Words Heard In Silence / Xena Uber

by T. Novan

  --*--

  Immediately after lunch, Charlie adjourned to his new office. The staff officers gathered for their daily meeting, some grousing and some being amused that the Colonel did not join them in the mess, opting for joining the lovely lady instead of his scruffy officers. Overall, Charlie’s choice of luncheon companion did him no harm in the men’s eyes. If anything, they were proud of their Colonel, who had suddenly manifested as a lady’s man. It had certainly squelched the rumors that the Colonel preferred the personal company of men.

  Charlie could not help but smile as he heard the quiet whispers between the men as they filed in for the meeting. He hid the smirk with a twitch of his lips.

  "Well, Gentlemen. Welcome to my new office. Shall we begin? Company A, report."

  The meeting went on as expected. The issues of wintering in, regimental morale and immediate needs were all discussed at length. Finally, Charlie announced that the regiment would hold a gymkhana, a traditional series of competitive events that demonstrated various aspects of horsemanship. Appropriate awards would be made to all of the winners. Charlie’s staff agreed that this would help to meld the troops together into a cohesive team, a critical factor for his patched together regiment.

  As he escorted the staff to the door and sent them on their way to attend to afternoon duties, Charlie looked around at the office, piled with boxes of papers, many of which he needed to read and file. It was a long, boring afternoon that stretched into evening and a hastily eaten supper on a tray at his desk.

  --*--

  Rebecca was upstairs in her sitting room, reading, when Charlie finally finished and came to find her. "All finished with your paperwork?"

  "For today," Charlie sighed, taking a seat on the settee to remove his boots. "I learned very quickly when I became an officer that there is never an end to the paperwork. That is one thing I shall not miss about the army." He turned and looked at her. "Actually, I do not think I will miss anything about the army."

  "I am sure all your training will come in very handy in getting our farm up and running again."

  "I am sure it will. Between knowing how to keep the books and manage insufficient supplies and figuring out how to keep a herd of horses going regardless, I think I might be very good at this."

  "I think," Rebecca laid her book aside, "you will be very good at this. I do believe that we will have the finest program in all of Virginia."

  "I hope so, dear lady. I would love to give you all of the comforts that you deserve."

  "Charlie, having you here with me is the only comfort I desire."

  "Beloved, I will do my very best to be here for you. You know that I have responsibilities to see to until the war ends, but I promise, I will come back to you. I will take very, very good care of myself."

  For a moment Rebecca’s heart stopped beating, her breath caught in her throat as the thought that Charlie might not come home ran through her mind. She reached over and placed her hands on Charlie’s shoulders. "You must come back to me, Charlie. If you do not……I……I shall not be able to go on. Promise me you will be careful and not take unnecessary risks."

  "Having you to come back to is the best incentive I could possibly have for being very, very careful. They will not call me Lucky Charlie any more, they will call me the cowardly Charlie." He laughed gently and pulled her into his arms, "My dear, I will do everything in my power to come back to you. I want to have time to explore our relationship, and to discover all that is possible for us."

  She sighed, nodding at his reassurances. "I know you will." She opened her eyes and looked at him. "But we have a while before you will have to leave. So there is no need to worry about it now."

  "Do I have you to come back to? I hope so with all my heart." Charlie released his hold on her, and slid from her side on the settee. Holding her hand in his, he knelt at her feet.

  "You know you do, Charlie. Please do not doubt that."

  He looked up at her. She was struck by the look of fearful hope in his eyes. "You know that I love you with all my heart."

  "And I you, my dear Colonel."

  He swallowed, hard. Clearly, whatever he was trying to say was not easy.

  "Charlie?" She was worried about his color, suddenly he looked very pale.

  The voice spoke up. Charlie, you fool. Why are you even...

  Shut up! She loves me. I have to believe she loves me.

  "Rebecca. Mrs. Gaines. Dear lady. I do not have a lot to offer." God, help me. This is so much more difficult than facing a charging line of pike men.

