by J. L. Salter
Chapter Fifteen
Tuesday, May 8
It was late afternoon when Kelly received Mitch’s call. He’d finished his lake resident interview west of town and wondered if she was interested in supper.
“Not hungry now, but I’m sure I will be by about seven. Can you wait that long?”
“I can wait ‘til then to eat, but I can’t wait to see you, Kelly. You realize how little we’ve been together in the past four or five weeks?”
“Well, I’ve got a paying gig right now. It’s a good thing.”
“Yeah, I know. But I really miss you. We’ve been going different directions too much.”
Kelly didn’t know what to say. That kind of talk made her fretful Mitch was heading into another small cycle of pressure or possessiveness or jealousy, or something. As much as she loved Mitch and enjoyed being with him, Kelly would not be accountable to him for her daily schedule. If they could get together, they would, but she couldn’t allow anyone to tie her to a sign-in and sign-out board.
So she changed the subject. “Tell you what. Come over after six, and we’ll hang out for a bit before we go eat.”
A couple of hours later, Kelly was out back watering a row of peonies behind the cabin when she noticed a slight footprint in the flowerbed. Too small to be mine. “Must be the window peeper,” she said out loud as she scanned the woods to her west. Those flowers didn’t get as much sunlight as the ones in front, because so many tall trees were near. Aunt Mildred always had lovely peonies every spring, but when Kelly and her ex-husband had moved into Mildred’s place, one of the first things Rob did was dig up the peonies. When asked why he’d destroyed them, Rob had no plausible answer. In retrospect, Kelly figured it was nothing more than non-verbal rage.
The first spring Kelly lived at her rented cabin, she’d planted new peonies. Only fitting.
Slightly before 6:00 p.m., Mitch arrived and sat on a porch rocker peering through the front windows until Kelly reentered her back door. Waving him in, she washed her hands at the kitchen sink and dried them hurriedly, before Mitch hugged her tightly.
“I’ve missed you, gorgeous.”
She loved the word, but couldn’t make herself respond in kind. “Juice?”
Mitch appeared disappointed as he shook his head.
Kelly broke the embrace when she turned toward the fridge to get her drink. “Let’s sit out on the porch.” Perra had been on patrol out back and was now whimpering at the front door. When Mitch opened it, the little dog scooted quickly inside. Then, seeing Kelly headed out, Perra skidded on the tile and turned without really stopping. She was out on the porch before Kelly and her drink.
As Kelly sat in a rocker, Perra went out to the edge of the hill and voiced something to the Normans’ dog across Macon Circle road.
Mitch remained standing and gazed at Kelly like he was starving, and she was a juicy sirloin. “I’ve missed you like crazy.” He put a large hand on her nearest shoulder.
“We had lunch last Saturday…” She reached back and placed her hand on his.
“Kelly, I know you’ve got this big rule, but it doesn’t stop me from hungering for you.” He slid his hand out from beneath hers.
“Well, we’ve spoken on the phone nearly every day.” Kelly started to say more but held back. It felt like an argument was coming on.
Mitch seemed to get the message. He sighed heavily and sat in the other rocker. “I know. You’re working on Pop’s assignments, and we’re supposed to have some breathing room in our, uh, relationship. Okay.”
Mitch making Kelly’s points saved her the trouble. She softened a bit. “This project won’t last much longer, and we’ll have more time together then. Okay?” She patted his knee. “Plus, we don’t need to be in each other’s back pockets anyway. Now settle back and tell me how it’s going with your murder victim.”
Mitch sighed heavily. “Well I’ve been asking people as I go around the lake. Most of them never heard of it. Only natural for a 140-year-old murder. A waitress at a little diner in Nancy said her grandfather used to tell a similar story, but she didn’t know the town where the murder took place or anything about the time frame.”
“Who’s her grandfather?”
“I don’t have my stuff right now, it’s in my notebook. He lives near the lake off Highway 80 somewhere between here and Nancy. I’ll try to track him down and see if he’s got the right murdered stranger.”
