November 28, 1861

My Dearest Husband,

Today is the day we are supposed to give thanks. I find that terribly difficult with you so far away.  I hope when you receive this letter you are in good spirits and healthy.  I've heard no word of any battle for your regiment as of late, but I still worry.

I will give thanks today for not receiving any unfavorable news from the battlefields of this hellish war.  We have been married now for over a year, so I am thankful for your faithful love for me.

I'm thankful for a healthy pregnancy and for my loved ones who are now doing my work.  Oliver, I no longer resemble the woman you married.  Our child, or children as you say, have grown and are quite active. 

Mae, Mimi, and Dr. Sams all say my time is nearing as soon as January.  I will send word via post as soon as they are delivered.

The townspeople have sent clothing, and Mimi has been sewing up a storm.  Bub built a cradle and it is beautiful.  He is working on a second one for good measure. 

I hope to see you soon, and as always, please give my father and brothers my love.  I will pray for us, and all of our brave brothers and sisters.

Your faithful wife,
Naomi

I have not sent word to my husband about Thomas Vest.  I also have not told him about Claudine and Patrick.  He has enough to worry about without knowing about my rebel stranger, the sexual assault, or his past love now being widowed and living in our home. 

Colonel Rutherford came as soon as I sent for him.  The vicious rebels were taken away, and Patrick was granted immunity until he was granted sanctuary.  His injuries were severe, and Dr. Sams had to amputate his leg.  He was lucky not to have died from infection.  In fact, Dr. Sams stated it was a miracle. 

He recovered here, and Bub did the most generous thing by carving a wooden leg.  Patrick practices daily and is becoming more independant.  He was very depressed for some time that the Union Army turned him away. 

Armstrong has contacted our attorney to help him file for citizenship.  Although Armstrong is a solicitor, immigration is not his specialty.  Patrick has already been granted sanctuary by our friend Judge Klein. 

After learning Patrick was an orphan and sold into servatude at the age of seven, there was no chance Judge Klein would have turned him away.

Patrick is strong, handsome, and extremely intelligent for his limited education.  Mae works with him daily to educate him further for a career after the war.  Once he is healed, he will be hired to work for our family.  For now, I am in his debt for saving mine and my children's lives. 

Claudine avoids me at all costs.  It is strange having the woman my husband loved before me here in my home.  At night I can sometimes hear her cry, and I have to wonder if it's over her lost love, my husband. 

I caught her staring at his image one day.  A photograph of him I've never seen.  All I have is the wedding photograph from when we were strangers.  I wonder if Oliver has one of Claudine in his satchel with mine.

Claudine is a very beautiful woman.  I still don't feel they are honest.  She is in no way mulatto, or her colored ancestor was from many generations back.  My husband could have married her and nobody would know the difference. 

She speaks with a southern drawl, much more defined than my weak Southern Indiana accent.  She speaks formally, where I don't have the patience to think before I speak. 

The woman can also cook.  I was kicked out of the kitchen for eating when I should have been working.  My cravings are severe and hardly ever satisfied.  I could most likely eat all of Bubs prize winning Turkey, if I was left alone with it.  Nothing would be left but bones. 

I was offended when the beautiful woman showed up at my table in her finest.  Certainly she knows it wouldn't take much to over shadow me.  I'm bigger than Mrs. Cooner at the merchantile.  Her perfect eyelashes and big brown eyes bat at the men at our table, especially toward Armstrong. 

My sweet Patrick doesn't give her a second look.  He smiles at me, and I nod.  I know he is just trying to make me feel better.  Bub, Mae, and Mimi know exactly who she is, because I told Mae, and she already knew Bub and Mimi.

Mimi refuses to speak about my husband's love for Claudine, while Bub just ignores my questions and assures me Oliver has never loved a woman the way he loves me.  I wish I could be so sure.  If I were a man, I would certainly fall for such a beauty.

Her hair is fine and shines in the sunlight, while mine is wild and falls down my back in waves.  She wears hers up in the most fashionable styles, while I just brush mine. 

She would never be caught in her shift, and her corset is always present.  She sits perfectly straight with manners of high society.  Manners I was taught and refused to comply with, but that is what Oliver  says he loves about me.  My free spirit is his weakness.  At least that's what he says.  I feel like a poor replacement for the woman he truly loved and lost.  I think he will find himself in a conundrum once he returns.

