Off To War (War Between The States)

by Sara R. Turnquist

  Honesty

  ELIZABETH’S EYES OPENED. How long had she slept? It must have been a whole month. Nothing ached as she came to consciousness, her body well cushioned by the fine mattress beneath her. Mattress? Where was she? Home? The bed was not familiar. Her and John’s escape came rushing back to her memory. They were at the Davis’s plantation home.

  Stretching, she glanced around the room. She had fallen asleep in John’s arms, yet he was not in the bed next to her as she woke. Turning onto her back, his form became clearer, silhouetted in the early morning light. He sat at the vanity, but faced her.

  Should he be here with her in the morning? It seemed awkward. She reached to draw the covers higher, but remembered all they had been through and how they had committed to one another yesterday. Letting her hand fall to her chest, she met his gaze.

  “I wondered when you would wake,” John said, smiling.

  She yawned and deepened her stretch. “I think I like falling asleep in your arms, John Taylor.”

  “Hey,” he teased, moving to the sit on the edge of the bed, leaning over her. “That's Dr. John Taylor.”

  She smiled up at him. “My apologies.”

  “Just don't you forget it,” he joked gently, stroking her hair.

  “How long have you been watching me?” She sat up, eyes wide. This most certainly wasn’t her home. They weren’t safe here. Shouldn’t they have been on the road by now?

  “Maybe thirty minutes. You must have been exhausted. I couldn't bring myself to wake you.”

  Elizabeth slid out of the bed, opposite side of John. She turned on him. “John Taylor, that was foolish! We aren't visiting family. We should try and get out of here as soon as possible.”

  Grabbing her dress and chemise, Elizabeth turned her back to John. Throwing a glance over her shoulder to make sure John averted his eyes, she then pulled off the night shift and jerked on her chemise and dress, straightening things out as best she could.

  Her simple frock was not made for a fine lady who had servants. The buttons were down the front. No need of assistance. For which she was grateful. As she buttoned her dress, she heard John shifting behind her. When she turned, she saw that he had risen and pulled on his jacket.

  “I think if we continue to follow the stream, we'll find ourselves in Union territory perhaps tomorrow.” His voice was muffled by his collar as he looked down to button the jacket.

  Nodding, she closed her eyes. This would be another long day of walking. And she dreaded it. But they must. She would do everything she could to push on every step of the way. While the restful night's sleep on a comfortable bed had helped, it made her loathed to return to the mats on the ground. Yet that was the choice she had made.

  John turned and their eyes met at last. Elizabeth read in his eyes some of the things she felt. It was not in her to survive another dinner conversation like the one last night. Could he? She doubted it. They had reached the limits of their ability to play these roles. It was likely their disguises wore thin as well. No, they best not stay one minute longer than necessary.

  She prayed they could be on their way without further entanglements with the family. But could they avoid facing the family before leaving? It was doubtful.

  Gathering everything they came with, which wasn’t much, they made their way out of the room and down the stairs. It did not escape her notice as they took the stairs that John angled his torso a bit oddly. Was his back stiff from a night on the hardwood floors? Guilt washed over her.

  Though he descended a bit slower than normal, it did not take long before they stood in the grand entryway without a soul in sight.

  Elizabeth looked at the door. Dare they just slip out?

  John’s breathing quickened beside her. Was he thinking the same thing? He took her hand and, reaching toward the door’s latch, stepped forward.

  The clip-clop of shoes on the floor caused John to flinch. Elizabeth grabbed his arm. But still he reached. Could they disappear out the door before whomever stalked the halls saw them?

  Elizabeth couldn’t hear for the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears. She couldn’t risk it. Pulling at John, she prevented his fingers from wrapping around the latch. But just so.

  He glared at her.

  She diverted her gaze toward the direction of the footfalls as the butler appeared.

  Would they have made it? She and John would have to debate it. There would be no way to know. But she doubted it.

