Soldier in Her Lap

by Haley Whitehall

  Her stomach churned, sending bile sloshing up her throat. Opening the door, she saw Mr. Rawlins standing on the porch. She exhaled loudly. The reverend didn’t look dour, so he wasn’t bearing bad news.

  “Sorry to disturb you, Miss Carpenter,” he said, taking off his hat. “I just wanted to let you know what happened to your papa. I’m sure you’ve been wondering.”

  “Yes. I’ve been worried sick. Is he all right?”

  Mr. Rawlins rubbed his cheek. “In a manner of speaking. He sold that old nag of yours and bought himself all the whiskey he could hold, worked himself into quite a rage he did. Got himself locked up before he could do much damage, thankfully.”

  “Oh.” That wasn’t what she had expected.

  “They’ll let him out in the morning when he’s sober. He’s just sleeping it off.”

  Sophia nodded. “I see. Well, thank you for letting me know. I won’t wait up for him then.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I don’t know what burr got under his saddle. I’ve never seen him on such a rampage.” He looked at her as if expecting an explanation.

  Shrugging, she struggled to keep her voice light and casual. “He’s always raving about something these days with the state of the war and all.” Her thundering pulse threatened to betray her lie.

  Mr. Rawlins offered a tight smile. Did he suspect something? Why didn’t Mr. Rawlins consider getting drunk a sin? Yes, they drank wine in the Bible, but Papa drank to excess every day and the reverend had not once reprimanded him.

  “Will you be at church on Sunday?”

  What a strange question. She’d seldom missed a service even though she didn’t believe half of what he preached. “Yes. Hopefully, both Papa and I.”

  Mr. Rawlins nodded. “I do hope he is feeling better. Poor man.”

  Poor man? Her blood boiled and she worked hard not to let the emotion show. There was no reason for him to feel sorry for her no-account father.

  “Well, I know it’s late,” he said finally. “Good night, ma’am.”

  “Good night.”

  Shutting the door, she pressed her back up against it. Papa was safe, but not here for the night. She should invite Lucas in—at least for supper. It might turn into more after they were better acquainted.

  They were having another helping of turnip stew. Tomorrow morning, she’d check the rabbit snares again. They were due to catch one soon. If she couldn’t spice up the meal, she could at least change the atmosphere. Closing the curtains, she lit a candle and placed it on the table. They’d have a proper meal this time, the way a courting couple should.

  She’d work hard to get Lucas to relax and open up to her, wanting to help him if she could. Although Papa never helped Mama, she knew a married couple was supposed to work together. They might as well start now.

  If he would let her….

  Lucas sat stiffly in the wooden chair. Sophia batted her eyelashes at him. He focused on her more than the meal. Her sweet smile, her full lips, her sparkling eyes. It was a miracle he could get the spoon to his mouth. A lit candle glowed on the table between them, illuminating her dark brown locks, and showing off her caramel highlights. Such a place setting gave him romantic ideas. After their heated exchange earlier, was she silently asking for more?

  Her father wasn’t home and he could take advantage.

  No, damn it. He wasn’t about to make advances. What he should do was retreat and retreat fast. Taking advantage of Sophia’s generosity, he’d stayed too long at the farm already. People could be out looking for him. Patrols were scanning the countryside, the Confederacy trying desperately to piece together some semblance of an army again after several crushing defeats. He didn’t want to get Miss Carpenter in trouble for unknowingly harboring a deserter.

  A colony of ants paraded under his skin. He shifted in his seat. Normally he wasn’t this awkward around women. His secret made him jumpy.

  “So,” Sophia said, “what did you do before the war?”

  Ah. Small talk. I can handle that. Maybe. “My brother and I breed horses.”

  “You must be a very good rider then.”

  “Yes. Father had us riding before we could walk.”

  “Then why didn’t you enlist in the cavalry?”

