Today We Go Home

by Kelli Estes

  I did have some good news. Lincoln has signed into law a homestead act for which I am eligible, or will be upon my twenty-first birthday. I’m considering following through on the plan I made with Willie and Ben, even though they won’t be with me. Why can’t I go to Nebraska Territory and settle there myself? I see no reason not to, and so that is what I will do. Being there will also help me look for Willie’s sister and return her handkerchief to her. Why can’t I remember her sister’s name? Why can’t I remember if Willie ever told me her family name?

  How am I supposed to fulfill my promise to her? Maybe I won’t be able to, but my chances are higher if I’m in Nebraska. So, somehow, I’ll find my way there.

  Larkin’s heart felt pulverized as she read Emily’s diary and saw how the woman blamed herself for her brother’s death and struggled to see a path forward under the weight of that guilt and the weight of her promise to Willie. To Larkin, Sarah was her Ben and Willie combined. Larkin was trying to find her way forward in life while dragging guilt and obligation along with her. And most days, she did not have the necessary strength.

  Larkin had flown home from California on Sunday morning, and Grams had picked her up from the airport. On the drive back to Woodinville she’d told Grams about Zach and how they’d released Sarah into the ocean. Her emotions caught up with her and exhausted her so much that, when they arrived home, she crawled into bed and slept for two hours.

  When she woke, she’d pulled the diary out to read more. But now she needed a break. She set the diary aside, thinking about Emily’s struggles. They were timeless. Even now, over a hundred and fifty years later, female veterans faced many of the same challenges that Emily did: being seen as inferior because of her gender, not being able to find work after being discharged from the military, earning less than men, becoming homeless.

  It really pissed Larkin off that her country had barely evolved in all those years. Women today were doing the same jobs as men, both in the military and out of it, and still being treated as second-class citizens. The constant battle was exhausting, and right now, Larkin was too tired to fight it.

  Like Emily, Larkin was wandering aimlessly with no viable future. The diary wasn’t going to occupy her forever. She would eventually need to get on with her life. Find a new career. Venture into a job world that had nothing to do with the military, which was all she’d ever known.

  The thought of it made her want to throw up. She’d never considered doing anything but serving her country. It had been her life’s mission and her purpose. And now it was gone.

  She groaned, hating the pit her thoughts were pulling her into. Determined to get her mind on something else, she opened her blog and read through some of the comments readers had left.

  They wanted more. She hadn’t posted a new entry in over three weeks, and readers were asking whose story would be next.

  To appease them, she pulled out one of the books she’d ordered online about the women who served in the Civil War and flipped through the pages, looking for someone interesting. A name caught her eye and she looked closer. George Harris. Didn’t Emily write about a George Harris?

  Larkin picked up the diary and searched for the passage. There it was. On May 19, 1862, Emily wrote about the soldier who’d nursed her back to health at the Confederate prison and gave his name as George Harris of the 8th New York Cavalry. She hadn’t seemed to trust him much.

  Turning back to the reference book, Larkin found that the name and regiment matched. It had to be the same person. And he had actually been a she, and Emily hadn’t known. What were the odds?

  Shaking her head, Larkin read more about George Harris. The book said her real name was Maria Lewis, and not only was she pretending to be a man, but she was African American and had successfully fooled everyone into believing she was white. What made this even more impressive was that she served before African American men were allowed to enlist. That didn’t happen until after the Emancipation Proclamation on January 1, 1863. After the war, she was even chosen as a member of an honor guard who presented the War Department with seventeen captured Confederate battle flags. Maria, as George, was only discovered to be a woman and African American after the war ended, and she sought help in finding a new life as a free person from Northern abolitionists. No one knew what came of her after that.

  Larkin felt a thrill when she posted the entry about Maria/George to her blog. In her post, she also shared information she’d learned about African Americans serving in the war. Once black men were allowed to enlist, they were paid only ten dollars per month compared to the thirteen dollars white soldiers received, and of that, only the black soldiers had to pay three dollars for clothing. White soldiers received a clothing bonus. Black soldiers, disgruntled by the announcement of lower pay for equal service, wanted to leave the service but were not allowed to do so. Many chose to protest by refusing to accept any pay at all until the discriminatory policy was reversed. This caused them and their families great hardship, especially as white-run charities in the North turned away black families.

  It wasn’t until June 1864 that Congress passed a law granting black soldiers the same pay as whites. Besides pay being discriminatory, all African American regiments were segregated and led exclusively by white officers. If a black soldier was captured by Confederate forces, his treatment was brutal and usually fatal. Maria Lewis had defied so much in posing as a white man, and Larkin held no doubt that if the woman had been discovered, she would have been severely punished. But still, she served.

  Pride in this fellow soldier she’d never met helped ease Larkin’s funk, and she decided to track down Kaia and Grams and see what they were doing the rest of the day.

  She found Kaia in the kitchen cooking what looked to be yellow pancakes in a cast iron pan on the stove. The smell of maple syrup and coffee filled the room and reminded Larkin she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. “Hey, whatcha makin’?” She opened the fridge to look for leftovers.

