Promise of Time

by Moore, S. Dionne

  His hands grasped her upper arms and set her away from him. “I sometimes have nightmares,” he explained.

  She turned away, confused and saddened.

  ❧

  Theo didn’t know what to do. Everything in Ellie’s demeanor communicated stress. He wondered if she had been hurt in her tumble but didn’t know how to ask. Ignoring the discomfort in his feet, he took up the broom she had left in the corner and began sweeping the dirt floor.

  Her delicate cough caught his attention.

  He stopped and looked at her through a haze of dirt.

  She gave him a small smile. “You’re kicking up quite a cloud of dust. You can’t sweep a dirt floor like you do a wood one.”

  “Oh.” He stared at the broom as if it alone had been the offender. “I’d offer to fetch you a cup of water, but I. . .”

  “I’ll get some. And some food, too.” She moved to untie the apron at her waist. “You can help yourself to the peach preserves.” Her gaze dipped to the tear in his shirt that revealed some skin beneath. “And a clean shirt.”

  He swallowed. “I need to. . .” How did a gentleman ask such a thing of a lady?

  “You need to. . .what?”

  “I could use a trip outside. . .to the. . .uh. . .”

  Whatever she felt, it was not horror or embarrassment. Instead, her eyes crinkled at the corners and he thought he saw her nostrils flare.

  “I assure you it is no laughing matter, ma’am.”

  This time she did laugh. “I’m sorry.” He could see the effort it took for her to get serious, and the sight lightened his guilt. If she could chuckle, even at his expense, it meant she must not be hurt. “It’s really dangerous for you to be out during the day. It’s around back, you see, and Rose, my friend, uses that entrance far more than she uses the front. So it’s a matter of timing.”

  “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

  She went still. Her lips pressed together, and she averted her face.

  He reviewed what he had said, realized the intimate suggestion of his words, and ran a hand over the back of his neck. “What I meant—”

  Her gaze snapped to his. “I’ll think of something. First, I’ll get the food and some clothes, maybe a bucket and some soap?” Her eyes dropped to his feet. “And some salve for those feet.”

  She lifted her skirts and passed through the doorway and up the cellar stairs before he could make sense of anything.

  Her reaction didn’t seem reasonable. But having grown up with three brothers and no sisters, he doubted he would ever understand women. Down South, before war had left things in shambles, he had admired women for their beauty and poise. But he had never found a woman who could fire his mind and match his desire for conversation that did not revolve around the latest ball or beau or gossip.

  Theo sat on the dirt floor and crossed his legs. No matter, he had enough muddying the waters of his life without worrying about the intricacies of a woman’s mind. It might be better for him to simply tell her the terrible truth of her husband’s death and move on.

  six

  Ellie stroked the material of Martin’s shirt against her face. In searching for something that would fit Theodore, she had been unprepared for the clutch of emotion fingering Martin’s shirts stirred. She could imagine the scent of him rising from the smooth fibers. When she closed her eyes, she tried to picture him at his shaving stand, hair not yet combed from the rumpled mass sleep produced, donning the shirt and working the buttons.

  She yanked the shirt away from her face and balled it up. Why had he left her? Why hadn’t he written to her those last months? She didn’t want to be alone. A widow.

  Ellie eyed the bed and debated about draping herself across it and having a good cry, but the image of Theo surfaced, his torn shirt and dirty face. His feet. He needed this shirt. She closed her eyes. How could she give something so precious to the enemy?

  “Ellie?”

  She turned toward the door of the bedroom and moved out onto the narrow landing. “I’m here, Rose.”

  “You’ve got mail.”

  Where at one time those words had struck a thrill into her heart, now she descended the stairs with more dread than hope.

  Rose stood silhouetted in the kitchen, checking Ellie’s bread supply then pushing into the bread box what looked to be a fresh loaf. “You need to eat more for lunch.”

  “I’m fine, Rose. Really.”

