would be glad for that fact. I am ashamed that I did not come to retrieve you from your grandmother’s house long ago. I was weak and let myself turn to drink to ease the pain of losing your mother.

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