Today We Go Home

by Kelli Estes

  But first, she had some shopping to do.

  * * *

  Shopping for a set of men’s clothes proved more difficult than Emily had imagined. At home, she or Aunt Harriet had sewn all of the family’s clothing, and what they couldn’t make themselves, Pa purchased in Paoli. The difficulty wasn’t in finding the items, for several shops sold men’s clothes. The difficulty wasn’t even in making the transaction, for she was well versed on how to choose quality products and to negotiate a good deal.

  The difficulty in obtaining men’s clothes for herself was the realization that doing so would strip her of the last of their cash and they would be left with nothing.

  A thought occurred to her as she was crossing the street, and she stopped so abruptly she was nearly run over by a horse and wagon. Moving quickly to the sidewalk, she turned back the way she’d come. Losing David had upset her so much that she’d left all of their money and belongings at the hospital. She’d kicked the satchels containing everything they’d carried with them from Stampers Creek under David’s bed and forgotten about them. If they were still there, she could wear the extra set of clothes Ben had brought.

  She hurried back to the hospital and did not stop to talk to anyone on her way up the stairs to the room where they had tended to David. In the doorway she paused. In the bed where David had died now lay another man. A stranger. Deep in the throes of his own illness by the looks of things.

  Emily felt sobs boiling up inside her again. The knowledge that David was gone forever kept hitting her mind anew, and each time felt as shocking and painful as the last.

  Steeling herself, she crossed the room and, ignoring the sleeping man on the bed, looked under it for their belongings.

  There they were, shoved against the wall, her satchel and Ben’s and an Army knapsack that must have been David’s. She pulled all three to her and peered inside the knapsack.

  David’s meager possessions were there, including a pack of letters written in her own hand.

  The knowledge that he would never use these things again nearly crushed her, but she shoved the emotions down and looped all three bags over her shoulder as she headed back to the busy street. She had work to do.

  Night was falling, and the gas lamps had been lit. She would need to hurry. Respectable women would not dare to be caught out alone at night like this.

  Luck was with her as she spied a sign for Mrs. O’Byrne’s Boarding House only a block away. But when she asked the rotund woman who answered the door for a room, the woman crossed her arms.

  “You’ve got to pay up front,” Mrs. O’Byrne announced.

  “How much?” Emily asked, refusing to be cowed.

  Mrs. O’Byrne named an exorbitant price, and her jaw fell open when Emily drew a wad of bills from her satchel. “Where’s your husband, dearie?”

  Emily clenched her teeth as she finished counting out the payment. “I’m not married.”

  Mrs. O’Byrne eyed the cash. “I don’t allow for any immoralities here.”

  Emily found herself explaining to the woman about her brother’s death and her other brother’s impending arrival, finishing with, “We need a safe place to sleep and a meal. Can you help us?”

  Mrs. O’Byrne finally relented and showed Emily to a room. For a few dollars more, she agreed to send up a warm bath and to send a servant to the hospital with a note for Ben so he’d know where to find her. Once she was left alone, Emily dropped onto the simple double bed, exhausted.

  The room held little to recommend it besides the bed, a spindle chair, and a bureau with an oval mirror tacked to the wall above it. An empty washbasin and pitcher sat on the scarred bureau top, and a chamber pot waited in the corner. A quick rap on the door announced the arrival of her bath, and Emily opened the door to the servants, who carried in a large washtub and buckets of water.

  As soon as they left, Emily locked the door and dumped the contents of David’s knapsack on the yellow bedspread. With two fingers, she picked up a pair of dirt-encrusted socks and dropped them onto the floor. She slipped the packet of letters into her own satchel. She’d decide what to do with those later, when simply looking at them didn’t hurt so much. She found a shaving kit rolled into a piece of leather, which she set aside. David had left no extra clothing that would be of use to her, but she did find a small pouch at the bottom of his sack and, inside, a handful of silver dollars, three quarter eagles, and two half eagles. There was also a stack of papers that looked like paper money issued by a sutler for the 9th Indiana Infantry.

  “Bless you, David,” she said aloud as she stashed it all in her own satchel. The money would be needed. Even the sutler scrip. She was sure of it.

  Turning her attention to Ben’s satchel, she pulled out his extra clothing and laid it out on the bed. Then, remembering the rapidly cooling bathwater, she quickly stripped off her clothing and sank into the welcoming warm water. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the cool metal and thought over the day.

  She let her tears fall unchecked, even as she admonished herself. Ben would arrive soon and be in need of his own bath. Now was not the time to linger.

  She tried to hurry her movements but allowed herself the luxury of washing her long hair as a goodbye ritual to the tresses Pa had always said were so pretty. She soaped her skin and let her hands run over her curves, saying goodbye to them, for after today, she would have to ignore her femininity and suppress all that made her a woman.

  When she was clean, she rose to her feet and stepped onto the threadbare rug to dry off. Knowing Ben could arrive at any moment, she quickly donned his extra set of clothing, using a strip of cloth cut from her petticoat as a belt and rolling the cuffs of the trouser legs.