  “You hardly eat a thing, and I’ve held my tongue on the matter long enough.” Rose’s gaze sagged downward.

  Ellie followed her line of vision. With a jolt, she realized she still held Martin’s crumpled shirt. “I was sorting some things out to give away.” Satisfied at the truth of those words, Ellie gave the shirt a sharp snap and draped it across the back of the chair. “It’s time, I think.”

  Rose made quick work of pulling some cold ham and cheese from a basket she must have brought and laying it across slices of bread. She held the sandwich out to Ellie. “Now eat.”

  In order to avoid fuss, Ellie accepted the offering and set the plate on the table. “With you feeding me such a huge breakfast, there’s not room left for lunch.”

  “I’m sure you’d like me to believe that.” Rose picked up her basket. “Now I’ve set you up with a fresh loaf of bread. Tomorrow I’ll be making some apple cinnamon bread to use up some of those apples in that cellar of yours. Be sure and bring some up before supper, and I’ll set to work peeling them.”

  Rose went through the door and grabbed the post to brace herself as she went down the single step. She stretched her back and turned her face to the sun. “It’s a good day to put hay over the carrots and parsnips.”

  Ellie knew how much her friend loved gardening. “I had better not catch you out there on your hands and knees thinning the spinach.”

  Rose gave her a mischievous grin. “Now you wouldn’t expect me to make a promise I can’t keep.”

  Ellie flinched and straightened, a new idea stirring around in her head. “I’m thinking of hiring a man to help out with hauling in the last of the garden and making repairs around the house and farm. I’m sure he would be willing to work the soil for next year.”

  “It’s a good idea.”

  Energized by the solution to Theo’s presence amidst two women, Ellie could barely stand still. “He can get started today. . . .”

  Rose’s head tilted, and she climbed back up the step that led to the back of her side of the house. “Sounds like you already have someone in mind.”

  Her friend’s keen observation took the wind from Ellie’s sails. She would have to be careful with what she said. She changed the subject. “When I come over tonight, I’ll be good and hungry.”

  “Well, that’s nice to hear.” Rose paused and stared at Ellie through the screen of her door. “Try to eat your lunch before you read the mail. I think one of the letters is from your uncle.”

  Ellie brushed back a stray strand of hair and tightened the strings of her apron before she headed back inside. A quick glance over the names on the two envelopes proved Rose was right. Uncle Ross, her mother’s brother, would once again be suggesting that she, a woman, might need help maintaining the properties since Martin’s death.

  The three-hundred-acre farm on the outskirts of Gettysburg had taken serious damage to the barn in the three-day battle, but the other buildings had remained mostly unscathed.

  Ignoring the letter, Ellie wrapped the sandwich and loaf of fresh bread in a linen towel and placed them into a cloth-lined basket along with a ceramic jar of salve, another linen cloth, and a cake of soap. She filled a bucket with fresh water, then another, hoping anyone seeing her would think the water strictly for cleaning.

  She cast an eye over all she had collected and went back upstairs. In the corner of the room, a pair of Martin’s boots, almost new, collected dust. She picked them up and used her apron to clean off the dust. In a drawer, she rooted around for socks and found two pairs. She stuck them into the
tops of the boots and went downstairs, satisfied that she now had everything Theo needed.

  ❧

  Theo couldn’t believe all the things Ellie had gathered in the short time she had been gone. It was the sight of the ham and cheese sandwich that brought him the greatest pleasure. He sank his teeth into the salty meat and smooth cheese and munched quietly as Ellie spread out her supplies.

  “If you change quickly, I’ll take you around back. Rose is probably taking her afternoon nap. She tires easily because she’s expecting her first child any day. The tree shields you from the road, but wearing these clothes and agreeing to help us with some repairs and the garden would make your presence legitimate.”

  “Slow down there.” He eyed the shirt she held up. “Won’t those who meet me recognize Martin’s clothes?”

