ALL THAT'S LEFT OF ME

By Jo Anzalone

Chapter 89:

How good it was to be a guest, not to have to go out and be responsible for the running of

anything.  Addie had taken one look at him as he'd come through the door, seeing the dark

smudges under his eyes, a hollowness under his cheekbones, and decided then and there that

while Jonathon was at Carolina Crossing he was going to be completely pampered. She had

a private talk with Geraldine about it, who agreed completely.

"Mister Johnnie, he done plum wore hisself out. We gonna take good kere o' dat dere man

o' yourn while he be here, yes, we is."

Addie had smiled at that. "That man of mine," she repeated, loving the sound of it and the

fact that now it was true.

Jonathon spent a week there, resting a lot, having long talks with Addie by the fire, eating

good food, listening to Addie playing the piano.  Sometimes Ann would join her for a duet

and sometimes they'd both sing.  Jonathon even joined in a little with the singing.  Like

Addie, he'd grown up in a family that gathered around as the mother played the piano and

the husband and all the children sang along.  He was so comfortable with Addie, so at home

in her presence.  There was no effort to it.  Everything was very familiar, very natural.

The longer he was with her, the harder it was to leave. "I wish...," he began.

"We will," she nodded.  "It's just not right while your mother is in mourning."

"Maybe by spring?"

"I know she wants us together. Yes, I think spring."

"Now that Billy's home, I can look for work better again.  There hasn't been time an'...."

But she stood on tiptoe, lifting her face up, and he kissed her. 

A few hours later he was leaving.  It was hard.  Harder even than before.

"Soon," he promised. "I'll try, Addie, with everythin' I've got, I'll try."

Christmas at the McDaniel's had its joys and its sorrows. The four siblings were all together,

but George was not there.  Jonathon tried reading the Christmas story from the Bible but

his voice cracked and he didn't quite finish. 

New Year's Eve started very quietly but Adeline was determined her children would not end

the year on a bleak note.  Going into the parlor where her piano was, she began to play and

soon all four of the others came in.  Jonathon, with his crutches, even stood with them to

sing, Billy on his left, Lewis on his right, Sarah in front.  Adeline turned for a moment on the

piano bench, looking at her family.  All three of her sons were now just about the same

height and all of them had so much of their father about them.  She blinked rapidly, thinking

how proud George would be to see them all there like that, then she smiled, knowing he loved

them still, loved her still. 

Just before midnight they raised a toast and Billy was the one who spoke up. "To 1866 and

to a better year for us all."  Then he lifted his glass toward Jonathon. "And to Johnnie, who's

goin' to be makin' our family bigger in the comin' year."

January and February passed and Jonathon still had no luck in finding work that would be

right for him. As spring approached, Adeline insisted they not put off the wedding any longer

on her account.

"George wouldn't want that. I don't want that."

Letters, even telegrams, flew fast and furiously between Louisville and Montgomery. Jonathon

visited Carolina Crossing twice. Late March was being seriously discussed, then in mid-March Ann came down with scarlet fever and just as she seemed to be getting well, Henry got it. Henry

was getting well when Ann developed rheumatic fever as a complication that often followed

scarlet fever by about three weeks.  She was desperately ill and nearly died. Addie nursed

her hour after hour and Jonathon was frantic she'd come down with it.  He'd faced death

so often himself but Addie was so young, so whole, he'd never really thought she could die,

that he could be left without her.  She wouldn't let him come to Carolina Crossing, not while

there was illness in the house, so he fretted at home, writing her constantly.

In July the sheriff came up to the house and asked if Jonathon would step out on the porch

with him for a while.  "I got somethin' I want to be talkin' with you about, Johnnie."

Jonathon was curious and sat, not having any idea what was on the sheriff's mind.

"You hear about Dan gettin' hisself killed last week?"

Jonathon nodded. The news of the middle-aged City Clerk's death was widely talked

about.  Dan had been riding home in his buggy from City Hall, had been dragged from

it and hung.

"I have, Sheriff, but what's that got to do with me?"

"Well, Johnnie, the Mayor an' the City Council an' I been doin' a lotta talkin' since that

come about an' I been asked to ride out here an' see if you'd be interested in the job."

"Me?"

"Why not you, Johnnie? Ever'body here'bouts knows you real well. You done fought with

both companies raised in Winston County fer the war an' that right there gives you a lotta

respect in the minds o' most folks in these parts. From what I hear tell you're good with

figgering, good with general sortsa writin', an' I know myself you're good with talkin' with

folks.  Ain't nobody we kin think of, Johnnie, would be better fer the job than you."

Jonathon blew out a breath then licked his lips.  Dan had been killed as a message that there

were people around who seriously did not approve of the registration of freedmen to vote and

that was part of the job description of a City Clerk. 

"There are men," he said, looking at the sheriff quietly, "already with jobs at City Hall who

might be better qualified."

"Ain't none o' them fellers been in both the Guards an' the Rifles, Johnnie.  That gives you

a leg up on 'em."  Then his eyes flew to Jonathon's left side.  "Sorry 'bout that, Johnnie.

Wasn't thinkin' afore the words come out."

"You mean," Jonathon continued slowly, "because you know at least some of the men who

went after Dan were ex-Confederates."

"I do mean that, Johnnie.  You willin' to take the chance they'd leave you be 'cause o'

what you done in the war?  Be a mighty fine job fer you an' I know you been lookin' a long

time."  He could see Jonathon was still hesitant.  Standing and adjusting his belt, he said,

"I got to get goin'.  You do some thinkin' on what I said, Johnnie, an' let me know."

 Jonathon got exactly the response he expected from his family.

"What?" Billy exclaimed.  "They want you to take over a job that got the last man killed

for doin' it?"

