The Gettysburg Zone Part 10

Karen decided that she didn't like northerners anymore than they liked her. They had preconceived notions about southerners, slaves and the whole southern way of life. They believed that slavery was wrong and they would spill any amount of blood to put an end to it. But they didn't want to associate with blacks under any circumstances. A Yankee woman was positively revolted by the thought of a black mammy touching her child. Never mind that many a white child was wet nirsed by a mammy because the child's mother either couldn't or wouldn't. Blacks worked hard and received little in return. Once the North pulled the plug on slavery, they had absolutely no security. They had to feed, clothe and doctor themselves where the masters had done it before. No, she didn't agree with slavery. She wasn't that kind of southerner. She just thought that the North should've had a better after plan than it did. But living in 1863, what made her most uncomfortable was the looks she got when she went to town with George. The very people who wanted to set him free, looked at him like he was some kind of animal. And they looked at her like she had a bad case of "jungle fever"!
"My mother always told me to consider the source," George said as he guided the buckboard over the rutted road.
The beginning of October was chilly and she pulled her shawl around her tighter. "And that means that America has always been full of a collective bunch of assholes?"
George laughed at her language. He remembered too well the overheard conversation that had so infuriated her. He was loading the supplies in to the wagon as she was coming of the store. Two women, probably mother and daughter had been watchin Karen and him for a long time. The older woman didn't care who heard her when she said, "and I heard rebel women keep a whole stable of young, ebony bucks just to pleasure them. I guess rebel men are a bit dandified so the women go elsewhere. I hear the blacker the buck, the bigger his part." George saw Karen rub her forehead for an instant and then go on like she hadn't heard a thing. But he could tell she was seething when she accepted his help getting into the wagon.
"People always fear what they don't understand. Hasn't changed since time began." He slapped the reins for speed when the road evened out. "She's probably never been up close and personal with someone of the darker persuasion," he joked.
"You should've shown her."
George straightened in his seat with all the mock seriousness he could muster. "Then she might've wanted to borrow me. Karen, no offense. You're a beautiful woman, but I don't take cream in my coffee. You white ladies just don't have enough booty for me." He'd made her laugh and it made him feel good.
"If I've got to be pregnant and stuck in this godforsaken century, at least I'm with the right people. The rest of these damned Yankees can fuck off!" she said. As if to emphasize her point, she raised a one finger salute in the general direction of Gettysburg proper. She looked at his wide eyes. "What? I'm sure you've heard me say worse when I get mad. If not, you will."
"Like the word pregnant?"
"Paul didn't tell you? I guess he's still a little stunned. This poor kid will miss out on Disney and Sesame Street, but I think I can pull it off." She saw the house just over the ridge.
"Well, I'll draw a Mickey Mouse pattern and Traci can sew one for the kid."
"That would be copyright infringement," she reminded him.
He winked at her. "It will be for poor Walt."



The Gettysburg Address
Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedication to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting lace for those who here gave their lives that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate-we can not consecrate-we can not hallow-this round. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us-that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain-that this nation under God, shall have a new birth of freedom-and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

Abraham Lincoln
November 19, 1863.


Every kid in America learned that in elementary American history. It was like the "Pledge of Allegiance."It was memorized out of necessity and promptly forgotten just as quickly. But very few people in the twentieth century had any idea of the magnitude of those words hastily scrawled on scrap paper by a President who didn't know what he was going to say. Lincoln agonized over the War Between the States.
He had deep regrets over the whole brother against brother picture. And he really didn't care about the slavery issue. He was obsessed with preserving the Union at any cost. And the cost had been tremendous.
When he came to Gettysburg, he was humbled by the terrible loss of life and it showed in the last minute speaach written for the residents of the little town of Gettysburg. Little did Lincoln know that that speech forever quoted and repeated through the decades as one of the greatest orations in American History.
Angus was adamant that Karen should accept her confinement like all women did. He should've known better. She defied convention, shunned tradition and practically dared anyone to call her on it. But Angus did understand the reasoning behind her urge to go out in public. She was tall and her condition wasn't too evident. And it was the President of the United States! Angus was proud that the little blond rebel wouldbe so loyal to the Union. And to think, he had first thought she was a spy! So he and George prepared the wagon for all of them to go to the dedication of the Soldiers Cemetery.
'





