Off To War (War Between The States)

by Sara R. Turnquist

  He nodded and moved to her little corner of the hospital to wait. Finishing her conversation, she stood and turned in that direction. As she approached Matthew, she noted that he had already taken the liberty of gathering both of their lunch rations.

  Standing, he offered his arm. She slid her hand into the crook there. He then led her toward the large tent's opening. Elizabeth caught a glimpse of John off to the right as they passed. There was a dark look in his eyes.

  Elizabeth mulled over that and what it might mean as she and Matthew made small talk on their way to the stream. She did feel guilty that even now her focus was split. What could be done about it? John had become a part of her life…that is, John had always been a part of her life, but so was Matthew. It was all rather confusing.

  Shaking her head to clear it so she could answer Matthew's questions, she drew a curious look from him. Still, it was difficult to concentrate on him the remainder of their walk.

  They arrived at their favorite spot, and Elizabeth sat herself against the trunk of the oak. Placing her rations in her hands, Matthew sat next to her. Maybe a little too close. Why did she feel that way? This was her beau. He had every reason to think it proper to sit so close.

  She concentrated on the bread in front of her while Matthew continued speaking of the most recent camp gossip. And Elizabeth made more of an effort to engage with him. It felt good to be in comfortable conversation with him again. As they finished the last bits of their lunch, he reached for her hand.

  Lifting it, he kissed her fingertips and then leaned toward her to press a kiss to the side of her face.

  Elizabeth closed her eyes and sighed.

  “Annabelle, look at me,” Matthew's voice was husky and deep.

  She turned and looked into Matthew's blue eyes, so much like hers.

  Elizabeth chose a light blue dress for her debutante party, one that matched her eyes. Gazing at her gown in the mirror as her maidservant curled her hair for the party, Elizabeth was struck with how well it suited her.

  John planned to escort her, of course, but there had been this strangeness between them. Something had changed with him these last couple of weeks and Elizabeth was unsure what exactly it could be. He had become a little…distant.

  Was it as her mother said? That he was too old to be her friend anymore? Nanny had always said that friendship can lead to the best marriage, but she and John were not interested in each other like that. Is that what had happened? Was he interested in something more? Elizabeth searched her feelings and found the caring consideration of one best friend for another. Nothing more.

  “There, miss, you're all done,” her maidservant said as she stepped back from her charge.

  Elizabeth examined herself again in the mirror; she looked so much older with her hair up.

  Her door swung open and Mother came into the room.

  Staring at her mother’s reflection in the mirror, Elizabeth marveled at the vision her own mother made. Would she ever measure up to the delicate creature that stood at her door? Would she ever have her mother's mild manners?

  “You are perfect, darling.”

  “Thank you, Mother, I…” She was cut off by the sound of the doorbell ringing.

  “Now, who could that be?” her mother mused, a smile gracing her features.

  Elizabeth moved across the room to look out her window. John stood below, handsome in his shirt and tails. A servant opened the door to admit him. She stepped away from the window, heart pounding, and took a deep breath. Why was he early? Whatever the reason, there was no sense hiding in her room.

  “It's John,” she said simply to her mother before moving out of the room and down the stairs to meet him.

  Her mother opened her mouth to protest, but was cut off by Elizabeth's rushed exit.

  John must have heard her on the stairs, as he looked up to watch her descend.

  “Elizabeth,” he breathed. “You have never looked more beautiful.”

  Her face warmed at his intense gaze.

  “You're early,” she said, raising an eyebrow. A tease.

  “Yes, I…” he spotted a passing servant. “Shall we go to the parlor?”

  “Of course.” She led him to the family's receiving room, hoping that some deep breaths could calm the racing of her heart. As she ushered him into the larger space, she closed the door behind him. They had been alone together many, many times. But never had she felt such trepidation as she did now with him looking at her as he was. She swallowed hard, but met his eyes.

