The Gettysburg Zone Part 6

Reverend Hampton surveyed the Sunday morning congregation. Usually playing to a full house was an adrenaline rush. And when he felt that rush, it showed in his sermon. People listened. But this Sunday morning, his eyes kept returning to the one vacant seat...the one next to his wife, the one Karen had occupied without question or fail. He wanted to believe that she was somewhere against her will, but all of the evidence said that she had fallen willingly. When he started his sermon, he saw Marjorie's look of shock gradually turning to a livid anger that she could barely keep under control. He lost his place several times when he looked at that empty seat. His sermon was on disobedient children and the traps that await them when they don't keep Jesus Christ at the forefront of their everyday life. Satan was seductive. He offered the pleasures of drugs, alcohol and sex. He made those things so pleasurable that the price paid for them was forgotten. There was pregnancy and AIDS. The wages of sin truly was death, more so now than ever. And he was so passionate and graphic in making his point that he knew he'd reached everyone at some level.
Marjorie could barely contain her anger until the last parishioner had filed out of the church. When she could trust her voice, she unleashed it on her husband. "You just can't leave her alone, can you?" she asked as she picked up hymnals.
"Marjorie, that sermon was directed at youth in general."
The hymnals hit the pew with a thunderous clap that echoed through the church. "And just how many of those youth in general are missing? Doesn't it bother you that half the congregation now expects Karen to come home strung out or pregnant?"
"If that's the path she chooses to follow..."
She wanted to hit him along side the head with his own Bible! "So...does that mean that when our prodigal daughter comes home...in whatever condition...you'll welcome her? You'll kill the fatted calf and all that garbage?"
"She needs to repent."
"To whom? You or God? Oh...I forgot. You are God!" She turned to walk away from him yet again, but she had to pause. It was time he heard the truth that had so obviously eluded him for so many years. "She was never good enough for you, Richard. Never measured up."
"Marjorie, that's not true. I loved Karen." He swallowed hard when he realized what he'd said. "I do love Karen. She's my daughter."
She laughed through her tears. He still didn't get it. "That's the problem, Richard. She's your daughter, not your son. You're the reason she's gone."
"I wanted her to be happy with Chip," he said softly.
"How could she when he was screwing the head cheerleader? Oh, yeah, he's now engaged to that little tramp. And that's who you wanted her with? You're pathetic!"
She drove slowly out Wright Avenue from Little Round Top. She saw the remnants of yellow police tape waving in the wind long before she was close to it. Her stomach knotted as she stopped the car. In the field an old barn stood vacant and dilapidated. The door to the hay loft hung by a hinge. It creaked in the breeze, and sound carried like a moan on the wind. Marjorie walked up to the stain and stared at it. It was big, rusty and brownish but it was Karen's blood. It wasn't a pool; more like a big spurt, like something had violently struck her. The bra had been found here as well. Here in a place were blood had once run freely during the Battle of Gettysburg. This is where her daughter had fallen, maybe lost her life. Marjorie Hampton wanted to know why. She knew Karen's nature. Yes, she could be sarcastic but it was always deliberately laced with humor. Who would hit her that hard so that her blood would splatter in a three foot stream? What could Karen possibly have done to provoke that kind of anger. Was it Paul? Or what is some kind of psycho? Maybe Paul was dead, too? God! Why? Thousands of people were senselessly murdered every year but Marjorie never thought it hit her family. Her knees buckled and she dropped to the ground, her hand coming to rest in the blood stain. Suddenly it was like Karen was there. Well, maybe not there, but close. Marjorie wanted desperately to tell her how sorry she was. Why hadn't she stepped up to Richard years ago? Because it was a wife's duty to submit to her husband without question, she repeated softly. She had been taught it and believed it until that very second. But it was too late! Damn it! It was too late!
Karen would never graduate from college. Richard would never walk their daughter down the aisle and see the glow of love in her eyes as she gazed at her groom. They would never hold a grandchild. She had had so much love to give and Marjorie just knew that she would've been a wonderful mother. Why was she taken so young? For the first time in her life, Marjorie doubted the existence of God!
