slr_europa@yahoo.com
http://www.geocities.com/slr_europa/
AIM :: ropachan
*************************************
Love Through Time ~ A Serena and Darien Saga
Volume III, Chapter ii
His arms then roughly around my waist, the moment wrapped
in a strange intoxication my body couldn't react to or even
comprehend. My mind was numb, but I was oddly aware of his
warm, hard lips now burning my own, a sensation I'd never known
before; a tingling, weird and scary at the same time. Pleasing but
dulling of the senses. I was, for once, at a loss.
And then it was gone. In one swift breath, the moment was
lost. As quickly as the time had seemed when he pulled me close, he
roughly shoved my waste away in partial disgust, his eyes hinting at
a deeper meaning. He didn't look at me, and I couldn't bear to bring
my eyes up far enough to catch a glimpse of him. The silence bore
down on us, the immense heat from the sun now becoming painfully
apparent, almost loud. It seemed too hot to be this quiet, this
desolate. Something had to be going on, somewhere. But the whole
lot seemed dead, as if in slumber.
We couldn't speak. There was nothing to say, nothing that
could be said. I felt my competency slipping away, replaced once
more by anger and frustration, my vacancy of just moments before
infuriating me. Without another word uttered, I swiveled on my worn
heel and floundered aimlessly back in the direction of the house.
I was too afraid to turn around. Too scared to watch him
standing there still, not knowing what too think, what to do. Too
scared of what I would feel, what I would begin to understand if I had
to look at him again. I trudged numbly up the hill, the house
becoming more and more visible with each step. And with each foot I
ventured, my anger boiled, the feelings and perplexity melting away
evenly, revealing a hard, maddened shell underneath. I put the odd
thoughts and emotions that were overcoming me in a corner of my
brain, determined not to let them get the better of me. I'd be damned
if I let a Yankee work such a frenzy inside me. I secretly hoped he
was watching me from behind, my stiff, still back enough display of
self confidence to convince him that I wasn't the least bit shaken. He
_would_ not see me fall.
*****
The next day kept me busy enough to keep my mind off the
previous incident on our property. As I hurriedly prepared stew, filled
glasses and kept fresh water ready for the workers who had arrived
to fix the shed, I rarely had time to contemplate the meaning or the
complexity of the situation. I was appalled and flabbergasted each
time my mind wandered into those realms, afraid of the meaning of
the event, afraid of what I thought. Even worse, I was afraid of what
he thought. Something very out of the ordinary occurred and I was
speechless, from horror, from disgust, from confusion.
The next day was much worse however for me. The shed
completed in record time, my day was filled with gigantic voids, this
time with nothing to do but think. I tried desperately to sew, wrap
bandages, even read, but each moment slipped unwillingly into the
same pattern, an unwelcome memory of what had happened.
It was mind boggling to think that one minute a heated battle
was raging, flesh hitting flesh, words stinging harder and harder each
second. And without any warning, no words to signal such a change
in atmosphere, I was closer to Darien than I ever had been before,
both literally and figuratively. His lips were warm and firm against
mine within moments, and then... they weren't. We were again
enemies after what must have been an eternity as far as I was
concerned. It hit me hard to think that a man my polar opposite,
whom I'd despised from the day we first met had kissed me.
However upon thinking so hard about it 48 hours after the fact, more
memories flooded me and fears piled up on top of each other.
But the most troubling fact was that, for the life of me, I
couldn't remember putting up any resistance.
*****
"No, of course I don't understand it either myself....."
I entered the dining room just moments into my father's
conversation with Mr. Pierson, a neighboring plantation owner whose
daughter I had grown up alongside. My father shared a masculine
bond with the man who now sat just yards from my fathers boot clad
feet. Neither I nor the rest of my family particularly liked him very
much, but we never bothered telling Papa that. It wouldn't have done
any good. The two had been almost inseparable since Mr. Pierson
had come close to shooting my fathers arm off while hunting about a
hundred feet from the North bank of the river that ran east of our
property. Papa had laughed it off, saying that the sound of the bullet
ricocheting off the tree next to him was enough to scare the rest of
his already thinning hair away. Since he had come home, shaking
like a leaf and chuckling like a hyena, we couldn't have chased his
new friend away.
So as I seated myself next to Papa, a cup of tea steaming on
the table in front of me, the idea of listening to pro-war lectures and
blood thirsty speeches was an unusually welcome thought. The
alternative of pondering my predicament any further had begun to
wear me down, and any situation in which I was prevented from
more self analytical thought seemed all together pleasing. No matter
how mundane or boring.
