Although how he could regain his strength on the meager diet they were forced to eat, Eugenia didn’t know. “We’ve been expecting you ever since we heard all of our soldiers had been paroled. I told Lizzie to make sure your room was ready.”
“It’s been a while since I slept in a bed. My friends used to joke that the best thing about getting wounded was having a clean bed to sleep in and a pretty nurse to feed you dinner.” Mary smiled at her brother’s humor, but neither Josephine nor Eugenia did.
“You heard that Harrison Blake lost his leg, didn’t you?” Eugenia asked.
Daniel looked away. “Yeah . . . How is Captain Blake doing?”
“We haven’t been to see him yet, but he’s finally home from the hospital in Richmond. We should pay him a visit and cheer him up.” They were all standing in the foyer at the foot of the stairs, and Eugenia didn’t know what else to say. She wasn’t ready to talk about Philip or Samuel. “Well,” she said, exhaling. “You go on up and make yourself at home. And if there’s anything you’d like—anything at all—you just ask.”
“How about a hot bath?” He grinned, and for a moment he was her young, carefree son again. But his smile quickly faded.
“Of course, darling. Would you like to shave, too? I can have Lizzie look for some soap and a razor.”
“Maybe,” he said, stroking his chin, “I don’t know. I’ve worn a beard for so long I might feel naked without it. But tell the slaves to throw these clothes away. They’re probably infested with lice and fleas.”
Eugenia shuddered. She couldn’t imagine all that he had suffered. Daniel gripped the banister to go upstairs, then changed his mind and walked into his father’s study. He let his bag drop to the floor as he gazed all around. “It’s hard to believe Daddy’s really gone,” he said.
Eugenia didn’t reply. She didn’t follow Daniel into the room but stood in the doorway, watching as he took in the details.
“Are you all right, Mother?” he asked after turning to her.
Eugenia nodded. “He would expect us to keep going.”
Daniel crossed the room to open the cabinet where Philip kept his liquor. He wouldn’t find any. “The Yankees took it all,” she said before he could ask. “They took nearly all our rugs, too—or at least that’s what the slaves would have me believe.”
“We have to call them servants now, Mother,” Josephine said from behind her.
Eugenia waved her words away. “I know, I know . . . How can I possibly forget when you keep reminding me all the time?”
Daniel went to his father’s desk. He looked exhausted, but he hesitated, as if reluctant to sit in Philip’s chair. He looked up at Eugenia, his expression that of a small boy who had lost his way. Then, to her horror, he covered his face with his hands and wept. Eugenia turned to shoo her daughters away.
“Josephine. Mary. Go find the slaves and tell them to start heating water for Daniel’s bath. Go! Quickly!” When the girls were gone, Eugenia went to comfort her son. Lord knows how many tears she had shed in this room after hearing the terrible news. But Daniel was a man, and men didn’t cry. “I can’t even imagine what you’ve had to endure,” she soothed as she held him close. “My poor Daniel . . .”
How hard it was to watch her children suffer! Soon, very soon, she would start making everything right for them again, making up for all they had lost. Daniel’s weeping gradually tapered off. Eugenia gently guided her son up the stairs to his room. “You’ll feel better after you’ve rested and bathed and changed into clean clothes,” she told him. “I’m certain of it.”
For the next few days, Daniel slept a great deal. Once or twice Eugenia thought she heard him weeping in the night, but she didn’t go to him or acknowledge that she’d heard. When Daniel was awake, Eugenia watched from a distance as he wandered the house or the plantation grounds, often