Karen felt like a marionette but somebody had dropped the strings' She had no energy. Traci felt the same way, so she couldn't blame it on the pregnancy. She was just glad to crawl into bed. Paul tended the fire in the fireplace. They'd seen Lincoln the previous week and as she watched him, he kind of reminded her of old Honest Abe. Since they'd been there, he'd grown a beard and a moustache. Lincoln didn't have the latter. She wished Paul didn't have the beard. It gave her a permanent case of brush burn! But it was the style so she put up with it. She felt his arm around her waist as she laid on her right side. He playfully nibbled her shoulder. Lately she'd been a bit inattentive to him in the bedroom but she had no control over that. She was always so tired and, even a little over four months, she was bigger than she'd figured on. Sex was awkward and, at times, downright uncomfortable.
She sighed at his persistence. "Paul, I'm not in the mood," she said softly.
"You never are," he replied good naturedly.
"Shut up!"
He laughed and rubbed her stomach. "Damn! You got a gerbil in there running on one of those wheels?" His laughter was infectuous. "I don't know what's in there but it won't let me rest. Are you part
kangaroo?"
He rubbed his beared chin thoughtfully. "Stallion maybe but...nope...no kangaroo."
"In your dreams." She settled into the curve of his body.
He started nibbling on her ear. "And just who would Miss Virgin 1994 have to compare me to?"
His breath was hot and moist against her throat. "You're torturing both of us. And I have sneaked an occassional peak at 'Playgirl'. So there!"
More laughter. "What they say is true. Preacher's kids are hell on wheels. I would never torture you. Let me make you feel good."
"It's uncomfortable, Paul. I mean it. It's like there's a basketball between us.' Her breath caught and her voice cracked as his hand stroked her body gently. "Paul, this is not ...open...for discussion!"
"You just relax. You do nothing. Not before and not after."
She tried to roll over but he kept his lips firmly against her throat. "I told you...it's fifty fifty...oh, God! I can't...reciprocate. And I'm not gonna sit here and watch you do your five shuffle knuckle or whatever you called it!"
He caught the corner of her mouth with his lips and she turned her head to receive his kiss. "With the gerbil, I'd say you've got about seventy five percent on your shoulders right now. I'm not holdin' up my end. And you won't have to watch me do anything. I don't need the sensation if I'm not with you. Now...please...let me make you feel good, Karen. Don't move."
She stayed in the curve of his body while his hands manipulated her in such a way that even the baby inside of her was stunned with wonder. It was still for a very short while. The tension that had been building inside of her over everything in general melted away. There was no tidal wave of sensation like the ones that had made her cry out like before. It made her whimper like a hungry puppy and there was a kaleidoscope of color behind her closed eyes. When it was over she felt so incredibly guilty that she didn't want to face him. But he gently forced her to meet his eyes. He was flushed and breathless. "I-I feel so..."
"Good? Satisfied? Then I've done my job. Now go to sleep."
"But you..." She stopped at the sight of his lopsided grin. "What?"
"Lady, you just gave me a lap dance. I think we can definitely work around the basketball gerbil."
The room was cold when Paul woke up. The fire had died out shortly before dawn. The room had enough chill to frost one's breath. He put a log on the embers and stirred it to flame. Within no time the chill was beginning to leave the room. Paul took a look at his sleeping wife and noticed she was burning up! Her skin was hot and dry to the touch. Not a bead of sweat traversed her forehead. She shivered under the heavy quilt. She seemed fine last night. Suddenly, she was sick. The knock at the door was Robin. Apparently Traci had the same thing. She was hot and cold at the same time. But Traci was up and moving. Karen was concsious but listless and she coughed a lot.. Mike diagnosed them immediately: pneumonia. Pneumonia was dangerous in any century. Somestrains didn't immediately respond to the drugs of the twentienth century. Nut in the nineteenth century there was no penicillin. No tetracycllin. No antibiotics so speak. Colds were cured by herbal remedies much like she had said they put on that sponge. Herbal remedies contained everything from catnip to sassafrass. There was mint, burdock, Saint John's Wort and other herbs that would be used for many twentieth century ills...both mental and physical. Mike was a firm believer in vitamins. They were eating the most organic food in the world and that was good. But Karen and Traci needed concentrated doeses of vitamin C and fluids. That meant that they were going to have to be given things that most people in those days didn't get. Robin and Mike ground things like tomatoes that Angus had canned and sweet potatoes ...things readily available but not in liquid form. He looked steadily at Robin as she was crushing the vegetables and kind of realized that she was everything to him that Paul had found in Karen. And he knew enough about the I.U.D to know how to remove it. They'd have their happily ever after, too. He planned to ask her to marry him over the Christmas holidays. They just had to get Traci and Karen well.
