The Other Side of Life

by Andy Kutler

  She hurried across the yard in the darkness, the rain hammering her as she contemplated how unprepared they were for what Cal and Ethan were still awake discussing. The barn, to start. They would have to expand it significantly and ensure it could withstand heavy storms such as this, as well as the snow that regularly blanketed the valley in wintertime. Storage space would be needed for grain and feed, and a bunkhouse for the additional hands they would surely have to hire. It was an odd sensation she felt as she considered the road ahead, both daunting and exhilarating.

  A crack of thunder crashed through the night just as she reached the structure, followed by Hannah’s distinctive whinny. What Caldwell had hastily constructed could hardly be called a barn, but it had a stout roof and was sufficient for the meager number of animals they owned. It was also dry at the moment, and with Caldwell living in the house now and Ethan claiming the sofa, there was plenty of room for their other guest to make his own space.

  She slid through the narrow opening between the large doors. A single kerosene lamp provided a soft glow inside and she could see the shadows of skittish animals dancing on the walls. Emily removed her wet shawl and hung it on a bent nail.

  Kelsey looked at her in surprise. “You shouldn’t be out in that soup.”

  Emily placed the bundle she was carrying on an overturned crate and eyed the horse Kelsey was saddling. “It doesn’t appear it will be slowing you down, Sergeant.”

  He began untying his rain slicker from the rig. “I have something I need to do.”

  “Tonight?”

  “As soon as there’s a break in this weather.”

  “No goodbyes, Sergeant? Your colonel is still in my kitchen. Is he aware you are leaving?”

  “He is. Maybe not this moment, but he knows where I’m headed.”

  “I didn’t know that enlisted men could take their leave at their own discretion.”

  “Well, ma’am, I guess I’m not your typical enlisted man.”

  “I never presumed you were.”

  Kelsey slipped into the slicker and resumed saddling the horse. Emily walked over to a bin affixed to one of the walls and removed something wrapped in cheesecloth. Producing two sugar cubes, she held one of them in front of Hannah who quickly mouthed it out of her hand.

  “Where did you get those?” Kelsey asked. “I don’t think I’ve seen real sugar in two years.”

  She fed the remaining cube to Kelsey’s horse. “I have my secrets, Sergeant.”

  Kelsey pulled the cinch under his horse’s belly and tightened it. “You’ll excuse me, ma’am, but I need to be on my way.”

  “I thought you were waiting for a break in the weather.”

  “Sounds like it’s letting up some. My regards to you and your husband. I wish you both well. Maybe you could close that door behind me?”

  Emily sighed in exasperation. She was not accustomed to this.

  “Very well, Sergeant.” She pulled her shawl down and began walking toward the open door. Suddenly Emily whirled and charged back to Kelsey, who had one foot in his stirrup and was preparing to swing his other leg over.

  “No, actually, it is not very well,” she said, seizing the bridle. “Would you please do me the courtesy of answering one question before you leave us? Just one question?”

  Kelsey hesitated, then released the pommel and removed his boot from the stirrup. He slapped the reins around a nearby post, and held out his arms, indicating Emily had his full attention. “One question.”

  She took a step toward him. “You never smile, Sergeant. Not once. In New Mexico, we didn’t know each other very long, but I never saw you smile. I notice these things. And since you have arrived here…nothing.”

  Kelsey turned away, unfastening the reins again. Emily grabbed his arm, turning him back toward her. “Why so…morose? Surely there is something about life that you enjoy?”

  He shook his head, incredulous. “Do we know each other?”

  “We’ve known each other—”

  “You don’t know me. At all.”

  “I’m trying to. My husband thinks highly of you. Ethan looks at you like an older brother. There is something…something special about you. I know it.”

  “Something special?”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t know shit, lady,” he muttered.

  Emily stepped back. “I beg your pardon.”

  “I’m sorry, but—”

  “Perhaps I need to find another sergeant to slap you on the back of the head.”

  He thought for a moment and then gave her a tight smile. “The barracks. My first day. You remember.”

  “Of course I remember.”

  “Look Mrs. Garrity—”

  “Emily.”

  “Emily. I like to keep to myself. I stay out of other peoples’ business and I expect them to stay out of mine.”

  “And what kind of life is that?”

  “The only life I have left. I had a life once, a hell of a lot better than this. But it’s gone now, she’s gone—”

  “She?”

  “…So you’ll excuse me if I don’t walk around with a happy grin on my face. I don’t belong here. Do you understand?”

  She stared at him, confused. “Not at all—”

  His voice was rising now, the words coming faster. “Maybe you would if you had a taste of what we’ve been through. You wouldn’t be smiling either. And maybe you haven’t noticed, but your husband has a fucking stump where—”

  The slap echoed across the barn. He held his face with one hand, suddenly conscious of the line he had crossed.

  Emily was trembling, her cheeks flushed with emotion.

  “Sergeant Kelsey,” she began, and then stopped. Her voice was shaking, but she held his eyes with a fiery glare. “Whatever tragedy has befallen you, I assure you that you are not the first to endure loss and suffering. Whatever you may believe, I promise you that I have not been spared my own share during this war. I…I—”

  She could say no more and turned on her heel, marching from the barn and into the rain. Kelsey caught her as she was halfway across the yard, grabbing her arm firmly and holding her back.

