Her Rebel Heart. Shannon Farrington

the longer she stared at the red, ripe fruit, the more she wanted them. She couldn’t resist purchasing a quart. I love strawberries. I look forward to them every year. Samuel loves them as well. They are his favorite fruit.

       She smiled to herself as a plan formulated in her mind. I know what I will do; I will make shortcake and then when he— She came to her senses. There was no reason to bake shortcake. Samuel wouldn’t be dining with them anymore.

       Her heart sank a little deeper in her chest as she stared at the berries. They didn’t look quite as red or luscious as they had just a moment ago.

       “A quart, miss?” the vendor asked.

       Still, she wanted them. “Yes. Please.”

       She shifted her basket to the other arm and counted out the coins in her reticule. She had just enough so she handed the vendor the money. It was then out of the corner of her eye that she noticed a blue uniform. The man was standing straight and tall, just a few steps from her. A large, brass buckle with the letters U. S. wrapped his waist. He appeared to be watching her.

       Images of Pratt Street raced through her mind. Her mouth went dry. She desperately tried to remember what color stockings she had put on before leaving the house.

      Are they white? Yes. Simply white.

       She tightened her grip on her basket and stared straight at the vendor. If I don’t get in the soldier’s way then he won’t bother me.

       The man handed her the quart of berries. Julia put them in her basket. She stole a peek in the soldier’s direction. He was still watching her. A shiver ran through her. Her heart began to pound. She looked back at the vendor. She tried to smile.

       “These berries will be delicious.”

       The man tipped his slouch hat. “Enjoy them, miss.”

       Julia dropped her reticule in the basket. She hoisted the heavy parcel higher on her arm. She turned.

       The blue uniform stepped forward. Julia swallowed. Ears thudding, she took another step. He came up along side her.

       The Federal soldier smiled at her. “Help you with that, miss?”

       Julia did not smile back. By now, her heart was racing. “Thank you, no,” she said. She hurried away from him, walking as fast as the heavy basket would allow.

       The pop, pop, pop of musket fire echoed in her ears as she mentally replayed that dreadful day at the station. The sight of blood-splattered cobblestones filled her memory. A thousand terrible images raced through Julia’s mind and just as many petitions for protection.

      Lord, please don’t let that soldier follow me. Please don’t let him!

       She hurried on.

       The market was crowded with people and items. It was difficult to get back to the street. A barrel of pickles with children clustered about it blocked the easiest route. Moving opposite, Julia rounded the corner where the chickens were sold. Their featherless bodies hung limply from a line strung across the stall. She peeked through them to see if the Federal soldier was following her.

       He was coming in her direction.

       Julia hoisted the basket and took off once more, only to run directly into the chest of another uniformed soldier.

       “Excuse me!” she gasped, nearly dropping the basket.

       He took hold of it. “Help you with that, miss?”

       She could barely breathe. Lord, help me! “No. No, thank you.”

       He turned her basket loose and tipped his kepi as he stepped out of her path. “Good day.”

       The way to the street was clear. Julia walked as quickly as she could. The basket was cutting into her arm but she did not stop to shift its weight. All she wanted to do was get away from there.

       Once she passed the market’s perimeter she took off running, caring not by now if her petticoats or her stockings were showing. She kept running but the yards of dress fabric and her hoop made it impossible to keep up the pace for very long. Out of breath, arms and legs aching, she stopped in front of a ladies hat store. She glanced backward.

       Neither of the soldiers had followed her.

       She set the basket down taking a moment to rest. As the panic faded, the thought struck her that perhaps the men were only trying to be kind. Feeling foolish yet not wanting to take any chances, she picked up the basket. It was then that she noticed her prized strawberries had gotten crushed beneath a jar of honey. To make matters worse, the sticky red juice now stained Julia’s dress.

      Oh, no…

       Feeling deflated, she trudged for home. She had just enough time to put away the groceries and set her dress to soaking before the prayer meeting.

       The Federal soldiers were already setting up camp as Samuel left the seminary’s main gate. Their canvas tents covered the center green and supply wagons choked the road all the way back to Mount Vernon.

       Sam tried to think charitable thoughts concerning the men but it was difficult. Though his tenure here at Rolland Park was short, he had grown to love the place. He did not enjoy being driven from the grounds.

       When he would return to pursue his life’s vocation, he did not know. The only way he could console himself was the thought that at least now he could attend the prayer meetings on time.

       He walked back home and deposited his books on the parlor table. After eating a quick meal of cornbread and buttermilk, he started off. He would be early for the meeting but Reverend Perry might have need of assistance in some way or another. Goodness knows Sam needed something to do.

       As he passed by the Stanton home, Sam couldn’t help but wonder what Julia was doing at the moment. He had given his word to the Lord that he would follow Him regardless of the cost but that promise didn’t quell the ache in his heart. Julia was the only woman he had ever loved. He prayed for her unceasingly. He missed her even more.

       He arrived at the church well before noon. Reverend Perry was happy to see him.

       “Samuel, welcome! I thought you would not be able to join us until later.”

       He explained what had happened at the school.

       “Dear me,” Reverend Perry said. “I am sorry to hear that.”

       Sam knew it would do no good to dwell on the issue so he moved the conversation forward. “I would like to be of assistance if I may,” he said. “I think the prayer meeting is a noble idea.”

       “Thank you, but I cannot take credit for it.”

       Reverend Perry explained that the idea for the noon meeting came from an event in New York City four years earlier. During a financial crisis, the city had experienced a laymen’s revival.

       “It was an interdenominational event,” he said. “The churches were filled to capacity for months. Thousands came to know Christ.”

       “Do you believe such a thing could happen here in Baltimore?” Sam asked.

       The Reverend’s eyes were full of compassion. “For eternity’s sake, I do hope so.”