Into the Wilderness

“And what led you to such conclusions?”

“Your interest in medicine, your passion for that which interests you, whether it is nursing or literature. I suspect there is more going on in that head of yours than meets the eye.”

“You, sir, are a keen observer. I shall have to watch my p’s and q’s.”

He set down his cup. “Would it be presumptuous to ask you to call me by my Christian name?”

Lily was flustered. This conversation was moving beyond her powers to control it. “You have me at a disadvantage, Captain. Are we to become friends, then?”

“That is my intent, especially as we are both book lovers.”

“Then, as friends—” she leaned forward by way of emphasis “—in informal situations, I will call you Caleb.”

“Good.” He hesitated as if hearing his name echo. “Would you object to saying it again?”

She looked at him quizzically, then softly repeated, “Caleb.”

“Thank you. It has been many months since I have heard my name uttered by a lovely woman. And, then, only by my sister, Sophie.”

Unaccountably, Lily felt her eyes moisten. She had never considered how a soldier might miss simple feminine interactions or long for a soft, endearing voice. Casting about for a safer topic, she said, “Tell me about your sister.”

He stood. “Perhaps we could take a turn around the parade ground while I relate some Sophie stories.” He held out his hand to assist her to rise.

Tucking her arm through his, she was startled by a sensation very like happiness. Surely, she told herself, it was the beauty of the spring night rather than her companion that provoked such an emotion.

On their walk, she discovered that he was a gifted raconteur. His mother had died giving birth to Sophie, and he obviously doted on his younger sister, a tomboy of the first magnitude. His tales of her cutting off her long hair when she was ten in order to look more like a boy and wading into the river to noodle for catfish were both humorous and poignant. He painted a vivid picture of his sister’s flyaway curly red hair and ended by saying, “Sophie possesses a mind of her own, but she has a generous heart.”

“I think I’d like her,” Lily said, full of admiration for the independent young woman who dared to live beyond the conventional.

Caleb faced her. “She would like you.” He clasped her hand between his own. “I like you.”

“Captain—”

“Caleb, please.”

“Caleb, I don’t know what to say.”

He snugged her hand beneath his arm and started walking slowly toward her home. “You don’t need to say anything.”

She decided silence was the best course lest she offer any more encouragement than, inadvertently, she may have already given. As they walked, an awkwardness seemed to develop where earlier there had been camaraderie. She could ask him about the mother he had lost, but they were nearing the hospital. Perhaps another time. Did she want another time?

At her door, he gently disengaged his arm and faced her. “Miss Lily, I pray I have not overstepped my bounds.”

Again, she was at a loss for words. “It’s late, Captain. It’s best to say good-night.” When his eyes clouded, she took pity on him. “Until we meet again, Caleb.” She liked saying his strong, masculine name.

“Good night, Miss Lily.” As if remembering his manners, he added stiffly, “Thank you for a pleasant evening.”

Inside the house, she leaned against the closed door, bewildered. He had shown signs of his interest in her, but in the past few minutes had seemed to retreat into formality. She had enjoyed his company more than she cared to admit. That concerned her. She would need to steel herself and not let her fickle emotions sidetrack her plans.

When Lily entered the bedroom she shared with Rose, her sister was just finishing plaiting her long reddish-blond hair. The light from the candle on the bedside table cast an intimate glow. Lily loosened her buttons, plucked her nightgown from its hook and prepared for bed. Rose watched her, a smug smile playing about her lips. “Well?” she finally said. “How did you find your Captain Montgomery?”

“He’s not mine,” Lily said decisively, taking the pins out of her hair and beginning her ritual one-hundred brush strokes. Knowing that those three words would not satisfy her sister, she went on. “Like many of our officers, he is lonely. I provided a temporary diversion, no doubt.”

Rose hooted. “Are you blind? The way he looked at you was special.”

“He can look all he wants, but I will not encourage him. He would only be a distraction in my life.”

“The life that’s taking you to St. Louis?”

Lily set down her brush and put her hands on Rose’s shoulders. “I’m sorry it’s difficult for you to understand, but I have to be true to myself.”

Rose reached up and clasped Lily’s hands. “I know. Papa and I have realized for some time that this place is too confining for your spirit.” She bowed her head, whispering so quietly Lily had to bend closer to hear her. “But it is so hard to let you go.” Rose looked straight into Lily’s eyes. “I suppose I had hoped that if you married an army officer, our paths would cross now and again. And of the lot, Captain Montgomery seems a good man—a man who would cherish you or whomever else he chose.”

“It is a fine thing to be cherished. Pray that I may find such a suitor in the city.”

“I cannot honor your request. I will pray for you, of course, but for your well-being, happiness and the fulfillment of God’s purpose for you, wherever you may be.”

Lily embraced her sister, so good and true. Then she blew out the candle, and they curled into the depths of the feather bed they had shared since childhood. Soon she could hear her sister’s gentle exhalations, but sleep eluded Lily. She lay awake for some time, not thinking so much about St. Louis as remembering the name Caleb and how he had needed to hear it spoken.

She turned on her side and shortly before falling asleep whispered to the shadows, “Dear God, why can’t life be simple?”

* * *

When Caleb entered his quarters, Will Creekmore was sitting at the desk writing a letter by lantern light. “Did you enjoy the concert?”

Caleb stripped off his gloves and jacket and tossed them on a chair. “It was a welcome morale boost. Routine drills get mighty boring for the men.”

“And for us.”

Caleb noticed a daguerreotype sitting on the desk. He pointed to it. “Your family?”

The lieutenant picked it up and gazed at it fondly. “No. Fannie, my sweetheart back in Wisconsin.” He hesitated and then added, “She’s been waiting a long time. I’m asking her to come here. To be married. But it’s far from her home. I don’t know if...” He sighed. “All I can do is ask, though I do hate to inflict such a long journey on her.”

“It’s a lonely life out here. For your sake, I hope she says yes.”

“Speaking of the ladies, how was your evening with Miss Kellogg? I couldn’t help noticing how you favored her.”

In the confusion of his feelings, Caleb didn’t want to discuss Lily, but neither did he want to be rude. “She is a delightful young woman.”

His fellow officer speared him with a look. “Whose company you enjoy.”

Caleb shrugged helplessly, wishing he had done a better job of resisting Miss Kellogg’s charms.

Will stood and clapped a hand on Caleb’s shoulder. “Heaven help us, then. We can fight the rebel and the savage, but one look from a pretty woman and we’re goners.” He gathered up his ink, pen and paper. “I’m turning in. Good night, Montgomery.”

“Good night. Leave the lantern. I want to read for a while.”

After the man departed, Caleb picked up the book he’d left on the shelf and settled in a chair. But the book remained unopened, forgotten in the swirl of his thoughts. Lily Kellogg was a puzzlement. At the same time she had seemed interested in their conversation, he’d sensed a reserve on her part, as if she was unwilling to commit fully to their dialogue. Perhaps he had been too forward and she was merely being proper. Given his lack of recent experience with women, he was at a loss. He fingered the leather-bound volume in his lap. If only there were a treatise to teach him how to read women. How to court them without the fumbling awkwardness he had felt when he left Lily at her doorstep.