The Way to Love
Chapter 11
The Nightmare

Summer - 1882

She walked quickly, glancing over her shoulder from time to time to make sure he was following. When she reached the door to her suite, she paused and bit her lower lip enticingly. "Erik," she whispered, "come inside."

He hesitated. "Are you sure? I didn't think you ever wanted to see me again."

She took his hand and pulled him across the threshold. "I've grown up since last we met. I'm not the foolish girl you left behind in Paris."

He watched as she carelessly tossed her wrap aside and smoothed the wrinkles from her gown. His eyes lingered on her feminine curves as she stood before the open window, silhouetted by the moonlight pouring through. A gentle breeze cooled his forehead, and he realized that he was burning…burning with the need to hold her in his arms. Two quick steps and he was beside her, one hand grazing the small of her back, the other caressing her cheek.

"How I've missed you," he murmured. "You're more beautiful than ever, Christine."

She turned to him, her eyes closed as she melted at his touch. She yielded her lips to him, inviting him to taste her as she gently removed his mask so that she could kiss him fully. She let the mask slide through her fingers, her eyelashes fluttering as she pulled him close. And then her eyes grew wide with terror, the stillness of the night shattered by her piercing scream.

"Horror! Horror! Horror!" she cried, stumbling as she backed away from him. She fell to the floor in a heap, cringing at the sight of him.

"Chris—" he gurgled, his words garbled and confused. He stumbled to the mirror, holding his head in his hands, and steeled himself for what he knew he would see – a corpse-like visage, his corrupt flesh a mangled mess that hung on protruding bones. But when he dropped his hands, a terrible moan escaped him as he saw what made her scream.

His lower jaw was missing, torn away by some unknown force. Vacant, dead eyes set above a hideous gaping maw stared back at him. "No," he cried, over and over again as he raked his nails down his ravaged face, the blood running in warm, wet rivulets, pooling around his throat, and he choked…choked…

…choked on his own scream as he bolted upright. He looked around, gulping down air as he tried to slow the pounding of his heart. He was in his own bed, in his own home, safe and sound. Wolf was on the floor next to his bed. The dog jumped up, cocked his head, and came over to lick Erik's cheeks reassuringly.

He flung off the bedcovers and lurched over to the washstand, pouring cold water from the pitcher over his hands and splashing it on his face. To his relief, the water ran clear in the washbasin, and he dabbed the moisture away with a fresh towel. Erik shook his head. He had dreamt of Christine before, many times, but never like this. He returned to his bed, and listened to Wolf's deep breathing.

"Only a dream," he said to himself, as Wolf watched him settle down. "Only a damned dream."

When morning came, he went to Grand Central Terminal to arrange for tickets to Gettysburg as Joshua had asked. He stopped at a mercantile along the way and picked out some traveling clothes for Joshua and his wife, and when he touched the blue satin ribbon on the bonnet, he thought how lucky was Joshua, to have a loving wife. A woman who would not scream at the sight of him…

And he realized how lucky he was, as he moved freely through the streets of New York with barely anyone giving him a second glance.

-0-0-0-

Erik looked out the train window, the rhythmic clickety-clack of the wheels on the track creating a tranquilizing sound. When Joshua and Miranda had invited him to join them on the trip to Gettysburg, Erik had been deeply touched. True friendship was something new, and he was honored that they had thought enough of him to want to accompany them.

Like many others, he had heard of the great and terrible battle that had raged near the small village in Pennsylvania nearly twenty years ago. He knew that this was where Joshua had received his wound, and that for the Lathrops, this was a pilgrimage of sorts, a chance to put to rest old ghosts, something with which he, Erik, had experience. At first, he had declined the invitation, saying that he did not wish to intrude on what the couple would surely wish to be a private time. But neither Joshua nor Miranda would take "no" for an answer. Erik was their benefactor and, more importantly, their friend; they would be grateful to have him go along with them. And so Erik arranged for Wolf to stay back with Ambrose at the infirmary for a few days. His bag packed, he'd picked up Joshua and Miranda that morning, and the three of them headed for the train station and Gettysburg.

