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Their walks had become more frequent, with her now living in the hospital. It had started the night of the wedding, with an impromptu offer to walk her home. She had accepted with a cautious smile, and the rift that had grown between them seemed to melt away in an instant. With the stifling summer heat finally breaking, and the cooler weather of autumn seeping in, both Henry and Emma fell into a habit of circling around the block in the twilight, enjoying the cool fall breezes before the freezing cold of winter would prevent such excursions. Though, Emma hoped, the cold weather might provide an excuse to sit by the fire with him and read. There was something in his voice that provided comfort to any who listened, and she only wished he could realize that for himself.
The fall also meant the campaign season was close to an end, something both of them were grateful for. There would be skirmishes, and there would be sickness, but the waning of the year would also mean a reprieve from fighting on the scale of Antietam. Too many boys had died there, on both sides. Too many boys could not be saved. If the next campaign was to be as bad as that, let it wait.
Henry was quieter than usual, something clearly on his mind. Emma reveled in the comfortable silence. She was curious about what he was thinking, but by now Emma knew when to push and when to let Henry come to her on his own. It was only when they turned the corner that he finally said, “I have given much thought to everything that’s happened, these past few months…”
Emma nodded, slowly. The battle, the rescue, the kiss, the death… she could see it all still weighed on him, and perhaps always would. At least, as of late, he finally began to share his burden. It was just as much hers, in a way. Now they could bear it together.
“There has been a time, as you are well aware, that I questioned my faith, and my role in this war. I questioned almost everything, if I’m being honest. I owe you more apologies than I can ever express, and even more thanks than that. You’ve been… far too kind to me. It’s so much more than I deserve…”
Emma smiled, giving him an affectionate nudge with her elbow. “My, Chaplain, you can turn self-deprecation into an art. If I’m kind to you, it’s because you deserve kindness. Just because you lost your faith does not mean I ever lost my faith in you.”
Henry smiled, stealing a glance at her. “Which simply confirms my point that I can never begin to repay the kindness you’ve bestowed upon me… I had read through my book many times, trying to understand the right way to atone for what had happened. I pushed you away, and tried to devote myself to any form of penance I could think of. You refused to give up on me. You gave me a hope I had lost within myself, and it was Belinda’s wedding that reminded me of… well, a verse….”
He had apologized before, countless times, so Emma could not see exactly where this particular confession was headed. “A verse, chaplain? Of what nature?”
“Everything I had attempted to do to wash away the sin in my heart was simply a half measure. And as I said… the wedding helped put something into perspective for me.” Henry smiled nervously, tentatively taking her hand.
Emma tilted her head, a small smile pulling at her lips. “I am eager to know what it is, Henry.”
Henry paused, suddenly unsure of himself. “I… do not know how I forgot it. I suppose I just wasn’t ready for the message to bring me comfort until all the pieces fell into place. First Corinthians, chapter thirteen, verses one through eight.” He looked at her, curious if the selection would illicit some form of a response. Emma simply smiled politely. Corinthians had never been one her own minister had focused on.
Quietly, he began, "If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If… if I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing…”
At this, Emma smiled widely. She remembered this verse, vaguely, and found it rather sweet. Or maybe she simply found something sweet in the way he was saying it.
As if inspired by her look, he continued, “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres…“ At this Henry faltered, staring up at the stars as though looking for some sort of divine inspiration.
Emma stared at him, heart pounding in her chest. Of course Henry Hopkins would use the bible to confess his love. A lifetime ago, such a confession would have made her laugh. Far too innocent, far too angelic. She had always wanted fire and passion- to experience the torrid romances she read about in stories. Frank had given her that, and it had ended in misery. Henry Hopkins, she realized, very well could have the fiery passion she desired, if the night of their first kiss was anything to go by. But he was also warmth and peace and mercy itself. He had brought a light into her world that she never wanted fade, and the thought of living without him was a reality she never wanted to face.
In an instant, Emma Green realized that the stories of love pale in comparison to the realities. Henry was real, and he was hers, if she would have him. All she had to say was yes. Finally, mustering up all her courage, she turned to face him and finished softly, “Love never fails….”
“Love never fails…” Henry smiled. If love was his final penance, it was one he would serve gladly for the rest of his life. The sin was in denying it, and he would not make that mistake again. Their lips came together, as naturally as the autumn leaves had changed their colors, and as naturally as the purple hues of sunset had given way to the dark and tranquil night. As the stars shined above them, they kissed, and the whole world melted away.
It has been said that the sound of a kiss is not so loud as that of a cannon, but its echo lasts a great deal longer. On a cool October evening in 1862, Henry Hopkins and Emma Green would have agreed.