Marjorie sat in her car for a long time, remembering Karen's senior year. She'd been dating Charles "Chip" Jackson for over a year. Richard thought the world of him. He was respectful and God fearing. They looked perfect together. It was practically a given that they'd be engaged after prep school, with a wedding to come in the spring following both of their graduations from their colleges. Karen was in love and she was happy...until the senior prom. That's when Karen caught Chip with his pants down around his ankles in the coatroom with a cheerleader. Ever level headed, Karen didn't make a scene. She walked out of the school without a word and took a cab home. She signed that abstinence pledge that very night and went up to her room, slamming the door in an uncharacteristic display of temper. She cried for three days and then shut off all of her emotions until they'd moved to Pennsylvania. Marjorie turned the radio on and the car was filled with the sound of Reba McEntire. Karen must've left the tape in the car. Marjorie was a fan of the Carpenters in the seventies and Karen was named for Karen Carpenter. But that's where the similarity ended. Karen Hampton loved country music and Reba McEntire was one of her favorites. Marjorie could almost hear her daughter singing along to "Have I Got A Deal For You" and then a chill streaked down her spine. Had Chip broken her daughter's heart so badly that she had offered Paul Jefferson the deal of the century? Had she misjudged him and did he kill her because of it? She rested her head on the steering wheel and cried until there were no more tears. Then she went home to face her husband.




Angus watched Karen function mechanically for two days. It was like the light had gone out of her eyes and the fire out of her soul. She did chores and cooked. But Angus couldn't get a comeback out of her no matter how hard he tried. All the fight was gone from her. He couldn't swear to it but he sensed that that scoundrel Jefferson was behind it. They no longer spoke so he knew they weren't dallying behind his back which meant that he no longer had to worry about the girl going to the altar with a bundle under skirts or worse...not going to the altar at all! But seeing the lassie so miserable was breaking his heart. He still ought to horsewhip that scalawag!
Traci slipped into the kitchen and slipped her arms around Karen's waist as she sliced tomatoes for the evening meal. She hugged her tightly and Karen gave her a quizzical look. "You looked like you needed that," she said as she basted the roasting chickens.
Karen wiped the sweat from her face with her apron and sighed. "I'm fine, Traci. Really."
"He doesn't know what he's losin," she said with a smile.
Karen smiled weakly. "And you would?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
"Yes, I would. You gave him everything and he slapped you in the face with it."
"I'm not recruitable, Traci. You know that."
Traci laughed, her green eyes twinkling. "I wasn't making a pass at you."
Karen rolled her eyes. "Yes, you were and it isn't first time. I just don't swing that way."
"You see, that's why we're still friends. You accept me as I am and I can be myself."
"As long as you understand that I still think it's a sin. We agree to disagree." She took a drink of water.
"And I keep my hands to myself," Traci said solomnly. Karen nearly choked on her water. When she caught her breath she broke up with laughter. "Now that's what I was trying to do!"
"Drown me?"
"No, make you laugh. We all miss you, Karen."
"All but one." She looked out the back door. Paul was laughing with George. When he caught sight of her looking at him, the laughter died away. She could feel the cold even at that distance.
"I think he misses you most of all."



It was unbelievable how easily they'd all adjusted into the rigorous routine of the period. The early to bed, early to rise saying had never seemed more appropriate. Karen was always careful to make sure that the guys were out of the barn and working before she went to the barn to milk the cow. No one could get over the fact that she knew how to do that particular chore but every morning and afternoon, she did just that. The fat cat would be waiting on the back porch, listening for his mistress's footsteps and he would trot off to the barn with her. She'd named him Scruffy. He was the only one she smiled at anymore. On that morning, the sound of the milk hitting the empty pail had a calming effect on her. She was beginning to feel the effect of her lack of the prescription vitamin cocktail that she had taken virtually all her life. She had been born premature. Severe anemia plagued her. On her best days she slept a lot. On her worst she passed out without warning. Then the doctors had come up with the right combination of vitamins and she functioned somewhat normally. She was also born with limited sight in her left eye but glasses corrected that so she could read and drive. Driving didn't matter anymore and she could manage to read without her glasses but not for very long. She knew that the food she was cooking and eating was much healthier. She only hoped that her system would adjust to life without vitamins. She sloshed some milk into a saucer for Scruffy and got to her feet. Before she could pick up the pail, a rough, foul smelling hand clamped over her mouth and a hand snaked around her waist, lifting her off her feet. She struggled furiously as she was being dragged behind a stall.
