The Afterlife of Lizzie Monroe

by Kelly Martin

  Chapter Fourteen

  December 26, 1861

  Daniel wiped the tears from Lizzie's cheeks. They flowed freely like sad rivers. "I'll be back. I won't leave you forever," he said with a brave smile. "We have plans, remember? I'm going to marry you, Elizabeth Monroe."

  She chuckled despite herself and a sad hiccup caught in her throat. "I don't even have a ring, Mr. Dixon."

  "I'll get you a ring. The prettiest ring I can find."

  "I don't care about pretty rings. I care about you. Must you go?" She wished that he didn't. She prayed every night for him to change his mind and not leave with the other soldiers. Her father too, but he had plans to leave the day after Daniel. It was the saddest December she ever remembered.

  Overnight, a few inches of snow had accumulated and a few more flurries floated in the air. It reminded her of a winter snow globe. Such a beautiful and scary sight to send Daniel and her father into. "Are you going to be warm enough? Did you pack a blanket? Is your coat warm?"

  "It'll do." Daniel put his hands on either side of her face. The closest she remembered him ever being. In that instant, everything else faded away. She didn't see the town or the snowflakes. She didn't see the other soldiers hugging their families. Nor did she notice her mother and father hugging a few feet away.

  It was only she and Daniel. The way the world was supposed to be.

  "I'm more worried about you." He gently wiped a snowflake from her hair. "Are you and your mother going to be alright with your father and I leaving?"

  "You know some men from the church are going to look after the farm. And your father is going to help."

  "I know. I'm just making sure. For my own peace of mind. My father's not in the best health or he would be going with me." Daniel looked over Lizzie's head and nodded toward his parents. A sad day for everybody.

  Lizzie felt a hand on her shoulder. Her father smiled sadly down at her and bravely at Daniel. "Daniel, good luck out there. Stay low and keep out of the heaviest fire. And if it gets too bad, by all means, run. Run as hard as you can. Understand? There's no shame in it. None at all."

  "Same for you." In his Confederate gray uniform, Daniel extended his hand to Lizzie's father in his blues. "I hope to see you back here, alive and well, when this mess is over, Sir."

  "And I you." Lizzie's father took Daniel's hand and pulled him to his chest. He hugged him tightly. "Don't do anything brave, son. You live and get back here to marry my daughter." The elder Monroe patted Daniel's back and let him go. With a slap to the shoulder, he turned without a word. He didn't stop. Only grabbed his wife's hand and walked with her down the long, lonely road home. They had their own goodbyes to make.

  It broke Lizzie's heart to watch her father and mother walk holding hands. She hoped and prayed she'd get to see it again. She prayed she'd get to be old with Daniel and hold his aging hand. Anything less would be unacceptable. "Please don't go." She resorted to begging to make him stay. "No one will call you a coward and if they do, they'll have to answer to me."

  Daniel looked down at her and put her chilly hands in his. "I want to go. It's my duty."

  "According to your father…" She reminded him.

  "According to life," Daniel corrected.

  "If you meet Father… in a battle…"

  "Don't think like that." He pulled her into a hug despite the eyes on them. Let them talk for all she cared. Who knew how long it would be until she saw him again? "I won't fire on your father. We'll both get home to you. I promise."

  "Don't make promises you can't keep." She hugged him tighter, not wanting to let him go.

  She felt him smile into her hair. "I'm not. I am going to keep this promise, Lizzie. In one way or another, in this life or the next, I will be with you. I love you."

  "I love you too." She cried into his chest covered in the rough uniform.

  "No matter what…" He bent down to look in her eyes. "Don't give up. You are special, Lizzie. You have the biggest heart I've ever seen."

  She smiled and pulled him closer. The yells of the officers that it was time to go only made her squeeze him tighter. "Don't leave me." She heard herself sob, despite the promise she'd made to herself not to make an ugly scene.

  He kissed the top of her head then gently moved her away. "I have to go, darlin'. Don't forget what I said. I love you."

