Soldier in Her Lap

by Haley Whitehall

  March 3, 1865

  The day Lucas had dreamed about since enlisting three years before finally came. His regiment received word Lee had surrendered. Heart drumming in his chest, Lucas raised his hand, nerves eating him from the inside out. His mouth was so parched, talking scratched his vocal chords. It didn’t matter what his voice sounded like as long as he said the words. He took the oath issued by the provost marshal to never to take up arms against the United States again, and then he was allowed to go home.

  The war over, he could return to Sophia. They could get married and start their life together. She had explained the horse farm was rather empty so he wouldn’t be disappointed. Such a practical woman, his Sophia. He had two mounts left; at least that gave him a place to start. If he couldn’t earn money for breeding stock in a year, he’d try his hand at wrangling some of the wild horses in Texas.

  John, the former flag bearer of their regiment, took the oath at the same time he did. It was wonderful meeting up with him again. After leaving him at the camp hospital, he hadn’t seen him in months. The man seemed in decent spirits.

  Mind racing with thoughts of the future, Lucas started toward home.

  “Where are you headed?” the color bearer asked, walking over to him stiffly on his wooden leg.

  “Home. Franklin, Tennessee.”

  “Mind if I go with you?”

  Lucas scratched the nape of his neck. “You don’t have anywhere else to go?”

  John shook his head. “I’m an orphan. Sometimes I think it is a pity I survived when so many men with families didn’t.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  The man shrugged. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I really appreciate you saving my life. I kind of hoped maybe you could help me find work. I’m not sure what kind of work a one-legged man can do.”

  Lucas laughed. “You’re welcome to stay at my ranch for as long as you’d like. I’m sure we can give you lots of chores.”

  John’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

  Lucas nodded and slapped him on the back. “And you can tell my wife how brave I was. I’m sure she’ll want to hear that story again and again.”

  The two made good time, covering several miles before nightfall. Lucas wished he had a mount. He couldn’t get to Sophia fast enough.

  Passing broken-down railroad cars, burned buildings, and deserted houses gave Lucas an eerie feeling. The South would never be the same, covered now in bloody hallowed ground.

  A weary breath escaped his parted lips. The war is over. Depressing thoughts had no place in his mind. A lovely woman waited for him at the farm. He pictured Sophia brushing her dark brown hair, standing in the bedroom in her nightgown. A kerosene lamp burning on the bedside table cast her in a sensual glow, just enough light for him to make out the swell of her breasts and her nipples beneath the thin fabric. She looked over her shoulder and flashed him a come-hither smile, eyes sparkling.

  His mother and Sophia had been planning their wedding for months. Surely, when he arrived home, they’d be ready for the special day. Did Sophia have her wedding dress sewn? Women were often particular about their dresses.

  With his brother dead, a sudden thought occurred to him. “Will you do me a favor?” Lucas asked.

  “Of course. Anything.”

  “I kind of jumped the gun when I said my wife was waiting for me back at home. We’re engaged, but we still need to get married. Would you be my best man?”

  The lad grinned. “Yes. That would be a pleasure.”

  Lucas returned the man’s smile. For once, it seemed all was right with the world. Whistling “Bonnie Blue Flag,” he picked up his pace.

  Despite his wooden leg, John kept up, staying in step with him. Once a soldier always a soldier. Marching came as easily to them as breathing. He didn’t want to calculate how many days it would take him to get home.

  At least he was headed in the right direction—back to Sophia.

  ***

  Peace. Sophia chanted it in her head, each time growing more and more excited. Lucas was coming home. The newspaper headline proclaimed the surrender at Appomattox.

  Sophia sat down to supper with Mr. and Mrs. Grady. The two already felt like family.

  “Good thing you finished the alterations on your dress,” Mrs. Grady said. “Lucas will be home soon.”

  “We don’t know how soon,” Mr. Grady cautioned. “It could take a couple months.”

  “A couple months!” Mrs. Grady said. “For heaven’s sake, Michael. Why?”

  “The gears of the government often turn slowly.” His attention turned to Sophia. “It will give you time to fix up the house. I’m afraid it’s been sorely neglected since Lucas went off to war.”