  “Johnnycakes,” Kaia answered as she pushed her bangs back with her forearm, a spatula in her hand. “I’m playing with some old Civil War recipes. These were popular because they didn’t use flour or sugar and could be topped with syrup, molasses, or jam.”

  Larkin peered closer at the pan. “If there’s no flour in them, what’re they made of?”

  “Cornmeal.” She flipped the pancake over.

  “Where’s Grams?” Larkin asked. Nothing in the fridge looked appetizing, so she closed the door.

  “Woodinville Heritage Society meeting.” Kaia took a plate out of the cupboard and placed the johnnycake on it. “Here, eat this.”

  “Woodinville has a heritage society? How much heritage can the town possibly have?” Larkin slathered butter on the cake and drizzled the maple syrup Kaia had warmed over it.

  “The area was first settled by the Woodin family back in 1871 and became an important location for the logging industry. Sure, the history is nothing compared to towns in Europe, or even the East Coast, but I think it’s great the society is preserving all it can.”

  “1871, huh?” Larkin cut a bite of cake and stuck it in her mouth. It tasted a bit like cornbread and was perfect as a comfort food. “That’s during the Reconstruction Era. I wonder if they were veterans.” She shook her head, wondering why every thought she had was either about the Civil War or military service in general.

  Kaia shrugged. “Grams might know. So, how was it?” She motioned toward Larkin’s now-empty plate.

  “Delicious.” She held the plate out for another. “When you’re done, do you want to get out of here? Go for a drive or something?”

  Kaia’s eyebrows shot into her hairline, but she didn’t question why Larkin suddenly wanted to get out. “That sounds great. Any chance you might be up for a movie? The theater in town now has reclining chairs and an ICEE machine in the lobby.”

  Larkin laughed, knowing the frozen slushy Coke drin
ks were Kaia’s weakness. She wasn’t sure how she’d do being stuck in a dark theater with strangers, but she surprised herself by agreeing. “Maybe Jenna’s free and can meet us there.”

  She was, and Larkin successfully sat through the entire romantic comedy without her symptoms being triggered once. She was so happy about this small success that, when it was over, she suggested they walk to Red Robin for burgers.

  Her cousins agreed, and together they crossed the street and went inside the restaurant, debating the whole time about how long it had been since they’d last been to the restaurant that was always their first choice as kids.

  In the booth next to them, two male police officers were finishing their meals, and Larkin couldn’t help but stare at them. Several MP friends she’d served with who had separated from the Army had decided to become civilian police officers. She’d never thought about doing anything other than military police, but now that she was forced to consider a new career, she wondered about it for herself.

  In between perusing the menu, ordering, and chatting with her cousins, Larkin kept an eye on the officers. At one point, a mom with a little boy about four years old came up to the officers. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said to them, “but my son says he wants to be a policeman when he grows up. He wanted to meet you.”

  The officers, one tall and thin with a graying mustache and the other looking fresh out of the academy, smiled at the boy and asked him his name, which set him off on a long story about his toy police cars. The scene reminded her of all the hours she’d spent chatting with Nahid and the other boys in Kandahar.

  The boy was still chatting and sharing the older officer’s french fries when a beep rang out, followed by a voice announcing a crime in progress. Both officers set down their burgers and dropped bills on the table.

  Larkin watched the officers stride out the door and felt with certainty that she did not want their job. She didn’t know what crime they were rushing off to, but she knew it could be anything from teenagers shoplifting at the nearby bookstore, to a traffic accident, to a break-in. The thought of responding to any of those exhausted and depressed her.

  It all seemed so petty compared to protecting the safety and security of the nation’s military forces. Not that military police didn’t deal with pettiness. But still, it felt different.

  “So tell us, Larkin.” Jenna’s voice cut into her thoughts. “How was California and Sarah’s brother? Was he a jerk like you expected?”

  Larkin had to force herself to pay attention to the conversation at her own table. She shook her head. “Actually, not at all. I think both Zach and Sarah were victims of their parents’ problems. Their mother, especially, was a train wreck.”

  As they ate, Larkin told them about Sarah’s mom and all the ways she’d failed her daughter. “You both know I don’t see eye to eye with my own mother, but all I needed was to hear a story about Sarah’s mom to remember that my own isn’t so bad.”

  “Was she why Zach stayed away from Sarah all those years?”

  Larkin nodded. “I think their mother killed any relationship they might have had, and then they were both too hurt and afraid of rejection to reach out. It makes me so sad to think of what Sarah missed out on.”

  “So you like him, huh?” Kaia had a bright glint in her eye as she asked the question.

  “Not like that.” The thought hadn’t crossed Larkin’s mind. There had been too many other emotions in play during her visit. “But yeah, I do think we could be friends.”

  Jenna and Kaia exchanged a look, and Larkin knew they were matchmaking. She ignored them and finished her burger.

  “What’s the latest with your diary research?” Kaia asked as she bit into a fry. She turned to Jenna. “She says Emily was discovered and kicked out of the Army. She’s thinking about going to Nebraska to find Willie’s family.”

  Jenna leaned toward Larkin. “Does she go?”

  Larkin shrugged. “I don’t know yet, but even if she did, she never found Willie’s family or the handkerchief wouldn’t still be in the secret compartment.”