  “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

  The storm had relented somewhat but her clothes were already soaked. She had lost her hair pin, the rain plastering her damp hair against her temples and cheeks. She tried to pull her arm free, but he would not let go.

  “Please, Emily, I need to explain.”

  Emily shook her head. “I was wrong, Sergeant. You owe me no explanation.”

  “I don’t belong here,” said Kelsey, releasing her. His tone was almost pleading.

  She squeezed her eyes closed, took a few deep breaths, and then slowly opened them again. She returned to the shelter of the barn, Kelsey following close behind.

  Emily turned to face him, her teeth were almost chattering now. “Why not? Where do you belong?”

  Kelsey was looking at her but she sensed his thoughts were elsewhere. With droplets of water falling from his chin, his facial features relaxed, as if a burden had suddenly been lifted. He picked up the blanket she had brought him and wrapped it around her shoulders. He then lowered himself on to a bale of hay.

  And then it came out slowly, calmly.

  “She was nine years old, almost ten.”

  She. Not a wife. It was a young girl. A daughter.

  Kelsey was staring past her now, his mind somewhere else. “Must have been tough on her being raised mostly by her dad. When she started the third grade, one of the boys in her class shoved her against a wall and told her that girls couldn’t punch as hard as boys. So she broke his nose. One right cross. Her grandpa would have been so proud. Probably would have called Lucy a real Marine. Anyway, her principal called me in. I said the right things, promised him she would be disciplined. Didn’t believe a word coming out of my own mouth. Truth was, I loved how she stood up for herself. She was so…strong. Stronger than I ever was.

  “She wanted to
play baseball too, knew that I had played in college. She played in the boys’ league at Pearl. Her coach didn’t like having a girl on the team but the rules said he had to play any kid who tried out. So he put her at third base, knowing how hard it was, hoping she would fail and quit. But he didn’t know Lucy. She played that base like she owned it. Nothing got by her. By the end of the season, she was their best hitter too, and she was mostly playing with ten and eleven-year-old boys. In the last game, the other team tried to pitch her inside, and they hit her in the face. She had a black eye for almost a month. But she was so proud of herself. Not for getting hit. Because they pitched her inside.”

  Emily had little idea what that meant, but thought she understood the point. “I like that. She sounds…dauntless.”

  A small smile. “Dauntless. She would’ve liked that word. She just had this incredible…enthusiasm. A brave spirit, our nanny called it. She loved life, woke up every morning before dawn, ready.”

  “Ready for what?”

  He hadn’t spoken of her in so long, but the words came easy.

  “Ready for anything. That was Lucy. She had that spark since she was a toddler, even when she got sick. My ship would keep me away for months at a time. Each time I came back, she always looked a little bit bigger, a little bit stronger. Very different sometimes, kids go through so many changes in those years. But always that spark. Always that smile.”

  His ship?

  She sat next to him and took his hand. “I bet you had that spark once.”

  He laughed, somewhat darkly. “Not hardly. And not her mother either. I don’t know where it came from. Maybe that’s what made her so special.”

  He paused a few more moments, smiling a bit as he relived more from the past.

  “She made me breakfast that morning. That was her thing. When we were in port, I had to be at the ship by 0700—seven in the morning. She always had breakfast waiting for me, pancakes usually, and she was a good little cook. Most of the time we sat in the dark; eating, talking, laughing. She always wore my garrison cap while we ate. That last morning, she had put her Girl Scout pin on it. I didn’t see it, and as I left the house, I looked back, and there she was in the doorway, with her hand over her mouth, trying to cover a laugh.”

  He was staring past her, his eyes watery, and Emily knew he was in a different place now. She knew she should not speak; he would not hear her anyway even though he was clutching her hand intensely. Finally she squeezed his hand back, and then he blinked several times, coming back to her. He looked at her apologetically as he released her hand, taking a deep breath.

  “It was a Monday morning, early, and I had my usual bridge watch on the Nevada. We had a place in the hills above Diamond Head, a nice little bungalow. Lucy was in the front yard that morning; the nanny was throwing her grounders before school. It was the first day of school. They made them wear dresses for that, and boy was she unhappy. A ball got by her, I was told, and she went into the street. The nanny said the driver never saw her. He was going too fast, some Army doc still working off his booze from the night before.”

  He took another deep breath. “Her body was crushed, her back broken. They got her to the hospital, but they said she had too many internal injuries. They couldn’t stop her bleeding inside. They gave her two hours. She hung on for ten. And there was nothing I could do. At one point she woke up, couldn’t stop crying. Told me how she hurt, how scared she was.

  “And there was nothing I could do,” he repeated, his voice a whisper now. “She died an hour later.”

  The only sound in the barn was the gentle tapping of the rain, lighter now, as it fell on the shingles high above, drops trickling through the rafters.

  Her voice was gentle and she wiped her own eyes. “I am so very, very sorry, Sergeant. I cannot even begin to imagine your pain and your grief. May I ask…Lucy’s mother…”

  “She wasn’t in the picture anymore.”

