My Story

It was midnight, but the sky was on fire. The flames reached into the sky, pushing forth massive fists of smoke, swallowing everything in their path. Even the moon. The ground had turned to swamp. Burned ashen ground that had been drenched by the rains that preceded the fire. If only it had rained today. Genevieve choked back the smoke that burned her throat so badly it hurt to breathe. Mud clung to the bottom of her skirts, causing her to stumble every few feet on the voluminous folds of fabric, but she forced herself to keep moving.

It was the end of the world. Of her world.

And she could hear the screams, mixed with gunshots and the unrelenting roar of the flames. She could hear the soldiers shouting orders of murder.

“Burn down the houses. Let the rebels feel the weight of their defeat. Burn it all!”

And one by one, Union soldiers had lit the great houses of the plantations ablaze, with their own kerosene-lden sheets and curtains. One by one, Genevieve watched the homes of her neighbors, of her friends and family, surrender to the flames. And in the worst of circumstances, many of those friends and relatives surrendered as well, eaten alive by the flames in the very homes where they were born.

That’s why she was running into the smoke, toward the fire, right into the mouth of the beast. She had to get to Greenbriar before the soldiers. And she didn’t have much time. The soldiers were methodical \, working their way down the Santee burning the houses one by one. They had already burned Blackwell; Dove’s Crossing would be next, then Greenbriar and Ravenwood. General Sherman and his army had started the burning campaign hundreds of miles before they reached Gatlin. They had burned Colombia to the ground, and continued marching east, burning everything in their path. When they reached the outskirts of Gatlin, the Confederate flag was still waving, the second wind they needed.

It was the smell that told her that she was too late. Lemons. The tart smell of lemons mixed with ash. They were burning the lemon trees.

Genevieve’s mother loved lemons. So when her father had visited a plantation in Georgia when she was a little girl, he had brought her mother two lemon trees. Everyone said that they wouldn’t grow, that the cold South Carolina winter nights would kill them. But Genevieve’s mother didn’t listen. She planted those trees right in front of the cotton field, tending them herself. On those cold winter nights, she had covered the trees with old wool blankets and piled dirt along the edges to keep the moisture out. Adn those trees grew. They grew so well that over the years, Genevieve’s father had brought her twenty-eight more trees. Some of the other ladies in town asked their husbands for lemon trees and a few of them even got a tree or two. But none of them could figure out how to keep their trees alive. The trees only seemed to flourish at Greenbriar, at her mother’s hand.

Nothing had ever been able to kill those trees. Until today.

Nothing could have prepared Genevieve for the sight of Greenbriar burning. The flames licked up its sides, eating away at the lattice and swallowing the veranda. Soldiers carried out antiques and paintings, looting like common thieves. Where was everyone? Were they hiding in the woods like she was? Leaves crackled. She senced someone behind her, but before she could turn around a muddy hand clamped over her mouth. SHe grabbed the persons wrist with both hands. trying to break their hold.

“Genevieve, it’s me.” the hand loosened its grip.

“What are you doing here? Are you alright?”Genevieve threw her arms around the soldier dressed in what was left of a once proud grey confederate uniform.

“I am, darling.” Ethan said, but she know he was lying.

“I thought you might be..”

Genevieve only heard from Ethan by letters for the better part of two years. Since he had enlisted, and she hadn’t received a letter since the battle of wilderness. Genevieve know that many of the men who followed Lee into that battle had never marched back out of Virginia. She had resigned herself to die a spinster. She had been so sure that she had lost Ethan. It was almost unimaginable that he was alive, standing before her.

“Where is the rest of your regiment?”

“The last I saw, they were outside Summit.”

“What do you mean, the last you saw? Are they all dead?”

“I don’t know. When I left, they were still alive.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I deserted, Genevieve. I couldn't’ fight one more day for something I don’t believe in. Not after what I’ve seen. Most of the boys fighting with me didn’t even realize what this war was about. They were spilling their blood over cotton.”

Ethan took her cold hands into his, rough with cuts. “I understand if you can’t marry me now. I don’t have any money, and now I don’t have any honor.”

“I dont’ care if you don't’ have any money, Ethan Carter Wate. You are the most honorable man I’ve ever known. And I don’t care if my daddy thinks our differences are too great to overcome. He’s wrong. Your home now and we are going to get married.”

Genevieve clung to him, afraid that he would disappear into thin air if she let go. The smell brought her back to the moment. The rancid smell of lemons burning, of lives burning. “We have to head for the river. That’s where mamma would go. She’d head South toward Aunt Marguerite's place.” But Ethan never had time to answer. someone was coming Branches were cracking like someone was thrashing through the brush.

“Get behind me,” Ethan ordered, pushing Genevieve behind him with one arm and grabbing his rifle with the other. The brush parted and Ivy, Greenbriar’s cook, stumbled into view. She was still in her nightgown black with smoke. She screamed at the sight of the uniform, too frightened to notice that it was gray, not blue.

“Ivy, are you alright?” Genevieve rushed forward to catch the old woman, who was already starting to fall.

