The Afterlife of Lizzie Monroe

by Kelly Martin

  Her face got very rigid. "I knew a man once. His name was Simon. He went crazy. My father said he had the devil in him, but I think he'd just lost his mind after his wife and daughter died. Murdered. Simon chased the man who did it down and didn't leave much to bury, if you get my meaning. He wasn't arrested or anything. The general consensus was the man had it coming for what he did to Simon's family, but either Simon couldn't live with the guilt or just went crazy over his family, because he had to be hauled away. I heard stories, terrible stories, of the institution they put him in. Experiments and such." She shuddered. "I don't want to go to a place like that."

  Shane knew he should tell her that mental hospitals in the twenty-first century weren't like that, not exactly like that anyway. But he really didn't want to. He needed her motivated, and if the thought of going to that place motivated her, then that's what he needed to do. It wasn't cruel. It was necessary.

  "Then let's keep you away from somewhere like that." He gently moved his hands toward her legs. "I promise I won't hurt you. I'll take it easy and all of that other stuff."

  Shane hesitated. Lizzie held her breath and her body got very still. Man, he hated it when she did that. No guy had ever touched her there, he assumed. "Look, it's not like that. I'm not thinking of you that way." Though he could. "But, darlin', we've got to get you moving. Understand?"

  Lizzie nodded nervously.

  Hew boy. Here we go.

  Shane pulled Lizzie's tattered wedding dress down on her legs toward her ankles to keep her as modest as possible. To be as old as it was, her dress wasn't in horrible shape. It had a few rough places, some dirt, but the scallops around the legs were still in good condition and her long, flowing sleeves looked no worse for wear. Despite some dirt and a few ripped pieces here and there, it appeared that everything had been fairly well preserved. He had no idea why. From what he'd seen of Lizzie, she didn't either.

  Well, he could either dwell on it, or get her out of his house and get on with his life. He chose the latter.

  Chapter Six

  December 25, 1861

  "It's not just about slavery. It's about our way of life." Daniel sat his tin cup down a little harder than Lizzie thought was necessary. Through her lashes, she glanced at her father who looked less than amused. Thankfully, the good preacher didn't have much of a temper. Unfortunately, what temper he had was wearing thin since the war broke out. It had been brewing for months, years even, and now it had exploded.

  "There will be no war talk at the table, Mr. Dixon," Lizzie's father said as he cut his Christmas ham. Reverend Monroe had no time for war speak, especially at home.

  "With all due respect, sir. I think we need to talk about this. We are both going to war in a few weeks — days even — and sadly not on the same side. I hoped to talk you into joining the Confederacy."

  "I appreciate that, son." The reverend put his fork back on his plate. By the candlelight, Lizzie could see the stern, worn, exhausted expression on his tired face. Of the men in town going to war, only a handful were going to fight for the Union. Most were serving the Confederate forces, which made sense since Tennessee seceded from the United States a few months before, though it had been by the slimmest margin of votes. The state had joined the Confederate States of America, but not everyone — including her father — was happy about it.

  Her father leaned back in his chair and wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin formerly lying in his lap. "I agree that the South, the Confederates, have some valid points. But I can't stand up for people having slaves. I never have. It's why I'll fight for the North, if I have to fight at all."

  Daniel sat up straighter. "I have never had slaves. Never will. Don't believe in owning another person, but it's not just slavery."

  "Maybe not to you." Her father butted in. "But it is to me, and that's the very reason I'll fight. And that's all I'll say about it tonight." With that, her father put his napkin on his plate, stood, kissed her mother on the cheek, and walked out into the flurries of snow for some air.

  "I'm sorry," Daniel said after the cabin door shut. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have pressed it." He nodded to Lizzie's mother. "I apologize."

  "It's alright, Daniel. It's just a very tense time all around. My husband knows you don't mean anything by it."

  "I just… I wish he would fight for the South. We need more men like him if we ever wish to win."

  "My husband asked for no war talk at the table, Daniel," Lizzie's mother chided, making Lizzie want to crawl under the table. This wasn't how she had hoped for the night to go. "And I'd appreciate it if you'd honor his wishes."