  When her body broke contact with his, it was like a coldness invaded her body, colder than she'd ever imagined possible. It was December after all, but the chill wasn't from the cold. "I love you too." She barely got out in a whisper.

  Daniel smiled bravely and waved back to her as other men she knew, boys she'd grown up with, walked by him and on their way to God knew where. With one last look, he joined the others, blending in a sea of gray.

  ****

  When the headlamps of Drake's horseless carriage hit the house, a knot formed in her throat. It had been so long since she'd been home, only it didn't look like her home anymore.

  Instead of green grass surrounding it, black, hard slabs with yellow lines lay in the front yard. A flag, with stars and stripes, flew on a tall flagpole above it. Behind her former home, now a museum, sat something she never thought she'd see again. The old red barn. It could barely been seen from her location, but she could see the edge of it. She'd know it anywhere.

  In Hell… in the box, she'd always imagined going back home. Her mother would run up and kiss her. She'd smell fresh baked biscuits, though they wouldn't be made by her own inept hands. She'd sit next to a warm, comforting fire in the fireplace then she'd sleep in her soft bed.

  She never could have imagined anything like this. It was her house, but it wasn't. And they hadn't even gotten to the inside.

  "Do you want to go in now?" Drake asked, doing something with his right hand that made the loud truck stop roaring.

  "Is it okay? It appears dark."

  "It's your house, right? Don't see why you can't go in your own house."

  Made sense to her. "Have you been in there?"

  "Me? Years ago. In like second grade I think. We had a field trip here."

  "Kind of a morbid place to take a school trip," she said. She didn't think if she had children she'd want them to visit the home of a girl's suicide.

  "I guess." He seemed really eager to get into the museum. "Come on. No one comes out this way at night normally. Your farm was pretty far out in the sticks."

  She didn't know for sure what that meant. "It was always a trek to town, I'll give you that. You don't think we'll be seen then?"

  He shook his head. "I don't think so. Plus, my friend Laura's mom runs this place. Laura snuck me a key."

  "You didn't tell her why, did you?" The words spilled out. How many people in the world had to know about her?

  "Chill out." He put his hand on her shoulder then retracted it as quickly as it touched almost like it repulsed him to touch a dead girl. "She doesn't know why. I gave her some lame excuse about betting Shane I couldn't get inside. She liked helping with that."

  "I take it Shane isn't very liked around here." She couldn't understand why. He'd been very nice to her.

  "By some. A lot actually. You don't know him, Lizzie. Not really. He's not the best guy ever. You can't trust him."

  She raised a brow. "But I can trust you?"

  He smirked and stared out of the front glass of the carriage. "As much as anybody nowadays."

  What did that mean?

  "Let's go." He opened his door and slid out. Deciding she hadn't come this far to sit in a truck, she did the same.

  It was warm. Very warm. The air was sticky, making it even warmer. She couldn't remember the last time she was warm, really warm. It would had to have been the night she killed herself. It was June then too. June Seventh.

  "What's the date?" she asked Drake, following behind him.

  "June seventh. Why?" he replied, causing her to nearly fall over her feet. He caught her mid-stumble and helped her steady herself. "You okay?"

  "Fine."
Her voice shook. She remembered Shane telling her now. Of all the days to be back on the farm, back at her house and her barn. Symmetry. Only this time, she had every intention of walking away alive and of her own free will… not a stiff, lifeless dead body. Today would be different. She'd see to it.

  Drake let her go as soon as he was sure she was sturdy. He sure didn't seem to like touching her longer than he had to. She couldn't help but wonder what she'd ever done to him to make him act that way around her, then again, he was helping her see the museum and her letter. She would be forever grateful about that.

  They got to a door at the back of the house, a door that hadn't been there when it was actually her house. "Fire marshal made them do some upgrades," Drake answered her unasked question. What he didn't answer was what in the devil was a fire marshal.

  He opened a clear door that screeched on its hinges. He then put the little fireless lamp he carried in his mouth and put a key in a brass-colored handle. It turned easily and the door opened. "There. Ladies first." Drake handed her the light and motioned for her to go inside.

