stove to look at her father. She could tell that he had also endured a long, sleepless night. Tired lines were prevalent on his face. His left leg, which had been injured in a carriage accident years before, must have been bothering him. He was favoring it.
"I am making soup for Mother," she explained.
"I'm not talking about soup, Julia."
Her father's tone was firm, almost scolding.
Samuel has talked to him, she thought. I knew he would. "He told you, didn't he?"
"He?" Her father repeated, eyebrows arched. "I assume you mean Sam. And no, he didn't tell me anything. It was your indifference toward him when you came asking about the wood that caught my attention. Now what is going on?"
Julia could feel her cheeks reddening. She knew her father liked Samuel. He always had. Would he understand her position? Would he support her decision?
She stirred the soup once more, stalling, searching for words.
Her father was drumming his fingers on the kitchen table. She knew he would not leave until she had given him an answer.
I will have to make it known sooner or later. It might as well be now, she thought. "I have decided not to marry him."
The drumming stopped. "Does he know this?" her father asked.
Julia kept her eyes on the soup. Little bits of carrots and chicken were floating in the broth. "Yes. He knows."
He grunted. Then there were several seconds of silence. "When did you decide this?" he asked.
Julia put down her spoon. It was obvious that her business in the kitchen was not going to deter her father's questioning. "Last night."
"Last night?"
"I told him so when Edward'" Fresh grief over her brother's enlistment choked her voice. She looked at her father, hoping her eyes could convey the rest. Surely you must feel the same.
Her father drew in a deep breath. "I see. Is this about you and Sam or is it about Edward?"
"It is both," she admitted. "You have seen what has happened here. That day at the train station'¦ Father, the soldiers fired upon us! Our fellow citizens were killed!"
"I know, Julia. I treated the wounded."
"Yes, and Edward has decided to do something! He's gone to Virginia to fight. But Samuel, he won't go! He won't defend what he says he cares about!"
"Because he won't go to Virginia?" Her father sighed. "Perhaps I set a poor example. Perhaps I remained neutral on this issue for too long. The issue of States' Rights, slavery included, never affected us."
"They affect you now," she said, "or they soon will. Northern soldiers have guns turned on this very neighborhood. If we don't stand against them, how can we ever be safe again?"
"And you think Samuel joining the Confederacy will change all of that?"
She blinked, not knowing how to answer.
Her father continued. "Sam has traveled. He has experienced life and drawn from others' life experiences. As a result, he carries a wider perspective of the world. He has spoken to me a few times about a man named Frederick Douglass."
"Yes, I know. The man from Boston. He mentioned him once."
The subject of slavery may have been a contentious topic in the nation for years but not so in the Stanton household. Julia's family did not own any slaves and none of their closest friends did either. Julia had never truly formed an opinion on the subject'and saw no need to now. The plight of a man living in Boston mattered very little to her compared to the safety of her family and friends right here in Maryland.
"Did he tell you he is a former slave?" her father asked. "A former Maryland slave?"
"No."
"Well, perhaps he wished to spare you the indelicate details. The things he spoke of have given me cause to think." He paused. "Rights are all fine and good until they
"I am making soup for Mother," she explained.
"I'm not talking about soup, Julia."
Her father's tone was firm, almost scolding.
Samuel has talked to him, she thought. I knew he would. "He told you, didn't he?"
"He?" Her father repeated, eyebrows arched. "I assume you mean Sam. And no, he didn't tell me anything. It was your indifference toward him when you came asking about the wood that caught my attention. Now what is going on?"
Julia could feel her cheeks reddening. She knew her father liked Samuel. He always had. Would he understand her position? Would he support her decision?
She stirred the soup once more, stalling, searching for words.
Her father was drumming his fingers on the kitchen table. She knew he would not leave until she had given him an answer.
I will have to make it known sooner or later. It might as well be now, she thought. "I have decided not to marry him."
The drumming stopped. "Does he know this?" her father asked.
Julia kept her eyes on the soup. Little bits of carrots and chicken were floating in the broth. "Yes. He knows."
He grunted. Then there were several seconds of silence. "When did you decide this?" he asked.
Julia put down her spoon. It was obvious that her business in the kitchen was not going to deter her father's questioning. "Last night."
"Last night?"
"I told him so when Edward'" Fresh grief over her brother's enlistment choked her voice. She looked at her father, hoping her eyes could convey the rest. Surely you must feel the same.
Her father drew in a deep breath. "I see. Is this about you and Sam or is it about Edward?"
"It is both," she admitted. "You have seen what has happened here. That day at the train station'¦ Father, the soldiers fired upon us! Our fellow citizens were killed!"
"I know, Julia. I treated the wounded."
"Yes, and Edward has decided to do something! He's gone to Virginia to fight. But Samuel, he won't go! He won't defend what he says he cares about!"
"Because he won't go to Virginia?" Her father sighed. "Perhaps I set a poor example. Perhaps I remained neutral on this issue for too long. The issue of States' Rights, slavery included, never affected us."
"They affect you now," she said, "or they soon will. Northern soldiers have guns turned on this very neighborhood. If we don't stand against them, how can we ever be safe again?"
"And you think Samuel joining the Confederacy will change all of that?"
She blinked, not knowing how to answer.
Her father continued. "Sam has traveled. He has experienced life and drawn from others' life experiences. As a result, he carries a wider perspective of the world. He has spoken to me a few times about a man named Frederick Douglass."
"Yes, I know. The man from Boston. He mentioned him once."
The subject of slavery may have been a contentious topic in the nation for years but not so in the Stanton household. Julia's family did not own any slaves and none of their closest friends did either. Julia had never truly formed an opinion on the subject'and saw no need to now. The plight of a man living in Boston mattered very little to her compared to the safety of her family and friends right here in Maryland.
"Did he tell you he is a former slave?" her father asked. "A former Maryland slave?"
"No."
"Well, perhaps he wished to spare you the indelicate details. The things he spoke of have given me cause to think." He paused. "Rights are all fine and good until they
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