  As soon as she looked at herself in the mirror, she realized she’d forgotten one important step. Taking up her discarded petticoat once again, along with the straight razor from David’s shaving kit, Emily cut the fabric into wide strips. She slipped out of Ben’s shirt and tightly bound her breasts.

  With that done, she again put on the shirt, tucked it into the trousers, and faced herself in the mirror.

  Not bad.

  Now, her hair. Without stopping to think about it for fear she would lose her nerve, she grabbed a damp lock and, using David’s straight razor, lopped it off above her ear, dropping it into the empty washbasin on the bureau. She knew if she looked in the mirror, she might stop, so she averted her eyes and kept cutting. The basin quickly filled with blond hair. As she cut off more and more, her head felt lighter. She had never thought about how much her hair weighed, but the lightness felt welcome.

  A knock on the door made her freeze.

  “Emily, are you in there?”

  Ben was here. It was time to show him what she’d done and face whatever he had to say about it.

  With a deep breath, Emily dropped the razor onto the bureau and crossed to open the door.

  “Oh, excuse me,” Ben said, stepping away from the door. He paused, searching her face, and his eyes narrowed. “Emily?”

  She grabbed his arm and pulled him into the room, shutting the door firmly behind him and locking it again. “I’ve decided my name is Jesse. Call me that from now on. I’m your brother, and together we will enlist and finish the duty Pa and David were prevented from finishing.”

  Ben’s mouth opened and closed several times as he backed slowly away from her. When the backs of his legs touched the bed, he sat, still staring at her in shock.

  “Say something,” she urged, wringing her hands. “Tell me what you think and get it over with. Just know you aren’t going to change my mind.”

  “Em, surely you can’t think you’ll fool anyone into believing you’re a man.” He shook his head. “Women are too different. They can’t fit into a man’s world, and certainly not in the Army.”

  “They can,” she assured him. “Remember Fanny Campbell?” Fanny Campbel
l was her favorite book heroine who dressed as a man to go to sea in order to rescue her fiancé from the British who’d taken him prisoner. Not only did she rescue her fiancé, but she became a pirate captain and was never discovered to be a woman.

  Ben’s face twisted. “Fanny Campbell was made up.”

  “What about…” She stopped to think and came up empty. “I’m sure there were others; I just can’t think of them right now. But that’s beside the point. I know I can do this, Ben.”

  Ben’s mouth opened and closed again.

  “Please?” she begged. She dropped onto the bed next to him and took his hand in her own. “This way I can stay with you. We’re the last each other has.”

  Ben abruptly got to his feet to pace the small room. When he saw the basin full of hair, he paused. “I don’t care if Fanny Campbell or anyone else can do it. I don’t like the idea of you going to war. Pa would be furious with you. And me for allowing it.”

  “Pa isn’t here.” She spat the words at him and then sucked in her breath, wishing she could pull them back inside.

  Ben froze, then pivoted away from her to lean both palms on the bureau, his head hanging low.

  She went to him and laid her hand on his back. “I’m sorry. That was careless of me.” When he didn’t move or respond, she dropped her hand to her side but didn’t move away. “I know you’re trying to protect me, but this is something I have to do. I can fire a musket, I can march, I can sleep on the ground. I can do all of the things a man can do, and I want to do them right by your side.”

  “Why?”

  Emily did not move. “I can’t leave you. You’re all I have left.” Realizing that she needed another reason, something convincing, she added, “Remember when we were little, before Mama died? How I’d run free with you and David, and all three of us would run, jump, yell, and explore the farm?”

  Ben looked at her quizzically. “I remember.”

  “Did you know that on the day Mama died, Pa sat me down and explained to me that I couldn’t do those things anymore? That I was the woman of the house now, and I needed to spend my days cooking and cleaning and mending and canning and everything that meant I was locked up at home. I don’t want to be locked up anymore.”

  She touched Ben’s back, and he pushed away from the bureau to turn and face her. “I didn’t know.”

  “Oh, don’t get me wrong,” she reassured him. “I was happy caring for the three of you; I just didn’t like being left out of the fun. I feel like I haven’t lived and—” She paused, knowing her next words might be hurtful. “And we both know how short life can be. I want to go with you and see this country and fire a musket and march in the rain. I want to live.”

  He tilted his head to the side and looked so much like Pa that it made her catch her breath. “But you could be killed out there.”

  Emily dropped onto the bed again and let her hands hang limp between her knees. “I know. But at least I will have lived a little, and I will have spent the time by your side.”

  Ben raked his hands through his hair and seemed to be thinking through all she’d said. With a burst of air from his lungs, he dropped his hands to his sides. “What if I took you home?”

  “Would you stay there with me?”

  He looked at her, defeated. “You know I can’t do that. I must do my duty for my country.”

  Emily felt the certainty of her next words settle over her like a blanket. “And so I’ll do mine.”

  Ben drew in a deep breath and let it go loudly.

  “Pa said our family will always stand for what’s right,” she reminded him. “It’s right that you serve and that I stand alongside you.” Pa may not have wanted his only daughter on the battlefield, but he’d be proud of her for fighting to keep what was left of their family together. “Ben?”

  He swallowed, then a half-hearted smile spread over his face. “Hand me that blade. You look like little Ada cut your hair.”