  “What can I do fer y’all?” the man asked, dropping in a slight bow.

  “We wish to speak with the master of the house.”

  The butler nodded and hurried off after his errand.

  John’s gaze turned once again toward the latch.

  Elizabeth’s hand gripped his upper arm. When he turned his head to meet her eyes, she shook her head.

  Only seconds passed before Mr. Davis came toward them from the direction of the main parlor. “Well now, there are my guests. I hope you got some good rest. Things probably aren't quite that comfortable at the encampments.”

  John smiled. “No, sir, they never are. In fact, I feel as if I cheated my fellow men.”

  “I understand what you mean, son. But come. It's time for a good breakfast before you resume your hike back to your post.” Davis took a step toward the dining room.

  “I do appreciate your hospitality, putting myself and my wife up last night.” John spoke up.

  Mr. Davis turned, an eyebrow quirked as he met John’s eyes.

  John continued, “Especially after serving us a fine dinner. But I feel we must be on our way.”

  As Elizabeth held John’s arm, it was as if every muscle in his body tensed. Elizabeth spoke up, “I think what my husband is saying, Mr. Davis, is that we don't want to overstay our welcome. When did your colonel expect us back?” Elizabeth turned back to John.

  “I believe he wanted us back by noon. If I read the case clock outside correctly, we need to head out, or I'll get a good thrashing from my commanding officer.”

  Davis eyed the two of them, clearly disapproving of such haste. But when he spoke, it was with his genial, calm voice. “I never like to send a guest away without a meal. But I understand. Let me have our house cook fetch something for you to take.” He waved at the butler, who went off down a hall to the right.

  In a few minutes, he returned with some biscuits and a few pieces of bacon.

  “This is too much. Your hospitality is much appreciated,” John said, trying to shake Mr. Davis’s hand while stuffing the food items into his knapsack.

  The master of the house then ushered them toward the front door, a frown on his face. Their farewells were brief and, in no time, John and Elizabeth were outside, headed onto the main road. Half an hour down the road, they stopped to look back. Seeing no more sign of the plantation, Elizabeth breathed a huge sigh of relief.

  “So, Mrs. Taylor, would you like a biscuit and a piece of bacon?” John joked.

  “Why, yes, Mr. Taylor, I would enjoy that very much.” She dipped into an exaggerated curtsy.

  They stepped to the side of the dirt path and munched on a few of the foodstuffs for a light breakfast, saving some of the things for later. Then they continued down the road. Another half hour later, John decided it was time to get off the road and veer back toward the stream they had been following.

  It wasn't too long before they were far enough from the road that they felt much safer, surrounded by woods. The fear of running into Confederate patrols visiting either the house or touring the roads was now behind them.

  More daylight passed before they found the stream. They then turned right and began to follow its generally northern direction. After walking for half a day, taking only short breaks, they stopped to take a rest. Elizabeth collapsed next to a large rock, leaning against it.

  John walked closer to the stream, and knelt beside it. He pulled something out of his knapsack. What was it? She craned her neck to see, but with his back turned to her, she couldn't ge
t a good view. As he walked toward her, however, she discerned that he had a teacup filled with water. Strange. It had escaped her notice before that he carried a teacup. Still, she drained the cup and handed it back to him. Then she caught a glimpse of the markings on the cup. Little rose buds. He didn’t. He couldn’t have.

  “John! You stole that cup from their house. I can't believe…”

  “I know. I didn't want to, but when I saw it sitting on the vanity, I thought it would be useful. So I stowed it before you awoke.”

  How could he? What was he becoming? What else would he do, all for the sake of trying to get them back in one piece?

  “John, I don't like that we are having to lie and steal to get back. It's one thing to steal a uniform to escape a Confederate camp, but preying upon that nice family seems a bit much. Look at us. Look at how we have lied and stolen.”

