Wedded to War by Jocelyn Green Read Free Book Online Page B

she felt like it never would. Of course, this spring was different—this spring had brought with it a war that seemed so far away, but whose fingers had reached up to her city and grasped her neighbors and husband in its mighty grip, pulling them away from her. But the war machine also paid money, for which she was grateful. It had to be wrong to find hope in any aspect of war, but Matthew’s steady income would allow her a respite from the life-draining hours she had been forced to keep lately.
    An hour later, the Sixty-Ninth spilled out the front doors and began their march directly to the ferry that would take them to Annapolis for their first mission of guard duty. Ruby scanned the uniformed men for a final glimpse of her husband.
    The crowd continued to push past her, almost knocking her down.A strong grip on her shoulder spun her around.
    “Don’t you have any work to do?” Matthew suddenly stood over her. His brawny form, the evidence of long hours spent building bridges and hauling rocks, stretched the fibers of his ill-fitting Union greatcoat. His blue eyes flashed with their usual intensity, his ruddy cheeks flushed with both anticipation of war and the heat of the packed sanctuary he had just come from.
    His absurd question stung Ruby as much as his drunken slaps. She usually worked fifteen hours a day from their dank tenement dwelling, sewing cuffs, buttonholes, and sleeves of bleached muslin for Davis & Company, but work always surged in April as the garment manufacturer rushed summer styles to Western and Southern suppliers. She could easily count on eighteen hours most days this month, earning her between seventy-five cents and $1.50 per week. She knew exactly how much work awaited her and needed no reminding.
    “Can’t a woman see her husband off to war?” Ruby replied. A rash of heat radiated from her collar to her chin.
    Matthew shook his head. “Soon’s I get my paycheck, I’ll be sending it on home to you, but in the meantime, you are supporting yourself.”
    Time and pain had chipped away the luxury of common courtesy and kindness, but Ruby knew he wouldn’t let his wife go hungry if he could help it.
    “This is a new start for us, Ruby.” His voice was edged with determination.
    And then he was gone, as suddenly as he had appeared, lost again in the formation of soldiers filing down the street on their way to the ferry.
    Ruby stood frozen in place. Something about his farewell haunted her. “A new start,” he had said. Yes, that was it. That’s what he had said when they immigrated to New York, and yet they had still struggled, just in new ways, to survive. That’s what he had said when they learned they were going to have a child, both times, and now they had none. Was she still a mother if her children were dead? She pressed callousedand pinpricked fingertips against her eyelids, as if she could close her mind’s eye to the horrific images her memory now dredged up. She needed to sit down.
    Chin tucked down, Ruby fought her way back to St. Patrick’s Cathedral and stepped through the two sets of massive double doors. As the muffled din of the retreating crowd faded, she sank down into the last pew. Her slight shoulders shook with silent sobs that racked her entire body.
    Spent at last, she looked up. Stained glass windows on the sides of the church depicted stories from the Bible, while the windows at the front of the nave cast the light in shades of blue and green. Thick, red carpeting created a path from the middle aisle up the stone steps to where the archbishop had said mass a short time ago. The ceiling was so tall her gaze followed it up until it pointed her to the heavens.
    Rarely was she in a place this magnificent. Catholic churches, like Catholic immigrants, faced hard times in New York City, too, prompting them to charge an admission fee to enter, and to rent the front pews to the upper- and middle-class as another marker of their wealth. Ruby had been told that the brick