Sarah's Roses, Book II: Roses of White

Chapter XV

Chapter XV

My eyes slowly opened. It was morning already? Why did the hours have to fly by so quickly when I finally fell asleep? I didn’t want to get out of bed, I just wanted to stay curled up underneath the covers where it was warm and cozy. But I knew I had to get up, there was much to be done today. Forcing myself out of bed, I went to the little closet and pulled out the old black dress. I ran my hands through the threadbare fabric, and with a sigh began putting it on. There had been a time when I could have a new dress every day if I wanted too. Now, with any material being almost impossible to find, I had to work with what I had had before the war started. I had cut up an old dress of Aunt Helen’s and patched up this dress as best I could. The fact that it was black was to my advantage and with carful stitching I made the patches barely noticeable.

I was just struggling with the buttons in the back when Elsie walked in.

“Elsie, will you give me a hand,” I asked in a whisper. Evy was still sleeping and I didn’t want to wake her up.

“Sure thing, Sarah,” Elsie whispered back, and walking up began swiftly buttoning up the dress. “I can’t help but wonder,” she said with a small laugh, “if the Mrs. Greensten is rolling over in her grave because you have completely ceased to wear corsets.”

“I hope she’s not. I wouldn't want to add to the many disappointments I already was, but fighting to survive is hard enough, having to do it with a device that restricts your breathing would be near impossible.”

“Prissy continue to wear corsets.”

“And she can continue doing so, with my good wishes,” I retorted.

Elsie chuckled and tied my sash. “Tell Lulu I’ll look after Kristoffs today, and the two of you are in charge of the household chores.”

“Alright,” I nodded my head and Elsie left the room while I walked over to thy tiny dressing table and the mirror that hung above it. I gazed at the looking glass, eyeing the reflection that stared back at me. The Sarah of my youth had vanished, gone with the wind. This Sarah was weary and careworn, with tired eyes and chapped skin. The Sarah of today didn’t have time to be carefree; she was busy fighting for survival.

I brushed out my golden locks and tied them into a tight bun on the back of my head. No more curls, no more fancy hairstyles, I pulled all the hair out of my face so it wouldn’t get in my way. I also ceased to wear just about any jewelry, having hid it all long ago. I did keep one luxury, the old, cheap locket that had once been my mother’s. It was soon after Uncle Andrew’s death that I had pulled the little trinket out from under my pillow. There was nothing in the locket, but it had my mother's initials E. B. scratched on the inside. I would take the chain off in the night and this morning, just like the previous mornings, I put it around my neck. My toiletries complete, I tiptoed out of the room.

Going through the hallway on my way to the kitchen I paused and gazed out the window at the bleak, bare landscape. It was winter again, the very end of December. 1863 was coming to a close. How we had made it through the year was nothing short of a miracle with endless war around us and soldiers all over the place.

I had written to Jeff of Uncle Andrew’s death, I had written about Prissy’s fate and of how she now lived with us. So many letters had I sent, but silence was all I ever heard from him. I wasn’t ready to accept the worst, after all silence did not mean death. Jeff had not appeared in the lists of the killed in action, so there was still plenty of hope. Maybe my letters just didn’t reach him, maybe his letters didn’t reach me. Maybe he had been captured and was a prisoner of war. The list of what could have happened to him besides him dying was so long that I could not accept the fact that he was gone for good. Where there is life, there is hope and I hoped that when the war would end Jeff would come home. That was of coure if the war would end and sometimes I felt as though it would just go on and on forever. How many nights had a lay down and told myself that I couldn’t take anymore of the hunger, the shortage and the despair. How many times had I said that I wouldn’t be able to get out of bed and face another day? And every morning I would find that I could get up and I would face the hardships I had sworn I would not be able to take the night before. Giving up was simply not an option.