"The law's just aren't effective enough. If even one escapes,
then the reigns of power must be tightened. It's as simple as that."
Mr. Pierson has batted back in reply to my father's previous
comment.
"I agree. I fully agree with you Freddie. But with the war going
on all around us, we were lucky enough to get this much. I don't see
anything else occurring in our favor." Stated my father calmly. Mr.
Pierson nodded his head silently in reply, an affirmative nod to my
father's opinion. He heaved a sad, dejected sigh as he placed his
hands firmly and squarely on his knees, helping himself to a standing
position. My father gave a grim, taught smile as he rose beside the
similar man. I remained seated, feeling as if I was invisible and the
men hadn't even seen my entrance just moments ago as they
carried out secret rituals of handshakes and private jokes as if I
wasn't in the room. I thought about the conversation I walked into,
not really knowing what had gone on. I didn't often take a part in
family politics, many times the events going straight over my head
before I even had a chance to consider them. But now I was
strangely intrigued. I noticed the tight, unrelenting muscles on the
other mans back, unforgiving, as if he couldn't release them even if
he wanted to. His eyes were red and it was obvious the situation
was causing him to lose excessive amounts of sleep. The sight gave
a welcome smile to my heart as I saw an unkind man in such evident
pain.
"Papa, what was he talking about?" I asked, careful not to let
my satisfaction show. He just smiled, warm and false as he patted
my immature head in reply.
"Nothing you need to worry your head about. A little trouble
the Pierson's seem to be having a few miles over. I wouldn't give it
another thought if I were you." He answered, a bit too elated. I could
tell he was gauging his reaction to me, hoping I wouldn't notice the
hidden distress that barely filtered from his words. I knew my father
well enough to know when he was lying, but I also knew when to
hold my tongue. If anything of grave consequence were to happen,
he wouldn't be able to hide it from the family. I wouldn't let him.
*****
"Selena! Selena!"
I turned around at the foot of the stairs, preparing to ascend
when my youngest sister, Lila, called my name. I glanced backwards
to find her flailing about wildly and not the least bit feminine as her
petticoats rustled around her. I paused, one foot resting on the first
step anxiously, ready to begin at any second. She had ran to my side
within moments, breathy and excited.
"Selena, Jonnie's coming home! He's coming home!" Her face
was pink and flushed, proof enough that she must have been telling
the truth. Sucking in an excited breath and blinking incredulously I
turned around to fully face her.
"What?" I asked, evening out my breathless, shocked
excitement.
"Jonathan got a whole week's release! He'll be home in a few
days!" Her voice squealed out the words, not bothering to calm and
cool their reaction as mine did. The grin spread from ear to ear within
seconds, and I grasped the younger girls shoulders roughly, my
fingers too tight from the news too release her. She didn't notice the
nails digging through her dress and just kept smiling herself.
For the first time in almost a year, Jonathan was coming back
home. He had been fighting restlessly in the North for what seemed
like forever to me. And now, he would finally come back to us, if
even for a short while.
"His commanding officer wrote us, and it was dated almost 10
days ago. He could be arriving any moment!" She continued
relentlessly, but I wasn't paying her any attention. My mind filtered
aimlessly to what felt like decades ago. The whole family in one
place. For 7 whole days none would worry whether one was lost for
good.
"I can't believe it..." A whispered breath wandered from my
lips unwillingly. Finally giving up on getting any kind of excitement
from me, Lila moved onto the next member, rushing off in the same
flailing manner as done with me. Oblivious to the departing girl, I
leaned a shoulder against the cool wood pillar just below the stairs,
my eyes growing wide and unseeing. And for the first time in days I
had natural distraction to occupy my thoughts.
*****
We had all secretly hoped in our hearts that it wouldn't be
long before Jonathan returned. But we knew better than to voice it,
too afraid the chance would retreat upon a spoken word. So we kept
a calm vigil within the house, trying to hide the mounting anticipation
festering within each of us. But once a knock on the door would call
out, or a footstep would rattle the loose floor boards on the porch we
couldn't hide our lying eyes. And the disappointment was all to
evident when it would only appear to be Mr. Pierson, or the landlord,
or some other neighbor, each one more unwelcome than the next.
We had heard next to nothing about Jonnie's condition
through the meager correspondence we kept with his officers. All
letters were vague and hard to gauge. So between the waiting and
excitement was a tinge of fear, for the reason of his tardiness might
be war wounds, bearing down on his trek down south from Yankee
territory. The mixture of emotions had begun to weigh us down and
after almost a week of keeping a steady watch we were all worn
down a bit more than normal. The women were irritable and Father
was often found staring into nothing, his foot tapping anxiously on
the hardwood floors beneath it.
