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April
9, 1861
Dear Diary,
Today was Zachary’s sixth birthday, and
a terrible one at that. First, Ethan, Jr. went and said he wanted to go and become
a soldier against those Yankees. I do declare ever since that Republican president
Lincoln was elected up north and Davis was elected for us Confederates, there has been nothing but trouble. All of this talk of war has started to get to me. My beloved
Ethan has decided to sign up with Ethan, Jr. I know that Ethan is my husband
and I should support him, but I am so afraid that something will happen to him. Ethan,
Jr. is only fifteen now, and in my opinion still a baby. Even though I was fifteen
myself when I had him, he’s yet to become a man. It causes such heartache
to me when I have to try and reassure Virgil, Caleb, and Richard everything will be just fine.
How can I tell Virgil and Caleb, my precious twin boys, at only five years old their father and beloved older brother
could die over something doesn’t affect us? Our plantation only grows tobacco
and is rather small, so we don’t need slaves. However, I wouldn’t
be surprised if Ethan got one if we are still allowed to have one before long. He
says, “having a slave is a better status symbol than having a fine stallion, only a stallion is much more beautiful
than any Negro.” Richard does not seem bothered by it at all; I would
have guessed he would have said something to Ethan by now. He has such a rebellious
spirit towards his father. I cannot really blame him because that slave, Joe,
on the Morris farm next door did help him when he was thrown from his horse last week.
I thanked him, of course, because even a slave deserves to be shown some polite behavior. I must quit writing now because Virgil is fussing over a tear in his pants that I have to mend before he
can go out and play in the fields.
Yours
truly,
Annabelle
Thomas
April
12, 1861
Dear Diary,
It is rather late in the day, actually it is
after dusk, and Ethan has returned home with some rather upsetting news. I am
already well aware of the problems between the locals and those Yankees, but I had never suspected things would resort to
this. According to him, over at Fort Sumter our side attacked with every right,
if I do say so. They had the nerve to go and settle on our land! That is intolerable, to say the least. I would say more, but
I am too mature to go off and say inappropriate things. This situation is just
too much. On the lighter side of things, Richard came running home today, and
I saw him coming up the walk to the front porch with a paper in hand. It was
a letter from his teacher, Mr. Nickelby, saying that Richard is one of the brightest eleven year olds he has ever come across
in all his many years of teaching. I have never been so proud of him! Mr. Nickelby is a rather old man, so it is quite a compliment! I let him sit at my chair at the head of the table earlier tonight.
Ethan said it “wasn’t like he shot a deer” so he didn’t see the point – he isn’t
very educated. As my mother would say, “that’s why he married you.” I never did like my mother’s attitude toward me.
She always liked my sister Camilla better, even though we’re twins. Well,
I must get back to cleaning house, so until next time.
Yours
truly,
Annabelle
Thomas
April
29, 1861
Dear Diary,
Mama died last week. I just got the mews today from Camilla. She came to town from
Georgia. She’s been taking care of her since Daddy died a few years ago. I wish I were sorrier that she died, but it’s hard to be sad over someone that’s
treated you like dirt ever since you were thirteen. I think she never liked Ethan,
she never came to the wedding, and neither did anyone else from back home in Georgia, except Camilla. It’s been sixteen years since we were married, and I still cannot get over how she carried on. She kept trying to get me not to marry him.
She had a big fuss during the whole thing. I suppose that’s why
Ethan and her acted so funny around each other. They hardly said a word to each
other at all. I know I should love her because she’s my sister, but for
the life of me I really can’t, Lord knows I’ve tried. I know she
doesn’t like me either, she just wishes that I was the one that couldn’t, well, get “in the family way.” It doesn’t really help that I’ve got five boys. She tries to get into their good graces, but she’s not very naturally motherly. I swear on my grave, not by mid-day, she had already made Zachary cry over how he can’t plow as well
as Richard. But what can you expect of a six year old? I was stern with her, which she didn’t take kindly to. She
slapped me in my own house! Thank goodness Ethan saw it, he had her sleep in
the barn. Good riddance!
