by Seneca Fox
Chapter X
5:40 pm
Anna and I walked slowly through the temporary campsite toward her truck. “I’m sorry about Owen,” I said. “I had no idea. When I met him this…”
“It’s okay, Ian.”
“Why did you give him your phone number?”
“I guess I felt sorry for him; he seems so lonely.”
“He’s not likely to call.”
“No.” Anna shook her head.
“I’d say that you made him feel pretty good. You know, he mentioned that he lost his wife a few years ago and that he travels to reenactments with his son for something to do.”
“The he is lonely,” replied Anna, before she changed the subject. “Ian, I still can’t get over the fact that you’re here.”
“Quite the coincidence, I’d say. Did you ever spend time here in the summer?”
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
“Well, I used to spend time over the mountain, in the Jennings Creek area,” I answered.
“Jennings Creek,” Anna said as if she were trying to recall whether or not she’d ever heard the name.
“There’s an access road near the Peaks of Otter. I spent a few weeks there in the summers when I was a kid. Anyway,” I said realizing that my recollections meant little to Anna, “I’m sorry that we can’t stay, but we shouldn’t be here in the first place.”
“I understand; and, I’ll even forgive you if you promise me one thing.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Call me as soon as you and Max finish, or before if you get the chance. I want to hear about the rest of your adventure and – well – just make sure you call.”
“I will.” We walked slowly, and I found myself wondering what Anna had written in the letter that she had sent to me after Max and I already started our thru-hike attempt. “Anna,” I said softly, “what was in that letter?”
“It was about what happened to us.”
“What do you mean?”
“How our relationship seemed to sort of fall apart. Ian,” she said, “I know I’m generally good about expressing my thoughts and feelings, but I spent a lot of time writing that letter. I’d prefer that you read it.”
“I won’t see it for months.”
“I know,” she said, “but I’d like you to be patient. I don’t think I can express myself any better than I did in that letter.”
“Don’t you have a copy of it?”
Anna rolled her eyes and said, “You know me better than that.”
“And you won’t talk about it.”
“Not now.” She paused before she added, “I need time to think.”
“I understand.”
We walked side by side, and Anna looked at me and smiled an old, familiar smile. Her eyes cautiously welcomed my imagination, but I could tell that any physical advance would be turned away. My heart beat a little faster as I reacquainted myself with the features of a face I had known so well. It was soft, almost perfectly symmetrical with classic cheekbones. Her nose was straight, her lips were slightly less than full and her long, curly black hair and blue-gray eyes gave her a striking appearance. When we were younger, her beauty and poise were enough to unnerve me. She always seemed to know who she was; I was sometimes less certain about myself. Just two years ago she looked tired, and at times, almost lifeless. What I remember most about her appearance then was that her hair was dull and frizzy – the wavy curls were gone. No doubt the change was the result of worry and toil over her parents. But now, she was once again beautiful and as vibrant as ever. Although I did not know what the future held for us, I felt a newfound hope as I walked with her.
“So what do you look like behind all that facial hair?”
“Same old me,” I said.
“You look well and fit.”
“That’s me,” I chuckled, “fit.”
A moment later we were standing awkwardly next to her truck. Neither one of us wanted to say goodbye. The many months that had passed since we last saw each other left us with far too much talk about. I didn’t know if I should simply say goodbye and walk away or if I should try to steal a little more of her time.
“What will you do tonight?” Anna asked.
“Hang out with Max and Owen, I guess.”
“As long as you stay out of the camps,” she said.
“You really don’t like these reenactments do you?”
“Not at all.”
“Why? You heard Owen. Those people out there,” I gestured toward the battlefield, “are well-meaning. After all, aren’t most people?”
“You know as well as I do that there are people wandering around out there with other intentions.”
“What intentions?”
“Ian,” Anna replied. “You heard what Owen said about his neighbor. Don’t pretend to be naïve.”
“Naïve?”
Anna shook her head. “What kind of intentions would you think people dressed in Confederate Uniforms might have?”
“Well, if it were Halloween or a costume party…”
“Stop teasing. Look,” she said impatiently, “you know there are bigots out there.”
“Bigots? How do you know they’re bigots? Besides, there are bigots wandering around everywhere. What Owen’s neighbor said, that must have happened years ago.”
“I’m the one that lives here – remember? What I see, what I hear, and what I read in the papers suggest that bigotry is thriving in the heart of Virginia.”
“’Suggest that bigotry is thriving’ – come on, Anna. If that’s true here, then why is there a Union army out there? And blacks, why are there black reenactors out there? No, it seems to be more to it than that. Besides, what are you thinking – that you should ask them to leave?”
“No.” Anna paused and gave me a hurt look. “You know though, I’ve got the urge to hide my hair under a hat and sneak into those camps just to listen to what those would-be soldiers talk about when they’re sitting around the campfire. If only I didn’t…” Anna turned her head and her words drifted off.
Before I realized what I was saying, I responded, “That’s an idea. Why don’t I do it?”
“Do what?” asked Anna, as she looked up at me.
“Infiltrate the camps,” I said, trying to sound sly and funny at the same time.
“Oh, don’t be silly.”
It was obvious that Anna did not take my comment seriously, but as the words sank in, the idea of wandering around the army camps at night intrigued me. So I insisted, “I mean it, I’m going to do it.”
The hurt look on her face disappeared, and she said, “You are serious, aren’t you?”
“Of course, and I’ll give you a full report in the morning.”
“What if you get caught? You’ll be hung as a spy,” she said facetiously.
“Yes, it’s a dangerous thing I’m about to do for you, Ms. Foxharte,” I replied with mock seriousness.
“That’s what worries me.”
“But I need a uniform.” I said. “This one doesn’t belong to me.”
Anna looked up. “Not a problem,” she said. “I can get you one. There’s a whole wardrobe in the barn.”
“Wardrobe?”
“Yes, it’s like a lost and found. Uniforms left behind from previous reenactments. We only keep them because the owners sometimes call looking for them.” Anna grabbed my arm and said, “Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“To the barn to find you some clothes.”