Paul bathed his wife's forehead with a cool cloth. Her eyes were glassy and had a far way look. Her chest felt tight and sometimes it hurt to beathe. She saw the worry furrow Paul's forehead. She felt like hell but she wanted to lighten the moment. "Lincoln's revenge. See what I get for wanting to see the President? Damned republicans!" she grumbled. It didn't seem to catch with him. She stroked his face. "Hey! You never watched 'The Beverly Hillbillies'?"
"That corny old sixties show? Yeah. Why?"
"Granny always believed the south would rise again." She saw by the look in his eyes that he thought she was getting delirious from the fever. "Here is this Yankee one horse town, I am the south. Don't you ever forget that."
"I'm scared, Karen. The fever is so high and I don't know what to do! Mike and Robin are makin' some kinda juice for the vitamin C. I don't wanna lose my family!" He started to cry.
Paul had never once said that he loved her and that was always in the back of her mind. And she accepted that. But now he was crying about losing his family. He had to have some feeling in his heart. He just couldn't say those three little words. She saw that damned bottle of scotch on the wash stand and her stomach did a double flip. As a twentieth century woman she knew that it was forbidden to drink alcohol during pregnancy. But she knew that whiskey was long held to be a fever breaker. And, if she didn't break the fever, the baby was already at risk. "Give me the scotch."
"Karen, .no! The baby..."
"This fever can damage or kill the baby. The whiskey will make me sweat it out." She took the bottle and poured what she guessed to be a shot. The stuff was nasty and it burned like hell! She was trying to be logical. Given her height and weight...oh hell! What had it taken to get her all warm and fuzzy the night they got there? Angus didn't pour shots, he poured glasses! How many did she drink? She was risking her baby either way. Damned if she did and damned if she didn't! She poured the glass like Angus would. Thank God it was a small glass! She drank it. It took three tries but it was down. All she had to do was wait. "Paul, I need you to do something for me."
"What? Anything.!"
"The Bible Angus gave us on the day we were married is on the dresser. I don't care what you read, but pick something and read it."
"Karen, you know I don't...believe."
"As long as you are with me, I'm not gonna let you not believe. Anything but the twenty third psalm! I do want to go to heaven, but not tonight. Please, Paul."
"Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." He saw a smile that began in his wife's blue eyes and travelled to those beautiful lips.
" Hebrews, chapter eleven. Very good."
He shrugged. "Hey, some things just stick. I did do eight years at St. Francis Catholic School."
"Ahhh. So...you said preacher's kids are hell on wheels. Is it true what they say about Catholic girls?' She was beginning to feel the heat of the scotch.
"A gentleman doesn't tell," he said as he re-wet the cloth an placed it on her forehead. "I never dated a Catholic girl. Only had two girls before you. I was a confirmed bachelor until a certain preacher's daughter showed me the error of my ways."
"She'll remain nameless?" She knew her words were slurring slightly.
He didn't give a damn that she might be contagious. If he hadn't caught it before now, he rationalized that he probably wouldn't and he would find out that he was right. He kissed her full on the lips. "She knows who she is. Go to sleep, babe. I will read...for you."
She shook her head and the whole room spun like a crazy carnival ride. "No! You read for you. The baby and I have God. You need to find Him."
He watched her sleep. He breathing was kind of shallow. But she was in a deep drunken, feverish sleep. The morning sickness had been gone for better than a month. But she would be so sick in the morning. He picked up the leather bound Bible. Angus had inscribed their names and the date of their wedding in the front. He leafed through it absently. The page stoped at 1 Corinthians Chapter 13.

