Troubling Questions
“Grandpa would never lie to me! You don’t know him!” But did I know him anymore? Is the Grandpa I see—or don’t see—in Gettysburg the same honest, dependable Grandpa I grew up with?
I walk quick-like back to the boarding house, while Chance tries to talk to me. I don’t listen. My brain has sifting to do.
The streets are crowded, and I side-step around folks. Their voices swallow up Chance’s words, and I lose sight of him in all those bodies.
At the boarding house, I check to make sure I have the general’s name right. I do. Is Chance right? Did Grandpa lie? If he’s not working at the Camp, where is he? Questions stew in my head all afternoon.
Setting the supper table, I hear a knock at the door. With Mrs. Grome busy in the kitchen, I open it. Grandpa leans on a boy in a uniform. “Grandpa!” I throw my arms around him.
“What’s wrong?” I ask the boy. “Is he hurt?”
“He’s a bit dazed,” the boy says. “He was wandering the Camp like a lost puppy.”
My eyes search Grandpa’s face as I hold open the screen door. The bags under his eyes look full of worry. “The Camp? But I was there. I couldn’t find him.”
“It’s a big camp,” he says as though I hadn’t noticed. “I’m James Hadley. We Boy Scouts are assigned to help look after the veterans, because they’re,” he whispers the last word, “elderly.”
Grandpa hears the word plain enough, and almost smiles.
“He seems confused,” Hadley says, helping Grandpa to the sofa, “but doesn’t smell of liquor. Some of these gents can’t take the heat. He had me bring him here instead of a First Aid tent. When he goes to the Camp, be sure he carries his badge.”
“Badge?”
“Like this.” He points to a paper tag tied to a button on his chest.
I look closer at the Boy Scout’s tag. It has his name, address and a name to notify in case of sickness or accident.
“Mine lists my mother,” he says. “His should have your name in case this happens again.”
I’m not about to let it happen again. I can’t believe heat addled Grandpa. Back home he spends the livelong day in the sun.
With Grandpa’s state of mind, I let questions about General Walker lie, but at supper he seems like always. He listens to Mr. Redmond talk about General Chamberlain’s illness. I’m sure a Yankee general is the least of Grandpa’s caring, but he clucks with sympathy all the same.
Chance comes late to the table and seems surprised to see Grandpa. A look broods in his eyes, but his words say only, “I’m sorry I’m late.”
“Grandpa,” I say. “The Boy Scout said you can’t go the Camp again without your badge.”
“Ain’t got no badge.” He switches subjects. “Young Hadley hails from a farm upstate. Fine, upstandin’ feller fer a Yankee.”
I wince, but no one else seems bothered by the word.
“And his pa has kin in Tennessee,” Grandpa adds.
If Grandpa’s mind isn’t too addled to recall the boy’s life and kin, I reckon he’s fit as a barn owl at midnight.
On the porch after supper, Grandpa settles in beside Mr. Redmond, and they swap stories like two old ladies at a quilting.
Chance’s eyes all but bore a hole right through me. His eyebrows twitch and motion toward the door.
I finally give in and follow him inside. We go through the kitchen and out the patched screen door to the back yard.
“Remember I said Simms was arrested?” he says.
I nod. “In another county.”
“The sheriff got a tip about a fight brewing. He found Simms and another man on the verge of a brawl.”
“So?”
“The other man was your grandfather.”
“Grandpa? How could Grandpa be in another county? He was at the Veterans’ Camp.”
Chance squints into my eyes. “Something strange is going on. Your grandfather said he’d be with someone it turns out is dead. Westy’s from the Stonewall Brigade, but hasn’t heard of him. And he doesn’t have a badge like the other veterans.”
“What are you saying?” My eyes squint tighter than his.
“Are you sure he even served in the army?”
I flinch as though he hit me. “Might be you’re suffering from the heat.”
His eyes stay on me without blinking. “I don’t know what else to think.”
I storm back into the house, letting the screen door slam in Chance’s face.
It’s bad enough Grandpa lied about General Walker, but if he wasn’t in the army, it would mean he’s lied to me my whole life. I’ll never believe that.
If you were here, you could tell Chance the truth about Grandpa serving with Stonewall. You were there. If only you could talk to me.
Virginia Lee Kent