Yours
truly,
Annabelle
Thomas
July
15, 1861
Dear Diary,
I am unsure of how I got through today. Ethan and Junior both left home today. Poor
little Caleb was crying like a baby when he hugged them and said good-bye. Virgil
kept sniffling, but was being stubborn and saying he was just getting a cold. I
don’t whose eyes he is trying to pull the wool over, but in the summer here in South Carolina, no one ever gets a cold. Zachary stayed strong, he didn’t shed a single tear and he held Virgil and Caleb’s
hands when they rode off. Richard is starting to really worry me. He was so, I’m not sure how to say it, but he’s been so unaffected by everything. Camilla said, “You should be grateful he isn’t blubbering about things like you,” but
I’m not grateful. I’m angry and frustrated, and I’ll admit
it. I’m upset that my husband has left me with my first born son to start
killing people, I’m upset that this war is breaking my little boys’ hearts, I’m furious that my sister is
here, and most of all I’m angry that this war has to be fought at all. I
never saw the point in slavery because idle hands are the Devil’s playgrounds, so if the slaves do all the work, it
would mean more time for the rest of us to misbehave. I don’t think that’s
why Ethan’s fighting though. I think it’s so he can prove something
to himself. He’s a good man, but he can be so proud sometimes. He never wants help or pity. Funny, because we met when him
and his father came through town back home and he almost drown in a pond, which I pulled him out of. We’ve been together ever since. I always liked how that
sounded, “we’ve been together ever since.” Now he’s
gone, and I don’t know what to do alone with the boys and Camilla. It would
be a miracle if I shall last the week.
Yours
truly,
Annabelle
Thomas
July
23, 1861
Dear Diary,
I heard two days ago that there was a fight over
at Manassas, and we won. I heard that ‘our boys’ only got a few bruises
and scrapes. But I didn’t hear my son would be sent home to me with a missing
leg! I wish I knew where the field medic that did this to him is! Ethan, Jr. said the bullet got stuck in his calf and he could’ve gotten it out if someone gave him
a long enough knife, but the stupid doctor just wouldn’t listen to reason and cut it off. It is so sad to see such a young boy get hurt so badly. He
keeps saying he’s a man and can take it, but he’s trying to put up a show so Camilla will say fewer jokes about
him. I don’t know why she’s still here. I really think that if I didn’t want to honor Daddy’s memory, I’d kill her. Now I’m a good Christian woman, but I can’t take it.
I hope Ethan gets home soon. Junior said he was fine and wasn’t
allowed to accompany him back home. I miss him more and more, even though it
has hardly been more than a week. I pray to God Almighty that this war ends soon. ‘Thou shall not kill ‘and ‘love thy neighbor’ are words very
close to my heart. But as terrible as this sounds, there’s nothing in the
Bible about sisters.
Yours
truly,
Annabelle
Thomas
October
25, 1861
Dear Diary,
I don’t know how I have gotten through
today. According to everything that Ethan, Jr. found out in town, we’ve
had the Yankees on the run. They were beaten at Ball’s Bluff, they just
weren’t beaten enough. Two men escorted Ethan home. He’s hurt so badly, a bullet went right through him. This
is the first time since I’ve gotten home that I’ve been able to leave him.
He said he wanted to breathe without me hovering over him. I can hardly
stand to look at him. He’s not ugly from his bruises and cuts, it’s
just I can’t take the pain. He’s in pain and it’s like I can
feel it. The boys are with him now; they’re trying not to cry. Camilla is being much more concerned about it than I would have thought.
She actually seems upset. I would have thought she’d be dancing
on his grave. Not that he’s dying; he’s not going to die. He’s strong; he can get past it. In a week or so, he’ll
be making jokes about how he really does have a lead stomach with the shrapnel. He’s
not going anywhere. He’s in bed.
I can’t believe I made a joke. I should be crying, but I can’t. At least he’s at home. I can be
with him, not worrying if someone will send his head clear past the Mason-Dixie line with the shot of a musket. Richard finally showed something, not a lot, but he smiled when Ethan came home. I haven’t seen him smile since Mr. Nickelby sent that letter home, but that wasn’t the smile
he had today. This was a smile of relief, not pride. Now, with a house full of children and a husband and sister that can’t handle them, I can’t
just sit here writing, so I’ll get dinner started.
Yours
truly,
Annabelle
Thomas
October
29, 1861
Dear Diary,
Ethan is so stubborn. His wounds are far from being healed, but he has found some strength and managed to walk around the farm
today. I’ve been keeping the crops growing steady, a hard task which is
why I haven’t been writing as much as I used to, but he just had to check on them.