  He remained silent for several seconds. But he did find his voice soon enough. “There's something I've been wanting to tell you, and I didn't think the party was the right setting. You see…I…”

  Fear filled Elizabeth. She didn't know what she would say if he finished that sentence. “There's something I've been wanting to tell you, too.”

  “Oh?” He seemed all too glad to let her go first.

  “Yes. On this momentous occasion,” she exaggerated the word the way her mother always did, smiling. “I've come to think back at how important you are in my life.”

  He quirked an eyebrow.

  “And how important your friendship is to me, and how I hope we always remain friends and that never changes.” Though every nerve ending in her body was firing, she moved to embrace him.

  And so she didn't see his face.

  “Of course,” he finally said, his voice dry and sullen. “Always and forever.”

  And then someone shook her, “Annabelle!”

  She started to come around.

  “Annabelle, are you all right? You blanked out.” Matthew's voice anchored her to the moment.

  “I, um, yes.” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “I was trapped in a memory,” she said before she could stop herself.

  “You're remembering things?” Matthew's voice seemed excited and nervous at the same time.

  “Only bits and pieces. Some things are vague, and some don't make much sense to me at all. I'm not truly sure of anything. That's why I haven't told anyone.” She wasn't sure she wanted to tell him now. But it was out.

  Matthew looked away, hurt. And he had every right to be. He wasn't just anyone. This was the man she professed to love.

  “I'm sorry, Matthew.” She reached out and cupped his face, turning his eyes to look at her. “I should have told you. But this has all been so confusing for me. I'm not sure of anything anymore.”

  “Not even sure of us?” The pain was naked on his face.

  She wanted to lie, wanted to tell him that nothing had changed between them.

  “I'm sure that I love you and that you love me, but…”

  “No 'buts.' That's all that you need to know,” he interrupted her, taking both of her hands in his. He used them to pull her closer to himself and pressed a kiss to her lips. “This is real.”

  She nodded, looking down. How could she explain it to him? He couldn't understand. So instead of trying, she leaned in to rest her head on his shoulder and let him hold her and keep all the worries of the world at bay.

  * * *

  Melanie scrubbed the blue cloth. It was her day on laundry duty and she took out her frustration on the dirty uniforms. She had replayed her last visit with Jacob in her mind a million times and could think of so many places where she should have said or done something differently. Yes, she had made a real mess of things. Now, he might never want to speak to her again, and she wouldn't blame him.

  “Go easy. You have something against that uniform?” a voice off to her left said.

  She looked up. It was Daniel. He stopped just short of the wash bin. Pulling her hands out of the water, she used her arm to wipe the sweat from her forehead. “No, just a little frustrated I suppose.”

  “Let me guess. Jacob?” He crossed his arms.

  “Yeah.” She reached for the next uniform.

  “I just came from there. Believe me, I think he feels worse.” Daniel’s eyes were on her face.

  She turned her attent
ion back to her task. “But I'm the one who messed up.” Melanie struck the uniform with soap and dunked it in the water.

  “I'm not so sure he feels that way.” His voice was gentle, more so than she would have expected from Jacob's best friend.

  She lifted her hand to wipe away the tears that started to form.

  “Your hands!” Daniel gasped, coming around the tub. He took her hands in his. “You have scrubbed them raw!” Reaching for clean bandages from the laundry pile, he urged her to follow him. “Come here.” He led her to a couple of stools where they sat while he wrapped her red, swollen, bleeding hands.

  “But, I have to finish,” she protested.

  “No, you don't. You need to give those hands a rest. I'll take over.” His eyes were intent on her injured hands.

  Did he just say he would finish the laundry?

  Sure enough, after he finished wrapping her other hand, he pulled off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and walked over to the barrel. And started washing the next garment. After a moment, she realized her mouth was agape and she shut it before he looked over at her.

  “What exactly happened between you two? If you don't mind my asking.” He rubbed the uniform jacket over the washboard at a more reasonable pressure.