  She wasn't entirely sure she could and hesitated. She'd wanted to see her house again for as long as she remembered, but now that she was there, it seemed strange. Not like her house at all. Someone else's home slapped on her father's property.

  "Go on. We don't have all night." He shooed her in and she went with the flow.

  She shined the light around the room and stood in awe. The two room cabin had never been so full in her eyes. She remembered it being bare. Homey and comfortable, but bare. Now, it had things stuck all on the walls. Some were utensils that had been in her mother's kitchen. Some she'd never seen before in her life. She started walking left, looking everything over.

  A few mixing spoons.

  An old flour sack. Why would anyone want to see those things of everyday life? Did they not use flour in this century?

  Photos of the war.

  Photos of Dixon, the town, taken back in her time. It was nice to see the pictures. They didn't look real, though. They were black and white… turning shades of brown. Her town had been alive, bustling. Vibrant in different colors of dresses, skirts, signs. It wasn't bland at all, but the black and white of the pictures made it seem so dreary. If only these people knew what the town had actually looked like.

  In the kitchen, she found a piece of furniture she would remember anywhere. Her kitchen table. Instantly, she saw Daddy sitting at the head of the table, cutting the Christmas ham. Mother was to his left. She and Daniel sat across. Tension filled the room, but they were still cordial. Then he'd taken her out and asked for her hand in marriage. Such a good day.

  The kitchen area with the old iron stove and cutting surfaces looked like she remembered. She could still smell her mother's biscuits baking along with an apple pie cooling. At the time, it seemed so normal, but now the smells and the sights were extraordinary. She'd give anything to have some of her mother's cooking again.

  Her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest. This was her house. Her home. A place she'd hoped to see again, but never actually thought it would happen.

  "The note's over here." Drake brought her back to the present and her objective. Slowly, she made her way toward him, her light trained on a pedestal with a clear case around it. "Shine your flashlight here."

  So that's what the contraption in her hand was called.

  "They put it in that so it wouldn't get stolen or fade too much. It's one of the most popular pieces in the museum. People like sad, emotional stories."

  She nodded and steeled her nerves when she got to it. She bit her lip to keep from crying but felt her leg shaking. A note from Daniel she'd never gotten to read, never even knew it existed.

  Graciously, Drake backed up, giving her room to see the note firsthand. It was an ordinary piece of paper, about the size of a journal. The edges were yellowed and the words had faded over time. Faded or not, she'd have known Daniel's handwriting anywhere.

  "I can't make it out. The words." She squinted to read them. "It's not possible." She eased back and felt tears sting her eyes. She'd come all this way to read something from Daniel only to have time steal the words from her.

  "That's why they wrote what it says here." Drake shined his light on a metal plaque above the letter.

  Lizzie followed with her light and, sure enough. She could read the words.

  March 12, 1862,

  My Dearest Lizzie,

  I hope this letter finds you well. I miss you so much. Every day I think of you. I keep your handkerchief with me at all times, in my breast pocket so it is always over my heart. You are my heart, Lizzie. You alone.

  I'm sending this through post and have no way of knowing when it will get to you. We are passing through a town with a letter office, and the men and I decided to take advantage of it. This war isn't what I expected. Not at all. I've seen so many dead, but I won't trouble you with that. I haven't been here long, but I know I long to go home.

  You should also know that I've procured a present for you. Something I promised. A ring. An engagement ring, and I endeavor to place it on your hand myself when I get out of this Hell.

  I saw your father last week. He and I were on the same battlefield. After the fighting stopped, I snuck over to see him. He embraced me like a long lost son and said he was well. He misses you and your mother, but believes in his cause. I've seen so much, and I find I'm not as sure of mine anymore.

  I long to see you again. I long to hold you and be your husband. It will happen, Lizzie. I promise. In this life or the next.

  Yours forever,

  Daniel

  Tears streamed down her face as she fell back against a cornerstone beam and slid down to the floor. "He saw my father."

  "Looks that way," Drake said with something resembling compassion.