  "What is wrong, Charlie? Please tell me."

  He looked down at her hand, so small and delicate in his own. Damn. I do not even have a ring. "Rebecca." He drew a deep breath. "When I return after this war is over, would you... would you consider doing me the honor..." His throat closed for a moment.

  Rebecca looked at him expectantly. She did not want to assume what he was going to say but that giddy feeling in the pit of her stomach was back. "Yes?"

  "Would you consider doing me the honor of being my wife? I know that someday a real man may come along that will meet your needs, but until then, please. I would do whatever you want, be whatever you ask of me, whether that be friend or lover. Please?" There. It was out. The scariest thing he had ever done was over. And the nasty little voice had stayed quiet. Now all he had to do was wait.

  She smiled, cupping his face in her hands; she leaned forward, placing a kiss to his lips. "Yes. Yes, Charlie, I would be honored to marry you, but on one condition."

  He looked at her, waiting to learn her condition. She had seen that expression on his face once before - the look of a child who did not know if they were going to be hit or hugged. Yet, for all of that, there was hope in his face.

  "That you never speak of stepping down again. I love you, Charlie. I want you. There will be no other."

  A look of wonder dawned on his face as her words slowly seeped into his brain. He caught both of her hands, pressed them together and covered them with light kisses. "Thank you. I love you so, my dear, dear Rebecca." He turned the palms of her hands up, and placed reverent kisses in each one. "I love you."

  He pulled the small garnet ring from his little finger, the only thing he had of his mother and gently placed it on her finger. "I am sorry, but I have not had time to go to a jewelers to get you a ring. This was my mother's; would you wear it until I can get something more appropriate?"

  Her hand covered her mouth as she gasped. "Oh, Charlie, I love you, so very much, but I cannot take a ring that belonged to your mother."

  "Why not? When we marry, everything that is mine will be yours. And you already own my heart and soul."

  "Charlie, that ring belonged to your mother. You should keep it close to your heart."

  Charlie smiled at that. "Rebecca, if it is on your finger, it will be closer to my heart than it could ever be on my hand."

  Rebecca was beyond words. Very gently, he leaned forward and gathered her into his arms. They stayed like that for long moments, his kneeling form embracing her gently. Finally, the awkwardness of the position forced them to shift. But the tenderness remained. It was a night of tender caresses and softly whispered words of love.

  --*--

  Monday, November 28, 1864

  Charlie rose early, as was his habit. The illness that had plagued him had also kept him from his regular routine of exercise, something that was critical to maintaining his public deception. The work uniform that he habitually wore for running in was clean, much to his relief. He disliked taking any chances.

  He ran the longer version of his circuit, behind the stables, around the small pond, up Gaines Run, back down the other side of the pond and back across the stream. It was roughly ten miles, across sometimes rough country. It felt spectacular, with the cool air keeping him from overheating too badly, but not so cold as to be uncomfortable. He missed the morning officer’s mess, because of the duration of his run. As he approached his office thinking that perhap
s Beulah could bring him something from Sarah’s now fully functional kitchen, he was quite startled to notice the Reverend William’s carriage approaching not the main entrance to the house, but the side entrance to his office.

  He stood, waiting for the carriage to stop, flushed, sweaty, hair disordered by the wind, wearing the tight britches and short tunic that were his regular clothes for running. He forgot that the britches showed every detail of his anatomy, including the padding he used to sustain his masculine image. To the two women in the carriage, he was indeed the image of a stalwart man in that moment.

  Mrs. Williams sniffed. "He just stands and waits, in all of his dirt."

  Grace Cooper was much more realistic, "What would you expect him to do, see us coming and run to get a bath and clean clothes?" To herself she thought, my, my Rebecca, I do see what you mean. He is absolutely delicious looking.

  Charlie stepped to the side of the carriage, and offered a hand to the ladies. "Good morning, ladies. If you care to come into the office, I will send for some tea. To what do we owe this early morning visit?"

