Lily and the Major

by Linda Lael Miller

  Lily cleared her throat loudly just as the older man would have closed his door again. “Excuse me, sir, but I’d like a word with you.”

  Colonel Tibbet looked startled; obviously he hadn’t noticed Lily before. And he didn’t remember her from their brief meeting in the hotel dining room. He narrowed his eyes and scratched one florid cheek. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Lily Chalmers, Colonel, and I’m here to report a disgrace.”

  “Lily Chalmers.” The colonel seemed to be sorting through mental files for the name. “Ah, yes—you’re the little waitress who caught Caleb’s eye back there in Tylerville.”

  “Yes.” Lily felt diminished by the colonel’s words, but she didn’t know how to correct him. In fact, she had only enough courage to confront him about that awful place where the soldiers took their laundry and their scurrilous attentions.

  “Looking for he major, are you?” Colonel Tibbet asked with a jovial chuckle.

  Lily shook her head quickly, her cheeks heating at the suggestion that she would be so audacious as to pursue Caleb at his colonel’s office. “I’m here about Suds Row,” she said bravely.

  The colonel came out of his office and shut the door behind him, frowning. “Suds Row?” He seemed to encircle the phrase, pondering. “What earthly connection could you have with such a place, young lady?”

  Lily took a step forward, mainly because she felt like going into retreat. “I happened to pass by on my walk. How can you allow that kind of ignominy to exist?”

  The colonel looked surprised, but not affronted. His manner was more one of indulgence than offense. “Now, Daisy—”

  “Lily.” She said her name firmly.

  “Lily, then. Suds Row is not the kind of place a young woman of your delicacy should ever be exposed to. If you would just stay away from that part of the fort while you’re here—”

  Lily was stunned. “You mean you’re just going to ignore it? Colonel Tibbet, we’re talking about a place where women sell themselves to men!”

  He chuckled and smoothed his mustache. “Yes. Well, Caleb’s done it this time, I’ll say that for him.”

  Lily stiffened. “I beg your pardon?”

  The colonel cleared his throat loudly. “You must excuse me. I have work to do—dratted budget. Congress expects us to operate on nothing more than their good wishes, you see.” With that he turned, went back into his office, and closed the door behind him.

  The smells and images of Suds Row filled Lily’s mind, and she was just about to storm into the colonel’s private office when Corporal Pierce returned, carrying a coffeepot in one hand and a mug in the other. He looked at Lily’s flushed face and smiled.

  “I see you had your chat with the colonel.”

  “For all the good it did me,” Lily conceded. Then she brightened. “Why don’t you let me carry that in?” she asked, indicating the coffeepot.

  The corporal shook his head immediately. “No, ma’am,” he said, looking worried. “I’ve got thirty days’ leave coming up next month, and I don’t want to spend it in the stockade.”

  With that the young man disappeared into Colonel Tibbet’s office, and Lily was left to face the fact that her impromptu crusade had gotten her exactly nowhere. There was nothing to do but give up in temporary defeat; she would confront the commander of Fort Deveraux again, over his own supper table.

  As Lily was going out the door, deep in thought, she all but collided with Caleb. In fact, she would have if he hadn’t caught her upper arms in his hands and stopped her.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked. Although his tone was not unkind, he obviously wasn’t pleased to see her.

  Lily couldn’t have him think for even a second that she’d been chasing after him. “I wanted to talk to the colonel about Suds Row.”

  Caleb looked out-and-out shocked. When Corporal Pierce returned to his desk at that same moment he pushed Lily outside onto the sidewalk and demanded, “What the hell do you know about the Row?”

  Lily folded her arms and looked stubbornly up into Caleb’s eyes. “You’re not the man I thought you were, if you can look the other way when something like that is going on. Caleb, there are children in that place.”

  He gave a heavy sigh. “Lily, there are certain realities in this world—”

  “Yes,” Lily interrupted. “Like disease, and corruption.”

  Caleb rolled his eyes. “All right,” he sighed. “I’ll admit Suds Row is a disgrace. But it’s also a necessary evil.”

  “Only a man would say that.”

