by Kelli Estes
Her weekly group therapy was helping, too. She regretted resisting going for so long.
Now that she’d finished Emily’s story, she saw for the first time how similar Anahita’s story was to Emily’s. Both needed to become a male in order to be seen as an equal. Both lived in the role splendidly. Heck, even Larkin herself had something in common with them. In order to be taken seriously in her role as a military police officer, she’d had to learn to express more of her stereotypically male qualities and suppress the female ones.
She hadn’t meant to ever share the story on her blog. She blamed being hungover and her nightmares for that. But now she was so grateful it had happened. The predominant reaction to the story was compassion. That fact both surprised Larkin and tore her defenses to shreds.
The road to healing still stretched before her, but she felt she finally had her feet on the right path. She was heading to a better place—one where she could function in her community and live a mostly normal life.
And she was never going to drink again. Grams had given her a stern talking-to after that morning at the police station, and her therapist had also made her realize she had a problem. She was on day nineteen of her sobriety and, although each day was a struggle, so far, they were all victories. She’d take them one at a time.
When her phone rang, she didn’t have to look at it to know it was Zach Faber calling her, as he’d done nearly every day.
His words stopped her breath. “I found Willie’s family.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Present day: Shiloh National Military Park, Tennessee
Larkin stood in the waist-high grass next to Zach and stared up at the huge stone memorial to the 9th Indiana Infantry. In the distance she could hear the booming of cannons and the cries of soldiers as reenactors commemorated the anniversary of the Battle of Shiloh at several locations within the park. She’d been nervous about coming to the Shiloh battlefield because her deep connection with Emily made her wonder if being here would be too much. It was where both Willie and Ben had been killed. Or, maybe, the sounds of the mock firefights would trigger a flashback.
So far, though, all she felt was an intense reverence.
“It’s strange to think the three of them stood right here on this field that day in 1862,” Zach said, turning away from the obelisk to gaze at the forest bordering the edge of the field. “Confederate soldiers were in those trees firing at them. People were dying all around them.”
Another cannon went off, and Larkin jumped. Nothing but pretend, she reminded herself.
She took a deep breath and imagined the scene when Emily had been here, on the second day of battle. Like an overlay over the peaceful wheat field and forest around her, her mind’s eye placed a line of Federal soldiers standing beside her and swarms of gray uniforms in the trees, light flashing from the ends of rifles as they fired, smoke obscuring everything. Emily must have been terrified and more than a little frantic, knowing the two people she loved most in the world were in the line of fire, too.
Larkin stared toward the trees. Until the 9th Indiana pushed the Confederates back, they were sitting ducks here, with little to give them cover.
But, Larkin knew, strength came in numbers, and the regiment had fought shoulder to shoulder, and they had prevailed. They did push the Confederates back that day, and by the end of it, the Federal Army had won.
But Emily herself had lost. Lost everything. Her brother, her best friend, her job, and eventually, her identity. Had it been worth it?
“It’s time, Larkin,” Zach told her, interrupting her thoughts. “We’d better head over there.”
Larkin nodded and fell into step beside him as they walked out of the wheat to the shorter grass and their car parked on the paved road a short distance away. The five-thousand-acre park was beautiful and lovingly preserved. Monuments had been respectfully erected at every notable location commemorating the regiments, officers, movements, and deaths from the two-day battle. As they drove, they passed a company of reenactors marching in file alongside the road.
They drove to the visitor center at the top of the bluff over Pittsburg Landing, where Emily and her regiment had landed that wet, terrifying night. The visitor center was a redbrick building with yellow wooden trim and four huge yellow columns out front. Larkin, her family, and Zach had gone through the exhibits and watched the film inside earlier, and now their destination was the large white tent on the grass beside the building with people streaming inside.
Standing near the entrance with nervous expressions was a middle-aged couple who could only be Nathan and Karen Ellery. They were holding hands and watching everyone who entered the tent as though they were looking for someone.
“Mr. and Mrs. Ellery?” Larkin asked as she and Zach approached. As smiles spread across their faces, she stuck out her hand. “I’m Larkin Bennett, and this is Zachary Faber. It’s so good to finally meet you in person.”
Over the last two months, she had spoken with them on the phone and through emails. Nathan, a direct descendant of Willie’s brother Terrence, told them that Willie’s family had never heard from her after she’d ran away from her arranged marriage. After three years and the war waging with no end in sight, they figured she was most likely dead. They’d followed their dreams west to Oregon where they became cattle ranchers.
“I can’t thank you enough,” Nathan told her as he clasped her hand between both of his own. “You’ve solved a family mystery, and more than that, you’ve made Wilhelmina into a hero.”
Willie’s true name had been Wilhelmina Ellery. Larkin was delighted to learn the name meant “strong-willed warrior,” which she figured was exactly what Willie had been. As they continued making small talk, Larkin studied the tall, thin man with sandy-brown hair and wondered if Willie had looked like him. “She fought for her country, Mr. Ellery. She was a hero.”