  She lowered her arms. It was obvious by the distress in her face that she had not anticipated such a problem, but then she held the shirt out to him. “It won’t matter. I just told Rose I was going to give clothes away. It makes sense I might give the hired man first pick.”

  She bent over the box she had brought down. “And here.” She held up a pair of fine boots. “You can probably fit into these, and I brought one of Martin’s hats to keep you from being easily described to anyone who might be hunting you. Can you limp?”

  He took a great gulp of the cold water she had smuggled down in the basket. “Limp,” he said in a flat tone. “You want me to limp?”

  “People might wonder why you haven’t volunteered or been conscripted.”

  He eyed the boots she held out to him, the thought of stuffing his sore feet into the confines of them enough to make him think limping would not be too hard a ruse to keep up, especially if they were too small. He wolfed down the rest of the sandwich and tried one of the boots on. His foot got stuck halfway down. He pushed harder, feeling something soft. Pulling it off, he ran his hand down inside and pulled out a pair of socks.

  Ellie rolled her eyes. “I forgot. I put a pair of socks in each one.”

  Theo tried again; this time his foot slid easily into the fine leather. They were a little bigger than he needed, but with the socks they would be almost perfect.

  “We should get some salve on those feet first.”

  He acquiesced and pulled the boot off. He worked the bandages off slowly, wincing as the loosened scabs bled. He set about bathing his feet as Ellie continued wielding the broom over the walls.

  “When I’m done, I’ll leave these things down here and you can. . .”

  He saw the heat of a blush in her cheeks and caught the direction of her thoughts. He needed a bath, and they both knew it. He stroked his hand over the soft wool of the shirt he held. “I can’t thank you enough for the clothes.”

  Her chin came up. “They’re Martin’s. He would want you to have them.”

  “But you didn’t have to give them to me.”

  “They’ll keep you warm while you’re here. You’re probably not used to the cold.”

  Her tone conveyed a coolness that he found strange.

  “There’s a pump out back near the outhouse and tools in the building beside the garden plot.”

  Theo nodded, his mind spinning with all she was telling him.

  “I’ll leave the salve here for later, after you’ve plowed. I eat with Rose, but I’m sure if you take good care of her garden, she’d be delighted to offer you something to eat.” She turned on her heel and snapped up the rag and broom. “It’ll take me about half an hour to clean up the other room.”

  Other room? He thought she might be leaving until he heard the scraping sound of the previous evening and realized she was taking stones from the wall. That room. Theo understood that her declaration of how long it would take her was a warning for his sake as well as hers.

  He made good use of the water and soap Ellie had brought down. He donned his cousin’s clothes, grateful for the warmth and the cleanness of the material. Though Martin had been shorter than he by an inch and wider in the chest, they still fit well enough.

  His belly full and feeling cleaner than he had in weeks, he peeked around the corner of the room and out onto the landing. Five stones had been removed to make a hole in the wall just large enough for a medium-build person to push through. He cleared his throat.

  “I’m not finished yet, but we need to get you started on some work if you’re to earn something to eat.” He heard her skirts swishing closer and wondered how she had ever hauled herself up into that hole. She must be stronger than she looked.

  When Ellie’s head popped out of the hole, he held out his hand, offering help.

  She shook her head. “If you’ll just turn around. . .”

  He presented his back and listened until he heard her land lightly on the dirt floor. “Is it safe?”

  “Yes.” She lifted a stone and slid it into place.

  Theo followed her lead, brushing aside her help, his fingers swiping against hers. She yanked away. He finished the task, and when he glanced at her, she averted her gaze and rushed up the steps to shove open the cellar doors. She popped out of the cellar and held up her hand to indicate he should wait.

  It took a minute before she came back. “Hurry, or someone might think it. . .unseemly that we were down there together.” She darted into the inner room and lifted the chimney to blow out the lantern. She brushed by him, motioning for him to follow.

  He emerged as fast as he could and together they shut the doors of the cellar, a low creak screeching a protest. “My first repair,” he said.