  A muscle tightened in Caleb’s jawline, then relaxed a little. “Is that so? Then you just march down there and ask those women if they want to be sent packing. Tell them you’re personally going to see that they never have to sleep with a man for money or wash a soldier’s shirts again. Do you know what they’ll do, Lily?”

  Lily swallowed, no longer so certain of herself. “What?”

  “They’ll run you off like they would a coyote in a chicken pen!”

  “I don’t believe you.” Lily’s eyes widened. “You’re only defending Suds Row because you like to visit there yourself.”

  Caleb closed his eyes for a moment in an obvious struggle for patience. “I don’t go near the place, except to have my shirts washed,” he declared in a furious whisper.

  Lily felt wildly relieved, though of course she wouldn’t have revealed that. She could barely admit it to herself. “What this place needs is a good, honest laundress,” she announced.

  “A laundr—” Caleb’s anger subsided suddenly, replaced by a disconcerting light in his eyes. “Right here?”

  Lily envisioned herself waxing wealthy. “Yes.” She laid a thoughtful finger to her chin. “I’d need a place to live, though.”

  Caleb started propelling her down the sidewalk. “Of course, you could always forget the laundry business and take a position as a housekeeper.”

  Lily looked up at him suspiciously. “For whom?”

  He hesitated. “For me,” he ventured in an uncertain tone of voice.

  “Never,” Lily replied. “My reputation would be in shreds in a matter of minutes.”

  He treated her to a blinding grin. “Probably with good reason,” he boasted. When Lily gave him a withering look he came up with another suggestion. “Gertrude is always looking for a housekeeper.”

  “Housekeeping pays no more than waiting tables,” width=“1emeasoned as they came to a stop in front of the Tibbets’ front gate.

  “True,” Caleb conceded, “but a housekeeper doesn’t have to pay for her room and board.”

  The idea had its merits, although Lily favored the plan to wash clothes for a living. It would be hard work, but there’d be plenty of money in it She’d have her plow and building supplies in no time.

  “I couldn’t live in the same house with Sandra,” Lily said, laying a hand on the neatly painted gatepost.

  Caleb looked genuinely exasperated. “We’ll talk about this later,” he snapped, and then he turned and strode away, resettling his hat as he went, leaving Lily to stare after him in baffled annoyance.

  Sandra was still engrossed in her needlework when Lily entered the house.

  “How was your walk?” she asked.

  Lily sank into a chair. “Depressing. I’ve just had my first look at Suds Row.”

  Sandra wrinkled her pretty nose. “If you’re smart, you’ll forget you’ve ever seen the place. The nice women on the post pretend it doesn’t even exist.”

  To Lily it seemed a stupid approach. “That’s like ignoring a sickness—it just gets worse and worse.”

  Sandra shrugged but did not look up from her sampler. “Those nasty women deserve whatever they get.”

  “Do they?” Lily demanded. “What about the soldiers who trade with them—what do they deserve?”

  Sandra’s pretty lips curved into a mischievous little smile. “Cooties,” she answered, “and I’m sure they get them. Among other things.”

  Agitated
, Lily tried to smooth the loose tendrils of hair at the nape of her neck back into their earlier arrangement. “At least it’s only the unmarried men—”

  “Naive girl,” Sandra put in.

  “You don’t mean—?”

  “A lot of women would just as soon their husbands didn’t trouble them in bed, Lily. So they pretend to be stupid when the men start telling them they shouldn’t have to ruin their soft hands doing wash.”

  Sandra wasn’t much older than Lily, but she’d been married, and she obviously had a broader view of the world.

  “Not Caleb?” Lily whispered, horrified.

  Sandra laughed. “My, no. No snaggletoothed washer-woman would appeal to him. He kept a mistress in Tylerville—she’s there still, I think.”

  Lily’s eyes went so wide they hurt. So that was why Caleb and Sandra had been divorced. He’d been unfaithful. To think she’d let a rascal like that kiss her, and give her chocolates! Excusing herself in rather a tremulous voice, Lily got out of her chair and made for the stairway.

  Ten minutes later she came down to the parlor carrying her valise. Mrs. Tibbad returned, and she looked upset. “Lily—you’re not going, are you?”