With a satisfied smile, he nodded. “If either of you are ever in Portland, I hope you’ll stay with us. I’m also supposed to let you know that you have a standing invitation to visit my cousin who still works Terrence Ellery’s cattle ranch in eastern Oregon.”
“I’d like that very much.” The uniformed park superintendent was waving at her. Larkin motioned toward him. “It looks like Mr. Northcott wants to get the program started.”
As she entered the tent, Larkin felt engulfed by gratitude. In the rows of white folding chairs sat Grams, Larkin’s parents, Kaia and Jenna, Zach’s cousins, numerous people from the local community, and several veterans of all ages, many of them in uniform.
They were here to present the Shiloh Battlefield Visitor Center with Emily’s diary, along with Willie’s ring and handkerchief. A new exhibit would open in the summer, centered on these items, and would present the stories of several women who had fought in the war and finally honor them as they deserved. Larkin was bursting with pride.
At the microphone, she told the audience about the diary and about Emily and Willie, and then she stepped aside so Zach could talk about Sarah, who was so inspired by these two Civil War women that she’d become a warrior herself and given her life for her country.
As Larkin stood beside Zach and listened to him speak, she noticed a movement in the back of the room. When she looked that direction, she saw a young blond soldier standing there wearing the blue uniform of the Civil War Union Army. Slung across his body were a knapsack and canteen and, on his shoulder, a musket with bayonet attached.
But then the soldier looked directly into Larkin’s eyes, and a jolt of recognition shot through her. Before she could place him, though, he reached up, tipped his kepi hat to her, and walked back out of the tent, a graceful smoothness to each step. The reenactor was, fittingly, a woman.
Later, at the catered reception Larkin’s parents had surprised her by insisting on providing, Larkin found herself surrounded by people, most of them strangers, and it wasn’t sending her i
nto a panic. She was open and talking, telling them her experiences, about Sarah’s experiences, and even about Anahita, and she was holding herself together. Until this moment, in fact, she hadn’t even thought about potential threats or felt her body freaking out. She was simply enjoying herself, and the freedom of that felt delicious.
She made her way to the edge of the festivities, where she took a moment to watch the last of the sun shine through the trees and set the stone monuments scattered around the meadow aglow in the spring evening. Tears stung her throat as she thought over the last months.
“You would’ve loved today, Sarah,” she whispered out loud like she used to do when she’d talk to her friend’s urn. “It’s so peaceful here.”
A hand touched her back, and she turned to find Zach there, his eyes warm. “There you are. I was looking for you.”
“I was talking to Sarah.”
His face took on the sad yet joyful expression she’d seen often when they talked about his sister. “Did you know Sarah used to wrap a cloth around her chest and dress up in my clothes so she could be like Emily Wilson?”
Larkin laughed and felt the knot of sadness in her chest loosen a little more. “No, she never told me that.”
“Yeah, and she’d drag me through the neighborhood, ducking behind bushes and garbage cans as we snuck up on enemy camps. She cut an old broomstick in half to be our muskets.”
Larkin laughed and thought about how she’d forced Kaia and Jenna into similar pretend play. “I always knew Sarah was my soul sister.”
Though he dropped his hand, Zach remained so close she could feel the warmth of his body. “Today was pretty great, wasn’t it?”
She smiled. “Yeah, we did good. I really like the Ellerys, don’t you?” They talked for a while about the reception and all the people who were there. Then, remembering something she’d been meaning to ask him, Larkin said, “I can’t believe this hasn’t already come up, but did Emily ever have more children, besides the three orphans?”
He shook his head. “No, she never did.”
Larkin thought about this. “So, since your family is in California, where her daughter moved, which prompted her own move there, does that mean you and Sarah are descended from the little girl, Nellie?”
Zach smiled incredulously. “I thought you knew. No, we’re descended from Gabriel.”
“You’re part black?” she blurted without thinking.
Zach was still laughing. “Yes, very much so.”
Larkin smiled. “Gabriel was my favorite,” she admitted. “I love how he protected the other kids.”
“Yeah, my grandmother said he grew up and became a cattle rancher. Married another former slave and raised six kids.”
“A cattle rancher, like Willie’s brother.” Larkin knew this must have made Emily very happy.
“It was Sarah’s backup plan if the Army didn’t work out.”
Larkin had to look at him closely to see if he was joking and, upon seeing that he wasn’t, shook her head and laughed. Sarah had been vegetarian. Raising cattle would have been a stretch.
A burst of laughter from the tent reminded Larkin they should be getting back. She had one more question first. “Do you know anything more about Emily’s life, other than what was written by her granddaughter at the end of the diary? Did she keep having nightmares about the war?”
Zach understood what she was asking. “I don’t think it’s something people back then really talked about, so we can’t say for sure. Grandma said that she believed Emily was happy with her husband and family. She died sitting in a rocking chair on her front porch at the age of eighty-six. That sounds like a peaceful way to go, if you ask me.”
Larkin closed her eyes to imagine the scene and felt a longing stir in her chest. That would be a peaceful way to go, indeed. She imagined herself on a front porch someday, hopefully a long time from now, rocking while she listened to the birds sing and watched the flowers sway in the breeze. From the yard beyond, she could hear the laughter of her grandchildren playing, and she felt a deep certainty that she’d had a good life.
