Love is a Wounded Soldier Page 7

  “Shouldn’t he have told you to treat me like a lady?” she rebutted. We burst out laughing.

  “I guess if I’m to treat you like a gentleman, you should scoot on over up against the other door,” I suggested, bumping her laughingly. She had snuggled up right beside me as soon as we got out of view of her front porch.

  “Oh, I’m sure you sometimes give your gentlemen pals a good ol’ smack on the knee like this,” she said, grabbing my free hand and slapping it down on her knee. She brazenly guided my hand above her knee, where the mischievous breeze had been given free rein to work her hemline halfway up her thigh. She laughed unblushingly, the wind catching her mirth and doubtlessly carrying it over the nearest hill to deposit it as velvety flower petals in some wild meadow. My mouth joined her in laughter, but my mind was sidetracked by the smooth softness of her skin, and I was fascinated that her upper leg was tanned to almost the same extent as her face and arms. I wondered when and where she sunbathed, and admittedly, got a little carried away in pondering the exact extent of her enhanced pigmentation. I jerked my wandering mind back on track in unison with the straying car.

  She wanted a kiss now, and since the words of her father had been replaced with the whistling of the wind, I eagerly obliged, trying to keep at least one eye on the road, and mind and machine between the ditches.

  ~~~

  Each day that passed only solidified the certainty in our minds that we wanted to be with each other forever. And the more we talked about living “forever and ever” together, the less content we were to be apart.

  So, we talked to Ellen’s pa about getting married in the fall after the harvest was over, but he was of the persuasion we’d be much more ready for that sort of thing the following spring, and despite Ellen’s pleas, he remained resolute.

  Our impatience only intensified as rumors of conscription circulated, and we both knew I was a prime candidate to be drafted. Europe had been wracked by conflict since 1939, and Britain’s tired war machine struggled as it carried the lion’s share of the task of defeating Nazi Germany. Japan was flexing its military might in the Pacific, and so the United States engaging in World War II appeared to be more and more likely with every passing day. As we heard the news from overseas, U.S. participation seemed to be an inevitability, and we became more and more anxious to get married.

  Our restlessness only grew, and in the dead of summer, when there was little to do but watch crops grow and pray for rain, we decided to make one last appeal to Mr. Moore to give his blessing and let us get on with the life together we both desired so badly.

  ~~~

  A cool, steady rain had refreshed the countryside the past two days on the Thursday morning Ellen and I picked to make one final supplication to her father.

  Having decided it might be best to discuss it in the sanctuary of his office, I picked her up in the middle of the morning and we apprehensively drove to the church, prepared to do battle. Ellen rode placidly beside me, mostly holding her peace, her jaw set stubbornly, as if girding her will up for the impending confrontation.

  We parked the car outside the church and hurried in, even though the rain was now spotty. The preacher looked over his reading glasses at us as we walked into his office. He pushed himself away from his desk and wordlessly motioned at a pair of empty chairs.

  “Good morning,” he said, taking his glasses off and rubbing his eyes as he stretched back in his chair.

  “Morning,” we both responded, taking our seats. We sat silently for a moment, no one quite sure who should speak first.

  “I presume you two aren’t here for spiritual counsel,” he commented dryly.

  “Daddy, please let us get married,” Ellen began. “Everyone’s talking about the draft, and we just can’t stand the thought of Robbie being sent off and us still not being together.” She beseeched him with her eyes.

  “Ellie,” he said firmly, “I’m not changing my mind on this. I think you two will be a lot better off if you wait until spring. You don’t know each other that well yet. You need to give yourselves time to really find out not only who the other person is, but who you are yourselves. Marriage is forever. You don’t want to be rushing into forever.”

  Seeing his resolve, Ellen changed tactics.

  “But Daddy,” she said innocently, “you wouldn’t want us to fall into sin, would you? The Bible says it’s better to marry than to burn, and next spring is such a long time to wait, isn’t it, Robbie?”

