The Soldier's Wife. Cheryl Reavis
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if you’d even come back to Lexington at all. No one seemed to know.”
“You asked about my return?”
“Well, about the regiments,” she said. “We’re all very proud of the Kentuckians. Papa and Farrell and I traveled down to Washington in May for the Grand Review. It was...thrilling. Two days for the army to pass. I looked for you in the parades, but I didn’t see you. Were you there?”
“Yes. All the orphans were there—what’s left of us.”
She was looking at him so intently, as if she expected him to make some comment about her having witnessed the Grand Review. He had no idea what she expected him to say—that he’d looked for her among the throng of spectators? He hadn’t. The truth was that it never occurred to him that she might be there.
“Why are you here, Jack?” she asked abruptly.
He looked at her in surprise. “Why? Well, I thought we’d start with an explanation—yours. I think I deserve that much—and then we could conclude with an apology—also yours.”
“Apology? My goodness.” Clearly such a thing had never occurred to her.
“You said you’d marry me, Elrissa.”
“Yes, well, that was never really...official, now, was it?”
“It was official to me. Why did you do that? Say you’d marry me if you had no intention of doing so?”
She waved one hand in the air. “I was very young, Jack. To tell you the truth, I just didn’t think. You were leaving. The train was coming—I had no time to think. Later I realized my father would never have agreed. You’re not...”
“Not what?” he asked when she didn’t continue.
“Oh, you know what I mean,” she said airily, moving to the sofa—carved rosewood likely from Massachusetts, he noted, because he’d been a very able clerk in a dry goods store that could special-order coffins or fine furniture, and it had been his business to know such things—before it was his business to kill men wearing the wrong uniform.
She sat down carefully so as not to rumple the dark green silk of her dress. It was a becoming color for her, he decided. He had never seen her wear anything like it before, and he supposed that such colors must be a privilege that came with marriage.
“You’re looking very well, Elrissa,” he said after a moment, and she gave him a brief but stricken look.
“What’s wrong?” he asked immediately, moving closer to get a better look at her face.
“You look very well, too, Jack,” she said instead of answering. She kept picking at a fold in her skirt. “Now, what were we talking about?”
“You decided not to marry me because I’m not good enough for you. No connections. No money to speak of.” He didn’t point out that his management had likely kept Barden’s Dry Goods from going bankrupt.
“I didn’t say that.”
“I don’t believe you needed to. Your recent behavior has been eloquent enough. It would have been a kindness to have received a letter telling me of your new plans, Elrissa—instead of hearing about them after the fact and secondhand.”
“It didn’t seem important,” she said, and she actually smiled.
“No. I don’t suppose it was. To you.”
“Oh, Jack, I haven’t broken your heart, have I?”
“My heart, no. My pride has taken quite a beating, I will admit. I suppose your father never knew about the marriage proposal. Mine, that is.”
“No,” she said, but Of course not was what he heard.
“I am sorry, Jeremiah. Truly.”
“About what exactly?”
“Well, that you...misunderstood.”
“I certainly did do that—misunderstand. I’m not sure why. I know that yes and no can mean anything other than what they’re designed to mean. Orphans find that out very early. But in this instance, my...admiration and respect for you led me to forget my early lessons. I suppose I should thank you. I won’t ever make the mistake of trusting someone so far above my station again, especially that she actually means what she says.”
“Don’t be cruel, Jack. There’s really no need—”
“I don’t think I’m the cruel one here. I’m only stating the truth. According to Father Bartholomew and the Sisters, I’m supposed to learn at least a little something from every situation, good or bad. And truly, I have.”
“He came to see me, you know,” Elrissa said, glancing at him and then away. “Your Father Bartholomew. When the engagement—Farrell’s and mine—was announced in the newspapers. He was really quite cross with me. I couldn’t imagine what you must have told him.”
“I told him if I was killed, I wanted him to give you what money I had put by. It wouldn’t have been a lot by your standards—especially now. But it was all I had in this world, and I thought you might buy yourself a little something with it—a keepsake. Or you might have wanted to give it to charity as a memorial gift. Knowing Father Bartholomew, it’s likely he would have suggested it go to the orphanage.”
“Well, luckily, you can use the money for yourself.”
“Yes. Luckily.”
“What are your plans now that the war is over, Jack?” she asked, actually looking at him directly now and not at other, more interesting aspects of the room.
“Well, coming back to work for your father isn’t very likely. Do you think Farrell has any job vacancies?”
“No, seriously,” she said, smiling slightly when she realized the grim humor in his comment. He had always been able to do that at least—make her smile.
“I thought maybe I’d...go out West,” he said, as if the notion to migrate beyond the Mississippi River weren’t something he’d just made up on the spot. Still, it seemed as good a plan as any.
“Go back into the army, you mean?”
He gave a short laugh. “No. I’ve had enough of armies.”
She started to say something, then didn’t, lapsing into a quiet sigh instead. “Don’t stare at me so, Jack,” she said after a moment.
“I don’t mean to. It’s just that I’d...forgotten.”
“Forgotten what?”
“How very pretty you are. I used to think about that—on the march or when our situation was...bad.”
“You mustn’t say things like that. My husband won’t like it.”
“Won’t he?”
“Farrell is very...protective of me. He will be home soon,” she said, glancing at the quietly ticking clock on the mantel. “You must leave before then. Now, actually.”
He made no move toward the door.
“Please,” she said. “I want you to leave now—and go out the back way. Mary will show you. You should never have come to the front door.”
“My mistake,” he said. “It won’t happen again. Goodbye, Elrissa. I hope you’ll be happy.”
“Jack,” she said, as he was about to open the door.
He looked back at her.
“When will you go? Out West, I mean.”
“I...haven’t decided.”
She got up from the rosewood sofa and came toward him, guiding her dress around a table in the effort to get to him.
“Jack, you were right. Something is wrong—terribly