  "Yes, ma'am. Again, I apologize."

  An awkward silence filled the room, angering Lizzie. Why did they have to be so proper? Why couldn't they talk about it? The war was the only thing to talk about now. Everything revolved around it. She knew families who were torn apart by picking sides. Brothers were divided: one to the South, one for the North. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. She wanted to go back in time to when things were easy, simple. She wanted a life with Daniel, not constant worry.

  "Mrs. Monroe," Daniel asked using his polite voice. "May Lizzie and I be excused? I'd like to give her my Christmas present now, if you don't mind."

  Her mother's worn eyes lit up and the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth deepened as she smiled. It was almost as if she was herself again, before all the war happened. "Absolutely. You may be excused, Mr. Dixon. Lizzie." She grinned brighter. "Don't stay out too late."

  "We won't be going far, Ma'am."

  Daniel took Lizzie's hand and led her outside in the cold air and toward the barn. Daniel held an oil lantern in the other hand as the snow flurries swirled around them. It was like one of those ten cent romance stories Lizzie bought on occasion from the general store. They passed her father sitting on the porch puffing his pipe. His ruddy cheeks appeared kindly toward the two as they made their way to the barn. Lizzie hoped he approved of Daniel as a person, not his reason for fighting for the South. She'd die if he didn't.

  When they got to their destination, Daniel opened the door and allowed Lizzie to go inside first. She had to admit, a barn wasn't the most romantic place ever. It smelled like horses and pigs, hay and… well… other not so pleasant things. But she wouldn't say anything against it. Daniel obviously had a plan and she wanted to see it through.

  "I know this isn't fancy, but it's the best I could do on short notice."

  "Short notice?" She shivered, wishing she'd taken time to grab a warm blanket. As if anticipating it, Daniel draped a wedding ring design quilt over her shoulders. She instantly snuggled inside it.

  Daniel spread an old quilt that had conveniently been laid near the backdoor of the barn out on the dirt floor. He opened the back doors and allowed some of the snowflakes to come in. Even though it was snowing, a bit of the full moon illuminated the hills behind the barn. It was beautiful.

  After a few seconds, he turned and sat the oil lamp on the ground next to the quilt. He motioned for Lizzie to have a seat.

  She smiled, pulled the quilt around her tighter, gathered the skirts of her lavender church dress up barely over her ankles, and sat down as ladylike as possible. Once sitting, she covered her legs and shoes with her skirts and huddled in her quilt. The scene in front of her was glorious, but it was very chilly.

  "I wish this could be better for you," he said nervously, and Lizzie couldn't understand why. Then it hit her, and her heart started to pound. "Are you leaving sooner than expected?"

  Daniel turned back toward the open doors, his back to her. The way he put his hands in his jacket pockets and rocked on the balls of his feet, gave her all the answers she needed.

  "When?" Her voice caught.

  "Tomorrow. I'm leaving for the war tomorrow."

  "Tomorrow." Her world stopped turning.

  Daniel was to her quicker than she could suck in a breath. "Please don't fret. Please. It's not why I brought you out here."

  "I thought we'd have more time
."

  "We will." He gently pushed her hair behind her ear. "We will have plenty of time together when I get back."

  Lizzie wanted to say what she was thinking, what if you never come back. But she didn't say it. She didn't want him to worry about her. It remained the unspoken elephant in the room. "How long do you think you'll be gone?"

  He tilted her head and rubbed his fingers gently over her cheek. He'd never touched her face before, never even kissed her. It wasn't proper, and Daniel was always proper. Proper to join his father and fight for the South when his ideals held with the North. Proper to a fault in Lizzie's eyes.

  Daniel was very handsome with a strong jaw and warm eyes. He had a thick head of hair, now covered with little white snowflakes, and a well-kept beard. Though he was just twenty, he was very mature.

  "The rumor is a year. Maybe shorter. My father says the Union will see the error in their ways and just let us secede without much of a fight."

  "You really think that?"