  I nodded cautiously, squirming awkwardly as I tried not to look like a carnal heathen who was burning with lust for his daughter. I knew her statement was a risk; if he was a man anything like me, her last argument would cement his decision against us. He would feel he was being manipulated to change a principled decision to one based on emotion, and would resent that.

  He was like me. His eyebrows raised a little, and while his voice kept an even tone, the rigidity in his face showed an inward struggle with anger.

  “Ellen,” he said, leaning forward now, hands folded on his desk, “you are a grown woman now, and Robert is a man. A good man, too. You are at liberty to decide as you wish, but know that I will not wed you personally, allow you to marry in this church, or give my blessing for you to marry before next spring. Jacob worked 14 years for his bride, and I don’t recall him complaining that he was “burning.” Do you?” He could wield the Sword of the Spirit as deftly as anyone, and it appeared even if he was bested, his position was fixed and steadfast.

  “Alright Daddy,” Ellen said, her words suggesting capitulation, but her face was devoid of surrender. She stood up and gathered herself together.

  “Come here,” he said, looking softer now as he reached across the table as if he wanted to make peace. She leaned forward stiffly, gave him a hug, and kissed him coldly on the forehead. I nodded at him as we left, realizing I only said one blessed word the entire time.

  She held her chin high as she marched back to the car. Angry tears pounded at the windows of her eyes.

  I maneuvered the car off the lot and slowly drove through the slop the road had become, resigned to waiting until spring to be married. The clouds had broken and a warm breeze had begun drying the thin tops of the car ruts into lighter-colored crusts.

  “Where’s the nearest Justice of the Peace?” Ellen was the first to break the silence.

  “Umm . . . Gatlinburg, I guess,” I said, while my mind furiously assessed the implications of her question.

  “Well, I think we should see if they have any weddings for sale in Gatlinburg this afternoon,” she said, glancing at me to gauge my reaction.

  “So you want to elope. Today.” I slowly thought out loud.

  “No, I don’t want to elope,” Ellen said loudly, “but if I’m going to marry you before they ship you off to the other side of the world, we’re going to have to elope.”

  “Honey, we don’t know if the draft is for sure, and you know your family is going to be plenty upset,” I told her, noticing I was talking as though my mind was already made up.

  “Yeah, but you’re worth it, baby,” she replied. The odd mixture of defiance and softness in her voice made me want to kiss her.

  “I want you now!” she pouted a little, and any misgivings I still had about eloping that afternoon were neatly folded up and put away.

  The wind had driven the clouds into a wall on the eastern horizon, and the sun was smiling down on us like a grandmother beaming at her grandchildren. Then, as though the sun’s warmth and blitheness was penetrating me through, I felt inexplicably optimistic, and got a feeling of pure excitement that I was so unaccustomed to, it took me a minute to identify it.

  “Let’s go buy a marriage!” I shouted, excitedly accelerating the car as I did so. Ellen clutched my arm, laughing, as we fishtailed gently on the still somewhat greasy road.

  “Well, I’m going to have stop at home and pick up my made-to-order wedding dress,” she said facetiously.

  “Indeed m’lady,” I affected a stuffy Bri
tish accent, “and I must be seeing if my haberdasher has finished the alterations on my tails and trousers.”

  “Tails and trousers!” she scoffed. “I had expected a dashing knight like you would be attired in a suit of shining armor!”

  “Tsk,” I lamented, “I had wanted it to be a surprise!” Just as I was beginning to adjust to silliness and jesting, she became serious again.

  “So, unless Ma has already left for her ladies’ aid meeting, I’m going to have to talk to her without starting a brawl.”

  “Well, try not to make a fight out of it,” I advised.

  “I don’t care if I have to fight, if they don’t want to support us, to heck with them,” she concluded flippantly. I held my tongue. She was so headstrong. I finally spoke up.

  “You don’t want to burn your bridges, sweetheart,” I chided gently.

  “You don’t need bridges once you’ve crossed over into the Promised Land,” she whispered as her lips brushed my ear and her hand squeezed my thigh and worked its way up.

