A Time for Everything (44 page)

She filled her lungs with wood-scented
breath and nodded. He led her back to the shade tree, where they
sat upon the cool, thick blanket of grass.

“
I was with Jake when he
died.”

Not in a million years did she expect
him to say that.

The world went wobbly. Thank God she
had a solid tree to keep her upright. “W-What do you mean you were
with Jake?”

“
The night Samuel died, I
saw his picture in your room, and it all came back. I couldn’t
bring myself to tell you then, not with Sam…” He closed his eyes
and swallowed hard.

She gathered courage from the only
place she could — the desire to know the truth. “It’s all right.
You can tell me now.”

After a deep breath, that’s what he
did. No matter how hard she tried, this time she couldn’t look
away, and watched every nuance of his features as he told the
story. There was no deceit in the way his eyes penetrated the past,
how his trembling words picked up every detail and delivered them
with regretful determination.

“
It was December,” he
said. “Cold as hell, with freezing rain that stung our faces no
matter which way we turned. My and Harry’s wounds had mended enough
for us to get put back to work, so we were transferred to Major
General A.J. Smith’s detachment and assigned to patrol the eastern
border of the Cumberland River, there on the outskirts of
Nashville.

“
I heard a shot, followed
by a soldier laughing — one of ours but not in our regiment — and
he was waving his rifle in the air. He kept saying, ‘I got one, I
got me a Rebel!’
His buddies were slapping
his back, saying they ought to drown him and finish him
off.

“
I think Jake must have
strayed too far. Might have got blinded by the smoke or fear. I’d
seen many a man turn tail to flee in the middle of a skirmish. When
you’re in all that noise and bloodshed, it’s easy to run straight
into enemy fire.” Beau paused, searching her eyes as though he
feared she couldn’t handle any more.

She nodded for him to go
on.

He looked out toward the
fields as he continued. “At first I thought,
So he got him a Rebel. So what?
The
damn war had taken everything from everybody. What did it
matter?”

Portia closed her eyes and
winced.

Beau gently touched her face. “Are you
all right?”

“
Yes,” she whispered. “I
want to know. I need to know. Please…”

He took a deep breath and let it out
slowly. “Harry said we ought to put him out of his misery. I could
justify killing men that were hell-bent on killing us, but not
somebody who had the misfortune of getting lost. Or maybe he was
deserting. Whatever the reason, he didn’t deserve to be killed in
cold blood.

“
I went over to the
boys.
They were young, maybe eighteen or
nineteen at most. I don’t think they saw any difference in killing
a Rebel or a rabbit.

“
I said, ‘That’s
enough.’
I grabbed the barrel of the boy’s
rifle and shoved it against his chest. He got mad, started cursing,
tried to pull the gun away from me.

“
So I told him, ‘You don’t
get it, do you? Someone out there’s waiting for him to come home,
just like someone’s waiting for you. I don’t care what color he’s
wearing. You don’t kill a man just for the hell of it.’

“
I made them go with Harry
to fetch the medic. That’s when I heard him calling, ‘Po… where’s
Po?’

“
At the time, I didn’t
know who or what a Po was, but I felt compelled to go to him. He
lay about ten yards away, and when I reached him, I saw the wound
on his belly. It was bad. I’d seen many such wounds and sat with
many men from our side as they died from wounds like that, but
never a Rebel. Not that it made any difference. At death’s door, I
figure we’re all created equal.

“
I said, ‘What’s your
name? Maybe I can take a message for you.’ His hand was bloody and
shaking, but he reached out and grabbed my sleeve. He kept
saying,
‘Tell Po…’”

Portia gave herself a moment to simply
breathe and to let the resurrected memory sink in. He couldn’t be
lying, not with those details — the bloody streaks she’d seen on
Beau’s jacket — Jake must have left them there.

Beau shifted, cleared his throat, and
kept talking. “I searched through his jacket to see if I could find
any identification. No soldier pin, no tag hanging from a string
around his neck… I said, ‘Can you tell me your name?’

“
He just clung to my arm
and looked at me with those eyes. His voice was getting weaker, but
he kept saying, ‘Po, I’m sorry, Po…’

“
I pulled back a lapel and
saw a scrap of paper pinned there. But it was covered in blood, and
the only ink I saw was smudged into a blurry blot. I told him, ‘I’m
sorry. Keep breathing. The medic’s coming, and you can go
home.’

“
I could see it in his
eyes. He was thinking of home. It meant a different place to each
of us, but it meant the same thing no matter who you were. It meant
life as it should be, with family, friends, and an honest day’s
work. It didn’t mean we’d never see hardship, but there’d be
someone there to ease the burdens, and a place to lay your head at
night. Home meant peace.

“
Again, I asked him for
his name, but his hand went limp. I caught it before it hit the mud
and held it. He was looking right at me when he died. It was that
very same afternoon when I got word of Claire’s death. From then
until now, everything from the war has come back in bits and
pieces. I dream a lot of it, like being wounded and seeing this
strange angelic glow around me.”

“
Then how can you be sure
this memory is real, that it’s not just another
nightmare?”

“
You’re right to question
it. I don’t know what’s real and what’s not half the time, but I’m
sure about this.”

She stared at him, unblinking, for
several seconds. “I know you believe your memory is valid — I have
no doubt of that — but for my own peace of mind, I need something…
some little detail you can give me about him that will confirm
it.”

Beau propped his elbows on his knees
and rubbed his upper lip. His eyes flicked along the ground as
though a clue might spring up from the dirt itself. Portia couldn’t
help holding her breath, waiting. As agonizing as losing Jake had
been, not knowing how he died still haunted her.