  “Yes,” Lily answered.

  Sandra set aside her needlework at last. “Well, whatever for?” she wanted to know. “And how do you intend to get back to Tylerville without a stagecoach, may I ask?”

  Lily’s face was warm. “I’ll walk if I have to,” she vowed.

  “What did you say to her?” Mrs. Tibbet demanded, her hands resting on her hips as she glared at Sandra.

  “I merely told her that Caleb kept a mistress in Tylerville. It’s perfectly true, and I’ll bet he still visits her!”

  “Sandra, you are my own dear sister’s child, and I love you for that reason, but I will tolerate no more of your interference! Do you hear me?”

  Lily was chagrined at having started such a row, especially between family members. “Good-bye, Mrs. Tibbet. And thank you.” She nodded at Caleb’s former wife. “Sandra.”

  Mrs. Tibbet reached out for Lily’s forearm, clasping her gently. “Please don’t go, dear. You don’t understand—”

  “I’m afraid I do,” Lily said.

  Mrs. Tibbet’s gaze had shifted to her niece. “Caleb will turn you over his knee when he finds out about this, Sandra, and I won’t do a thing to stop him, I promise you.”

  Sandra bit down on her lower lip. “Caleb did have a mistress,” she insisted after a moment.

  “Tell her why,” Mrs. Tibbet pressed.

  There was a fetching ruddiness to Sandra’s cheeks. “Because he and I didn’t—we didn’t have normal marital relations.”

  Lily was baffled, and she didn’t try to hide the fact.

  “Caleb never came to my bed once the whole time we were married,” Sandra said miserably.

  Lily had never heard of such a thing. “He preferred that woman in Tylerville to his own wife?”

  Sandra lowered her eyes and shook her head. “No. Caleb became my husband as a favor to my aunt and uncle. He never had any intention of making me a real wife, and he annulled the marriage as soon as decency allowed.”

  Lily looked at Mrs. Tibbet, mystified, and the older woman nodded confirmation. “Sandra was expecting a child,” she said quietly. “The man in question deserted her, and Caleb stepped in. There was a miscarriage, and he asked for his freedom.”

  Lily set down her valise and sank into a chair. She had never felt sorrier for anyone than she did for Sandra in that moment. She said nothing; her emotions were in upheaval.

  Sandra hurled her needlework aside and ran up the stairs.

  “Will she be all right?” Lily asked.

  Mrs. Tibbet smiled at her. “Oh, yes,” she said gently. “Sandra wil be just fine. Did I hear you say you’d been to Suds Row today?”

  Lily nodded. “It’s a terrible place.”

  “I know,” Mrs. Tibbet agreed. “I’ve been trying to get John to do something about it for the longest time. He says he’ll be retiring soon, and then it will be Caleb’s problem. The major is second in command, you know, and when John gives up his commission Caleb will be made a colonel.”

  The last of Lily’s hopes that Caleb might choose to become a farmer—hopes she hadn’t been aware she harbored—died then. She excused herself and went upstairs to lie on the guest room bed, thinking, and soon she fell asleep.

  All of a sudden she was small again, and she was back in her mother’s flat in Chicago. The soldier was there, too, lying with Mama on the other side of the canvas curtain, and Lily could hear them fighting.

  She was scared, watching their shadows move violently against the curtain, and she tried to get out of bed. She had to stop the soldier from hurting Mama.

  But Caroline restrained her, gripping her arm hard and holding on. With her free hand she covered Lily’s mouth.

  “He isn’t hurting her,” Caroline whispered.

  Lily was still afraid. She watched her mother’s shadow reach up and grip the railings of the headboard, and she was moaning just the way she’d done a few months before, when a baby was supposed to come.

  There hadn’t been any baby, just a lot of blood and, like now, a lot of carrying on.

  Lily’s eyes blurred with tears; they slipped down her cheeks to shimmer against Caroline’s hand. She hated that soldier with his dusty blue coat and his brass buttons. She hated him enough to kill him.

  Caroline and Emma began to sing, very softly, to comfort her. Their grandmother had made up the words and the tune, just for them.