  He didn't answer. Instead he leaned back on his knees and smiled. "I'm sorry this wasn't planned, but with the short notice, I had to improvise. I've already talked to your father…"

  Oh no…

  Daniel took both of her hands in his and maneuvered himself on one knee. Snowflakes swirled around his hair and the oil lamp light shined in his eyes. "Elizabeth Monroe… Lizzie… I love you more than you will ever know. Will you make me the happiest man on this earth and marry me?"

  Lizzie's mouth got dry, but she didn't have to think of an answer. "Yes." She barely got out before pulling him into a huge hug. "Yes, I'll marry you."

  "I appreciate that." He grinned into her hair and pulled her closer to him. He held her for what seemed like an eternity, neither wanting to let the other go.

  Finally, Daniel broke their contact. "I don't have a ring for you."

  "That's alright." It didn't bother her in the least.

  "It's not alright. You deserve the best, Lizzie, and I intend to give it to you. I'll get you one while I'm away. When I come back, I'll put it on your finger. I promise. I'll come back for you."

  "I'll be waiting." She tried to put on a brave face. Why did the best day of her life also have to be the worst?

  ****

  Lizzie looked down at the ring on her finger: a brass toned oval beauty with vines etched on the top. If only he'd been able to give it to her before he died.

  She missed Daniel so much.

  The boy fixing to touch her leg was nothing like Daniel. Daniel was as straight-laced as they came. His hair had always been perfect, slicked back with a little wave combed back up front. Always with a neatly trimmed beard. Always proper. Always a gentleman. And except for the night he asked her to marry him and the day he left for war, had never touched her.

  And then there was Shane. Shane didn't seem to adhere to rules. He had her in his bed, after all. In his home. He'd washed the dirt off of her face. And now he had pulled her dress, her wedding dress no less, up enough on her legs so he could touch — touch! — them. Glorious Land!

  Daniel had never even seen above her ankles.

  "Deep breath, Lizzie. Don't freak out on me, okay?" Shane said from his perch at the foot of her bed, right beside her leg.

  Dear Lord, I'm sorry I killed myself and everything. If you are still speaking to me or listening, please help me walk again. So I can get out of here and… okay, I don't know what, but something. Just help me…

  "What are you doing?" Shane asked.

  She opened her eyes and became a little self-conscious for some reason. "Praying."

  "Praying?"

  "Yes. Praying. It's going to be very difficult for me and I thought I'd better pray. I know you don't believe in God, but I do."

  "Is that why you killed yourself? To meet God faster?"

  Her jaw sat in a hard line. "Are you always so blunt, Mister Davis?"

  "Only around people I like." He grinned and put his hands on her legs without even warning her first.

  "Hey!"

  "Enough skirting around the issue, pun totally intended. We need to stretch your legs before I get as old as you are."

  "I just…" No part of her wanted Shane's hands on her.

  "Just nothing. We're doing this. You and me, sister. We're getting your little legs working."

  ****

  No sooner had Shane tilted her leg back, her knee popped loudly. He promptly dropped it back on the bed. Ewwww… eewww… ewww… ewww. Nasty.

  "What? What?" Lizzie squealed, terrified.

  "I think I broke your leg." The antique thing just popped like a twig when he moved it. Yuck. He kept forgetting she was older than she looked.

  "You broke my leg!" She yelled and looked down at it.

  "Shhhhh! Stop screaming. You'll wake people up."

  "I'm sorry, but when some gentleman says he broke my leg, I begin to panic." She gritted through her teeth. Shane couldn't hold in the laugh. She looked so funny like that.

  "Aw. You think I'm a gentleman."

  "Don't laugh at me," she ordered. Like she could stop him. She was the one unable to move.

  Still…

  "I'm sorry. It's just… you're right. Not funny." He ran his fingers though his hair and studied her knee. It required him to move her dress a little higher on her leg and she wouldn't be happy about it.

  Oh well.

  Without asking for an invitation, Shane moved the flimsy piece of fabric up, exposing her knee. Lizzie's breath caught and she shut her eyes. It wasn't in an excited way — more like a 'Dear Lord, help me' way.

  "It's a knee, Lizzie. Everyone's got one." It didn't ease up her tension any. The girl seriously needed to chill.