  His stomach clenched sending turnip stew up his windpipe. Swallowing, he worked to ease the burning sensation. This would be the first chink in his armor. “Because I didn’t enlist, miss. My brother and I were making a tidy profit selling our horses to the Confederate Army when the war first began.” Enough for him to pay off his loans and credit at the mercantile and blacksmith’s shop. He’d started saving a little money for a rainy day—far from enough to buy himself a replacement. “I had no desire to go off to war.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  Lucas coughed. “The government changed my mind for me. I was conscripted.”

  “Oh.”

  Sophia leaned back in her chair. Her lips pressed into a line, she gave him a blank stare. After she’d processed this bit of information, how would she take the fact her gallant soldier didn’t want to be a soldier?

  “But didn’t they think raising horses a necessity for the war effort? They should have let you stay on your farm.”

  “My two hands were too old to be conscripted. In the government’s eyes, they could keep the farm going while my brother and I were dragged off to war.”

  Dropping his gaze, he took a sip of the bitter coffee. The silence devoured his nerves. The pounding of his heart and hot liquid sliding down his throat consumed his hearing.

  “Well, the Confederacy had a desperate need for soldiers, too. I can understand your position,” she said finally. “Many men found it hard to leave their families and businesses to join the army. You’re far from the only soldier drafted.”

  Lucas nodded. “Yes, miss.”

  Exhaling through his nose, the tightness in his muscles lessened. He hadn’t realized how badly he needed her approval. Sophia not only had beauty, but a fiery spirit—and sensible, too.

  Of course accepting the fact he hadn’t enlisted and accepting the fact he’d deserted were two entirely different matters.

  “Tell me more about your farm. Do you train the horses?”

  “My brother and I and a couple hands run the farm. We raise and train the horses ourselves.”

  “Is your brother older or younger?”

  “Older, miss.” Tears pricked his eyes and he stared at the tabletop, hoping she didn’t notice. His voice dropped to a weak whisper. “Thomas died during the Siege of Vicksburg.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, placing her hand over her heart. “That is horrible. I didn’t know.”

  This whole war was terrible. The rich making the poor do their fighting for them. The South complained about Abe Lincoln’s government. But the government they set up contained identical flaws, as far as he was concerned.

  He ran his hand across his mouth, guilt roiling in his gut. Right now he wasn’t very good company. This likely wasn’t how she’d expected their private supper to go.

  “I’ve always loved horses,” Sophia said, pulling their conversation along with the audacity of a mule. “This last year we only had Nell, an old nag.” Her eyes saddened. “I guess the barn is empty now. Papa sold her for a bottle of booze.”

  They had a lot in common—their rough lives intertwining in similar grief. Except Sophia had the courage to brave her circumstances and he’d turned tail and run. Nightmares haunted his sleep, filled with frozen faces of the dead—both those of the Yankees he killed and of his fallen comrades. In the army he endured the poor diet causing his tall frame to look too lean, and he could endure long marches and hard labor, but he couldn’t endure seeing her pain.

  Wishing he could wipe the sadness from her face, he reached over and gently brushed her cheek. “I’m sure whoever bought Nell will take good care of her,” he said softly.

  Note to self: get her a gentle mount for a wedding present. He’d enjoy riding with her acr
oss his property—an expanse of green grass, sprinkled with wildflowers and clover and lined with trees. His cock twitched. Yes, he’d enjoy both kinds of riding—if she would have him.

  She sniffled. “The only thing she’s really good for is the glue factory.” Pink stained her cheeks and she gave him a half-smile for his trouble. “But I hope you’re right.”

  The feel of her skin, a mere whisper, stirred a fire inside him. Not wanting to tempt himself, he pulled his hand back. What was he going to do? Every moment they shared together made leaving harder. His leg had healed up well enough for him to continue his journey to Tennessee except she needed him more than the army did.

  “You haven’t eaten much. Are you tired of turnip stew already?” Sophia asked and then erupted in flat laughter.

  “Oh no. It isn’t that,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t take offense.

  “I wouldn’t blame you if you were. I’m sick of it myself.” Taking a drink of coffee, she peered at him over the rim of the cup. “When Papa comes home, he’s going to be as mad as a stirred-up nest of hornets.”