So when one night, an unfamiliar rustle came slowly from the
grass out front, followed by slow, unsteady footsteps on the porch
stairs, we all held our breath, not certain on what action to take.
Breathless silence enveloped the sitting room, the crackling of the
fire not marring the hearing of the ten ears that had perked up
instantly. It was late, and in our heart we knew it was him, we didn't
need any warning. But too many let downs had given us cause
enough not to let hope enter our minds. So we waited patiently until
the door had been opened fully, no one moving.
And despite the fact that our worst fears had come true, the
horror and fear was gone upon his limping form hobbling into the
room with the help of another man whom no one recognized. We
hugged and cried and then hugged some more, each careful not to
jostle him too much or cause his discomfort. Mother kissed
incessantly, while Lila and I asked question upon question and Papa
gave an awkward but kind bear hug, Jonathan laughing happily the
whole time. His voice squeaked and his face was rough and
unshaven, hardly the clean cut boy I had grown up alongside. But we
really didn't care about his appearance, and I highly doubt any of the
family even noticed the change. He was back, and if only for a little
while, that was all that mattered.
*****
The night went on forever and it seemed like hours before we
trudged off to bed. Jonnie had found an empty room for his friend,
Robert, with a promise from them both that he would be no trouble.
Papa swore that it was indeed no trouble, and promised that he
would have our best help take care of him tonight and tomorrow, or
until he left. Jonnie thanked us on his behalf and with identical grins
all around, we fell into the best nights sleep in we'd had in weeks.
*****
The next day was the most troubling of his whole break from
the war. I was anxious to catch up with him, wanted to hear all about
his injury and any others he might have had, where he had been,
where he was going. I wanted to know it all, and from his mouth. I
was tired of the too short letters, scary and unassuming of anything.
So after prying him away from my sisters and my father's manly
gatherings, I insisted we take a walk like we used to, all but
forgetting that with his wound, the walk would be nothing like it had
before.
"I really needed to get out...." He mumbled blissfully with his
eyes closed once we had been walking for a few minutes in a
comfortable silence. I studied his newly shaven profile, satisfied with
how relatively unchanged it seemed to me then. Washed and neat,
just like I was used to it. "It's nice to just walk like this, without having
to rush anywhere." He said, but I chose to ignore the roundabout
reference to the war.
"It's so wonderful to have you back to do this. It's awful not
knowing where you are all the time." I cocked my head to the side
and gave him a stern look. "You never mention anything in your
letters about how you're doing or what's going on or where you are."
"I'm just trying to protect you all." He continued to stare
straight ahead, his eyes hard. "There's no need for you to know all
that happens. Not all of it."
"But we just worry more when we're unaware. If you don't tell
us, how will we ever know?" I asked, my voice slightly rising in
desperation. I had never in my life won a fight with my brother, and I
knew he wasn't about to let me start then.
"Selena, if I were to give you the gory details, the death, the
destruction, the horror of every aspect, I would only cause you
needless worry. It's never as bad as you will make it out to be, so I
try to lessen the load you all have to carry." He turned and gave me
the first genuine smile since his return. "I'm only thinking of your
feelings." I nodded, not totally sure what he meant. But I believed him
nonetheless.
"So...." I trailed off, hoping it might help build up to all I wanted
to know. "How exactly did that happen?" I inadvertently questioned,
motioning to his bandaged leg. His shoulders sagged and he gave
me both an annoyed and amused look.
"Did you hear anything I just said?" He asked, chuckling. I
grinned, knowing that no matter my answer, I would still get the full
story. "I fell behind to help Robert," He whipped his head in the
direction of the house, "And ended up getting trampled. That's the
primary reason for me leave, and Robert's. I had a break coming and
so did Robert. I had yet to take it, so when I was injured, I figured
that this would be a good way to recuperate." He smiled down at me
and I nodded, happy with his choice of words and his sparing of the
"gory details".
"Why doesn't Robert return to his own home?" The question
came out a bit more irritated than I had meant for it to, and I
immediately blushed when his hard eyes criticized my tone.
"He isn't sure where they are. They didn't want him to enter
the war, so he fears they have left him." His face had returned to
staring straight ahead. His jaw clenched and I watched his eyes
narrow in contemplation. "In fact, he doesn't even want to return to
the front again."
"What?" I asked, shocked.
"I'm going to ask Papa if he can stay with you for a few days,
maybe a week or two, once I'm gone." His voice was tight, and even
through his words, his angered eyes betrayed them.