I don’t know why I’ve been keeping them growing, I can’t sell them anywhere because in town Mr. Schwartz
the General Store owner left with some others into the war. Ethan seemed pretty
satisfied with the way they’ve been growing, so he said, “It all looks pretty good, I’ll go back inside,”
but I think he was too tired from all the walking. I love how he’ll compliment
me on little things, today he even said, “I’m real proud of you, honey.”
Ethan, Jr. even went out too! I was able to whittle down the ends of a
couple of big sticks to make him crutches. He really won’t let it bring
him down. Virgil and Caleb make it a point to cheer him up. Zachary’s been keeping Ethan company with me in our room. Richard’s
back to normal almost. He started his horse again today, after a long rest like
that old mare had, I’m surprised she still managed how to remember how to gallop.
After years of owning that horse, Richard never got around to naming her. He’s
a strange boy, but I love him because he’ll always be my son. With Richard
acting normally, I think some how it switched things around so that Camilla is acting like she’s got one chicken less
than having a whole hen house. All she does is mope around the house. I keep getting this feeling she wants to tell me something, I might be imagining it though.
Yours
truly,
Annabelle
Thomas
November
2, 1861
Dear Diary,
I can’t think straight right now. I can’t believe what has just happened.
Ethan is lying in bed in front of me, peacefully. I hate him for being
able to sleep like that after what he did to me, but I love him nonetheless. He
had an affair with Camilla. Never in my worst nightmares, I never dreamed of
anything as terrible as this. I love him, he loves me, but he still did that. It was a week before the wedding. He
said, “It just happened, there was nothing to do to stop it.” He’s
been lying to me for sixteen years. There was something he could’ve done;
he could’ve stayed away from her. Why did he have to tell me now? He knows I can’t be mad at him now, or maybe I can. Damn everything! I can’t be a good Christian woman right
now because I have never felt so cold before. I stuck by the vows I took and
he may not have had an affair while we were married, but I still don’t know if I can forgive him. How did my life end up this way? Before this war started I
was happy, now I’m in hell when I did nothing wrong. If it didn’t
start, maybe I would be okay. I don’t know what to do. I hate my sister for doing this to me and myself for not seeing it before.
My husband is dead dying. He’s not dead.
He can’t die now, but I know he will; he’s gotten worse. After
this is over I can leave. I’ll go back to Georgia if I can. Maybe I can sell the plantation when this war is over and take the boys up North. I guess I could get a job in one of those factories. I don’t
want to think about that now. I need to be here for my husband.
Yours
truly,
Annabelle
Thomas
November
15, 1861
Dear Diary,
I couldn’t bear to bring myself to write
when it happened. He kept coughing up blood and he just stopped at one point
and died. Camilla finally left the day he passed.
It was at around sunset on the fourth when he went with the daylight. I
made arrangements for him to be buried by the church in town; he’ll probably be buried by the end of the week. The boys
are just so upset. Richard has taken it harder than I thought he would. He kept crying and I finally got it to stop.
The twins and Zachary won’t leave their room. Junior just stays
out in the barn all hours of the day and night. I actually cried. I never cried that much during the war, but when he told me what happened with Camilla, I just couldn’t
handle it. Most of the farms around here have gone downhill while
we’ve been all right; so I’ve managed to make a deal with a Yankee to sell the land. Ethan will probably be rolling over in his grave over that, but I’ve got no choice. The Yankees keep going further and further into the South, so if I want to keep my boys safe I have to
get them out of here. I can move up to Maryland pretty easily and it would probably
be safe. It may be close to their capital, but they’ve got tobacco farms
so I figure I can buy land up there with the money I’ll get from selling the farm.
It’s still hard dealing with all this so soon after Ethan died. By
all accounts this war should’ve ended months ago. It mustn’t go on
much longer. Some crazy folks in town say it might last a whole year! I don’t really take them seriously because they’re just plum off their rocker. They went and bought Joe from the Morris farm only to set him free up North. Now I don’t believe in them things as much as I used to, but you have to admit with how hard it is
to get money these days, that’s just a waste! Well, I can’t keep
writing right now I have too much to do. I best be going to settle everything
with Reverend Marshall down at the church for Ethan’s funeral.
Yours
truly,
Annabelle
Thomas
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