the syllabus.
“The discovery that by combining arsenic, zinc and chloride to prevent bodies from decaying so quickly, meant that soldiers could be shipped home for burial rather than in mass graves. I want you to research each of these points and become familiar with their impact on the war for both the Union and Confederate armies.”
Cadet Valerie Jenkins raised her hand again. “There is no comparison when the Union Army controlled the telegraph lines.”
“Are you saying, Cadet Jenkins, that the Confederates were completely inept when it came to communications? And if they were, why then did the war last four years?”
She lifted her shoulders. “I don’t know.”
Xavier smiled. “That’s what I want you to find out. All of you have textbooks and access to the internet. Please use them. Remember, we’re going to cover every battle and skirmish beginning with the opening salvo of the shelling of Fort Sumter in Charleston Harbor on April 12, 1861 to Lee’s surrender at Appomattox April 12, 1865. You may think the issues I listed are inconsequential. But because of them battles were won and lost, heroes were revered and vanquished. Most of you have heard of the battles at Vicksburg, Lookout Mountain, Fredericksburg, Gettysburg, Bull Run and Manassas. But there was also Mechanicsville, Sailor’s Creek, Missionary Ridge, Strasburg, Philippi, Rich and Cedar Mountain. We will go over military tactics and strategies from the point of view of both armies. What we will not discuss is the political or the moral implications of the war.”
He glanced at the wall clock. “You have fifteen minutes to copy the notes on the board.” The cadets opened their laptops, waited for them to boot, then began typing. Unlike some instructors, Xavier preferred his students not take notes during the lecture because it was a distraction. He wanted them to absorb as much information as possible before transferring it to their notes. Times truly had changed since he’d attended military school. Yes, there were computers, but not every cadet had their own laptop.
Xavier dismissed the class. He knew the cadets were anxious to start the weekend. Having the next two days off let them blow off some steam. Come Monday morning the rigorous military education would begin again. And it wasn’t the first time Xavier thought he was grateful he didn’t live on campus. Once he’d received his official discharge from the marines, he was a civilian now living the life of a civilian. He was well aware that the transition from almost three decades in a military to civilian life wasn’t going to be easy. But teaching at a military academy had made it easier.
A knock on the classroom door caught his attention. He looked up. “Have a good weekend, Major Eaton.”
Xavier nodded to an instructor who taught mathematics at Munroe. “Thank you, Captain Alston. You do the same.”
For Xavier, every weekend was good, because for the first time in his adult life he would be able to go home and do whatever it was he wanted to do. He was no longer Captain Xavier P. Eaton, a rank he’d held for years before his promotion to major. The promotion had come when he’d risked his life to save three of his men who’d been wounded when they tripped an improvised explosive device—or IED. He’d managed to save two of them. After a month in a military hospital, where he was awarded a purple heart and another medal for bravery, Xavier was promoted to the rank of major, followed by several weeks in a rehabilitation facility that led to his medical discharge.
There were days when the pain in his leg had been so intense it made walking difficult. But he managed to work through the discomfort in order to maintain a relatively normal lifestyle. He’d gone from wheelchair to walker and eventually to walking with a cane. It had been more than two months since he’d used the cane he’d stored in the trunk of his car. Although he knew it would be some time before he’d be able to jog or run laps around a track, his orthopedist had assured him that there would come a time when he’d forget that rods, pins and screws had replaced his shattered bones.
Xavier walked out of the classroom and into the office he shared with two other history instructors, unlocked the drawer to his desk and retrieved his cell phone. He had two voice mail messages: one from his mother and another from his sister. He listened to his voice mail, smiling when he heard Paulette Eaton’s message:
“Thanks so much for the incredible box of goodies. I shared them with Roberta who couldn’t stop talking about them. She’d asked me whether I’d made them, and I couldn’t lie. But I didn’t tell her where I’d gotten them from, which truly made my day. Call me when you get a free moment. Love you.”
Xavier shook his head as he scrolled through the directory for his sister’s number. He wanted to tell his mother to give up her pointless undeclared war with her sister-in-law. The sooner Denise made their mother a grandmother, the better.
He hit the speed dial for New Visions Childcare, identifying himself and requesting to be connected with Denise Eaton. Her voice came through the earpiece less than sixty seconds later.
“What’s up, brother love?”
A rich chuckle greeted her response. “I think it’s Rhett who’s brother love.”
“Now, don’t tell me you’re not seeing anyone?” asked the director of the D.C.-based childcare center.
Xavier sobered. “I’m not seeing anyone. Does that satisfy your curiosity?”
“For now,” Denise quipped. “What I can’t understand, Xavier, is that you’ve been involved with some really nice women.”
“Nice doesn’t translate into special, Denise.”
“How special is special?”
“I can’t explain it. But I’ll know when I meet her.”
“Does she exist?”
He smiled even though his sister couldn’t see his expression. “Of course she exists.”
“Yeah, right,” Denise drawled. “I want to thank you for the wonderful birthday gift. It was delivered minutes before this morning’s staff meeting, so I shared them with everyone. Preston and Chandra invited me and Rhett to hang out with them for a couple of days, so I want to order something from Sweet Persuasions and have it delivered directly to them.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” he told his sister.
“Will they deliver to the Brandywine Valley?”
“I suppose they will. It may be a little remote compared to Philly, but it is on the map.” His cousin Chandra had married award-winning playwright P.J. Tucker, who owned a condo in Philadelphia’s Rittenhouse Square and a farmhouse in the historic Brandywine Valley.
“Can you please go to the shop and check it out for me, Xavier?”
“You have the telephone number. Why don’t you call?”
“I’ve been calling, but all I get is a busy signal.”
He smothered a groan. “When do you need to know?”
“Like yesterday. We’re leaving tonight, and plan to stay through Wednesday.”
His plans included going home and unwinding. “Give me the Brandywine address and telephone number.” Reaching for a pen, he wrote it down, repeating it to make doubly sure.
“I’ll send you a check if you order—”
“Don’t worry about sending me anything,” Xavier said, interrupting her.
“But I want—”
“I don’t want to discuss it, Denise. Save your money. Remember, you’re the one planning a wedding.”
“Have you forgotten your future brother-in-law is a multimillionaire?”
“And have you forgotten that it’s the bride’s family that usually pays for the wedding? So if you mention money to me again, I’m going to hang up on you.”
“Damn, brother. There’s no need to get hostile.”
Xavier