"But why?" Was all I could manage.
"He doesn't belong there. He wasn't brought up to be a
fighter.... And he isn't helping the Cause." I caught the uneven tone
his voice brought up at the last word, unsure at the very least.
"What do you mean he isn't helping?"
"He has never fully supported it. And I don't think he ever will.
He slacks off because his heart isn't in it. I'm afraid one of these
days he'll be unnecessarily hurt." His voice shook uncontrollably, but
it was hard for me to distinguish what emotion caused it. Fear,
anger, pain? I couldn't tell.
"Do you... do you agree with him?" I was so afraid at my own
inquiry that I could barely speak it. He shook his head slowly, without
even thinking, almost mechanically.
"No. No, I fully believe in our Southern Rights. But Robert has
been a good friend.... I don't want to see him get hurt." He said
evenly. I gulped nervously and nodded. I was positive there were
underlying issues I didn't know, ones I feared I would never be able
to understand.
*****
I hadn't expected things to erupt the way they did in the last
few days of Jonathan's homecoming. He did indeed ask Papa if
Robert could stay. He had counted on Papa not asking any
questions, he had assumed that his friend would become a family
friend. But Papa wanted to know, and Jonathan had never lied to
Papa before, and we all watched as he kept that record. Robert
stood in the other room while he ranted and raved about the audacity
of not only Robert, but Jonnie also, for being an accomplice to this
madness. To not support Our Cause was unthinkable in our house,
and Papa was not going to have any of it.
Jonnie did his best to support his friend, and once we all
shuffled wordlessly from the room as the fight raged on, we had a
good look at Robert's face when he realized that his last chance was
an impossibility. Although I was as much a Southerner as the next
member of my family, my heart sunk. I had become somewhat fond
of the strange young man. He had done nothing to prove a bad
person was inside him, and his kind eyes had become a pleasant
constant around our house. He helped out with whatever he could
and was polite to not only the members of the home but the help as
well. It was until that point that he was completely welcome.
But now Papa wasn't about to let him stay another moment
among his kin, simply because of his beliefs. Robert's face was
stricken with each harsh word that filtered through the wall, and as
the voices rose, his spirits fell. I watched him carefully, saddened by
the severity of his emotions. Despite our contrasting faiths, I couldn't
bear to think of him getting hurt in a war he was in against his will. It
was too hard.
It had been with some heavy persuading that Jonnie had
talked Papa into letting Robert stay the last duration of their leave,
although I couldn't imagine anyone wanting to remain here after
hearing first hand how unwelcome they were.
On their last night home, as Jonnie packed, I sat in his room
quietly, the silence almost deafening around us. I knew he wasn't
mad at me, but the battle with our father shook him hard. I couldn't
understand why it had even occurred in the first place, why Jonnie
took the stand he did. The personality change was minuscule and
almost undetectable, but I was almost positive that had this situation
taken place before the war, Jonnie would have been on the opposite
side.
"Will he return to the front?" I asked cautiously and for the first
time that night, he eased up his needless tension around me. He
abandoned his packing for a moment and sat down on his bed next
to me.
"I told him that knowing Papa... It would just be best if he did
return to the fight. Whether he will or not, I can't be sure. I guess I
won't find out until we get to the station." He sighed, and put an
affectionate hand on my shoulder, giving me a brave smile. "You
haven't said much on the matter, and you're usually such a strong
supporter of your South." I sighed, confused by my own feelings at
that point.
"I...I really don't know. I do support the south, and I always
assumed that anyone who didn't was a complete traitor. But... I like
Robert. I can't decide whether he's the traitor I would pin him as
originally, or whether he's the nice man I've grown fond of the past
few days." I said calmly, stating my true perplexity for the first time.
Jonathan just stared behind me, almost as if he wasn't talking to me
at all when he spoke.
"Sometimes it isn't that easy. Things aren't always going to be
so cut and dry." He sighed, and with a deep resignation returned to
pack, and I was left more unfulfilled and unsatisfied than ever
before.
*****
We received a letter two weeks after Jonnie and Robert left
our front porch with brave, false smiles and a small wave good-bye.
It was small and filled with the usual indifferent news, but a heavy
foreshadowing wore it down. Two days upon returning, in a place he
didn't belong, in a battle he didn't believe in, Robert died, just as
Jonnie alluded. Unheroic, unwilling and unhappy.
************************************
slr_europa@yahoo.com
http://www.geocities.com/slr_europa/
AIM :: ropachan
(
geocities.com/slr_europa)