The leaves around our small Georgia town, began to change colors.
It had been weeks since I'd heard anything about father, and Charlie had been so busy with the paper, because his boss, William Clark, went to write about the nurses stationed for the south.
We got a telegraph from him earlier this week stating that he was not on the front-line yet, and was helping repair broken weapons, while waiting to be needed in the militia.
He also mentioned that he mentioned meeting a nurse named 'Rose Miller' from Alabama.
Father hadn't talked about women in so many years, that I thought he was avoiding them!
I was nearly jealous of the "Rose Miller" for having my dad during this scary time, and leaving me and Charlie behind, to worry.
I was out of novels to read, so I decided to follow Charlie to work, and help him catch up with his news article.
His desk was swamped with stories, and old papers, all in an attempt to get attention.
I began organizing the papers, and made Charlie a cup of coffee, then sat at his side, and began reading the ideas that were scribbled across an old notepad.
150 men killed on line the first week of war
Thomas Jonathan Jackson nicknamed "Stonewall Jackson"
Nearly 5000 nurses volunteered to serve for both sides of the war
Vermont and Massachusetts join the North.
12 lbs cannon balls are being dropped in both directions!
I choked back the fear that was crawling up my throat. I watched Charlie scratch more statistics and information onto the notepad, then bury his face into his sleeve.
His shoulders began shaking, and I knew he was crying. He began to speak, but the muffled words were too soft to understand.
"Charles, I know." I tried to be as comforting as I could, but we both knew the reality of the situation. Father was too old to last very long.
It was killing Charlie to read these facts, and see his dad in the same footsteps of these fallen soldiers.
"He is 49 years old, Theo, all the other young men that went were around our age.
No older than maybe 30, but with father out there at his age, he has no chance!" It was true, and it was like swallowing a knife to allow it to sink in.
I didn't want to lose father, no matter how much our relationship faltered. I loved him, because he was my daddy.
Around 5 o'clock, we headed back to the house, and stopped at the market and bought a small bouquet of daisies.
Upon entering the house, I saw Phillip out in the cotton fields again, picking the soft tufts of harvest from the dry pods.
"Hello Phillip!" I hollered and waved. He looked up and tipped his straw hat.
With the small gesture, Charlie and I went inside and surprised Mary with the flowers and a short card, thanking her for being there for us through the difficulties.
Finally we all sat around the dinner table together and enjoyed a simple supper, and listened to Mary tell stories about Charlie and I's childhood. We laughed and had an easily pleasant evening.
I went to my room, and changed into a silk nightgown. I walked to my mirror and spun, admiring the way the candlelight made the fabric shine.
I then sat on my bed and opened to the first page of Sense and Sensibility.