  “He told me to leave him alone.” Her reply was simple, but there was nothing simple about it in her mind.

  “I'm sure he didn't mean that.” Daniel looked up to meet her eyes.

  “I'm quite sure he did,” she shot back. Melanie hadn't meant to sound so harsh. It was her pain talking.

  “Jacob is still dealing with the shock of having his leg amputated. He probably didn't want you to see him getting over-emotional.”

  Daniel's words seemed reasonable, but she wasn't ready to accept them. Not yet. The anger from Jacob seemed to fit her too well.

  “I doubt that. I've seen him be emotional.”

  “Don't underestimate the façade a man wants to show the woman he cares about,” Daniel said as he walked over to hang the freshly washed jacket.

  “The woman he what?”

  Daniel jerked his head around, confusion written all over his face.

  Did he think she and Jacob were in some kind of relationship?

  “Jacob cares for you a great deal, Melanie,” he said, grabbing another uniform.

  She nodded. It was true that Jacob cared for her as a friend. Surely there was nothing more to it than that. “I don't know why he would feel the need for a façade.”

  “Pride,” Daniel said, shrugging.

  “Men and their pride…” she shook her head, letting out a breath.

  “Hey, it does a lot for us,” he said defensively. “It makes us brave, makes it possible for us to declare our love to that special woman.”

  She gave him a long look, then smiled. “Do you have some declaring to do to someone?”

  “Nope.” He gave her a smirk.

  “I bet you'd be hard to say no to.” Her voice became soft.

  His steel blue eyes met hers.

  “I think you're about to scrub the color off of that shirt,” she said, distracted.

  He looked down at what he was doing. “Sorry!” he hung the shirt out to dry and put another in the wash. “Will you go visit him?”

  “I will.” She paused, not wanting to give in to her fear. “As long as you come with me.”

  He nodded. “It's a deal, then.”

  * * *

  “I have dinner for the prisoner,” Elizabeth said, handing the guard his rations.

  “Looks like that foot of yours healed up right quick,” he observed.

  “What can I say? Dr. Taylor has a magic touch.”

  The guard scowled and took his rations to his post.

  When she entered the tent, John was brooding. No longer tied up, he was merely confined to the tent. He must have earned some trust.

  “I have your evening rations.”

  “No soup?” he said shortly.

  “We cannot afford that luxury as often as the Union camps, sir,” she flashed. “Rations sustain us through most meals here.” She turned to leave.

  “I didn't mean to insult you. I have appreciated the way I've been treated here…for the most part.”

  She remembered his beating and flinched. He was being kind.

  “I'm just upset about seeing you going off with that man today. Who is he?” His voice was soft.

  She half turned. “Someone who has become important to me.”

  “I see.” He looked down at his rations, but she saw the hurt on his face.

  His pain stabbed at her heart. Clearly, they were very close. She felt the urge to run into his arms and kiss the pain away. But she held back. Too much was still unknown to her.

  “Please tell me,” she started, hesitating.

  “Anything.” His eyebrow lifted, she knew he would answer most any question she asked him. But he had already refused to reveal things about their relationship. Would he now at her behest?

  “What happened between us? I only have pieces.” She hesitated. Should she trust him whereas she had refused Matthew? Staring into his eyes, her heart whispered that she should. “I have many of my memories back. I remember the debutante ball…and how I…” She paused. “What happened after I pushed you away?”

  He smiled. “I pushed you back.”

  “What?” That confused her. What could he mean?

  “Do you remember Diana?”

  She rolled the name around in her mind. “Diana? No…”

  John's expression was hard to read. His eyes were bright but his mouth became a thin line. “Think on that. I'm sure once you have it, you will have the rest.”

  An odd silence fell between them. Elizabeth found it difficult to pull away from his gaze, but she did so and took her leave of him.