  The peak of her house was visible through the trees now, and I was becoming a touch anxious about Ellen breaking the news to her mother.

  “You nervous about this?” I asked.

  “A little,” she replied, “but mostly, I’ve made up my mind, and if they don’t want what’s best for me, then I think I don’t need them.” Strangely enough, I wanted to stick up for her parents, but kept quiet. I didn’t think they were being malicious. I didn’t doubt for a minute they wanted what was best for both of us, but sometimes I got the feeling that older couples had been through so many problems in their married lives, they seemed to want their children to get all the kinks worked out before they’re married.

  “Do you want me to come in?” I asked as we pulled up to the front of her house.

  “No, I’ll deal with it myself,” she replied, pushing the door open on her side and getting out.

  “Wish me luck,” she said, blowing me a kiss through the open window. I turned off the engine as she walked up the steps, and watched as the screen door slammed behind her. I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel and shot frequent glances through the screen door and into the windows of the house, trying to catch a glimpse of what might be going on and listening for yelling, but it was silent.

  Not more than two minutes after she’d entered, Ellen reappeared with a large suitcase and one smaller one. Her mother followed her out onto the porch. I didn’t want to look her in the eye, but I acknowledged her with a nod and resumed staring down at the floorboards. Out of the corner of my eye I could see she stood with her right arm across her chest, hand tucked under her left arm. Her left thumb was pushed up under her chin, the backs of her fingers covering her chin and quivering mouth.

  “You kids take care,” she called out in a shaky voice. “I love you.”

  “I love you too, Ma,” Ellen replied before she climbed in the car, but her voice lacked the same conviction her ma’s had.

  I started the car and pulled away. In my mirror I could see her watch us leave. She looked so sad, standing on the porch, wiping her eyes with her apron. My conscience twinged slightly.

  “My, you’d think she was sending us off to be buried,” Ellen observed.

  “Well, I guess in a way she is losing a daughter,” I replied. Ellen was quiet as I turned down the road toward my place.

  “How’d she take it,” I asked after a bit.

  “Oh, she was upset, but calm. It’s Daddy that’s going to have a conniption,” she predicted.

  Once we reached my place, Ellen helped me set everything up to allow all the livestock to be self-sufficient for a few days. Then we went in to get my things.

  As we were packing, I noticed Ellen looking around the place, as though mentally rearranging and renovating. I thought about how much more I’d wanted to accomplish to make the place woman-friendly, and consoled myself with the thought that she’d probably like to have input into any changes that went into the house, anyway. My ma had always had to be content with a fairly plain house, but still went to some lengths to personalize it, and I knew Ellen would want to do the same.

  “Sure didn’t take you this long to gather your things,” I remarked, noting how long it was taking to get my meager wardrobe packed.

  “I had my bags packed before you picked me up this morning,” she smiled slyly. I stopped what I was doing and looked at her questioningly.

  “So I guess you were planning on getting married come hell or high water,” I commented, thinking about the future ramifications of her stubbornness.

  “Yeah, I guess I was,” she affirmed. Doubt and distrust infected my mind.

  “So, is that how you’re going to be with me, make up your mind and just do whatever it takes to get what you want?” I challenged, plopping myself down on the bed. I’d never thought I would get cold feet, but I was having visions of being made a fool of by a strong-willed, out-of-control wife, and it made me nervous. “You don’t want to be rushing into forever,” parroted an advisor on my shoulder, and I was at a loss to determine whether it was a demon or an angel.

  “Baby!” Ellen scolded, perching on my knee. “I’m just scared if I don’t marry you now, I’ll never be with you,” she said, putting on a forlorn look. “And I need to be with you—in every way.” Her look went from mournful to bewitching, as her hand slipped in between the buttons of my shirt and she disabled me with her lips. She gently tried to push me down onto the bed, but with my fingernails still shallowly dug into high moral ground, I resisted, good-naturedly nudged her back a little, and said, “To be continued,” though not exactly sure how I’d managed to resist her advance. She looked a little hurt, but soothingly reassured, “Don’t worry, we’re going to have a beautiful, happily-ever-after marriage. I promise.” My fears receded somewhat and I kissed her on the forehead, collected a few toiletries and a wad of cash I’d been saving, and we headed outside.