  Mrs. Williams ignored Charlie’s hand and his offer. "Colonel, we will not stay. I just wanted to let you know that we are starting to get an influx of refugees from your war. What are you going to do about it? We have no resources to take care of these…… these waifs."

  "Refugees? How many, ma’am?"

  Mrs. Cooper cut in, fully aware of how little information Mrs. Williams could convey when she was on one of her righteous streaks. "Colonel Redmond, in the past twenty-four hours, we have seen seven groups of refugees, mostly women and children, come to the steps of the church looking for sustenance and shelter. We have given them soup and a roof in the form of the church, but with winter coming on, we cannot care for these people. Since you so generously offered to help, we hoped you would be able to do something."

  "Of course, Mrs. Cooper, Mrs. Williams. We will do whatever we can. Can you tell me if there are any buildings available that could be turned into refugee quarters?"

  Mrs. Williams sniffed. "I do not know about such things. You would have to ask my husband or the other gentlemen in town. And furthermore, these people are your responsibility, not ours."

  Charlie looked down for a moment. Something about this woman just plain irritated him. "Well, then, ma’am. We will find a way to take care of them. I will have my quartermaster attend to it as soon as possible."

  "See to it, Colonel. See to it." Without further comment, Mrs. Williams urged the horses on, leaving Charlie standing at the side of the road. He shook his head and walked into his office.

  Refugees meant more people, more people meant more cots, more blankets, more shoes –– damned shoes, more medicine, more food, more clothing, more space, more firewood, more of everything. He was having enough problems with getting supplies for his own men. But he had promised.

  A long letter went out that morning to General Sheridan, explaining the situation. Food he could do at least some things about, such as organizing hunting expeditions into the great forest on the lower slopes of the Blue Ridge. But the rest of the things he would need to care for these people would have to come from supply. Charlie had the mess deliver lunch to his office, and the meeting with his officers was long and querulous that day, as they wrestled with the problems that this would present to their already stretched resources.

  By the time late afternoon arrived, Charlie was tired of the demands of command. A quick trip over to the infirmary confirmed that Montgomery was not yet conscious, but was slowly showing signs of returning to the world of the living. Charlie and Elizabeth spoke briefly, both concerned that at the rate of recover, Monty would suffer one of the common ailments of hospitalized people, pneumonia or pleurisy and succumb to that before his head had time to heal sufficiently for him to return to consciousness.

  Feeling somewhat overwhelmed, and still dressed in the uniform he had worn to run in so many hours before, Charlie decided to quit early. Anyway, there was nothing more he could do until he heard back from Sheridan.

  --*--

  Charlie entered the parlor where Rebecca and Lizbet were going through the chests Rebecca had recently gotten out of storage.

  The maid lifted the wedding gown from the chest. "Oh Miss Rebecca, it is beautiful. What should I do with it?"

  Rebecca considered the gown. "Just launder it and pack it away. I have no need for it."

  "But……"

  "Please Lizbet, trust me with this." She smiled and patted the young woman’s arm, before looking up and seeing Charlie in the door. "Colonel, you are finished early today. That is good, I hope." She gave Lizbet a pat on her shoulder to send her on her way.

  "The mountain of paperwork was pretty tough today. I think I have a headache just from reading all of the excuses from the Quartermaster General's office." Charlie flopped into a chair in front of the fireplace. "I also had some visitors from town today. There are some serious problems starting to arise because they are getting a constant stream of refugees from some of the areas that are now under siege. We will have to do something about it."

  Rebecca slid up behind him and began a firm massage of tight and tired muscles. "Then maybe an early supper then off to bed for a good nights rest? We can worry about other things tomorrow."

  He really had not paid much attention to Rebecca's interaction with her maid when he came in, but something was not quite right here. Something in her voice signaled some strain or concern. "Rebecca, dear, what is bothering you?"

  "Oh, it is nothing Charlie. Just trying to vanquish some old demons." She took a deep breath and continued to rub his shoulders. "Would you like some tea? I will have Beulah make some fresh for you?"

