Into the Wilderness. Laura Abbot
prayed it could be so, but nightmares and insomnia argued to the contrary. “Your outlook is more sanguine than mine.”
She looked up at him. “It would appear we are both searching for answers.”
To lighten the dark mood, he said, “Perhaps we should turn to the poets. John Donne would say, ‘Death, be not proud.’”
She smiled sadly. “Indeed.”
They had reached her door. “Thank you for coming to my side this morning,” she said, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, the blue-gray cast to the skin beneath her eyes an indication of her exhaustion.
He gave a short bow. “Miss Kellogg, we seem to have traveled some similar roads. It is a comfort to know I am not alone.”
Now the smile relaxed and her eyes deepened into pools of blue. “Lily. My name is Lily. Your friendship is most welcome.”
He exhaled in relief. “Lily.” The name was melodic on his tongue. “Until we meet once more.”
He waited until she was safely inside and then ambled toward his quarters. The sun was full now on the horizon, and morning activity buzzed all around him. But he was ignorant of it, lost in the memories of his mother, the horrors of battle and of the one person who might either understand it all or condemn him. Lily.
Chapter Five
On an afternoon in late April, Rose, Lily and two lieutenants’ wives, Carrie Smythe and Virginia Brown, gathered around Effie Hurlburt’s dining room table to sew bandages for the hospital. Talk ranged from the gardens they planned to variations on bean recipes. Effie, ever cheerful, laughed when they complained of the upcoming heat of summer. “You cannot stop the seasons in their turn. Just as the cold winds blew in January, so July will become an oven. Best not to let either overwhelm your spirit.”
Lily acknowledged Effie’s sound advice even as she felt weighed down by the prospects of boiling temperatures. “I wish I shared your optimistic nature,” she said.
“Bother. It’s all in what you decide—life is either a pleasure and an opportunity or a dismal ordeal to be endured.”
Carrie shrugged. “You are undoubtedly right, but there are days it is hard to keep positive.”
“I think what Mrs. Hurlburt is trying to say,” Rose interjected, “is that it serves no purpose to let conditions we can’t control alter our natures.”
Lily lowered her eyes to her sewing. Was her sister criticizing her desire to escape the frontier? In fairness, each single day was bearable, made sweeter by proximity to her family. But taken in total, day after day of this existence with no end in sight ravaged her soul. Boredom was the greatest enemy. Perhaps she should be grateful for her work at the hospital, the occasional conversations with people like Effie and Caleb and the solace of a good book.
Effie’s warm voice intruded into her thoughts. “What we need is to create diversions to occupy us and help pass the time.”
“What do you have in mind?” Virginia inquired.
Effie laid down her sewing. “Now that the weather is better, the men are starting to play baseball again. Perhaps we could organize a pie supper after a few Saturday games. Not just pies, but cakes, too.”
Rose warmed to the idea. “The men enjoy home-cooked food. It would occupy us and please them. Sometimes we forget that they are far from home, just as we are.”
“Excellent point, Rose.” Effie looked around the table. “What else?”
A thought occurred to Lily. “We could organize a monthly reading—poetry, biographies, travel books. I’ve seen several of the men in the library, so I’m confident we could engage their participation.”
“I like that idea,” Carrie said. “Some of the troops cannot read well, if at all, so they might enjoy listening to others.”
“You see?” Effie beamed in satisfaction. “We can be the authors of our own entertainment.”
She rose from the table, gesturing to the rest to remain seated. “I shall fetch the pound cake and tea from the kitchen. Then we can celebrate our brilliant ideas.”
After she left the room, Rose began folding the completed bandages for laundering. “We are blessed to have such an accommodating commander’s wife.”
“I’ve been told some are cold and condescending,” Carrie ventured.
“True enough,” Virginia confirmed. “At our last post, I lived in fear of an invitation to the commander’s home.”
Lily nodded. “Our mother always said to count our blessings. And surely Effie Hurlburt is one.”
As they were eating the delicious cake, talk turned to marriage and the balance between supporting one’s soldier husband in his duties and, at the same time, attending to a marriage.
“I confess impatience with my husband when he is away on a mission,” Carrie said, “or even when he is right here, drilling, but still unavailable to me.”
“We’re always at the whim of the regiment,” Virginia complained. “Sometimes I feel as if I have no influence on our lives whatsoever.”
Lily was surprised. Usually the junior officers’ wives were more circumspect with a commander’s wife, but Effie seemed not to mind. Lily thought of her as a mentor and protector of the women stationed at the fort, and they certainly needed one.
“Marriage is a challenge, especially in military life,” Effie agreed.
Overcome by sudden curiosity, Lily laid down her fork. “What is your secret? How do you and the major make it all work?”
Effie brushed a crumb from her lips. “There is no mysterious formula. Commitment to one another and to overcoming any challenges is foremost. Honesty is the other.”
“What exactly do you mean—honesty?” Lily asked.
“My husband and I promised at the beginning that there would be no secrets between us. Regardless of the subject and its pleasantness or unpleasantness, we would share our thoughts and feelings.”
“Not all men are good at that,” Carrie mumbled.
“No, they are bred to be brave and to withhold their emotions. This is especially true of soldiers. But—” she grinned conspiratorially “—they can be trained. The point is not to overreact when they say something you might prefer not to hear or which is initially painful to you. With practice, husbands can become more comfortable with confidences.”
“What you call ‘training’ could be difficult,” Rose said.
“I’m not denying that, but consider the results. I’m happy, and I believe the major is, as well.”
A morsel of cake lodged in Lily’s throat. She longed for the kind of relationship Effie described, but she had already experienced one man’s reluctance to confide. Caleb had finally—and only briefly—talked about his mother, but had never said a word about his war experiences, which surely formed a large part of his identity. Lily admired the bond Effie had with her husband, one characterized by freedom and openness. Was such a thing possible? Not for most people, she imagined. Subservience was the more accepted practice for wives.
She wondered whether her parents had shared everything. For instance, could her mother have expressed her reluctance to leave Iowa? Or had both husband and wife held back, fearful of offense or hurt?
As if realizing the conversation had grown overly intimate, Effie changed the subject. “Now then. The first baseball game is this coming Saturday. Let’s talk about the desserts we will prepare.”
Rose agreed to make three raisin pies while Lily volunteered a chiffon cake. She wished a pie supper or a series of readings would change her attitude about being here, but she doubted