  "Wonder when the letter arrived at my house?"

  "I don't know," he said, kneeling down to help her up. "But you got to read it, that's the important thing."

  "One hundred and fifty years later." She laughed sadly.

  "Better late than never," he said as he pulled her to standing. "Come here. There's something else I want you to see."

  Drake led her around the room until they came to an old picture of her family hanging under a clear sheet of something. Seeing her family again made her legs buckle. Being weak and underused, they seemed to do that a lot. Drake caught her before she fell and held her upright. "Your family, right?"

  She nodded and couldn't look away. Her father looked so handsome in his black suit and salt and pepper beard. Her mother was beautiful, her hair fixed just so for the special occasion. It wasn't every day people got their photos taken and her mother had forced them to dress in their Sunday best… not just Sunday best, Easter Sunday best. Lizzie stood between her sitting parents, the same solemn expression on her face. She wasn't sad, but the photographer had told them not to smile. Smiling messed up the exposure.

  To her, the girl in the picture looked different, alive. Naïve.

  "I guess you know by now that your father didn't die in the war," Drake said, close to her ear, looking at the picture as well.

  She nodded. "Shane told me. It was quite a shock actually. And I have a sister?"

  "You do… or did. Her name was Mary. She lived around here for a while, but they say she left when the Lonely Lizzie thing took off. Guess I understand. A whole town caught up in a sister you never knew. It had to be hard."

  He was right. Her death must have been hard on all of her family, even the ones she had no idea existed. If only she could have her time to do over again… she'd surely do things differently.

  Drake patted her shoulder lightly and backed away. "I have to be honest with you, Lizzie. I brought you out here with an ulterior motive."

  She almost missed him talking, and she just caught the last few words. "What?"

  "Ulterior motive," he said with his back to her. "I had one when I brought you here."

  "I though
t Shane told you to bring me," she said almost absentmindedly. The picture kept drawing her in. If only she could see her mother and father again.

  "Shane doesn't know you're here."

  ****

  "Man, it's not here." Shane grunted, shining his light over the same grass he had about thirty minutes before. "Are you sure you didn't just drop it at home or something?"

  "No, I know it had to have fallen off here." Preston kicked around some more dirt.

  Shane was this close to strangling him. Of all the things to lose at a crime scene. Not just some ring that could belong to anyone. Nope. His class ring with his stupid name on it. Might as well send a calling card to the police and say, "Hey, Preston and Shane did this!"

  After five more minutes, Shane had enough. "Okay, I'm done. If we can't find it searching like two idiots in the dark, I dare say Dixon's finest won't be able to find it. Let's just drop it."

  Preston's eyes lit up like he'd been shot. "No! We have to find it now."

  "It's no use, Preston. We're wasting time."

  "No, if they find it…"

  "If they find it tell them you dropped it when you came out to look at the burned up church. There's been a lot of people here today. It wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility for you to have dropped it when you snooped."

  Preston shook his head over and over. "No… no. we have to find it tonight… tonight. We have to find it tonight, Shane. Tonight!"

  "Why?" Shane screamed with frustration. "What's so blasted important about tonight?"

  "Because Drake told me to!"

  Shane could tell after Preston said it, he shouldn't have. Preston's skin turned a sickly pale and he looked like a deer in the headlights.

  "Drake told you to do what?" Shane asked coldly as he inched closer to the idiot he was tethered to through arson.

  "Nothing." He tried to back away, but Shane got him by the shirt collar and yanked him toward him. Shane was taller, and Preston rose on his tiptoes.

  "Don't lie to me. Don't you dare lie to me. What's going on, Preston? What is Drake up too? Why are we out here?"

  "To find my ring," Preston whimpered. That was fine. Shane just needed to make him more scared of him that he was of Drake.

  Then it hit Shane. Preston hadn't even had his ring on the night before. With a smile on his lips, Shane eased Preston down and put the first two fingers of his left hand under the safety pin which connected his cheek piercing to his lip. He then pulled him like a fish on a hook. "Tell me what's going on or things are about to get very painful for you."