Though I speak with the tongues of man and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as something, or a tinkling cymbal And thought I have the gisft of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and have all knowledge, and though I have all faith and can remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And though I bestow all mygoods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing. Charity suffereth long, and is kind. Charity enviethnot, charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up. Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil. Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth. Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth, but, where there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease, whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away. For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect is come, that which is in part will be done away. When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thoughtas a child, but when I became a man I put away childish things. For now we see through a glass darkly; but then face to face; but then I shall know even as I also am known. And now abideth faith, hope and charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.

Charity. There were a bunch of definiions for that word, but he remembered one as he looked at his wife. Selfless love. She'd do anything for those she loved. Hell! She'd do it for strangers! And it hurt her so much when what she did wasn't enough. He pulled the chair closer to the bed. The chair screeched like fingernails on a blackboard and he winced. She never moved. She looked like an angel. Oh, yeah, he knew all about the devil inside of her. She was hot and sexy and never shy with him. God! She felt so good in his arms. And those legs! Oh, those legs! She moved like a stripper, but he would never insult her by telling her that. She gave with every fiber of her being even though she probably knew in her heart that he'd only been out for a good time. And he had been. But now he was in it for the long haul and he knew that even before she got pregnant. He carefully laid his hand on her belly. The gerbil was busy on it's wheel. He laid his head where his hand had been. Damn! He heard something that sounded like "whoosh-whoosh-whoosh". His baby was so strong and so real. "God. I don't pray but I can beg. Don't take the only family I have. Let me tell her I love her. Let me show my son or daughter a real father's love. Don't let me be to my wife and child what my father was to me and my mom." He brushed a tear away and looked up at her face. His heart swelled. Beads of sweat were gathering on her forehead. The fever was broken!
True to form she had a raging hangover in the morning. She didn't for the life of her understand why anyone would drink for fun! The morning after was terrible! Her chest was still tight but the baby was still very active within her. Traci was stronger and on her feet and she didn't seem to mind the vile concoction that Mike and Robin had put together. Karen knew that all of her strength was going toward the baby. There was very little reserve left to fight the cold. And the juice was something she didn't think even a health nut would drink, but she forced herself. It couldn't possibly hurt the baby. In fact, she thought it was like go-go juice to the gerbil. That thought brought laughter. The nickname had stuck. The baby was officially referred to as the gerbil. And that little gerbil seemed to have no end to an energy supply! She didn't argue when Mike told her she needed to rest for a week or two. She had about as much energy as a deflated balloon had air. Unlike when she'd nearly been raped, Paul was constantly checking on her and taking care of her. She slept a lot but she knew he was there.
"Hey, you," she said from the bed as he brought a glass of that witch's brew. She made a face when he handed it to her.
"Drink it." She made a comical display of holding her nose as she drained the glass. He loved that sense of humor! He gave her a glass of water to get the taste out of her mouth. " And now abideth faith, hope and charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity."
Her eyes widened and she smiled. "I'm impressed."
He crawled into bed with her and laid his head on her stomach. The gerbil never tired. He felt her hand stroke his forehead. "Your wish is my command...as long as you don't ask me to stop bringing you the juice."
"Shucks! Thought I could get away with something!"
"After the war, we need to get away. We could move to Virginia or Louisiana, if you want. Maybe I could be a farmer."
"I'm fine right here. As long as I have you and the gerbil, I don't need anything else...except..."
He looked up into her eyes. "Except?"
"Except I need my health back so I don't have to drink that damned juice!" She crossed her eyes at him and made him laugh. "And your reading needs to continue. It's a fact of life, darling. I want your body and your heart. But I want Jesus to have your soul and I'm not gonna let up. It's part of my genetic makeup, I think. Okay. I talk a bit off color. And I guess I like sex a little too much and not for the reason it's intended
"Hey! We did it for the right reasons. We've got the gerbil."
"I didn't do it for that reason. I did it because it felt good. The gerbil is just the result. Be serious for a second, will you?"
He kissed her belly and sat up. "How can I when you keep crossin' your eyes and clownin'?"
"I know where I want to go when I die but I don't want to go alone. I'm gonna turn you around if it kills me!"
"You've already got a good start, lady," he said before kissing her and holding her until she fell asleep.