A dove flew from the tree
above them, its
coo, coo, coo
brought Beau to attention. “I first noticed his
eyes and light red hair — he had a beard to match. He wasn’t
wearing gray — his coat was light yellow — like a squash, I guess.
When he wrapped his fingers around my sleeve…” He looked down at
his arm and mimicked the gesture with his own hand. “…I saw the tip
of his middle finger was missing.”

She let out her breath and
held tight to the locket containing her daughter’s hair. “He lost
it when he was Jonny’s age. A stray dog bit it off. It
was
him. You were really
there with Jake.”

He squeezed his hands together into
one white-knuckled ball. “Had I known his identity, I would have
made certain he made it back here. All I know is… you were the last
thing on his mind when he took his final breath. I’m sorry. If I
could have stopped it… if I could have saved him, I would have. I
promise you that.”

She’d never felt such a tide of relief
and gratitude in her life. In his last moments on this earth, Jake
hadn’t been alone. Beau, who should have been his enemy, had chosen
to sit by him and hold his hand until the very end.

“
Thank you,” she
whispered.

The corners of his mouth lifted in a
sad smile. She took his hand — the same one he had used to comfort
her dying husband. But that gesture didn’t do her gratitude
justice. Portia got to her knees and threw her arms around his
neck.

“
Thank you. Thank you,
Beau.” Her tears came rushing out in waves as he rose to his knees
and wrapped her in his arms.

“
Come back to me,” he
said. “Please come back home.”

“
Yes,” she said, hugging
him even tighter. “A thousand times yes.”

Leaving Brentwood
and
her former life behind wasn’t nearly
so difficult this time around. Ellen didn’t cry, and Frank didn’t
argue, but he insisted they stay for lunch. They all sat around the
table in Frank and Ellen’s kitchen and devoured Ellen’s chicken and
dumplings.

After lunch, Portia cuddled sleeping
baby Jake on her shoulder. Louise climbed onto her lap, holding a
book of nursery rhymes. “Can you weed to me, Aunt Po?”

“
Of course.” She happened
to glance at Beau. His loving smile warmed her from cheeks to toes.
No doubt he wanted more children, and she prayed she could make his
wish come true. Louise opened the book, and Portia started
reading:

“
Hey diddle, diddle, the
cat and the fiddle…”

Frank sat directly across from Beau
and plied him with questions. “So this woman you were gonna marry
is dead? How you gonna make sure Po’s safe?”

“
The cow jumped over the
moon.”

“
With Oliver Clemons gone,
the whole town is safer. You don’t have to worry about that,” Beau
said, while Ellen poured coffee for him and Frank. “Thank you,
ma’am.”

“
The little dog laughed to
see such sport…”

Frank grunted his acceptance of the
first round of interrogation. He propped his elbows on the table
and took a sip of coffee. “What about this horse farm of yours? You
gonna be able to keep food on the table and clothes on her
back?”

“
And the dish ran away
with the spoon.”

Louise giggled and bounced on Portia’s
knee. “More, pwease!”

Beau chuckled then turned serious
again. “Thanks to my late wife’s aunt, my debts are paid, so my
business has a much better chance to become what it once was. And I
promise to do whatever it takes to make Po happy.”

Frank stared him down. Beau shifted in
his seat but never broke eye contact. As though satisfied with her
future husband’s sincerity, Frank then turned to Portia. “Is this
what you want, Po? Do you think he’ll make you happy?”

She reached across the table and took
Beau’s hand. “Yes. I never thought I could love again, but I was
wrong. And today he told me something that made me love him even
more.” Looking in his eyes, she sought approval for what she was
about to say next. He nodded for her to continue. “Beau was with
Jake when he died.”

Ellen gasped. With one hand over her
mouth, she turned her astonished eyes to Frank. He didn’t show any
surprise, but sat very still while Beau elaborated on the details
of that terrible day. By the time he finished, Beau was choked up
and stared down at his lap.

Several long, tense seconds passed
before Frank finally spoke. “All this time, I’d been thinkin’ my
little brother died alone. You might have been a no-account Yankee,
but I’m grateful you were there for him. If you want to marry Po,
I’ll give you my blessin’.”

The two men shook on it, though Beau
winced from Frank’s strong grip. They all drove to the hotel in
Brentwood to gather Portia’s things. When they were ready to
depart, Ellen cried happy tears for once.

Portia hugged her tight. “I’ll be all
right.”

“
I know, and I can’t wait
to stand beside you at the wedding. I’m so glad you answered that
ad, Po.”

“
So am I.”

Beau helped her into the buggy and
accepted another crushing handshake from Frank. Once her belongings
were settled in the back, he climbed in the driver’s
seat.

Frank held baby Jake in one arm and
wrapped the other around Ellen’s shoulders. “Drive safe,” Frank
said. “And you better not wait too long to marry her,
either.”

“
I won’t.” Hand behind his
back, Beau flexed his Frank-squeezed fingers.

Portia pressed a handkerchief to her
lips to hold back a laugh.

Traveling after dark was risky,
especially in a small open carriage. So they spent the night at the
same Nashville inn where she and Frank had stayed when she had
first traveled to Lebanon. Beau rented two adjoining rooms. They
shared a pleasant supper in the dining room.

“
I want to court you
properly,” Beau said as they finished.

She reached for his hands and held
them there on the table. “Do you really think that’s
necessary?”

“
Maybe not, but I want to
anyway. I want you to be sure about me.”

“
In that case, why yes,
Mr. Stanford. I accept your offer of courtship.”

A few other patrons threw disapproving
glances at them, but she couldn’t have cared less. The two of them
weren’t new at this, and conventions didn’t seem so important
anymore. Arm in arm, they climbed the stairs to their rooms. Before
he retired to his own bed, she wrapped her arms around his neck and
kissed him tenderly. His hands settled on her hips, and he returned
her kiss with one just as sweet.