  Minutes later, she was in her bed, tossing and turning…Diana, Diana, Diana. There was a girl she vaguely remembered from her schooling days named Diana. She focused on the hazy memory of this girl, and a face came into focus. Diana had dark, almost black, hair, ivory skin, and deep brown eyes. Then, as a fitful sleep overcame her, Elizabeth remembered that Diana had always been her biggest rival in school for everything – grades, boys, parts in plays, everything. Why was Diana so important?

  Then, as she drifted in sleep, it all became clear…

  John invited Diana to the Christmas Dance. Diana! Imagine! He knew how Diana got under Elizabeth's skin. Of all the girls in Boston, why did he have to pick her? The girl was pretty. Does he care about Diana? Elizabeth wondered. As deeply as he cared for her? Perhaps more so. What will happen? Will he continue to see Diana and eventually marry her and have children? If so, Elizabeth had thought, tearing up, that will be just fine. But she couldn't help the tears that started to gather and fall down her face. Why couldn't she stop this well of emotion? What was she going to do?

  The maidservant did what she could to prepare Elizabeth for the ball, but nothing could be done to disguise an afternoon of crying. Her eyes were quite puffy. Elizabeth leaned her head against the vanity and considered not going. She didn't want John to see her like this. Neither did she wish to stay home and not see how he and Diana were together. Nor was she sure that she wanted to see them together. Her stomach twisted in knots and she wasn't sure of anything. Mother made the decision that she should go for the sake of the host, Mr. Fields, who had so graciously invited them all to the ball. So, she was resigned to her fate.

  The carriage ride to the Fields' home was uneventful. Elizabeth, for her part, kept her eyes drawn out the window as her parents chattered on about things of little importance to her.

  “Elizabeth, you are rather quiet this evening. Is anything the matter?”

  Elizabeth turned her attention to her father, letting the curtain on the window fall into place. “Not at all, Father,” she fibbed. “Just enjoying the shine of the street lamps on the wet pavement.” Well, it was a half-truth at least.

  “Ah. Why isn't young Mr. Taylor accompanying
us this evening?” He leaned toward his daughter.

  Mother shot him a look that he caught a little too late.

  “He is escorting Diana Balleu to the ball.”

  Elizabeth tried to hide her disappointment, but knew her parents would see through any façade she put up.

  “Is that so?” her father's eyebrows went up.

  The carriage ride continued in silence, her mother shooting Father dark looks, and Elizabeth with her stomach all knotted from the prospect of seeing John with Diana.

  “We have arrived!” her father announced a little too happily as their carriage turned the last corner and the Fields’ residence came into view. Moments later the carriage slowed.

  Father exited the carriage first, then helped first Mother, then Elizabeth down, careful of the wet steps. They were then hastened into the house lest the drizzle of wintery mix threaten their gowns and hair. As they stepped into the foyer, their wraps were taken. Mr. and Mrs. Fields were just beyond the foyer to greet their guests.

  “How good of you to come Dr. Thompson, Abigail, Elizabeth! What horrid weather for a ball!”

  “Nonsense. As long as it is dry and warm in here, who cares what's going on outside?” Father asserted.

  Elizabeth, for her part, found it very fitting that it should be so dreary this evening. For that's exactly how she felt—dreary.

  “Please do come in and enjoy some refreshments,” Mrs. Fields said as Elizabeth strained to see into the rooms beyond.

  “I happen to know of some eligible young men who hope to see Miss Elizabeth this evening for a waltz,” Mr. Fields commented, bringing a slight blush to Elizabeth's face.

  She was all too happy when the pleasantries were over and they could move further into the house. Although she wasn't sure if she wished to find John or a place to avoid him. Unable to settle, she decided to get some punch. No sooner had she reached the concession table then she felt a tap on her shoulder.

  She turned. It was John, but Diana was nowhere in sight.

  A smile was on his face, but it fell when he noticed her puffy eyes. “Lizzie, are you well?”

  She brushed his question off. “Where is your date?” she asked.