“Think there were very many?”
“Pulaski was a pretty rough area… lots of murders. There would be other stories about murdered people, but I think the element of the church yard pretty well makes this story unique.”
“Probably so.”
“Have you seen Diane lately?”
Kelly had to think. “Not in particular. Why?”
“Apparently another prowler’s been seen. Joe said he spotted somebody at the edge of the woods, not far from your cabin.”
“Any description?”
Mitch chuckled. “When I asked Joe, he just pointed to his trifocals and shrugged. I doubt he saw anything more than a human shape.”
“Wonder if it was the same day somebody moved stuff behind my cabin. Did I mention that to you?”
“Uh, yeah. Don’t recall when, though.”
“I think the prowler was at my back stoop on, uh, Thursday the third.” Then Kelly turned in her chair and pointed. “But just now, I found a footprint back there in my flowerbed. Why don’t you take a gander?”
He did and returned shortly. “Seems pretty small. I’d guess a big kid or a small woman.”
“A woman?” Kelly jerked upright in her rocker. “Why would a woman be peering into my window? And also at the Suttons in the farm house?”
Mitch shook his head. “Can’t say. People do strange things for odd reasons.”
Both were quiet in their own thoughts for a moment.
“You seem really stressed, Kelly. Is everything okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“Not sure if this is the right word, but I feel like we’re, uh, further apart lately than we were just a few weeks ago.” He seemed genuinely worried.
She tried to smile but it likely appeared strained. “It’s this assignment, Mitch. I almost feel like I have extra people in my head, or at least their voices. All from 1863, and they’re trying to tell me something.”
“You’re sure it’s just the research?”
“Well, plus the stinking prowler business.” She pointed toward the back door. “Until I found the little footprint, I was worried J.D. was back.”
“I’d like to get my hands on that creep.”
She decided not to mention her phone call with Fred Lee Means — already enough open wounds on the table.
“Okay, so you’re stressed — and rightly so — about the research and the prowler. But not about anything else?”
“Mitch, what are you asking me?”
As he hesitated, tiny lines formed across his brow. “I was beginning to think you were getting distant because of me.”
The pain in his eyes pressed so tightly on her heart that it was difficult to breathe. “No, Mitch. It’s not about you.” It rattled her even to see J.D.’s initials, but, as best she knew, that smarmy punk was not even in the county. “I mean, sure, I think a lot about you… about us. But…”
“So, can I ask what you do think about us?” When he gulped, his Adam’s apple rose and fell dramatically. “I really don’t have much of a clue how you feel, despite that I’ve been pretty straightforward about my feelings for you.”
“Yes, you have, Mitch.” Kelly’s voice was soft and hesitant. “You’ve expressed yourself from the very beginning.” She, on the other hand, had been considerably less forthcoming… without ever completely comprehending why. “I guess I’ve been pretty reluctant to speak as directly about our, um, relationship… because I’m not sure where we’re headed.”
Mitch started to interrupt, but Kelly reached from her rocker and touched his
knee again lightly. “I apologize if it’s been hard on you, Mitch. But the truth is, I still don’t know how I feel about commitment and letting our relationship move up such a high step. I know how I feel about you…”
“How? How do you feel about me, Kelly?”
She frowned like he should already know and then nodded slowly. “Yeah, I realize I haven’t addressed it in words very much. Okay, here goes. Mitch, I’m more alive with you than I’ve ever been… ever. You’re in my heart and my head… and I think, in my soul. I love working with you, I love being with you, and when the right time comes, I know I’ll enjoy making love with you.”
“That covers almost everything except whether you love… me.” Mitch placed his large hand over her slender fingers, still lightly touching his knee. “It seems to stick in your throat.”
Kelly gently pulled away her hand. “It does seem to, and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because of my ex and what the word love apparently meant to him. I thought I loved him and assumed he loved me. But to him, I was more like an unpaid housekeeper, secretary, researcher, and, um, sexual release. His notion of love was possession and control, and whatever he could squeeze out of me for his benefit or pleasure.”