  “Have you gotten any closer to finding them?” Kaia asked, sipping another Coke.

  “I found a family that might be hers, and I’m waiting for the genealogist who’s helping me to look into it and call me back. Urlich and Elizabeth Ellery were living in Washington County, Nebraska Territory, in 1860 with a fifteen-year-old daughter named Olive. No mention of an older brother. If it’s Willie’s family, it means that she left home before 1860, long before the war started. Her enlistment records give her hometown as La Porte, Indiana, but we think she made it up since that’s the town where the 9th Indiana mustered in.”

  With a far-off look on her face, Kaia finished her burger and wiped her hands on her napkin. “Try widening your search for those names in earlier censuses.”

  Larkin shook her head. “1860 was the first year that Nebraska was included in the Federal census, and the territorial census was pretty spotty before that.”

  Kaia nodded. “Yes, but try looking at records from other states. Since Nebraska was only newly being settled at that time, maybe the Ellery family came from somewhere back East. They might show up, with Willie included, somewhere that you don’t expect.”

  Larkin thought about it. “And if I find them earlier, with Willie, I’ll know for sure what their names were and can then find the family later in Nebraska or wherever they ended up!”

  Kaia grinned. “Exactly.”

  “Excuse me,” a voice said, and Larkin looked up to see an older couple with matching silver hair standing by their table. The man pointed to Larkin. “I noticed your T-shirt. Does your husband serve in the Army?”

  Larkin had forgotten she was wearing her Army PT shirt. She knew exactly what was happening, and it made all the commotion of the restaurant fade away. Even her vision narrowed so that all she saw was the man looking through her, as though she wasn’t a human herself, but an accessory to some man who owned her. She couldn’t possibly be the person who had earned this Army shirt, could she? She was only a woman, after all.

  She pinned the man with a look she usually reserved for suspects she was questioning. “I am not married.”

  The man still didn’t get it. “Oh, your father, then?”

  Kaia must have felt Larkin’s anger because she spoke up, pointing to Larkin as she did so. “She’s the one who served. She did two deployments to Afghanistan.”

  Surprised, the man looked flustered for a moment, and then he thrust his hand into her face. “In that case, let me thank you for your service, my dear.” He smiled as if it had all been a joke.

  Larkin couldn’t bring herself to shake his hand. She’d lived a scenario like this too many times, and she was sick of it. She slapped his hand away and got to her feet so she could look right into his sexist face. “It’s not funny, you asshole. I risked my life every day I was over there, and my best friend lost hers in service to this country. Morons like you”—she stabbed her finger into his chest—“don’t see us. To you, women in the military are fluff and decoration. You dismiss our contribution and overlook us as if we’re invisible, and I’m sick of it. Sarah didn’t die so that idiots like you could forget she ever lived.”

  The man gaped and his wife started tugging on his arm, trying to pull him away from the unhinged veteran. Larkin had had enough. She turned away from them and saw that everyone at the nearby tables was staring at her with varying expressions of horror and pity on their faces.

  She ran out of the restaurant and across the street, not bothering to wait for the crosswalk sign. When she reached Kaia’s car, she fell against it and took several deep breaths, trying hard to get herself under control. But a sob escaped, and that was all it took for her to break down completely. Why was everything so hard all the time?

  “Lark, it’s okay.” Kaia was suddenly there, and she laid a hand softly on her bac
k. “That guy was an asshole. You were right to get angry with him.”

  Soon, Jenna joined them and she, too, tried to make Larkin feel better. When Larkin’s tears finally dried, she wasn’t in the mood to talk. “We should get going.”

  They said goodbye to Jenna and drove home in silence. As Larkin came into her room, her eyes went immediately to the spot on her nightstand where Sarah’s urn had sat these last weeks. It was empty. She’d forgotten she’d let her go, and the reminder now felt like she was losing Sarah all over again.

  Did any part of Larkin’s old life remain?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  May 29, 1862: Nashville, Tennessee

  Sunlight woke her early, and Emily grimaced as it speared into her pounding head. All night, she’d dreamt she was fighting a battle, chasing and shooting at a Reb with no face, and always missing. At one point she came upon Ben sitting on a log in the woods as though he were at a Sunday picnic. But then, before she could say anything to him, his body was slammed over and over again with Minié balls that sliced right through him, leaving holes she could see through. He did not fall off the log but simply sat there and said, “You killed me, Em.”

  Emily rubbed her eyes, wishing she had water to help wash away the dreams and the awful heaviness they left in her.

  Her little cave of a porch was now fully illuminated with the morning sun, and passersby were casting her curious glances. Taking as little time as possible, she pulled her diary from the dress pocket, tucked it into her chest bindings, and rolled the dress into a ball that she crammed into a corner of the porch where she could find it later. Ready for the day, she started down the street with no destination in mind, snacking on the raw potatoes as she went.

  After only a few minutes, the difference in how she could move through the world was obvious. No one stared at her like they’d done when she wore a dress, their expressions full of judgment. As a man, she could slough off the forced mantle of shame that was put upon women, as though their very existence was something for which they must apologize.