"I can't find anythin' else, Billy, no matter how hard I try.  An' I can do this. I know I can."

"You can go an' get yourself killed, Johnnie. That's what you can do."  Billy shook his head

violently.  "Don't do this, Johnnie.  Think of Addie."

"I am thinkin' of Addie.  I need a job before we can get married.  This farm should be yours

an' Lewis' now. I've got to do somethin' else, somethin' I can actually do."

Adeline was horrified. She'd lost George through violence and the thought of losing Jonathon

now through it went into her like a knife.

"They killed Dan, Son. Never gave him a chance.  Whole batch of 'em, burlap bags over their

heads, draggin' the poor man from his buggy. You can't be seriously thinkin' of...."

"I am, Mama.  Dan was older, never went to war.  Most of those men who did that to him

have come home from fightin' to a world they don't know.  But they know me, know I was one

of 'em, an' I think they might...."

"And then they might not, Johnnie.  You don't know.  You can't know what they'd do.  A lot

of 'em are like the men who killed Daddy." Billy gave him a sharp look.

But Jonathon went into Louisville the next day to talk with the sheriff again and together

they went to the mayor's office.  He was wearing his artificial leg because he'd ridden

Kingston and as he made his way up the steps of City Hall at Park Street and South Columbus,

he was reminded of why he hated it so.

"Basically, Mayor, I'd like to know everythin' the job entails, just what all I'd be doin'."

"Well, Johnnie, you'd be expected to attend all our council meetin's an' keep the minutes

of them. You'd have an office here in the buildin' an' be custodian of the city's seal an'

records, sign official papers for the city, assist in issuin' all licenses and permits. You'd

post and publish notices, ordinances and resolutions as might be required, sit on committees

the council might assign you to. There'd be government reports you'd have to prepare an'

submit, as well as city contracts, and you'd be a notary public. You'd need to be aware of

the laws an' rules an' regulations of the city government as they change an' you'd be

correspondin' with other local governments." He took a breath. "There's a lot of finance

involved, too, Johnnie.  You'd be responsible for the accountin' system of the city, enterin'

all the city money transactions an' disbursements, an' you'd receive an' safely keep all city

monies, balance checkin' accounts, process payrolls an' related tax reports. You'd be dealin'

with fines an' be helpin' plan the city budget. You'd kinda be the city's representative so's

you havin' given a leg in the cause of your state works well there.  Anybody comes to town

askin' about stuff, needin' help, you'd be the contact person. You'd be greetin' callers an'

visitors to City Hall, answerin' questions about city business, takin' complaints about

ordinances and policies an' respondin' to 'em so as to smooth ruffled feathers but alertin'

City Council about problems they need to be aware of."

"And...elections?" Jonathon asked quietly.

"Them, too, Johnnie. The City Clerk gives notice of elections, records election proceedin's,

notifies officials of their appointment or election, certifies results to the county auditor...an',"

the mayor looked at the sheriff, "be in charge of registerin' new...voters."

"Which is why you want me for the job, right?"

"Don't hurt, Johnnie, to have a background like you got...born right here in the county,

had a Daddy that was well-known an' well-liked, went off to fight for the Confederacy an' was

honorably wounded. Besides, you're educated an' I know you can handle all the requirements

of the job."

"I'd be here in City Hall, then, most of the time...in my office?"

"Most of the time, yes. Some goin' to the post office an' the bank, some inspections of city

property an'...an' nuisance properties. But mostly right here in the buildin'."

"If I take it, I've got to tell you up front, Mayor, that I'm about to get married an' that'll

be happenin' over near Montgomery. I'll need time for that.  It's already been put off by

near a year an' it can't be any more."

The mayor leaned back in his chair, smiling broadly.  "No problem, Johnnie.  Be easy like to

work that out. So...you sayin' you'll take it, then?"

"I'll take it," Jonathon nodded.

"Good! Good!" the mayor beamed. "There'll be a period of adjustment, I know, while you

get used to all the things I just mentioned, but I know you'll do fine, Johnnie, just fine."

After Jonathon left, the sheriff shut the door to the mayor's office.  "You think they'll leave

him be?" he asked.

"Don't know.  Hope so, but only time will tell."

"His Mama's prob'ly not goin' to be speakin' to me on the street no more," the sheriff

chuckled, shaking his head.

"I wouldn't blame her."

"Good God, Johnnie! You didn't!"  Billy was helping unsaddle Kingston on Jonathon's

return home.  He'd turned to face his brother, running both hands through his own hair

in utter frustration.

"There's nothin' else, Billy.  It's a good, responsible job with a decent salary.  I'll be able

to marry Addie now an' get on with gettin' on."

"God, Johnnie!"  Billy kicked a hay bale as hard as he could.  "I'm not ready for two graves

out under the oak tree."

"It won't come to that. I'll be fine."

"Didn't you say somethin' like that when you went off to war?"

"You'll be my best man?"

Billy sat down hard on the bale, scuffling a boot back and forth through some scattered hay

in front of him.  "You know I will, Johnnie, but, damn it, don't you make me carry your

coffin."

"I'm not ready for a coffin, Billy.  I'm ready to get myself married."

"You goin' to tell Addie about what happened to the man had the job before you?"

"No point in that right now.  She needs to be happy gettin' fixed to be wed."

"She needs a groom who's alive," Billy grumped.  "You decided when?"

"I'm hopin' the end of August. Give me time to get used to the job and little Ann should be

feelin' better by then."

"Been a long time comin', this weddin', Johnnie. Just be sure you're still around come the

end of August."

Jonathon smiled at his brother. "I plan to be, Billy. I'm goin' on up to the house now an'

let Mama know."

As he went through the barn door, he heard what sounded like Billy's fist smacking into a

post, accompanied by several 'damns'.