Of Parchment and Saltwater

Chapter 29

    

Alexander died the next morning, in his wife's arms. Benjamin (who had arrived with the children in the middle of the night) and I stood by silently.
     He slipped his calloused hand into mine and pulled me close, fighting back tears. My shoulders trembled with sorrow.
     I felt as though I'd been grieving the moment the bullet hit him, and my tears had been exhausted through adrenaline. There was no energy left in me anymore, and it just felt like a sinking ache of guilt in my stomach.
     After a few hours of comforting Eliza and helping make arrangements, Benjamin and I gathered Samuel, Ruth, and Lydia who were upstairs playing with the younger, oblivious Hamilton children.
     "Why do we have to leave?" Samuel complained, hanging onto my blood soaked apron with a groan, "William and I built a tower with his blocks and I was just about to attack it with my soldiers, Mama! Could we not stay for just a little while longer."
     William Hamilton, who was almost seven years old and had not yet been told the seriousness of his father's injuries, looked at me with wide eyes that begged for me to let Samuel stay and play with him.
     I was unable to keep my hands from trembling as I feigned a smile and shook my head, holding Ruth on one hip and Lydia on the other.
     "I'm sorry, William," I told the young boy, "but Sam has to...go home. Why don't you stay up here for a little while longer, alright? I think your mother will be up soon to speak to you."
     The thought of leaving him up here to receive the worst news that would probably ever be given to him made me sick to my stomach. But I left.
     Downstairs, Eliza was holding her eldest daughter Angelica as they wept together. Unwilling to disturb them, I went out once more to the porch with our three children and held them close with tears in my eyes.  
     Benjamin approached silently and sat beside me, holding a letter in his hand.
     "Eliza said you might want to read it," he said gently, his once-strong eyes looking as though he'd been crying for a while.
     I took the parchment from his hand and read it without a word, much to Samuel's confusion at the solemn nature of the situation.

July 4, 1804
This letter, my very dear Eliza, will not be delivered to you, unless I shall first have terminated my earthly career; to begin, as I humbly hope from redeeming grace and divine mercy, a happy immortality.
If it had been possible for me to have avoided the interview, my love for you and my precious children would have been alone a decisive motive. But it was not possible, without sacrifices which would have rendered me unworthy of your esteem. I need not tell you of the pangs I feel, from the idea of quitting you and exposing you to the anguish which I know you would feel. Nor could I dwell on the topic lest it should unman me.
The consolations of Religion, my beloved, can alone support you; and these you have a right to enjoy. Fly to the bosom of your God and be comforted. With my last idea; I shall cherish the sweet hope of meeting you in a better world.
Adieu best of wives and best of Women. Embrace all my darling Children for me.
Ever yours,
A H

     I leaned against Benjamin's broken frame and sobbed into his coat, holding Lydia to my chest as though she would slip away if I didn't hold her tight enough.
     "I should have stopped him."
     "You didn't know."
     "I should have."
     "I know."
     Benjamin's tears dripped onto my forehead and down the side of my nose, mixing with my own. His breath was caught in the back of his throat and he put a hand to his face as if it would stop the emotion he'd avoided for years.
     "I want to go home," I whispered, hugging myself and bringing my feet up onto the bench, "to Litchfield...not just Brooklyn."
     He nodded and took Samuel by the shoulders, leaning forward until they were at the same level.
     "Sammy-boy," his voice broke when he used the same nickname we'd all once used for his own brother, "we're going back home, alright?"
     "What has happened? Why are you sad?"
     "Your friend William's father has died, Samuel. We loved him very much."
A crestfallen look appeared on his face but he obviously still didn't fully understand. Benjamin looked at me over Samuel's head and mouthed, "They ought to go."
I nodded. The two of us still had responsibility to the Hamilton family here, but it wasn't fair of us to keep the children with us to suffer as well—especially Samuel who could grasp the gravity of the situation much greater than his younger sisters.
We arranged to have one of Alexander's servants bring the children to Brooklyn, where one of my intelligence contacts during the war, an older woman named Margaret who lived down the street, would watch over them for a few hours before we arrived home.
We said goodbye quickly and went right to work, helping Eliza and Angelica with arrangements for burial and memorial and comforting wherever necessary. Angelica still had not forgiven me for allowing the duel to happen and made that very clear in everything she did.
Benjamin and I were miserable but kept silent, knowing that it would be unfair to leave the sisters to do it all alone. I had not slept in over twenty-four hours, and Ben had to awaken me many times as I began to fall asleep against him.
"You two must go home," Eliza said finally, after watching Benjamin revive me from an involuntary repose once again, "and rejoin your children. You've done so much for us already."
I shook my head. "Dear Eliza, we cannot just leave you-"
"Major Tallmadge, surely you understand. I cannot bear the thought of keeping you two here any longer than truly necessary. Louisa, if you had not been here," her voice trembled and Angelica put an arm around her sister with a glare towards me, "my dear Alexander would have died right there in New Jersey. You gave me time I would have never had with him. I'm forever indebted to you. Please, spare yourself my suffering and go back to your family and your home. You've been so good to us."
There was no arguing with her, and Benjamin and I were soon gathering my medical supplies to put in the saddlebag. He helped me onto Highlander in front of him draped a woolen shawl over me.
I leaned against him and he spoke softly to his horse, urging him on and somehow conveying to the animal that he wanted a gentle ride.
"Sleep, darling," he whispered to me, "and I'll fight the bad dreams if they come, alright?"
I smiled and nuzzled against his chest. "Is that an order," I mumbled before drifting off, "Major?"