  Emily didn’t immediately obey. Instead, she smiled back at her brother. “Thanks, Ben.”

  He pulled her against him for a hug. “Oh, Em, promise me you’ll be careful. And smart.”

  “Of course I will,” she promised. “But the name’s Jesse.”

  * * *

  Ben had arranged to have David buried in Congressional Cemetery first thing the following morning. As she sat in their room trying to eat breakfast, Emily was so filled with emotions that she wasn’t able to eat the eggs, potatoes, and ham the boarding house matron had prepared for them and only pushed the food around on her plate until it was time to go.

  Emily had not thought through what Mrs. O’Byrne would think of a boarder arriving as a woman and leaving as a man. Ben solved the problem by bringing her breakfast plate upstairs for her and later drawing the woman into a lively discussion about the Southern rebellion so that Emily, as Jesse, could sneak out the door unseen.

  At the first purveyor they found, Emily purchased a brown derby hat and men’s brogans to complete her disguise. To his credit, the clerk did not pose a single question about the feminine laced boots that she arrived wearing. He simply went about the transaction as though he saw a man wearing women’s footwear every day. She left the boots behind when they exited the store. As she stepped onto the sidewalk, she accidentally bumped into a fashionably dressed woman. Smiling, Emily tipped her new hat. “Pardon me, miss.” The woman blushed and continued on her way.

  When the woman was out of earshot, Emily nudged her brother. “Did you see that?”

  Ben laughed. “I saw. Well done. Try lowering your pitch a bit next time.”

  After only a short distance more, Emily felt Ben’s gaze on her, and she turned to find him studying her in a way that made her squirm. “What?”

  He shrugged and made an obvious effort to look forward again, but his eyes kept sliding back to her. She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to confront him. “What am I doing wrong?”

  Ben glanced around and drew her out of the flow of pedestrians, nodding to a man and woman walking together on the opposite side of the street. “See that man? See how he holds his shoulders in a tight manner yet his lower body is loose, the movements freer somehow?”

  She nodded, though she didn’t quite understand his point.

  “Now look at the woman on his arm. We can only guess what her lower body is doing under that skirt, but she seems to be carrying herself much more stiffly, as though she feels the gaze of the world upon her and she must not reveal her true self.”

  Emily raised her eyebrows and looked pointedly at her brother. “Since when did you become so poetic?”

  Ben’s ears turned pink, but he only shook off her teasing and stepped closer to Emily. With his eyes still on the couple and his voice lowered, he said, “You need to make sure you’re moving like the man and not the woman. Or better yet, watch that single man over there. See how he swings his arms as he walks and places all of his foot on the ground with each step as though he’s prepared for anything that comes his way?”

  Emily nodded. “I see.”

  “Women take smaller steps, and they hold their arms closer to their bodies. If you’re going to convince people you’re a man, you need to loosen up, become bold. Oh, and pull your sleeves over your hands when you can.”

  They resumed walking, and Emily nervously tugged her sleeves down. “Why?”

  “Your hands are small. They’ll give you away.”

  Emily curled her hands into fists to hide them even further in her sleeves as she practiced walking like the men she saw, with long strides and loose hips.

  Ben burst out laughing. “Okay, reel it in a bit. You look like you’ve been in the saddle for days and just got off the horse.”

  Emily was laughing now, too. For several blocks they continued this way, with Ben coaching her as she practiced moving like a man.

  Their joviality faded t
he moment the arched sign over the cemetery entrance came into view. They both stopped short and took a deep breath, the weight of what they were about to do settling heavy upon them.

  Congressional Cemetery was peaceful and well maintained. Flowers bloomed along the tree-shaded paths, and the hedges and grass were trimmed so that visitors could clearly read the names of the departed. Emily wanted to hold on to Ben’s arm as they found their way to the cheaper and more crowded section where they would lay David to rest, but she refrained from doing so. Men did not cling to one another for emotional support.

  A local chaplain awaited them at David’s grave site and, when they were ready, stood at the head of the plain wooden casket and began to read in somber tones, “‘The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want…’”

  Emily said the familiar words in her head along with the chaplain. With each word, her heart grew heavier inside her chest until she felt it a struggle to stand upright. David lay in that box. He would never again tease her. He would never marry and become a father. Emily would never play with his children nor be fast friends with his wife. How could she live her life without her older brother in it?

  “‘Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. Amen.’”

  Somehow, Emily made it through the short ceremony and even managed to hold back her tears as she paid the chaplain for his time and for the burial. In silence, she watched the chaplain walking away, hoping she never saw him again.

  Once he was gone, Emily reached out a shaking hand to Ben, and for several long moments, they held hands and stared at David’s simple casket, knowing this might be the last moment they would be close to him. Washington was a long way from home.

  Already, the war had taken two of her family. She’d do everything in her power to keep Ben safe. Even if that meant forfeiting her own life instead.

  No matter what happened, she would make Pa and David proud of her.

  It felt like only minutes since the chaplain had left when two workers arrived with shovels to lower David into the ground and cover him. Emily and Ben moved back to give them room, but they did not leave until the job was finished and the dirt smoothed over the top of the grave.