  She nodded and allowed him to come abreast of her. She began to recite a short list of tasks that needed to be completed on the house, but her words slid away as he breathed the chill November air.

  His shirt offered warmth. Emerging from the darkness and doing work around the place would be a welcome diversion. It was more than he could have asked for, though he knew he would have to be careful.

  “Don’t forget to limp,” she encouraged.

  “Maybe if I ball up a pair of those socks that’ll help me remember.”

  She pursed her lips and nodded.

  A wagon rattled down the road and Ellie raised her hand in response to the wagon driver’s wave. Theo did the same. No time like the present to try to fit into the community.

  From his scan of the area, he could see that the large oak tree in the front yard screened the front porch with its gnarled, nearly bare branches. The side of the house had a lone evergreen of some sort that provided only a brief screen when one walked from the back to the front. A small road entered the property after the tree and led to the back of the house. There he saw the remnants of the past year’s harvest.

  Ellie pointed to a building on the opposite side of the yard, near a gate that marked the end of the property and the beginning of the next. “Tools are in the shed. If you could turn out the horses while you’re in there. . .”

  He crossed the lawn, the grass brown and crunching under his feet. The smell of horseflesh came familiar and strong to him. A dappled gray and a bay mare came to see who had entered their domain. He admired the strong lines of the smaller horse and the beauty of the gray’s markings.

  After releasing them, he inspected the interior. A rusty hoe, a well-used shovel, a leather harness, a sidesaddle, a plow, and numerous other tools were neatly lined up along one wall. He chose what he thought he would need to get started, wishing Ellie had at least told him more about the things grown in the garden.

  “Here.”

  He jerked at the sound of Ellie’s terse command.

  She shoved a hat at him. “You should wear this. It’ll help keep you from being recognized.”

  He nodded and put the hat on.

  She stared at him, her expression unreadable. “I’ll be down in the cellar if you need me.”

  Theo smiled into her eyes. “Am I going to get hired hand wages?”

  He could tell by the stricken look on her face that she hadn’t considered such a thing.

&n
bsp; “I’ll expect a good price,” he poked fun at her.

  Something in her expression faded, and she went pale. He thought he caught a sheen of tears in her eyes, but she hurried away before he could think of anything to say.

  seven

  Ellie pressed her back against the cool rocks of the cellar wall and let the tears fall, her first glimpse of Theo in Martin’s clothes uppermost in her mind. When she had held the material of Martin’s shirt to her cheek in the bedroom, she had felt the loneliness of his death, but seeing Theo in that same shirt gripped her with another emotion. One that beckoned her to move on. It had unnerved her almost as much as when his fingers grazed against hers, and when she’d seen him in Martin’s boots. The clean scent of him and the way his too long hair curled on his neck brought a longing squeeze to her heart.

  She shuddered, warming away the chill by rubbing her upper arms. To move on meant to betray the love she held for Martin, and she could not, would not, do that. She had forgone widow’s black after two months, too depressed by the idea of continuing to wear the solemn color for six months or even a year. But she had never thought flippantly of moving on in her life and of loving again. She still loved Martin.

  She touched the wetness on her cheek and pressed her fist against a heart that dared generate such traitorous thoughts. Tears streamed down her cheeks for all the tomorrows she would not have as a wife, a woman, a mother. Of bridal white scorched away by the black of mourning and of a noble man cut down with so much life still in him to be lived.

  She gripped the broom and willed herself to move. With fervor fueled by anger at herself, she ferreted out the dark places she knew spiders were wont to hide in hopes of destroying their nests.

  ❧

  Theo turned at the sound of the woman’s voice, his hand tilting the hat forward more, placing his face deeper in shadow.

  “Ellie works fast. You must be the man she hired to help her.”

  The slender-framed, obviously pregnant woman in front of him could be none other than the friend Ellie had mentioned. “Reckon that’s so, ma’am.”