  “You were divorced?”

  He sighed. “It wasn’t a storybook marriage. Susanna got pregnant while we were in college. So we got married. But it wasn’t like that, we really were in love. We needed money though, and there was a Depression, so I quit school and joined the Navy. I got into OCS—Officer Candidate School—started deploying for months at a time. As for Susanna, well, I don’t think she ever pictured herself as a wife and a mom at twenty-two. She once wanted to open her own dress shop, but then Lucy became her full-time job. That changed things between us. Everything was different. She got lonely at home. I got lonely at sea. I turned to other women, she turned to a bottle. She left when Lucy got sick as a toddler, haven’t heard from her since.”

  “I don’t know what to say. Perhaps she—”

  “She was a drunk, Mrs. Garrity, and she walked out on our daughter.”

  “And you.”

  “I don’t hold that against her. I was a lousy husband.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Don’t. I was a lousy everything.”

  “I’m not one to judge, Sergeant.”

  She inhaled deeply, knowing how difficult her next words would be. But Kelsey had shown her a path. He was still mostly a stranger to her. Yet in this moment, she knew somehow that she could tell him. That she had to tell him. And trust him, as if the pain he had just shared had formed a bond between the two of them. She also sensed this was likely the last time she would ever see this man. That too, seemed to ease the way for her.

  “I don’t want to lose my husband.”

  He looked up at her quizzically. He had clearly not expected a statement like that. She could not meet his eyes and stared at her hands instead as she twisted them in her lap.

  “I have done something unforgivable. And I fear I will lose my husband over it.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “I’m not perfect.”

  “No one is. But from what I know of you, and what Royston has told me, I can’t imagine you’ve done anything so terrible.”

  “I think you know all too well the abhorrent things that have happened in this war.”

  “I do. I saw them. Hell, I did some of them.”

  “Richmond was starving, Sergeant. People were eating mice, dogs, soup made from grass.”

  “I heard.”

  “Babies can’t eat dog meat. They need milk, and my body wasn’t making enough of it. And do you know how much a quart of milk cost on the black market a year ago? Ten dollars. In greenbacks. Ten of them for a single quart.”

  “I thought your family was well-off? Royston told me—”

  “I had no family. My mother died of tuberculosis three years ago, and my father was killed in the fighting outside of Strasburg. I had extended family in the Carolinas then, but they were as penniless as I was. And they had General Sherman to contend with. You know about Sherman?”

  He nodded. “So where did you get the money?”

  “I tried to find work. I would have worked two jobs, or three, to get that milk and keep us in a safe place. Away from the shelling. But there wasn’t any legitimate employment out there, not with the city under siege.”

  “Where did you get the money?” he repeated, picking up on her emphasis on the word legitimate. But his voice wasn’t demanding or accusatory.

  He knows.

  She had to finish though. If she could not tell this man, how would she ever be able to talk to Cal about this?

  “There was someone in Richmond. A man who still had means. His wife was in Mississippi and he was alone here. He needed something, and I needed something.”

  She finally looked at him. Emily expected his eyes to be judgmental, but all she saw was compassion and sympathy. She felt relief, somehow knowing intuitively she could trust Kelsey.

  Kelsey must have sensed what she was weighing. “Are you going to tell him?”

  “I have to, don’t I?”

  His face was neutral.

  “I thought, until I heard your story, that I would never be able to tell him. But what you
have endured with losing Lucy, what happened to me seems so…trivial.”

  “It wasn’t trivial.”

  “You lost a daughter. Cal lost an arm. Ethan lost a brother.”

  “And you saved your son’s life. What is there to be ashamed of?”

  “You sound like Caldwell.”

  “Then Caldwell is right. All of us have had to do awful things to survive this hell. Things we could never have imagined in our worst nightmares.”

  “But what will Call think of me? What will Charlie think of me one day, if he were to learn of this?”

  “I can’t answer that. You know your husband far better than I do, and if you give it some thought, I think you’ll come up with the answer on your own. But I do know one thing for damn sure.”

  “Yes?”

  “I wish that my daughter had had a mother like you.”

  She smiled, and dabbed her tears again with the palms of her hands. “Thank you for that, Mr. Kelsey. Maybe those are the only words I needed to hear.”

  He rubbed his cheek. “Exactly how many men do you plan on slapping today?”

  Emily laughed. “Where will you go, Sergeant? After you have attended to your other…business, of course.”

  He shrugged.

  “You are, of course, welcome to stay here with us.”

  He looked at her, sensing something else in her words. “But you think I should go?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know. Back. Back wherever you came from.”

  “There is nothing for me there.”

  “I don’t know what you think is here for you either. Tell me, where is Lucy right now?”

  Kelsey looked confused. “Lucy? The Navy Department has a cemetery near—”

  “No, Sergeant. The little girl with that ‘brave spirit’ as you called it, who was full of love for her father. The one who sent you on your way every morning. Where do you think she is?”

  He thought for a moment. “I don’t know.”

  “Neither do I. But I believe she is somewhere, out there. And she is a part of you, just as you are a part of her. And wherever she might be, what do you imagine she would want her father to do right now?”