  "I think that tea and some quiet talk would be good for both of us, dear. Old demons are something you and I can dispel together."

  "Then take off your boots and get comfortable while I see to it." She gave him a kiss on the cheek before leaving the room.

  Charlie pulled his boots off and slipped on the pair of carpet slippers that Rebecca had found for him. He thought carefully on what he had seen as he came in, and remembered the dress. It had been white, with a good bit of lace. Oh God, it was her wedding dress. I hope she is not regretting her relationship with me, and missing her husband. Charlie was feeling more than a little nervous, waiting for her return.

  Within a few minutes they were seated side by side sipping warm tea and resting, watching the flames in the fireplace. Rebecca glanced to Charlie. "Better? How is your headache?"

  "Yes, love. Just being with you is enough to ease my stress."

  "I am glad." She reached over and intertwined her fingers with his. "How is winter camp coming? Is everything coming together for the men?"

  "You know it is. You want to tell me what has you upset and what you are avoiding, love?"

  "I fear you are getting to know me too well. I assure you it is nothing. Simply old memories, but now is not the time to look back. Now is the time to look forward. We have much to plan for when you come home to stay."

  "Rebecca, darling, we both have many ghosts in our past. We will have to face many challenges in the future, as well. I think it would serve both of us to find those things that lurk in our memories and expunge them - both for ourselves and for our future." The gentleness of his voice softened the bluntness of his words.

  She looked down at her teacup. "It is my husband." She looked to her lover. "I swear to you it is not important anymore, Charlie. I do not know why I let it bother me so."

  "Love, if it bothers you, it is important. Tell me. Let us lay that ghost to rest together, dear." As long as that ghost is around, eventually he will come between us. And I swear, if I can do anything to dispel that, I will.

  Yes, certainly, you will, Charlie - the knight on the white horse, displacing the real man with the false one.

  "He hurt me, Charlie." She blurted it out before she had a moment to think about it. Now her biggest fear was that Charlie would view her as damag
ed goods and want to be as far away from her as possible. She prepared to let him walk out of her life.

  Hurt her? He hurt her? His first reaction was anger. Immediately, he realized that she did not need his anger; she needed his understanding and love. Instead of lashing out, he gathered her in his arms. "I am so sorry, love. I do not know how he hurt you, or even why, but I do know that you could never do anything to deserve to be hurt."

  She fought tears that threatened to overwhelm her from Charlie’s tenderness. "Thank you," she whispered.

  Charlie braced himself, knowing perfectly well that when anyone had faced a painful and violent situation, talking about it was important. Time and again, he had sat and coaxed stories of pain, and fear and bewilderment out of his men. He could do no less for this gentle woman. "Can you tell me about it, love?"

  "I do not know what to tell you, Charlie. It was an arranged marriage; we certainly did not love each other. He was several years older than I was; he made it quite clear from the very beginning that my place in this house was at his pleasure and his leisure. I tried to be a good wife, Charlie, I really did, but very little seemed to please him."

  Charlie was very careful. The tone of her voice told him there was much more under these simple statements. "I am so sorry, it sounds like a very lonely and sterile existence. Perhaps if you continue, you will feel better."

  She seemed to be thinking back and slowly detaching herself from the present, to pull up those old memories. "He used to decide everything for me, including what I was allowed to eat and wear. One time I spilled something on my day dress and I changed my clothes. When he came in he was furious," She paused, trying to sniff back the tears. "He grabbed me by the arm and took me to the wash room. He ripped the clean dress off me and made me put the other back on……" She stopped, her face twitching and lips quivering with the memory.

  The image that came to Charlie's mind was clear. The deceased and not lamented Mr. Gaines clearly tried to control her, and may have enjoyed humiliating her. Charlie was very familiar with such harsh treatment. In fact, Gaines was sounding painfully like his own father after his mother's death. Gently he stroked Rebecca's back. "Its all right, my dear. You are safe now; just let it go. Give the memories to me and together we will put them in the past."