Free Uncertain Glory by Lea Wait Page A

myself.
    Yesterday’s
Herald
had sold forty-six extra copies, so that was ninety-two cents, and the business cards for Mr. Dana had brought in $2.60. My account book now read $46.40. But how would I get the remaining $18.60 in only eight days?
    I hoped God wouldn’t mind if I snuck in an extra prayer for a small personal miracle. I figgered it wouldn’t hurt none, and I could use all the help I could get. April 22 was looming close.
    Seemed like everyone in town was thinking like Ma and Pa. The Congregational Church was full to overflowing. Reverend Merrill had hung the largest flag he could find above the entrance, so we all walked beneath the Stars and Stripes as we filed inside.
    No one questioned whether church and state should be separate on this April morning. Most folks in Wiscasset were churchgoers, and we were all patriotic citizens. What conflict could there be?
    Clearly Reverend Merrill saw none, as he prayed for our soldiers and for those misguided souls in the Confederacy. He prayed for President Lincoln and Vice President Hamlin, and for the Cabinet, and for all the senators and representatives, and for Governor Washburn up in Augusta. He prayed for peace, and for the healing of our nation without bloodshed. We all sang “Am I a Soldier of the Cross?” as we left services.
    I was itching to get down to my office, but no one else outside the church seemed in any hurry to rush off. Most Sundays folks chatted on the Green after services before leaving to fix Sunday dinner. Today a group of boys had found sticks and were racing about, pretending to shoot Confederate soldiers. About a dozen men headed directly from the church down toward the telegraph office. Had more news come in? I hoped Charlie’d checked. He hadn’t been in church. How long would Ma and Pa want me to stick close to them? We’d done our praying, and I was getting more edgy by the minute.
    â€œMa, can I go down to the
Herald
office now?” I finally asked.
    â€œGo on home and change out of your good clothes first,” admonished Ma. “And put something in your stomach when you’re to home. I do wish you’d stay for a decent dinner one of these days. We’ve hardly seen you in the past week.”
    â€œThe boy’s getting out the news,” said Pa, winking at me. “He’s a man with a job. You get on, Joe. Your ma and I have some planningto do for the store. If this war lasts more than a few days, it’s going to make a difference in what folks are going to be looking to buy.”
    â€œBound to be shortages, too,” Ma said. “The first stores to get orders in will make out best. We have to decide how much of our savings we’ll gamble on what inventory,” she added. “We’ll see you when you finish up for the day.”
    â€œThanks!” I said, taking off toward home before they changed their minds. I was at the
Herald
’s office within fifteen minutes.
    Owen and Charlie had beat me there.
    â€œNews?” I managed to get out as I raced up the stairs and through the door, breathing deeply. “Any news?”
    â€œWhere’ve you been?” said Charlie sharply. “It’s practically the middle of the afternoon. This is
your
newspaper, and I’ve had to set almost the whole first page myself. Did you think you could take Sunday off just because you felt like it?”
    â€œMy parents expected me to go to church with them. And it’s not the middle of the afternoon. It’s not even noon.”
    â€œWell, la-di-da. I didn’t know you were so religious. I thought you were a newspaperman.” Charlie slammed a type tray down. “Godfrey mighty! I’ve been here since early this morning. Even Owen has been here since eight o’clock. Nice of you to take the time to stop in—or maybe you thought you were helping by praying for us?”
    â€œWhat needs to be done?” I knew better than to argue when