“I’m not like that, Kelly.”
“I know, I know you’re not. In fact, you’re so unlike Rob that at first I couldn’t believe you were real.”
“I’m real. Flawed, but real.” Mitch scooted his rocker slightly and then reached for her hand again. “Kelly, it seems like I haven’t yet convinced you I’m not with you to take advantage of you.” He shook his head. “Well, I said it poorly. I’m not with you so I can drain down your resources for my benefit. I’m with you because I love you, and I can’t imagine living without you. I’m not here to take from you, I want to give. I want to share all my best parts with you.”
“Mitch, I’m sorry I don’t have the words which might reassure you, not yet anyway. Maybe they’ll come. For now, I want to be with you — in every way possible — and to enjoy our present. I start to feel pressured when I’m expected to commit to a future, and I’m still not sure I understand what’s going on with us right now. A big commitment to the future frightens me right now. When I was stuck in Chattanooga and shackled in my cruddy marriage, I was thinking if I ever got out of there, I’d never be confined again… or controlled.”
“I don’t want to confine or control you. I love you and want to be with you. Maybe it’s hard to grasp because it’s so uncomplicated. I’ve got no motive or agenda. I believe you’re the one I was always meant to be with, Kelly, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make it possible. Even if it means waiting until you, uh, understand more about your own feelings. Nobody knows what the future is like, but I’m certain what I hope it is. And I hope it’ll be you and me, together.”
Kelly stood, took a deep breath, and expelled it as she moved toward the porch railing. “I want to be with you, too. It’s just I don’t yet have the certainty you seem to have about how you’ll feel in the future. I’m in love with you now, and I have no expectation it will lessen. Can we just leave it there for now?”
Mitch stood and embraced her. “I think this is the first time you’ve said you’re in love with me.” He sighed. “Okay, I guess I’ll settle with that in the meantime.”
Kelly hugged him tightly and realized her eyes were moist, so she rubbed her face on his upper sleeve near his left chest. She could hear Mitch’s heart beating. What in the future could be better than this?
****
Kelly had gone inside briefly, returned to the porch with a large folder, and placed it on the floor near her rocker, where she sat again.
Gato came out from beneath the Jeep and trotted along the driveway. Perra stopped her long-distance discourse with the neighbor dog, 400 feet away, and hurried over to ride herd on the big cat. It didn’t suit Perra to let Gato move in the yard without close escort, staying slightly ahead of the cat and leaning in from the side. Occasionally the dog would nip at his neck. Gato took a measure of this intimidation, but when he’d had enough, he would stop cold and whack the terrier… claws out. There’d be a short, sharp yelp, and then Gato could continue his movement without a meddlesome chaperone.
Kelly and Mitch had watched the animal show without further conversation of their own.
“So, you were talking about voices from 1863. How are things in the Butler family cabin?” It came out raspy and Mitch made a few dry swallows. “You make any sense of the letter you mentioned on the phone?”
“Yeah, it was quite a visit with Don’s old Uncle Len and the mostly secret letter he’d found in the back of the Butler Bible.” She waved her folder. “Well, I’ve been studying my transcript of Mary’s letter and I think I’m getting a better feel for the dynamics of their family. For one thing, old William was nearly eighty-five during that spring, and Mary was worried about his failing health. The prospect of losing your husband and head of household during wartime must have been terrifying.”
Mitch reached for the letter transcript and glanced over it.
“Don established the year as 1863. Significant details square up with Pop’s version of the extended family’s oral history. Mary really packed a lot of information in this letter.” Kelly pointed vaguely. “There’s reference to the Dutton Hill battle, a badly wounded Reb seeks shelter, they hide him in the attic, the guy dies during the night from his wounds, they bury him among trees on the hill.”
“Yeah, all that sounds familiar.”
