He was determined to wait until she did.
And in that time spent waiting, he’d pray that she would one day see things from his perspective.
He walked back to the lean-to. He placed the ax on the shelf then gathered up his outer clothing. Rather than return to the house by way of the kitchen, he entered through the garden door.
Dr. Stanton was still in the study. His spectacles were perched upon his nose, medical book still in his hands. He looked up.
“Thank you, son. Will you stay for supper?”
The offer was tempting. Goodness knows he wanted to. Even apart from his longing to stay with Julia, there was also the comfort to be found in time spent with Dr. and Mrs. Stanton. The prospect of returning to his lonely, cheerless home held little appeal in comparison.
But he had caused enough tension in the house already.
“Thank you, sir,” he said. “But I have some errands to run this evening.”
“Ah, I see. Be careful. I was out this morning and I noticed several boys in blue.”
Sam nodded. “What do you think the next few weeks will bring?”
Julia’s father shrugged. “Hard to say but I hope it is little more than an intimidating presence.”
It reminded Sam of the answer he had given his students.
“After all,” Dr. Stanton added, “the state legislature voted on their own accord to remain loyal to the Union. Let us hope and pray that that is the end of it.”
Sam shook his hand and headed out to the street, praying silently but most fervently that Dr. Stanton’s words would prove true. But the sinking feeling in his heart warned him that there was far more trouble awaiting them still.
From a crack in the kitchen door Julia had seen Samuel’s broad back as he talked to her father. She had not been able to hear what they said. She wondered if he had told her father of their broken engagement. She wondered if Samuel had taken that moment to seek his advice on how to win her back.
Well, he won’t win me back. He has proven his intentions. I will stand on my convictions whether he comes to chop wood or not.
From her vantage point she watched him shake hands with her father. Then as Samuel turned, Julia let the door close. She returned quickly to the stove. As she stood stirring the chicken soup, she heard the front door shut.
She peeked out the window. Samuel was walking down the street in the direction of the harbor. His hands were thrust deep in his pockets. His topper was set low on his forehead but she could tell he was deep in thought. Was he thinking of Edward? Was he thinking of her?
Her father came into the kitchen. Julia immediately left the window.
“He has gone to have a look about the city,” he said, knowing exactly whom she was staring after. “Now, do you want to tell me what is going on?”
Julia turned from the stove to look at her father. She could tell that he had also endured a long, sleepless night. Tired lines were prevalent on his face. His left leg, which had been injured in a carriage accident years before, must have been bothering him. He was favoring it.
“I am making soup for Mother,” she explained.
“I’m not talking about soup, Julia.”
Her father’s tone was firm, almost scolding.
Samuel has talked to him, she thought. I knew he would. “He told you, didn’t he?”
“He?” Her father repeated, eyebrows arched. “I assume you mean Sam. And no, he didn’t tell me anything. It was your indifference toward him when you came asking about the wood that caught my attention. Now what is going on?”
Julia could feel her cheeks reddening. She knew her father liked Samuel. He always had. Would he understand her position? Would he support her decision?
She stirred the soup once more, stalling, searching for words.
Her father was drumming his fingers on the kitchen table. She knew he would not leave until she had given him an answer.
I will have to make it known sooner or later. It might as well be now, she thought. “I have decided not to marry him.”
The drumming stopped. “Does he know this?” her father asked.
Julia kept her eyes on the soup. Little bits of carrots and chicken were floating in the broth. “Yes. He knows.”
He grunted. Then there were several seconds of silence. “When did you decide this?” he asked.
Julia put down her spoon. It was obvious that her business in the kitchen was not going to deter her father’s questioning. “Last night.”
“Last night?”
“I told him so when Edward—” Fresh grief over her brother’s enlistment choked her voice. She looked at her father, hoping her eyes could convey the rest. Surely you must feel the same.
Her father drew in a deep breath. “I see. Is this about you and Sam or is it about Edward?”
“It is both,” she admitted. “You have seen what has happened here. That day at the train station… Father, the soldiers fired upon us! Our fellow citizens were killed!”
“I know, Julia. I treated the wounded.”
“Yes, and Edward has decided to do something! He’s gone to Virginia to fight. But Samuel, he won’t go! He won’t defend what he says he cares about!”
“Because he won’t go to Virginia?” Her father sighed. “Perhaps I set a poor example. Perhaps I remained neutral on this issue for too long. The issue of States’ Rights, slavery included, never affected us.”
“They affect you now,” she said, “or they soon will. Northern soldiers have guns turned on this very neighborhood. If we don’t stand against them, how can we ever be safe again?”
“And you think Samuel joining the Confederacy will change all of that?”
She blinked, not knowing how to answer.
Her father continued. “Sam has traveled. He has experienced life and drawn from others’ life experiences. As a result, he carries a wider perspective of the world. He has spoken to me a few times about a man named Frederick Douglass.”
“Yes, I know. The man from Boston. He mentioned him once.”
The subject of slavery may have been a contentious topic in the nation for years but not so in the Stanton household. Julia’s family did not own any slaves and none of their closest friends did either. Julia had never truly formed an opinion on the subject—and saw no need to now. The plight of a man living in Boston mattered very little to her compared to the safety of her family and friends right here in Maryland.
“Did he tell you he is a former slave?” her father asked. “A former Maryland