-0-0-0-

"It was good of you to think of a private compartment," Miranda said to Erik as she got up and stretched. "It's much nicer than sitting in the regular coach with everyone crowded so close together. However, if you gentlemen don't mind, I think I'll stretch my legs in the corridor for a few minutes."

Erik, who was sitting closest to the door, rose and opened it for her. When he resumed his seat, Joshua pointed to the book Erik had brought with him, indicating that he would like to hear his traveling companion read something.

"It's a volume of Mr. Whitman's poems," Erik said. "Which would you like to hear?" He handed the book to Joshua, who pointed to "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd."

When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom'd
And the great star early droop'd in the western sky in the night,
I mourn'd and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.
O powerful western fallen star!
O shades of night—O moody, tearful night!
O great star disappear'd—O the black murk that hides the star!
O cruel hands that hold me powerless—O helpless soul of me!
O harsh surrounding cloud that will not free my soul.

Erik paused. "This is about your President Lincoln, is it not?"

Joshua nodded.

"You admired him?"

Again, Joshua nodded. He pulled out the tablet of paper he'd brought with him and wrote, He was the noblest of men.

Erik saw the tired expression on Joshua's face and was worried that the poem, with its symbolic references to the assassination of the late president, was too depressing. "Perhaps I should find something more uplifting to read," Erik said. "This appears to upset you."

Joshua attempted to smile. No, this suits my mood.

Erik finished the poem and there was a moment of silence between the two men. Joshua, who had noticed the ring Erik always wore, ventured to ask about it. Have you never married?

"No," Erik answered with a tinge of embarrassment, having always felt awkward when speaking of himself. "I'm afraid I am not the marrying kind."

Joshua cocked an eyebrow. I'm surprised. You have so many good qualities to offer.

"I was in love once," Erik admitted hesitantly. "Still am, if truth be told. But I drove her away. I didn't intend to, but I did it all the same. She sings with the Paris Opera. I was her voice teacher."

So you sing as well as play? You are a man of many talents.

"Yes, I play the piano and violin…and on occasion, sing," he said, not wishing to elaborate, but then he paused as his thoughts flew to the rooftop of the opera house. "Her name is Christine," he finally said. "When I knew her, she was young and innocent, and against my better judgment, I found myself falling in love with her. In my foolishness, I assumed she loved me in return. It turns out that I…frightened her."

Joshua frowned. Your face?

"My face. My temper. My demanding nature. I drove her into another man's arms."

You must have changed since then. I do not see these things in you.

"I have worked hard to control it. My temper, that is." Erik looked up and saw tears in the other man's eyes, and in that moment, each man realized that the other envied him something.

I sometimes wish I had your face, Joshua finally wrote.

The words stunned Erik. "I had never considered that possibility," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. How often has he worried about losing Miranda, and how sad is it that he envies me? But Erik knew it was true, that if he could, Joshua would happily take a proper, if ugly, face such as Erik's, one with an undamaged jaw and a tongue that allowed him to speak. "You do know that she loves you," he said. "I would give anything if Christine felt that way about me."

The door opened, breaking the melancholy mood that had settled over the room. Miranda frowned as she saw two forlorn faces looking up at her. "Is there something wrong? Have the two of you quarreled or something?"

Erik forced himself to smile. "Everything is fine. We were just reminiscing."

Joshua gazed at Miranda and held out his hand to her, inviting her to sit next to him. She took her place next to him and he picked up his tablet. I love you, he wrote.

Tears welled up in her eyes. "I love you, too, Joshua Lathrop."

-0-0-0-

It took two days to make the two hundred-plus mile trip from New York City to Gettysburg. Although Joshua's health had greatly improved over the past months, neither Miranda nor Erik had wanted to see him overly taxed. As it was, their route included several transfer points. On the first day, they took one line from the Grand Central Depot in New York to Philadelphia, and then transferred over to another line that took them into Harrisburg. At each transfer point, luggage had to be unloaded from one train and loaded onto the next. There were also waits in the train schedules, and so the three of them had decided to make Harrisburg their halfway point. They spent the night in the state capital, which allowed everyone to be well rested for the second leg of the trip. The next morning, they took the Gettysburg & Harrisburg Railroad and arrived at the downtown train station in the village later that afternoon.