"Don't scream and you won't be hurt. Understand?" a definitely male voice said. She nodded and found herself being forced face down into the hay. "You're a pretty little piece of baggage, ain't you?"
Karen scrambled onto her back and came face to face with a man wearing a gray uniform with the tattered remnants of gold braid. The uniform was filthy and the soldier wearing it was positively unwashed. She was almost certain that she'd seen something crawling in the tobacco stained beard and she felt sick. But she did as instructed and didn't scream. She was boxed in with nowhere to go. He brushed the back of his hand along the curve of her jaw and she forced herself to stay still. "T-Take what you want and go."
"Oh, little lady, I intend to take exactly what I want," he said with a wicked grin that showed missing teeth, " right from one of Dixie's maidens."
"Me and my big mouth," Karen groaned. She knew that Paul and Chris had gone for supplies with Angus. George and Traci were in the house and Mike and Robin were on their little rendezvous in the woods. She was going to try to make a break for it but she saw the gun. It was a 1851 Navy Colt .36 caliber if she was correct. "M-M-My husband is in the house. I'll b-be missed."
With one hand he unbuttoned his trousers. "Saw 'em leave. Lift them skirts." When she didn't comply, he backhanded her with the same hand that held the gun. The scream was involuntary. "Now lift 'em."
George was at the pump. At the sound of Karen's scream, he dropped the water bucket and ran to the barn. He saw the full bucket of milk where Karen had left it. Scruffy was helping himself contentedly. Without even thinking he grabbed a pitchfork. He'd seen a snake out there just the day before. It might be poisonous and Karen had probably ran to the loft after seeing it. But what George came across in the stall was a snake of another kind. Karen was in a fight-for her life and her honor beneath the biggest white man he'd ever seen. For a second George froze, rooted to the spot by fear for her and for himself. Then the man backhanded Karen again and her blood sprayed a red mist across the hay. A rage came over him and he acted in an instant. Karen couldn't focus. She was slipping into unconsciousness. She could only pray that she would pass out before the demon on top of her forced himself into her. He was positioning himself for that first thrust when suddenly he stopped. When he tried to talk, no sound came out. Dark blood bubbled up around the corners of his mouth. Then he seemed to float up and away from her in slow motion. Before her head lolled off to one side and she fainted, she saw George drop the pitchfork. It's tines were still dripping the rebel's blood.
Mike and Robin were coming back from their tryst in the woods when George rushed from the barn with Karen in his arms. Mike ran alongside struggling to keep up. Karen was bleeding from her nose and mouth. "George, what the hell happened?"
George's voice faltered. "They're gonna hang me for sure!"
"What did you do to her?" Robin asked as she caught up with them.
The terror in George's eyes was contagious. "I killed a man, Robin! A white man!"
