The Soldier's Wife. Cheryl Reavis
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close now and once again he was struck by her prettiness. He was also struck by her familiar expression, one he’d seen many times when he worked in her father’s dry goods store, one that meant she wanted something unsuitable and she intended to have it—or else.
“I’ll meet you someplace. We can leave here together—whenever you say—the sooner the better.”
“No, we cannot,” he said, trying to remove her hand from his arm.
But she kept reaching for him, trying to hang on to him. “Yes! Yes! You and I—we can go where nobody knows us. We’d be happy, Jack. Truly, we would—”
“Elrissa, stop this!” he said sharply, and she suddenly put her face in her hands.
“You’re upset. Let me find Mary,” he said, because it was the only thing he could think of.
“No! I don’t need Mary! I need you to say you’ll help me!”
“I can’t help you.”
“But you have to. Who else can I turn to?” she said.
“Your father. He won’t see you unhappy.”
“You don’t understand!” she cried, but Jack was very much afraid that he did. Marriage proposals weren’t the only things Elrissa Barden refused to take seriously. She clearly thought she could ignore her marriage vows, as well.
“I’m going now,” he said firmly, still holding her at bay. “Everything will be all right—”
Someone knocked urgently on the door behind him.
“Jack!” Mary said on the other side. “Come on, come on—you have to get out of here!”
Elrissa finally let go of him and stepped away. He gave her a moment to compose herself, then opened the door.
“Goodbye,” she said, her voice cold and controlled now, as if they hadn’t just been in an inexplicable tussle by the door. He started to say something more to her, then didn’t. He turned and followed Mary down the wide hallway toward the back of the house.
“He’s coming up the walk,” Mary said over her shoulder. “Hurry!”
“I’m not afraid of him, Mary.”
“Well, I’m afraid enough for the both of us. I can’t lose this job, Jack. He’ll put something about so nobody else will hire me. Hurry!”
He let Mary lead him through a breakfast room and out a side door, checking first to make sure no one would see him when he stepped into the manicured garden.
“The gate is over there—down that path,” she said, pointing the way.
“Next time maybe I’ll listen to you,” he said, making her give a small laugh despite her worry.
“You’re well rid of that one. You know that, don’t you?” She suddenly reached up and touched his cheek. “What happened to you? Your face is the same, but you’ve got the eyes of an old man, Jack.”
He didn’t say anything.
“Go!” she said, giving him a push. “And take care of yourself. And don’t you be coming back here!”
For the second time that day she closed the door firmly and left him standing.
* * *
“Jack! What are you doing here!” Little Ike cried as Jack came through the back hedge at the orphanage.
“Delivering fish,” he said, holding up the large string of catfish he intended for the orphanage kitchen. “See? Good fishing down at the creek today. I thought the sun was too high, but the catfish didn’t. What are you doing here?” he countered because he’d always enjoyed teasing Ike when he was overly excited about something and because Ike actually had a distant cousin who was letting him stay in a converted storage room at her house—now that he was grown and useful—the same cousin who had given him such a detailed account of Elrissa’s wedding.
“You’ve been fishing?” Ike said incredulously, his voice giving a little squeak they way it always did whenever he was really excited.
“You can see I have, Ike.”
“Father Bartholomew said you didn’t stay here last night.”
“I didn’t.”
“Well, where were you!” Ike cried, and Jack gave him a look to let him know he was dangerously close to crossing the line.
“You shouldn’t be here, Jack. You should be long gone—”
“Why?”
“Why? The watchmen! They’re looking for you!”
Jack was still not alarmed. “I’ve got to deliver these fish,” he said, trying to get past him so he could take his catch to the kitchen door.
“Forget the fish! They’re going to arrest you, Jack. Elrissa told her husband you were at the house. Her husband wants you arrested and charged.”
“What are you talking about? Charged for what?”
“She says...you put your hands on her. You tried to hurt her.”
“That’s crazy. Mary was there. I don’t have anything to worry about.”
“You’ve got a lot to worry about! They’ve already been here once looking for you. Father Bartholomew sent me to see if I could find you—we didn’t think you’d be coming back here. Farrell Vance aims to have your head, and he’ll get it, too. You’ve got to get away!”
“I’m not running when I didn’t do anything—”
“And how are you going to prove that? If Elrissa says you did—that’s all it’ll take. You don’t have any money. You don’t have any connections. There’s nobody to vouch for what really happened.”
“I told you Mary was there.”
“Who’s going to believe her, even if you could get her to tell the truth—which I doubt would happen if they came after her. She’s going to be too scared to go against whatever Elrissa claims you did. And even if she does, Jack, Vance’s lawyers will say us orphans always stick together—”
“Well, we do.”
“Jack! Listen to me. I think if Vance gets half a chance, he’ll kill you. It’ll be like when General Sickles killed his wife’s lover. He’ll get off, just like Dan Sickles did, and you’ll be in a pine box. Ain’t that many of us left, Jack! You got to go! You got to live for the ones we had to bury down South. You got to live for all of us! You hear me!”
“Jeremiah,” a quiet voice said behind them.
“Father Bartholomew,” Jack said. “It’s not—”
“Come inside,” the priest said. “Ike, you take those fish to the kitchen. Don’t say anything about Jeremiah being here.”
“Yes, Father,” Ike said, taking the string of fish out of Jack’s hand.
Jack followed Father Bartholomew inside the building through a side door and down the quiet hallway to his office. They had to pass several classrooms along the way, and he thought idly that he could have identified where he was blindfolded because of the smell of chalk and India ink. One of the classes was singing today—“The Battle Hymn of the Republic.” Another group struggled with multiplication table rotes.
“Nine-times-one-is-nine!”
“Nine-times-two-is-eight-teen!”
Father Bartholomew looked inside the office before he allowed Jack to enter.
“Close the door, Jeremiah,” he said when they were inside. He indicated that he wanted Jack to sit in the one chair—the “scamp seat,” as Jack and the rest of the boys at the