Erik was surprised to see that for a small place, Gettysburg was more than capable of taking care of visitors. Apparently, they were not the only ones who came to visit the battlefield. The cab driver who took them to their hotel explained that each year, veterans, their families, and others who were curious came to their small community. Reunions were becoming popular, as was the erecting of monuments and commemorations by various veterans' organizations. A veritable tourist industry had sprung up, providing accommodations, livery services, restaurants, and guides. Erik asked which hotel the cab driver would recommend.

"The City Hotel," he said. "Right by the Diamond."

"What's 'the diamond'?" Miranda asked.

"Some folks would call it the town square, but it's not truly square so we call it the Diamond," their cabbie explained.

They planned on spending several days in Gettysburg, and Erik took care of checking them into their hotel, securing adjacent rooms. The rest of the afternoon was spent in quiet repose. Erik wanted their stay to be a trouble-free as possible, and while Miranda and Joshua relaxed in their room, he went to speak to the hotel clerk, who arranged for a carriage and guide to pick them up the next morning for a tour around the battlefield.


Author's Note: Here's where I get to give you a little history lesson. My characters arrive at Gettysburg via the Gettysburg & Harrisburg RR, an actual line but one that was not completed until 1884, two years after this story. I just hurried things up a bit. As for the Gettysburg battlefield itself?

After the battle, the Army of the Potomac and the citizens of Gettysburg were left with appalling burdens. The battlefield was strewn with over 7,000 dead men and the houses, farms, churches, and public buildings were struggling to deal with 30,000 wounded men. The stench from the dead soldiers and from the thousands of animal carcasses was overwhelming. To the east of town, a massive tent city was erected to attempt medical care for the soldiers, which was named Camp Letterman after Jonathan Letterman, chief surgeon of the Army of the Potomac. Contracts were let with entrepreneurs to bury men and animals and the majority were buried near where they fell.

Two individuals immediately began to work to help the town recover and to preserve the memory of those who had fallen: David Wills and David McConaughy, both attorneys living in Gettysburg. A week after the battle, Pennsylvania Governor Andrew Curtin visited Gettysburg and expressed the state's interest in finding its veterans and giving them a proper burial. Wills immediately arranged for the purchase of 17 acres next to the Evergreen Cemetery, but the priority of burying Pennsylvania veterans soon changed to honoring all of the Union dead.

McConaughy was responsible for purchasing 600 acres of privately held land to preserve as a monument. His first priorities for preservation were Culp's Hill, East Cemetery Hill, and Little Round Top. On April 30, 1864, the Gettysburg Battlefield Memorial Association was formed to mark "the great deeds of valor . . . and the signal events which render these battlegrounds illustrious," and it began adding to McConaughy's holdings. In 1880, the Grand Army of the Republic took control of the Memorial Association and its lands.

On November 19, 1863, the Soldiers' National Cemetery was dedicated in a ceremony highlighted by Abraham Lincoln's Gettysburg Address. The night before, Lincoln slept in Wills's house on the main square in Gettysburg, which is now a landmark administered by the National Park Service. The cemetery was completed in March of 1864 with the last of 3,512 Union dead reburied. It became a National Cemetery on May 1, 1872, when control was transferred to the U.S. War Department.

The removal of Confederate dead from the field burial plots was not undertaken until seven years after the battle. From 1870 to 1873, upon the initiative of the Ladies Memorial Associations of Richmond, Raleigh, Savannah, and Charleston, 3,320 bodies were disinterred and sent to cemeteries in those cities for reburial, 2,935 being interred in Hollywood Cemetery, Richmond. Seventy-three bodies were reburied in home cemeteries.

Since the battle, Gettysburg has been a prominent attraction for visitors. Immediately after the battle, thousands of relatives arrived in search of their dead and wounded. (This was possible only because Gettysburg was in Northern territory. No similar trips could be made by relatives to, say, Chancellorsville, Virginia.) After the war, due to its proximity to major eastern cities, Gettysburg was one of the most popular tourist destinations of all the battlefields. Commercial development followed this influx. Source: "Gettysburg Battlefield," Wikipedia.