“Miss Genevieve what in the world are you doin’ out here?”

“I was trying to get to Greenbriar. To warn all of you.”

“It’s too late for that, child, and it wouldn’t have done any good. Tose Blue Birds broke down the doors and walked right in liked they owned the place. They gav3e the house the onceover to see what they wanted to take, and then they just started setting fires.” It was almose impossible to hear her. She was hysterical, and every few seconds she was racked with a fit of coughing, choking on both the smoke and her tears. “

“In all my life I have never seen the devil in the likes of that. Burnign a house with woman in it. Every single one will have to answer to God Almighty Himself in the hereafter.” Ivy’s voice faltered.

It took a moment for Ivy’s words to register.

“What do you mean burning a house with women in it?”

“I’m so sorry, child.”

Genevieve felt her knees buckle beneath her. She knelt in the mud, the rain running down her face, mixing with her tears. Her mother, her sister, Greenbriar-they were al gone.

Genevieve looked up at the sky

“God’s the one who’s gonna have to answer to me.”

Burning a house with woman in it.

It couldn’t be true. Mamma. Evangeline. Genevieve's mind was racing. Maybe it want’ too late. She broke into a run, ignoring the ragged claws of the bushes urging her ot go back and Ethan and Ivy’s voices calling after her. The bushes opened up, and there were two Federals in front of what was left of the house Genevieve’s grandfather had built. Two Federals pouring a tray full of silver into government issued rucksacks. Genevieve was a gust of black billowing fabric catching the gusts kicked up by the fire.

“What the-”

“Grab her, Emmett,” the first teenage boy called to the other.

Genevieve was taking the stairs two at a time, choking on the gales of smoke pouring from the opening where the front door had been. She was out of her mind. Mamma. Evangeline. Her lungs were raw. She felt herself falling. Was it the smoke? Was she going to faint? No, it was something else. A hand on her wrist, pulling her down.

“Where do you think your going, girl?”

“Let me go!”j She screamed, her voice raw from the smoke. Her back hit the stairs one by one as he dragged her, a blur of navy and gold. Her head hit next. Hear, then something wet dripping down the collar of her dress. Dizziness and confusion mixed with desperation.

A gun shot. THe sound was so loud it brought ehr back, cutting through the darkness. The hand gripping her wrist relaxed. She tried to will her eyes to fucus.

Two more shots rang out.

Lord, please spare Mamma and Evangeline. But in the end, it was too much to ask or maybe it had been the worng question. Because when she heard the sound of the third body drop, her eyes refocused long enough to see Ethan’s gray wool jacket sprayed with blood. Shot by the very soldiers he had refused to fight against anymore.

And the smell of blood mixed with gunpowder and burning lemons.

The rain began almost immediatly. Hard rain, a downpour. Like the sky just opened up. Ivy had always said the rain was God’s tears. Today Genevieve believed it. It was only a few feet, but Genevieve couldn’t get there fast enough. She knelt down next to Ethan and cradled his head in her hands. His breathing was ragged. He was alive.

“No, no, not that boy too. You take to much away. Too much. Not this boy, too.” Ivy’s voice reached a fever pitch and she started to pray.

“Ivy, get help. I need water and whisky and something to take the bullet out.”

Genevieve pressed the wadded material from her skirt into the hole Ethan’s chest had filled only moments ago.

“I love you. And I would’ve married you, no matter what you family thought,” he whispered.

“Don’t say that, Ethan Carter Wate. Don’t you say that like your going to die. You’re going to be just fine. Just fine,” she repeated, trying to convince herself just as much as him.

Genevieve closed her eyes and concentraded. Flowers blooming. New born babies crying. The sun rising.

Birth not death.

She pictured the images in her mind, willing it to be true. THe images ran in circles in her mind.

Birth not death.

Ethan choked. She opened her eyes and their eyes met. For one minute, time seemed to stop. Then, Ethatn’s eyes closed, and his head rolled to one side.

Genevieve closed her eyes once again, visualizing the images. IT had to be a mistake. He couldnt’ be dead. She had summoned her power. She had done it a million times before, moving objects in her mother’s kitchen to play tricks on Ivy, healing baby birds who had fallen from their nests.

Why not now? When it mattered?

“Ethan, wake up. Please wake up.” But it was no use, he was dead.

She gently rested his head on the ground, turning on her heel. She made it to the woods and had a though. Say good bye.

She stopped and looked back. Ethan was still laying there. He looks so peaceful, she thought.

Consumed with the threat of tears, she whispered, “I’ll love you ‘til the day after forever.”

With nothing left for her, she ran into the woods. Away from the smell of death and burning lemons.

When she got far enough form the smell, she stopped and looked back. All she coudl see was the black smoke that was left of her home. And Ethan, a voice in her head whispered.

Not those again, she groaned. The voices had started to torment her, make her feel smaller, make her feel worthless.

There is nothing left of your love. He is dead because of you. The voices started to chant in her head as she walked to the outskirts of Gatlin.