For the next day and a half Paul walked around in a daze. Karen was slipping in and out of consciousness. Angus went to town for a young woman to help the girls with her care. He couldn't remember her name, only that she had brown hair and kind eyes. Everywhere he looked, he saw Karen. It was like some stupid movie playing over and over in his mind in slow motion! He saw her pour that beer on Chris from the top of the castle monument. She was running through the rain and snapping her bra at him. He remembered how her breasts bounced against her wet shirt, he could see the dark outlines of what he knew to be perfect nipples. He heard her laughter and remembered the look of pain in her blue eyes when he'd told her that he wouldn't touch her again. He'd cheapened what she'd given him by accusing her of trickery. He remembered the feel of her legs, the velvety warmth of her...and then the reality of what had happened to her hit him like a sledgehammer. George assured him that she hadn't been raped and he said a prayer of thanks, although it wouldn't have been her fault. None of this was her fault! He helped Mike bury the dead reb. Before the first shovel full of dirt was thrown onto the man's face, he pissed on the body. Mike was taken aback by the very act of desecrating a corpse but he understood Paul's reason. Whether his friend would come out and say it or not remained to be seen. Mike knew that the preacher's daughter had committed grand larceny. She'd stolen Paul Jefferson's heart.
Karen found herself in a fog as thick as peanut butter and there was voice calling to her from miles away. Her eyelids fluttered but it was so hard to keep them open. She concentrated hard and the pain in her head was excruciating. She wanted her mother and was tempted to ask for her. Then she remembered that her mother wasn't there. She felt tears welling up. The taste of stale blood in her mouth made her gag. Someone lifted her head and trickled cool water between her battered lips. The cool compress on her forehead forced the fog away and her eyes slowly focused on a young woman with kind eyes and a gentle touch. She smiled at Karen. "It's about time you came back to us. Angus and your friends were stricken with worry," she said softly as she rewet the cloth and replaced it. A few cobwebs clouded the recesses of Karen's brain. She shook her head to clear them. It worked but it was a painful procedure in more ways than one. Memories of the confederate soldier flooded her brain along with waves of new pain. The woman nursing her back to health gathered into her arms and rocked her gently as the tears flowed. "There, there. You weren't violated. Your boy stopped him."
"Is George all right?" Karen felt a gentle hand stroke her hair. "I n-need to know that George is all right!"
She put a second pillow behind her back and eased her back onto them. "Angus took care of it. I don't reckon there'd be any trouble in any case. The dead man was only a rebel traitor trying to violate a decent woman." she assured her.
Karen wasn't sure why that statement would or could raise her temper but it did. The woman had been too kind so she overlooked the statements. Thank you, ma'am, for what you've done for me. "
The woman's eyes widened at the sound of Karen's accent. "You've come to the winning side, I see."
Karen ignored that statement, too. "Your name is..."
The woman stopped at the bedroom door. She touched Robin's arm lightly and turned to Karen. "You can take it from here, Robin. My name is Jennie. Jennie Wade.
Neither girl spoke for a long time after Jennie Wade left. Jennie Wade's fiance was a union soldier killed combat. Jennie would bake bread for the union soldiers during the battle of Gettysburg.. A confederate sharpshooter fired a shot, believed to be from the direction of Farnsworth House, that would tear through Jennie's door and rip through her back. She fell across her dough tray, the only civilian killed in the three days of battle. Knowing that they dare not risk changing history, Robin and Karen felt waves of sadness and helplessness overwhelm them. Karen realized right off that she wasn't getting out of that bed for a day or so. Every time she stood up, the room started spinning. The right side her face was sore to touch but her jaw seemed to be in working order. She was getting really tired of bruises, especially on her face. No, she wasn't vain. But when the very act of blinking brought pain, enough was enough! Angus had left an envelope for her. When she opened it, she had to smile at the old man's ingenuity. It was a document proving that she owned George. He would have to carry that everywhere he went.
"I sent the soldier's mother a lock of his hair and a letter saying he was dead. I didn't tell her how." Robin poured Karen a glass of water and felt her pain as she winced from the cut lip. "I found some letters in his pocket."
"How'd you know about the lock of hair?"
Robin laughed. "How else? I read 'Gone With The Wind'. He was from down around New Orleans."
Karen felt the nausea rising. "What was his name?"
"John Issac Franklin." Robin saw Karen's face pale and she held the basin for her friend to be violently ill. "What's wrong?'
Karen sank back into the pillows, ghostly white. "My mother's maiden name is Franklin and she's from...from Metairie...outside of New Orleans. I was just about to be raped by my great, great, great uncle!"