  “Lizzie, I agree. If we hadn't run into Mr. Davis and his grandson, we wouldn't have done any of this. But we were caught and had to bluff our way through. Don't worry. I am not turning into some highwayman planning to rob another traveler.” John's eyes were shining and she saw sincerity in them. And the way his mouth twisted told her that he had regret for his actions.

  He went back to the stream and gathered another cup of water for himself. They sat in their separate places, each thinking about the things they had done to get where they were. And so there remained a silence between them for several moments.

  “We'd better get moving again.” John stood and moved toward Elizabeth. “We don't have a lot of daylight left. Let's see how far we can get.”

  Elizabeth nodded. She was ready to create distance between herself and everything else, even though her legs fought her.

  They resumed their walking, trudging through the woods, following the winding stream. The sun crawled across the sky, causing the short shadows of the trees to grow longer. Elizabeth grew more tired with each passing minute. As they trekked along the stream, the surrounding land became rockier. And they found themselves going downhill, hitting sections that required them to climb down boulders.

  As the day moved on, clouds began building. While this provided welcome relief from the sun that had been beating down upon them, John's worry became evident.

  “Lizzie, I think we may be in for a storm tonight.”

  Elizabeth stopped and looked at the sky.

  As they kept climbing downhill, the clouds seemed to be getting thicker. The wind had already picked up its pace.

  “John, I don't like this. What are we going to do?” She had endured much and had been willing to take on any number of hardships, but sleeping in the cold rain in the middle of the night wasn't one of them.

  John looked back to answer her question. “We need to find shelter. These boulders keep getting bigger. Maybe if we look for some outcropping, we can avoid the rain there.”

  Just as he said those words, Elizabeth looked forward and saw that he neared a ledge at least ten feet up from the ground below.

  “John!” She called out just as he turned and noticed it too. He stopped, holding out his arms so Elizabeth wouldn't accidentally walk past him.

  “Watch out, Lizzie!” he said as he tried to look over the edge.

  Glancing to the left and to the right, John headed off to the right and worked out a path to get around the drop off. He helped Elizabeth follow. At the bottom, there appeared to be a giant ledge that stretched on for several feet. Not far off, Elizabeth could see the stream, crashing over the edge at one spot.

  As John continued to search, he signaled for Elizabeth to follow him.

  She did so, walking below the ledge, trying to avoid slipping on the loose rock. As she approached John, she saw that he had found a big, worn out area underneath the ledge. It appeared to go back about fifteen feet.

  John looked at it with an approving nod. “I think we should try and camp out here. It may give us some protection from the wind.”

  A loud boom of thunder shot through the air.

  “Quick, get under!” John yelled.

  Rain started to fall.

  Elizabeth rushed under the overhang, John close behind her. They were both well enough underneath before the heavens opened and it began to pour. The wind picked up and blew in on them, but it wasn't horrendous. At least they were dry, for the most part.

  After John ensured that she was safely tucked into the cave-like structure, he walked to the edge, looking out. What was he watching for? An animal?

  Though they had escaped getting drenched, Elizabeth’s clothes were damp in places. And as the wind blew in on her, it brought a chill. Soon enough she was shivering. Wrapping her arms around herself and sinking to the ground, she made herself as small as possible. Still, the wind seemed to blow through her. Her teeth began to chatter.

  “John!” she called. She could barely hear her own voice over the rushing of the falling rain. “John!”

  After some moments of calling for him, he turned. As his eyes landed on her figure, he made his way to her. He crouched down next to her and gathered her to himself, wrapping his arms around her. “My goodness, Lizzie! You’re freezing. I didn’t know.”

  The warmth of his body soaked into hers. And she clung to him, her teeth no longer chattering.

  “You know, I wish that instead of a cup, I had found a box of matches.” John chuckled.

  She buried her face in his shoulder, continuing to shiver. Was it only from the chill in the air? Or was her fear getting the better of her?

  Turning her face to expose her mouth so she might speak, she whispered into the crook of his neck. “John, we're going to make it home, right?”