  “Oh, yes,” Sophia said. These past months Mrs. Grady had her so consumed with planning the wedding and getting to know the people in town she hadn’t thought of all the house cleaning and straightening she needed to do. It would take her a few days to get everything in order. She’d start tomorrow.

  “There is something about the wedding we haven’t discussed yet,” Mrs. Grady said.

  “There is?” Sophia asked in between bites of her biscuit. It seemed they’d covered everything more than once.

  “Yes,” Mrs. Grady said. “Will your father be coming to give you away?”

  “I…uh….” Sophia exhaled, blowing into her cup of coffee. “We’re not on the best of terms.”

  “I see,” Mrs. Grady said. “How sad. I didn’t know.”

  “Of course. I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “It isn’t my place to pry,” Mrs. Grady said. “But maybe you could make amends with your father? I thought it was always a woman’s dream to be given away at her wedding.”

  “Yes,” Sophia said. “Perhaps.”

  She could write Papa a letter. It wouldn’t hurt to ask. Of course he could be dead by now with no one to feed him. If he wasn’t dead, he was in no condition to come after her. At his age and poor health, all the hard riding would kill him.

  The next morning Sophia moved into Lucas’s house. The horse farm didn’t feel big and empty any more. With Lucas this would become her home. Looking at every nook and cranny with a critical eye, she realized how much cleaning she needed to do.

  She dusted, scrubbed the wood floor, washed and hung the sheets out to dry, and washed the windows and that was only the first day. After working for ten hours, she lay on the bed wondering what it would be like to share the mattress with Lucas for the first time.

  Lovemaking wasn’t a feminine subject, but it didn’t keep her from thinking about it, especially since meeting Lucas. After a good night’s sleep, she’d wake up energized to continue getting the house in shape. She’d work hard to be a good wife. Lucas wouldn’t even recognize the house when he got home. It wouldn’t look like a bachelor’s house. With a smile, she mentally took note of all the feminine touches she had in mind.

  Despite being comfortable and exhausted she couldn’t sleep. Her wedding circled in her mind on an endless loop. If Papa didn’t give her away Mr. Grady would. But it wouldn’t be the same.

  A woman dreamed of her father giving her away.

  She threw the covers back and climbed out of bed. Padding barefoot across the wood floor, she headed to the dining room table. The letter she’d written Papa lay on the otherwise empty table. Picking it up, she ran the envelope through her hands.

  Should she send it? Should she not?

  The list of pros and cons ran through her mind. There wasn’t a simple answer. She’d have regrets either way. Unless she asked Papa to the wedding and he accepted. Life seemed different after living with the Gradys for a long time now. Even if Papa hadn’t forgiven her, Mr. Grady, Mason, Cole, and Lucas would protect her. Maybe Papa would be willing to reconcile on her terms.

  She wouldn’t know unless she mailed the letter.

  Cole could take it to the post office tomorrow, and then what happened next would be up to Papa. If Mr. Rawlins had a grain
of Christian in him, he’d encourage Papa to reconcile with her.

  She wanted that desperately.

  Papa was a born bastard, but she was of his blood. She’d always wish him well, and wish he’d stay in her life.

  ***

  A knock sounded. Up to her wrists in sudsy water, she straightened and looked out the kitchen window, but could not see anyone from this angle. Wiping her hands on her apron, Sophia opened the door to see Lucas’s other hired help, Mason. “Morning, ma’am.”

  Sophia smiled. “Good morning.”

  “Cole and I were going to go over and help Mr. Grady fix some things at his place. That is, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not.”

  He scratched the brown stubble on his chin. “You sure you’ll be all right by yourself? You could come with us and visit with Mrs. Grady.”

  “I’ll be fine. If I need anything, you’re just across the road. I’ll sit by the window and finish sewing the curtains.”

  Mason laughed. “When Lucas comes home to paisley curtains, he’ll be very surprised.” With that, the short, balding man turned and left.