  “Do you like camping?” I asked her suddenly.

  “Yes,” she responded, looking slightly perplexed.

  “I mean, do you like it enough to spend tonight in a tent instead of a hotel?” A smile spread across her face.

  “Any place I spend the night with my prince is the Waldorf-Astoria to me,” she embarrassed me.

  I dropped off the bags by the car, leaving her to load and arrange them. Then I located the tent inside and rummaged around for suitable bedding. I decided I should really get a fresh set of sheets and blankets after we got back, so I opted to demote my current set to camping status. It was early afternoon by then, so I rushed to get everything loaded up.

  Ellen was seated, ready to go when I got in the car. I let out a long breath as I looked over at her.

  “Are you ready for this?” I asked.

  “As ready as I’ve ever been,” she smiled confidently. Seeing I was still tense, she added, “Don’t worry, Robbie. This is the happiest, most exciting day of my life. Don’t ruin it by being all uptight.”

  “OK, I’ll do my best,” I promised her. I finally took a good look around at the glorious day surrounding me, and the turbulent storm of doubt in my mind that had preoccupied me lifted. I began to feel the excitement Ellen had just been talking about.

  As we drove past my small herd of cows grazing near the drive, I hollered, “We’re gonna get married! Woohoo!” out the window. The news appeared to astonish the whole lot of them. One white-faced cow named Molly was so flabbergasted she even raised her head and stopped flicking her tail long enough to lob a dumb look my way. We both laughed as I steered the car toward Gatlinburg.

  Table of Contents

  FOUR

  OH, SWEET INNOCENCE!

  “Have you been to Gatlinburg before?” I asked Ellen when I could see the city looming in the distance.

  “Maybe five or ten times,” she speculated. “Daddy preaches at the church there sometimes.”

  I nodded absentmindedly. I’d visited the city a total of two times, once that I could remember, so I knew I migh
t have to rely on Ellen’s recollection of how it was laid out. It wasn’t much of a city, but using Coon Hollow as a yardstick, it stood tall at the time.

  “So, we should buy wedding rings,” I remarked, almost before the thought landed in my mind. Ellen looked at me as though I’d announced water is wet, and I immediately felt inadequate at impromptu nuptial planning.

  “So, you gonna want a big diamond and all that?” I tried to ask without flinching.

  “Yes. I’m going to want a stone that people can see a block away,” Ellen replied, poker-faced. My agony must have been obvious, as I had visions of selling off half the farm to purchase a ring with a stone that could be mistaken for a small planet, but Ellen revealed her bluff with a laugh, and assured me that plain wedding bands would suffice for the both of us.

  The drive to Gatlinburg took just over an hour, and for much of the time we basked in each other’s company, lost in our respective daydreams. Ellen’s mouth was positioned in a pleasant way that made it very easy to believe a barely contained felicity effervesced beneath her placid expression, like the involuntary smile of a sleeping baby.

  The roads were mostly dry by now, and the cool, soggy morning had turned into a warm, humid afternoon, and rather than peaking around noon, the temperature seemed to continue its ascent as the day wore on.

  When we arrived in Gatlinburg, both of us were a little damp, but not unbearably so.

  We stopped at the first jewelry store we stumbled upon, Rothwell’s Jewelry, though it may have been the city’s only, for all we knew.

  A wizened old man with bright eyes served us. His hands were shaky, but a steady mind ordered his glib tongue. At first he awed us with bedazzling diamond rings and a brilliant discourse on the stones, but when we told him exactly what it was we were after, he obligingly put them away and produced precisely the type of gold bands we had in mind, let us try them on, and looked pleased with himself when both our rings fit us perfectly.