  He hugged her to himself. “You bet. As long as we stay together, we can do anything.”

  She leaned into him, relishing the closeness and the scent of him. How she had missed this the many weeks they were apart. Except…except she'd had amnesia and hadn't remembered him at all. Except that Matthew had been holding her closely. How was she ever to tell him? How was she ever going to make it right? She stiffened in John's arms.

  “What's the matter?” John spoke into her hair.

  “It's nothing,” she said. She couldn’t delve into it now. Not with him.

  He craned his neck to look at her face. “It's not nothing, Lizzie, you're crying,” he said, moving a hand to wipe away an errant tear.

  She remained silent.

  “Lizzie, why won't you talk to me?”

  She shook her head, clinging to his jacket, trying once again to bury her face in his chest.

  “This isn't because I stole the cup, is it? Lizzie, I'll find a way to…”

  She shook her head again. “No,” she said, her voice quiet. “I know you were only doing what you had to do.”

  John was silent for several seconds. He was probably wracking his brain, trying to search out what disturbed her so. Why couldn't she just tell him?

  “Is this about that man from the Confederate camp? The one who helped us escape?”

  She was silent and still.

  * * *

  John knew he was right. What John had seen of the two of them had been enough to incite his protective, jealous urges. Had there been more? There must have been for it to disturb Elizabeth so. And what he didn't know started to scare him.

  “Lizzie, don't shut me out. You can tell me anything,” he said more confidently than he felt. But he was sure that nothing she said would change how he felt about her. They belonged together and they would be together. Always and forever, right?

  “Matthew,” she said after some time, lifting her face to look at him. “His name is Matthew. Was Matthew…” Her eyes drifted.

  “Matthew,” John said, hoping to get her back on the subject.

  Elizabeth's gaze returned to John's face and she continued after a moment. “You have to understand that my memory was gone. I had no recollection of you or what existed between us. My life was a blank.”

  John's nod was slow. He became more nervous as she spoke,
but he tried to keep his face neutral.

  “Matthew was so kind.” Her gaze drifted to somewhere beyond John, as if she looked out into the distance. “Something just developed between us. The day you came to the camp, he had just asked me to marry him.”

  “What?” John cleared his throat. He didn’t want to keep her from talking. So he remained calm. “What did you say?”

  How had their relationship developed that far? And so quickly? How deeply was she involved with this man? Had they said things, done things…? His stomach turned. He couldn’t think like that.

  “I said no.” Her eyes refocused on him.

  John breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Were you in love with him?” He had to know.

  Elizabeth looked into his eyes. “Yes.”

  John nodded, stricken by her answer, numbed. He looked away.

  Elizabeth reached out her hands, placing them on either side of his face and turned his head to face her. “But I chose you. I might have loved Matthew for a time, but you are my life. I belong with you.” She maneuvered her face upward to kiss him.

  He tightened his arms around her, holding her more closely and deepening the kiss. There were no more words. While he knew he would hurt for a time, he knew that she had chosen him. And that they would get through this because they belonged together.

  She, too, held on to him with all that was in her. While a part of her did still care for Matthew, she knew she loved this man in her arms with reckless abandon.

  * * *

  Dinner was over and Daniel headed back to his tent. He would march out in the morning. So he intended to get as much rest as that mat on the ground could afford him. It was good that he would leave in the morning. The part of him that wanted to make some sort of profession to Melanie seemed to be getting louder by the second. And he feared he was on the verge of spilling his guts to her. That was the last thing he should do, right? Great. Now he questioned even that.

  He continued to move through the camp toward his tent, nodding to the various soldiers he passed along the way.

  Pit-Pat-Pit-Pat. Light footfalls sounded behind him. Someone followed him. Someone smaller. Turning his head to look over his shoulder, he saw a flash of red-blonde hair. Melanie! What was she running from? Spinning around to see, he searched for her pursuer. His body ready to leap into action.