"Mrs. Westlake, I was hoping you would share Oliver's address so I could write?" 

I gaped at the woman. 

"My sister happens to be his wife and the mother of his children.  Any word that needs to be sent to Mr. Westlake will be sent by his wife.  That is appropriate, don't you agree?"  Mae spoke up. 

"Yes ma'am."  She agreed.

"I do believe you are a guest in my sisters home.  Please do recognize your boundaries and respect her fragile condition.  We are all fully aware of your past with my brother-in-law.  There's no reason to make light of that at her dinner table." 

Ugh....

"I do apologize Mrs. Westlake if I have overstepped.  It's just that Oliver and I had a deep friendship for many years, and I thought all news from home would be welcomed by any soldier." 

I just shrugged my shoulders.  Whatever....

"Will there be cranberry sauce?"  I asked, and everyone laughed except Claudine.  She knows perfectly well all she needs to write to him is his regiment number.

After dinner, the women went to wash up, and I waddled into the parlor with Bub, Patrick, and Armstrong. 

"Mrs. Westlake, could I have a word?"  Patrick said.

"Yes."

Instead of making me walk away, the gentlemen left, and Patrick helped me into a chair. 

"I see it too, her jealousy and you falling prey to it.  Mrs. Westlake, you should know that woman does not hold a candle to your beauty.  I don't want to see you stress any longer.  It's not good for you. 

You are kind, so kind in fact, that you take in the least wanted.  Look at me as a matter of fact.  I'm only half the man I once was. I may not have your husbands education, but I am intelligent. I also know a beautiful woman when I see one. 

Mr. Westlake is a very lucky man and I know he loves you, and will until his last breath. She is scared and insecure because all of her support is gone. Oliver was her last hope, and I'll never forget her face when she learned you were his wife.

She isn't a bad woman, but she is desperate.  If you do not fall for her pettiness, she can never hurt you. She already knows he loves you more than he ever loved her."  He limped over and sat on a chair next to me. 

"That day in the barn, I could have lost my life by stopping.  That was my choice, because when I saw you, it was like seeing an angel being assaulted.  What that man did to you..."

He squeezed his fists shut and paused.

"What that man did to you should have gotten him killed.  I wanted to kill him, but I couldn't do that in front of you. I would have, I've killed before back when I escaped.  I never shot one union soldier, but when I ran, my own men shot at me.  I killed one that day.  A boy I've known since I came here, so if the Confederates ever find me I'm a dead man.  You were worth the risk.

I could have killed him, but something in the way you looked at me stopped me in my tracks. 

He loves you more than you could ever understand."  He finished. 

"Patrick, you are not a half a man, and I am thankful every single day I wake up and you're here with us.  I feel safer, and I'll always be in your debt.  You have a home with us, and that will never change.

Thank you for your kind words, although the last thing I feel is beautiful or angelic."  I tried to stand, but he took my hand and helped me up.

"I think Oliver and everyone else is right.  There's two isn't there?" 

He nodded.  "They'll be perfect." 

"Everyone else is willing to accept it but me."  I shook my head.

"Nobody else is living it."  He said.

"I'm heading to my chambers for a long and uncomfortable night.  Thank you, Patrick.  You've been my angel." 

I kissed him on the cheek and walked toward the steps.

"Poor Oliver."  I heard behind me, and I stopped.

"He's off to war, and you're sitting in a room all alone with the very man he fought on Cheats Hill.  One that may take all of our lives.  He is a rebel, and that is very discomforting to me." 

"If you are not comfortable in this home, then you are more than welcome to leave."  I spoke up.

"I think I'll stay, and just so you know, Oliver will never forgive you if you dare turn me away." 

"You're wrong, Claudine.  It isn't Oliver that wouldn't forgive me, It's myself, because I know you're just hurt and scared.  You believe all your support is gone."  I reached for her hand.  "If we want to win this war that is fueled by hatred, we have to extinguish it with kindness and mercy.  You are welcome in our home unless you choose to leave.  This war is about freedom, and that is exactly what you have tonight.  The freedom to choose where you want to be.  If it hurts you too bad to see our family grow, you are the only one that will make that decision.  All I ask is for some respect.  Otherwise, you are free to leave anytime you wish.  Good night Claudine. I hope you get more rest than I will tonight." 

I slowly made my way upstairs.  Patrick helped me work through my emotions, and I'm at peace with what I said to Claudine.