  “Will he be mad at you?” Sometimes when men were mad at the world, they lashed out at everyone near them.

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. But he might try to run you off.” Her voice shook and took on a fragile quality. “I-I don’t want you to go.”

  Damn I can’t go yet. When her father came home, hopefully sober, he could hurt Sophia; he had to make sure she was safe.

  Her brows furrowed and her lips pinched together. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “Yes, miss. I’m afraid I just have a lot on my mind.”

  “Did you hear me? I said I didn’t want you to go.”

  Lucas offered a sorrowful smile. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Your mind is elsewhere. Sometimes it makes you feel better if you share your troubles with others.”

  “Well….” It felt like an icy hand grabbed his lungs stealing his breath. Needing to answer her, he hoped a half-truth would suffice. “I’m worried I won’t be able to get your father’s permission for your hand in marriage. He didn’t even want me to call you by your first name. He’s not going to let you go without a fight.”

  “You whipped him once. You can persuade him to come around. You have to.” Her voice cracked, and desperation flooded her eyes.

  “I don’t know. Maybe we should run off together. We could get married in the next town. We could even go tonight.” Lucas’s voice picked up strength, speed, and enthusiasm. If they left now, they’d have a head start before the jailer released her father.

  She shook her head. “I know he is a no-good rotten excuse for a man let alone a father, but he’s all the kin I have. I don’t want to run away unless I have no choice.”

  “I understand.” He’d try the traditional approach first. It seemed all her father cared about was liquor and money to get liquor.

  “That horse farm you have,” Sophia said, breaking into his thoughts, “you said it paid well?”

  Lucas shrugged. “We made a profit.”

  “Some sort of reverse dowry could make Papa change his mind. Obviously he doesn’t have anything to give you—”

  “The only thing I want him to give me, Sophia, is your hand in marriage.”

  She blushed. “Right. And I know Papa. He’ll want something out of the deal. He’s not going to let me go without being compensated.”

  “So I’m bribing him,” Lucas said with a long breath.

  “Yes…can you?” Sophia sounded desperate.

  “With the value of Confederate money these days, I’m not sure what my bank account would provide.” He did want to offer her papa something in exchange for his daughter. Not that Mr. Carpenter deserved it, but it honored Sophia. Mr. Carpenter would use the money to drink himself deeper into the grave.

  “What about a horse?” Sophia suggested. “We need one. Knowing Papa, he’d probably be satisfied with not having to walk to town.”

  He couldn’t believe Sophia thought she was only worth one horse. “I can offer him a horse. But you’re worth a lot more than that to me.”

  Sophia grinned, her glow rivaling the candle. Unfortunately, it was merely momentary happiness. “Now that we’ve got that settled we can move on to the next issue.”

  “Issue?”

  “Yes, I can tell something else is bothering you. Come on out with it.”

  Stalling, he drank some coffee, the liquid moistening his parched mouth. He’d hoped she’d agree to run with him. Since she wouldn’t, he might have to go alone and try to come back for her later.

  “I need to leave soon.” His voice still came out rough and raspy. Continuing on to Tennessee was partially responsible for his sour mood. Would she believe him?

  “Oh. Well, I figured you’d have to return to your regiment soon. I’m sure you’re eager to rejoin your comrades.”

  He ate air and it caught in his throat. Not exactly. “Yes. Thank you for taking very good care of me.”

  “There’s still something you’re not telling me,” Sophia said, the irritation evident in her voice.

  “Yes, there is,” he admitted. “But we’ve been talking about me all evening. Why don’t you talk about yourself for a while?”

  He cringed. Switching the subject like that was rude, but he couldn’t tell her his crime. Not yet. Not now. It would completely spoil the evening.

  She sighed. “There isn’t much to my life. You see everything,” she said, opening her arms wide. “This rickety house, the dirt farm.” She leaned across the table. “You’re much more interesting.”