“But then the variations begin. First difference has to do with the burial. In one family version, the ground was so frozen on the last day in March, they concealed the body but had to wait a few days to bury him. Most other family versions indicate he was buried first thing that morning, probably before dawn… and likely in a shallow grave. Which would make more sense, because the Butlers would be extremely worried about Yankees finding a Rebel body on their property. Mary’s letter reinforces the majority view he was buried early the next morning.”
Mitch nodded.
Kelly sipped her juice. “The second disparity is the number of Rebs. Most family stories mention only the one who died. A few versions mention a companion, also wounded, who helped him get shelter and evidently some degree of medical attention… well, first aid, anyhow. Mary’s letter supports the minority view there were indeed two wounded Rebs — one mortally injured and the other evidently well enough to ride on, sometime later.”
“Did Pop know about the second Reb?”
“He mentioned the possibility but seemed to favor one soldier. Not sure why. Anyway, a related issue is their destination. Presumably both were from the same unit, so possibly enlisted from the same area. Most stories have the Reb, or Rebs, coming from Tennessee originally. Unfortunately, Mary’s letter doesn’t mention anything about where they were from or where the survivor was headed.”
Mitch just nodded again, following her thought processes, but not interrupting.
“Fourth variant is how long the other soldier stayed with the Butlers. Most of the family stories, those which even mention a second man, suggest he left the very next morning.” She put her hands together as if she were praying and her fingertips barely touched her chin. “By the way, I think it’s a little odd, especially if Yankee patrols were going around hunting for stragglers from the battle. Why wouldn’t he wait for nighttime to travel? Or even wait for an extra day or two, the better to lay low and give his wounds more time to heal? Mary’s letter hints the second Reb was around after the next day. Which jibes with what I got from my phone call to one of Pop’s and Don’s relatives in a nursing home — the soldier remained in Possum Knoll… at least for a while, it seems. I’ve got to tell you though, the info from my phone call is highly suspect.”
Mitch raised an eyebrow.
“I couldn’t talk directly with the old lady. Ms. Nora Lee was getting a breathing treatment, and the technician had to relay me the answer, so I figure she screwed up the info. But anyhow, whether
the companion stayed one day or two days — or even longer, if Nora Lee’s info is accurate — could make a big difference.”
“To…?”
“According to Mary’s letter, it made a difference to her husband William, for one. He was furious after a terrible argument with the Reb.”
“Furious about what?”
“Mary didn’t seem to know. But whatever it was, William also took it out on Belva. He whipped her badly.”
“Couldn’t she outrun the old geezer?” Mitch’s fingers showed the motion.
“Hmm, I guess so. But likely she stood her ground and just took it, figuring it’d be worse later if she ran.”
“I guess whipping was pretty common back then. But no indication why?”
“Exactly what I’ve been wondering. Did Belva’s father whip her because she helped the Reb? Because she fed him and dressed his wounds? Because she talked with him?”
“Doesn’t make sense.” Mitch scratched the back of his head. “I think you’d only punish your daughter if she did something really bad that you’d warned her not to.”
“Maybe he forbade her going near the Reb.” Kelly frowned. “No, Mary described some ongoing trouble. Belva skipped some of her chores — that alone could get her a whipping. Especially if old William was really mean and stern.”
“Seems to be more involved in this punishment stuff. But what?” Mitch stood slowly and stretched, then leaned back against the porch railing. “By the way, you didn’t mention the other significant new detail from the letter — the corporal’s name.”
Kelly joined him at the railing but facing into it rather than away. “True. Corporal Hank. Nice to name one of them, but I’d rather I.D. the dead man. Overall, Mary’s letter gave an awful lot of attention to the second soldier. Most versions barely mentioned the other guy. Pop’s focus, along with the majority of the family stories he recalled, was solely on the Reb who died. Interesting that Mary’s contemporaneous telling focused more on the soldier who lived.” Kelly gazed out to the east rather intently, as though she could see someone. “Corporal Hank X., who were you? What trouble did you cause at the Butler cabin? Whatever became of you?”
