I Shall Be Near to You: A Novel

Jeremiah stands rigid, his eyes gone somewhere else, same as when he was leaning over that boy last night, his throat already shot through, that rifle echoing again. He takes off at a run, darting in and out of the trees as he goes to the clearing, heading back to where the fighting was, like he has lost his head entirely, his legs scissoring so fast past the skirmish line, Sully charging after.

 

And then I see why he is running. Stumbling across the clearing is a humpbacked man and it is Henry and I know what he’s got on his back. Henry gently lays that body down so the tall grass swallows it up. Then he and Jeremiah swoop low like gathering chaff to carry the load between them and the tears running down my face burn.

 

Sully jogs ahead and where Jeremiah and Henry walk, the skirmishers step aside, parting to let them pass, a few of them looking to see if it is anyone they know before turning right back to the trees where those Rebels might be coming. Jeremiah and Henry and Sully bring that body to us and lay it down on the damp leaf-covered ground.

 

Seeing death last night and seeing death when it’s a boy I’ve known my whole life ain’t the same thing, and I want to think Jimmy ain’t dead but it is plain from the condition of his head, part of it gone, that he can’t be living and then there is the smell of him, burnt flesh and blood and shit mixing with the wet, warm moldering smell of the leaves that our feet are mussing up. Will mutters what sounds like the Lord’s Prayer and then I say, ‘We’ve got to have him buried.’

 

Those words don’t but leave my mouth before Henry sinks to the ground next to his brother and I don’t know why I said it so soon.

 

‘You can sit with him as long as you like,’ Will says, and it is the right thing. ‘Long as you like.’

 

We make a little knot. All up and down the length of cord that is our Brigade weaving through the woods there is a smattering of knots and no one even cares that there is still fighting going on behind that embankment.

 

 

HENRY SITS A long time, just looking. Sully kneels beside him, his hand on Jimmy’s knee, like he’s got to touch him to know for sure. The rest of us stand silent until Henry takes a long breath.

 

He sighs it out and says, ‘He’s gone,’ like he’s been waiting for some kind of feeling, like Jimmy’s spirit has up and flown. He opens Jimmy’s jacket and inside is Jimmy’s name written in his own hand. So careful Henry unpins that name tag and then takes a letter from inside Jimmy’s jacket. When he is holding that letter, he goes to gasping, big wracking sobs, and it is the first time I’ve ever seen one of these boys cry.

 

‘You want us to find him a place—’ Jeremiah asks.

 

‘No!’ Henry shouts. ‘I’ve got to bury him! I’ve got to see it with my own eyes so I know where to find him after.’

 

And then Henry finds me. ‘You!’ he yells. ‘It’s your fault! If you ain’t come with us, this never would’ve happened!’

 

He comes at me, shoving me square in the chest hard enough I fall. There is scuffling and grunting and when I get my feet under myself, Jeremiah is holding Henry back, Sully is looking like he don’t know where to stand, and Will is gaping.

 

‘Simmer down!’ Jeremiah yells. ‘I ain’t having this!’

 

‘This ain’t about me,’ I say. ‘Jimmy lying there ain’t got a thing to do with me.’

 

‘It’s got everything to do with you!’ Henry pushes past Jeremiah. ‘If you weren’t here, we could’ve been looking out for him! Instead of always keeping watch on you!’

 

Jeremiah shoves Henry and he crashes into Sully, who puts his hands out and pushes him upright. Henry knocks into Jeremiah, sending Jeremiah reeling, and then Henry barrels at me but my fists are up and I aim straight for his nose.

 

My fist smashes into it, shock blooming across his face as he falls backward.

 

‘I can take care of myself! I don’t need no one keeping watch over me and I never asked for it neither!’ I bellow, and clench both my fists, ready. ‘If you’ve got a problem with me, then we settle this right now ’cause I ain’t going anywhere! You want to blame someone for Jimmy dying, you blame those Rebels! There ain’t one of us here who could have done a thing different to save Jimmy and there ain’t one of us who wants to leave him here in this ground!’

 

My breath comes fast and blood pours from Henry’s nose, down his face. Jeremiah gives Henry a shove and Will grabs me, his hand tightening on my arm and my knuckles aching, but I just keep talking so I don’t get to crying and I don’t care who might hear what I’ve got to say.

 

‘You know why I came here, and I ain’t asked for one thing different or special, and I ain’t going back, so if you’ve got something to say, you say it right now and be done with this thing.’

 

Not one of them says a single word. Will’s hands loosen on my arms and he steps to the side of me. His mouth works but he don’t make a sound.

 

‘You got anything else needs saying?’ Jeremiah yells at Henry.

 

Erin Lindsay McCabe's books