  Three flowers bloomed in the meadow,

  Heads bent in sweet repose,

  The daisy, the lily, and the rose….

  Lily opened her eyes. Shadows were creeping into the room, and the echo of the old song lingered in her ears. She sat up with a start, still half in the dream, thinking her sisters must be close by. But Lily soon realized the voice belonged to Sandra, and the song was not the one she remembered.

  She rose from the bed, automatically reaching up to smooth her hair, and fought back the tears that were always near when she dreamed of a reunion with her sisters and then awakened to find that she was still alone. There was fresh water in the crockery pitcher on the washstand, and Lily poured some into the basin and splashed her face.

  Soon she was feeling better, though there was still a hollow little ache in one corner of her heart. Perhaps if she stayed at Fort Deveraux and found a way to start her laundry business, she could afford to hire a Pinkerton man. Surely a detective would be able to find her sisters.

  There was a rap at the door, and Sandra came in without waiting for an invitation. “I hope you’re not angry with me,” she said softly. She had exchanged her white eyelet-trimmed dress for a dancing gown of gossamer pink silk trimmed in pearls, and she looked like one of Isadora’s dolls come to life.

  Lily shook her head. “I’m not angry.”

  “You won’t tell Caleb that I said he had a mistress, will you?”

  Lily wasn’t about to promise any such thing, and she said nothing. Caleb was obviously one of those men who felt that keeping a mistress was his right, whether he was married or not, the rounder. And she might very well want to throw the fact in his face.

  “He’ll kill me!” Sandra wailed, crossing the room to Lily’s rocking chair and collapsing into it.

  Lily thought it a good time to change the subject. “You look very lovely tonight.”

  Sandra immediately brightened. “I think Lieutenant Costner has serious intentions toward me,” she confided.

  Lily sighed. Only hours before Sandra had claimed to love Caleb. Now she was beaming because another man liked her.

  “Of course,” Sandra went on, “it won’t matter, because I’m going back to Fox Chapel and marry someone else.”

  Since Lily’s back was turned, Sandra couldn’t possibly have seen her roll her eyes. “I wouldn’t do anything hasty if I were you,” Lily counseled, trying to undo the buttons of her
dress.

  Sandra immediately came to her aid. “You’re a fine one to talk about impulses, Lily Chalmers. Uncle John is downstairs right now telling Auntie and Caleb how you gave him the dickens in his own office.”

  Lily thought perhaps she had been a little rash, confronting the colonel that way. After all, social changes never came quickly. “Is he angry?”

  “Uncle John?” Sandra finished with Lily’s buttons and started lifting the dress off over her head. “That lamb? He’s much too sweet to hold a grudge.”

  Lily didn’t ask about Caleb’s reaction because she didn’t want to know. “I was hoping I could take a bath before I dressed for the ball,” she said.

  “There’s a tub just down the hall,” Sandra volunteered. “And I suppose there’s water in the tank, too.” She disappeared, returning only moments later with a pink satin wrapper. “Here, put this on,” she said, tossing the pretty garment to Lily.

  Lily pulled the wrapper on over her camisole and petticoat and followed Sandra out of the room. She led her to a bathroom, complete with a commode, and struck a match to light the wick under a giant black tank.

  “The water won’t be very hot,” Sandra warned, “but the kerosene flame will take the chill off. anyway.” With that she began turning a recalcitrant spigot. Soon water was tumbling into the claw-footed bathtub.

  Lily looked at the modern wonder in amazement and was startled into motion when Sandra shoved a fluffy white towel and a bar of soap at her.

  “Here, silly,” she said good-naturedly. “And be quick about it. Auntie will hold diner until everyone is present, and I’m starving.”

  After closing and bolting the door Lily peeled off the borrowed wrapper and tested the bathwater with a cautious toe. It was tepid, but that was no hardship. She turned off the spigot a few minutes later, climbed into the tub and bathed hastily.

  Soon she was back in the guest room, feeling fresh and eager for the ball to begin. She pulled the lavender dress on over fresh underthings and stood back to admire herself in the mirror.

  The lace edges of her camisole showed. Although she pushed them down inside her dress, they only popped out again.