  Sophia let out a soft sigh. Even Cole and Mason cared about her. She had nothing to worry about in Franklin. Finally, she’d grown accustomed to feeling safe. It had taken a long time for her to constantly stop looking over her shoulder and getting antsy over every letter and loud noise. The horse farm was now her home.

  Lucas would be here any day now. She hadn’t received word from him, but his folks said not to worry. He was the kind of man to show up on her doorstep and give her a big hug.

  Sophia dried the breakfast dishes and then retrieved her sewing basket. Likely she’d get the curtains done today. Feeling particularly joyful, she entered the sitting room, humming an upbeat tune. Sitting in the padded armchair by the window, she picked up the unfinished curtains resting on the floor under her seat.

  Mason said Lucas would be surprised. She giggled, wondering if she’d get her way with all the redecorating ideas. This modest farmhouse wouldn’t be recognizable when she was done. Running her fingers over the paisley fabric, she admired her handiwork, grateful a lady from church had given her the material. It was perfect. She basked in the sunshine, and the hours passed by quickly. Her nimble fingers made stitch after stitch while her mind drifted back to Lucas. She’d done enough sewing over the years; it required little focus.

  A loud rap on the door startled her and she pricked her finger with the needle. Another rap.

  “I’m coming,” Sophia called. Sucking the bit of blood off her finger, she set the curtain in her chair and headed to the door. Perhaps Mason or Cole needed something. It definitely sounded like a masculine knock.

  Another rap. They didn’t need to be so impatient.

  It could be Lucas.

  Eyes widening and heart racing, she increased her pace and pulled the door wide open. “Lucas,” she said.

  Mr. Rawlins stood on the porch step, an evil glint in his eye. “No. Just me.”

  Sophia’s racing pulse skidded to a slower rhythm, her chest aching. She took a step back, retreating into the house. “Reverend Rawlins. This is quite the surprise.”

  Mr. Rawlins advanced toward her and braced an arm on the door to hold it open. His tall frame loomed over her. “Where are your manners, Sophia?” he said in a rebuking tone. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

  “I…well…I….” Words escaped her. What were the odds anyone across the road would hear her if she yelled loud enough?

  What did he want? Maybe if she played along he’d be satisfied and leave after a short visit. “Of course,” Sophia said. She stepped out of the doorway. “Please come in.” Her voice remained polite, but strained.

  Back stiff, she led him to the table. “Would you care for a cup of coffee?”

  “I’ve had quite a long ride. That would be nice. Thank you.”

  He sat and offered her a pleasant smile in sharp contrast to his eyes. “I bring news from your father.”

  “Oh. Good. I’ve been thinking about him. Excuse me. I’ll get the coffee.” She scurried into the kitchen. Her heart beat so loud it made it difficult to think. Just the sight of Mr. Rawlins twisted her insides. He wanted more than a hot drink; she knew that for sure. She hesitated, weighing her options. The Gradys were only across the street. If she ran out the door, screaming until her lungs gave out, would they come to her rescue in time?

  But Mr. Rawlins would pursue her, overtake her. Hand shaking she poured the steaming liquid, miraculously not spilling a drop on the counter. The better option would be to wait it out. Perhaps she was overreacting. What kind of news would he bring from Papa? It must be important for the reverend to ride all this way.

  Had Papa finally drunk himself to death?

  Was he ill?

  Maybe they’d gotten over their shock and no longer considered Lucas the devil.

  Sophia poured herself a cup, too. She’d need any distraction to help put her at ease. Handing Mr. Rawlins his mug, she forced a smile even though it was painful. She sat across the table, out of arm’s reach, and sipped her own coffee.

  “You look well,” Mr. Rawlins said, and then took a drink. “I have been worried about you.”

  He didn’t twitch and looked her in the eye. At least that was the truth.

  “Thank you, Reverend.” Calling him by that title always irked her. He was nothing more than a crazed imitator in a black suit. Likely he hadn’t studied the Bible one lick. Taking her time raising the mug to her lips and taking a drink, she tried to decide what to say next. The hot liquid failed to unknot her insides; she willed her tense muscles to relax. “I am enjoying living in Franklin. I’m surrounded by good people.”