  He laughed. There wasn’t anything special about him although she seemed to think otherwise. He rubbed a sweaty palm on his trouser leg.

  “Why won’t you tell me what’s really been bothering you this evening? It sure wasn’t dealing with Papa or the fact you were leaving. You seem jumpier than ever.”

  He stared at his turnip stew and stirred it absentmindedly.

  “You’re protecting me from something, is that it?”

  Looking up, he straightened his spine one inch at a time as if a wire threaded through his vertebrae. “Yes, miss.” And myself.

  “Whatever you think you’re shielding me from can’t be that bad,” she persisted.

  Damn. Is she trying to wear me down?

  “You’re not already married, are you?”

  “No, miss.”

  “Children?”

  “No, miss.”

  “Well, those are the two biggest issues out of the way. Whatever is bothering you I want to know. I can handle it.”

  He swished his tongue around his mouth. Could she?

  Folding her arms across her chest, she eyed him. “I can’t be with a man who doesn’t trust me.”

  “It isn’t that I don’t trust you….” I just don’t want you to think less of me. I don’t want to lose you.

  Her eyes turned into dark beads reminding him of a cat, cute and cuddly on the outside, but a force to be reckoned with when riled.

  “I can’t be with a man who lies and keeps secrets from me either. Papa’s been doing that all my life.”

  She deserved to know the truth. Once his uniform was stripped off, would she still find him appealing? In his mind, he rehearsed what he needed to say. I’m not going back to my regiment. I’m going to Tennessee. Will you go with me, Sophia?

  Chapter Seven

  After supper, Lucas returned to the barn, once again proving to himself he was yellow clear through. He couldn’t even muster up the courage to come clean with Sophia. Nestling into the horse blankets, he tossed and turned. At every sound, he roused, his body flooding with worry. What would happen at daylight?

  His muscles felt heavy, making standing difficult. Yawning, he shook his head. He probably looked terrible.

  He knocked and Sophia threw the front door open. The strong smell of hot coffee wafted to his nose. A cup would help and, if he was lucky, a kiss from Sophia.

  Dark circles
were visible under Sophia’s eyes. She looked like she hadn’t slept any better than he had. Briefly he pictured her in the house all alone, being tortured with thoughts of her father’s return. If only he could have chased those fears away.

  If only they could both leave this farm and never come back.

  Sophia silently poured the hot brown liquid into two mugs and handed one to him. Not even a good morning. Taking a sip, he wondered what he should say. It was so hard to understand women. He set the beverage on the counter and wrapped an arm around her middle, pulling her toward him. Sometimes actions were better than words.

  She rested her head on his shoulder and he ran his fingers through her long hair. “I love you, Sophia,” he said. Those were words he didn’t take lightly. It just seemed right. Hopefully knowing he loved her would be a comfort.

  Tears stained her cheeks and he gently wiped them away. “Shh, honey. There is no need to cry.”

  “I fear we don’t have much more time together,” she said amid her sobs.

  Tipping her head back, he claimed her lips. She moaned and he delighted in the surprise overriding the sadness in her eyes. “Then let’s make the best of the time we have,” he breathed into her ear.

  Against his chest, he felt her heartbeat quicken. He didn’t want to break contact, and wished he could hold Sophia in his arms forever. She stepped back. “I want you to tell me your secret then.”

  His mouth popped open. Why did she need to know so badly? There were so many better things to do together. But this could be the last time they’d see each other, and it would feel good to come clean. He took a deep breath and nodded.

  Tightening his arm around her, he pulled her to him again. After he explained his crime, she might not want him to touch her or even speak to her. Selfishly he wanted to feel her and taste her one last time, hanging onto a slight possibility they could flee together before her father got home. Holding onto that hope, he mustered his courage.

  Sophia peered up at him, enjoying the feel of his embrace. He is going to tell me what’s bothering him. Finally. Her pulse skipped over several beats, heady from his manly scent. She breathed in deeply. Being this close to him, her body pressed against his, made her long for more.