She opened her eyes and was surprised to realize her cheeks were wet with tears. Something had shifted inside her. She’d used to believe happiness could only be found in a military career. Now she hoped it might be found on her own front porch.
“Thanks for helping me with all this, Zach,” she said, wishing he lived closer to her.
He was looking down at her, and in his expression was a spark of something that started her heart racing. “It’s me who should be thanking you.”
Larkin found that she couldn’t speak. As she looked at him, Zach placed a warm palm on her cheek, and his eyes dropped to her lips. “I want to see you again, Larkin. Now that this is all over, I want to see what this thing is I feel between us.”
Larkin’s breath hitched. All she could do was nod. As Zach’s lips lowered toward her own, she closed her eyes and gave in to the sensation of his kiss. Heat. Hunger. And, strangely, home. With him, even across the country here in Tennessee, with him she was home.
When the kiss ended, Larkin squeezed his hand and said, “Give me a minute, okay? I’ll meet you back inside.”
He gave her another kiss and then said, “I look forward to doing more of that later.” He turned and disappeared inside the tent.
Though she’d been intending to have one last quiet moment to herself, a movement in the corner of her eye caught Larkin’s attention, and she turned just in time to see the female Civil War reenactor from earlier disappear around the side of the tent. Making a quick decision, Larkin followed.
As she rounded the tent to the south side, she saw that night was falling fast. The park was full of shadows. Across the field she could see the cannons pointing toward the woods of Dill Branch. Somewhere along there, Emily had spent the night before battle lying in the mud and listening to the sounds of the dying between the shrieks and booms of the gunboats on the river. Larkin shook her head, knowing how terrifying that must have been.
She looked for the reenactor but couldn’t find her anywhere. As she was about to give up and go back inside, she spotted her walking toward Dill Branch.
Larkin started to go after her. She wanted to talk to her, learn who she was and what she knew about the battle that took place here.
But then Larkin saw something that stopped her in her tracks. Standing in the woods, just inside the tree line, were two other figures. Both wore the blue uniforms of the Union Army, and both carried haversacks and canteens like the woman did.
As Larkin watched, they turned toward the woods, linked their arms together with the woman, and started walking. Before they’d gone two steps, though, they disappeared.
Larkin blinked. Surely, she hadn’t just seen that. The three had not disappeared behind the trees or into the shadows. They’d simply disappeared. There one moment, gone the next.
Before she could decide what to do, banjo music echoed across the field from the woods. The sound of men laughing drifted after it.
“You hear it too, do you?”
Larkin jumped when she heard the voice, but then laughed when she saw it was Mr. Northcott, the park superintendent to whom she’d presented the diary earlier.
He nodded toward Dill Branch. “Locals around these parts hear them all the time. Ghosts of the men playing poker in camp and singing songs. Some have even seen them.”
Larkin looked to where the three soldiers she’d seen had disappeared. “Yes, I can believe that.”
Northcott wished her a good night and went on his way. Larkin wandered over to the woods, hoping the woman she’d seen had been who she now believed her to be.
“Emily Wilson,” she said aloud, feeling silly. “Are you here?”
There was no reply, though Larkin did not expect one. “Willie? Ben?” she asked this time.
Still no reply.<
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Larkin pressed her lips together and swallowed the lump she’d been carrying in her throat all day. As it finally released, she felt a sense of peace flow over her. “Thank you,” she whispered to the woods. “Thank you so much.” And then she turned and walked away.
As she went, the sound of warm laughter came from the woods again, this time with two distinctly female voices blended in.
Larkin smiled and kept walking. She had her own party to return to, her own life to get started.
No matter what the future held in store for her, she was no longer afraid of it. If Emily could experience what she’d lived through and still end up happy, Larkin could do the same.
Hope tasted so sweet.
A Note from the Author
I do not have a military background, nor am I an expert on the Civil War, so I must beg your forgiveness for any mistakes I have made in the telling of this story. The story found me when I first stumbled across mention—in an online search for “strong women in history”—of women who fought in the Civil War. Results came up for a number of women including Sarah Emma Edmonds (a.k.a. Private Franklin Thompson), who appears in this story, and Jennie Hodgers (a.k.a. Private Albert D.J. Cashier), who does not, although her story is fascinating and I urge you to look her up. I learned for the first time that women did not only tend home fires during the Civil War as I was taught in school, but several hundred of them fought in battle right alongside the men so successfully that many of them never were discovered.
The more I learned about these women and how history twisted their contributions into something frivolous or shameful, the angrier I became and the more I knew I had to write about them. And so, Emily Wilson, a.k.a. Jesse Wilson, was born.
Knowing that the best person to process Emily’s military story would be a present-day female military member, I launched into research on women in the military today. Again, I was surprised and angered by the realization that women are still battling sexist beliefs and practices that dismiss their contributions as unimportant, ancillary, or even shameful. I was even more horrified to realize that I had grown up believing that women in the military did not perform the same duties as the men, that they were protected from serious harm and more in support roles.