  Mr. Rawlins smirked. “And you weren’t in Clark Springs?”

  Sophia shifted in her seat. “No, that was not what I meant,” she said quickly. Why did he have to turn around what she said?

  Mr. Rawlins grunted and took another drink of coffee. “Your father was happy to get your letter. It wasn’t very considerate of you to run off without saying a word.”

  Sophia wetted her lips. If she had told Papa she was running off with Lucas, he might have shot both of them.

  “Now he knows I’m fine and he doesn’t have to worry.”

  “Yes. That’s true. And he’s happy you want to get married.”

  Sophia cocked her head and looked at Mr. Rawlins with a critical eye. That didn’t sound like Papa at all. He didn’t want her to get married. Period. What made him change his mind?

  “Yes,” Mr. Rawlins said. “And I’m here to discuss your wedding.”

  “Oh.” Her gut clenched. Did he want to officiate?

  “Your father is still feeling poorly. He would like you to get married in Clark Springs so he can attend the wedding.”

  Sophia allowed a cautious smile. Papa was going to give her away. “I’ll have to discuss it with Lucas and his family, but I’m sure they wouldn’t mind the wedding being in Clark Springs.”

  Mr. Rawlins’s face hardened. “You don’t need to discuss it with Lucas. Because you’re not marrying Lucas. You’re marrying me.”

  “What?” Sophia shouted, jumping out of her chair, bumping the table and knocking over Mr. Rawlins’ cup of coffee.

  Mr. Rawlins hissed as the hot liquid covered his lap. “Now listen here, young lady,” he said in a stern no-nonsense voice, “I have your father’s blessing. You’re lucky I’m willing to wed you, being ruined as you are.”

  “Ruined!” Sophia’s nostrils flared. Papa hadn’t changed even a hairsbreadth since she’d left. Sending him that letter had been a dreadful mistake.

  “You can’t force me to marry you. I’m engaged to Lucas. I love Lucas.”

  Mr. Rawlins advanced toward her. “You spend some intimate time with me and you’ll forget about Lucas. He’s merely a boy. You need a real man to tame you.”

  “Tame me? I’m not a wild horse.” This conversation had taken a drastic change for the worse.
There was no reasoning with him. The warning bell in her head rang loud and shrill. It was time to run. Now.

  Picking up her cup she threw in the hot liquid in his face and then took off running.

  Mr. Rawlins cursed in a very unholy fashion.

  The front door banged against the wall. Sophia bounded down the steps and charged across the street. “Help,” she shouted. “Cole! Mason! Help me!” Her screeching plea was cut short when Mr. Rawlins wrestled her to the ground. His large body straddling her, she felt completely helpless. The meaty hand he pressed against her mouth tasted revolting.

  He made a tsking sound. “Now that’s not a nice way to react to your new husband.”

  After he removed his hand, she spit in his face. “You’re not my husband and you’ll never be.”

  A deep belly laugh spewed from his mouth, the loud noise slicing through the air.

  “If you behave, the journey back to Clark Springs will be much easier on you.” The warning was thick in his voice. “But if you continue to fight me, I can tie you to the horse.”

  She forced a wad of saliva down her throat. Worse than being merely a pretend preacher, he was a monster. How could Papa be friends with him? How could he promise her to Mr. Rawlins?

  “So Papa’s marrying me off just to save my soul?” she asked.

  “That, and I gave him a hundred dollars.”

  “You bought me!” Sophia screamed.

  Mr. Rawlins slapped her across the face. “If you want to look at it that way,” he said, getting off her and offering his hand.

  Reluctantly she took his assistance and he helped her to his feet. Should she run?

  With his free arm, he motioned to his mount tied to the hitching post in front of the house. “Your carriage awaits, my dear.” The sarcasm in his voice could have been heard a mile away.

  After all the rough treatment she’d endured from Papa, she was afraid of crossing Mr. Rawlins. And he believed men had every right to beat their wives. It was safest to cooperate.

  “We’re leaving now?” Panic seized her lungs in a vise-like grip. She needed to stall, give Cole and Mason time to get back and rescue her. “I need to pack a few things first.”