  She didn't say a word, but she didn't protest either. At least it was a step in the right direction. Maybe she was starting to trust him… that would probably be a bad thing. He wasn't exactly the most reliable person in the world.

  He clicked his tongue while he looked her leg over. Man, he didn't want to look at it. Broken body parts weren't his favorite thing. He'd broken his finger once in baseball, years ago when he played, and that thing stuck out at such a perpendicular angle, it even made the nurse helping him a little nauseous.

  At least when he looked at her knee, he saw good news. "Okay, so not broken."

  "Not broken?"

  "Nope. Just cracked like an old man's knee. That's good. You aren't as fragile as I was afraid of when I heard the pop."

  "Hurray," was her unconvincing response.

  Shane had to smirk. He had no idea they had sarcasm in the 1800s. "Let's do this again." This time he didn't even try to pull her dress over her knees. To heck with it, he'd already seen it. She'd have to deal with it.

  "You aren't covering my leg up?" she said, her eyes wide with disbelief.

  "Why? I've already seen it now." He shrugged.

  "But I would prefer…"

  "Look," he said a little more harshly than he should have, but good gracious, she was driving him crazy. It was just a leg. It wasn't like he was going to jump her and have his way with her right then and there because he saw her knee. Come to think of it, the way her knee creaked, he wasn't sure what would happen 'there' if he ever…

  Focus. "I know you're prudish or whatever, but I don't really care about your knee or your leg. I promise. Okay? We just need to get this finished."

  "Fine." She gritted through her teeth, flung her head back and shut her eyes.

  Thank goodness. He sighed and bent her leg again. It popped, but it didn't freak him out like it had before.

  Fifteen more times, he bent her right leg back, then forward, going a little bit farther back each time. "There." Satisfied, he laid her leg flat on the bed. "Can you move it? Wiggle your toes or anything?"

  Lizzie opened her eyes. She still had the same annoyed look on her face, but didn't mention him seeing her bare leg. Instead her face became stern as she concentrated on her toes. "Nothing." She grunted.

  "Try again."

  "Try a
gain?"

  "Now." He had no time to coddle her. This lady needed to walk and get out of his life, ASAP. He couldn't be responsible for her, didn't want to be either. He never liked pets and always left the duties of taking care of them to Cheyenne. Lizzie was a bit bigger than a kitten.

  She rolled her eyes and concentrated again. He kept waiting for her toes to twitch.

  Nothing.

  "Darn it." He huffed and put his head in his hands. This was going way too slow. Patience had never been his virtue.

  "I assume it'll take time," Lizzie said the most positive and hopeful thing she'd said all day. He didn't feel it though.

  "I don't have time," he mumbled.

  "Excuse me?"

  "Nothing." He sighed and reached down to stretch her leg some more.

  Before he could touch her leg, a heavy metal song bounced around the room. Lizzie sank down in the bed, her eyes wide. "What's that? Whose screaming?"

  It was actually quite funny, watching her cower like that. The girl couldn't move her legs at all, could barely move her arms, but she sank in that bed like she'd been shot when the song started playing from his phone. There was hope for her yet.

  "It's not screaming." He stood and put the black comforter back over her legs, knowing she'd appreciate it. "It's music."

  "Music?" She wiggled until she was back with her head on the pillow. "That's music in your time?"

  "Yes, ma'am. The sweet tunes of Devil's Eyeballs."

  "You listen to the devil's music? I knew it," she said barely over a whisper.

  "Some people say it is. I say it's calming."

  Her eyes narrowed. "I hear nothing calming."

  "Because it's not fiddles and banjoes and drums or whatever you listened to back in the day?" Shane picked his phone up from the desk at the window and looked at the name on the ID.

  Preston.

  The last person he expected to hear from. That was a lie. The last person he expected to hear from was his father, but Preston was a close second. He probably wanted to make sure their alibis were the same for the church arson Another thing he didn't need.

  "We listened to actual music, not that screaming. And it was played by actual people, not tiny… things."

  Shane held up the thing again so she could see it. Black and silver and rectangular. A smart phone, not that she'd know what that meant. "It's a phone. Remember, I told you about phones."