TOWN
This is a far cry from our manor,” Annabelle said to Harold the next morning as they awoke within the tent. It was the largest tent in the camp, and their cot inside was massive. As James slept peacefully on a smaller cot at the foot of their bed, Annabelle rolled over, brushing the dark curls from her husband's face.
She always knew that she would marry him, from the moment Aaron brought him home as his best friend. Rising fast through the ranks because of his leadership skills and his mind, Harold was destined for greatness. She was a grand lady who had her sets sight on a duke, at least, but the moment that she had seen this sailor, she knew that he was going to be hers. By marrying her, he would be Lord Bamber one way or another, but she had never pictured it would be like this. When their father died, it was always Aaron's house, Aaron's word, Aaron's rule. As Aaron's twin, she agreed with nearly everything he did. If her brother had actually died that fateful day, she knew her soul would crumple. However, to pretend he was dead was almost worse. Despite the rural surroundings, and the rugged men in the camp who had no idea how to act beside a lady, she was thrilled to be here, surrounded by the people she loved.
“Do you mind?” he asked. “Because your eyes have not stopped shining since we got here.”
“Ah, well, maybe not,” she answered, with a smile. “Although this is the fun part, isn't it? Planning, hoping. The frightening part comes later.”
“Which you will not witness,” he replied. “I promise, Annabelle, you and James will be far from danger, and far from fright. When we leave here, however long that will be, it will only be with hope, with happiness.”
“No man can guarantee that, Harold,” Annabelle said. “But I know that life is short, and I am determined to enjoy every moment of it. It is not as if the camp is barren of women, there are so many other wives here.”
“But none of them are ladies,” Harold said. “Will you be alright?”
“Um, yes,” she said and gave him a look. “I have spoken to the common class before, believe it or not.”
She was teasing him, but he was serious.
“I just want you to be happy and comfortable, Annabelle. It already makes me feel uncomfortable that you are here, because I worry about you.”
“I did not want to be apart from you. It may be acceptable to Shauna and Aaron, to Wesley and Lola, but being apart from my husband when I absolutely do not have to is not an option I enjoy. I would follow you to the depths of hell if I had to.”
“I hope not,” he murmured and looked deep into her eyes. “You are a mother now. Our children are your first priority.”
“Aye, of course they are,” she said. “But they need their father. So take care out there.”
“I always do,” he assured her. “The rules of war are to not shoot an officer, so do not worry.”
“Who follows the rules, exactly?” Annabelle asked. “No one that I have seen.”
“That is just your brother,” he teased, as he got up. “I have to run drills this morning. The Navy may be excellent on the ship, but off the ship, they look a mess beside the marching army.”
“So do the sharpshooters,” Annabelle said. “And Aaron's pirates. So really, does it matter?”
“It means the actual regiment here outshines us, and I do not want that,” Harold answered. “It is bad for morale.”
“You think that you are going to get them to march properly within a day?” she asked, sitting up and pushing her blond hair out of her face. “When are we leaving?”
“They will be ready when we leave,” he said, not wanting to sound unsure of what he was doing. He bent down to kiss James, who had blond hair like his mother, and dark eyes like his father. Their daughter was at home, training to be the Lady that she was already becoming. However, James was too young, too precious, to be apart from either of them. Harold had a son and heir at last in James, and he knew he should be overjoyed about it. It came at the expense of Aaron's title, though, another blow to a friendship that had been nothing but kind to him, so James often received a mixed reception from his father, which he did not deserve.
The camp was already bustling when Harold entered the center of it. The women were at the large cooking pots, the men were moving around, either eating, talking, or standing in half uniform, joking.
“Attention!” Jacob was suddenly on the rock at the front of the cook pot, his voice bounding across the camp. “If you are going to church, the group is leaving in five minutes. That is not six minutes; that is not four minutes. Five minutes, I am starting the walk into the village. Five.”
“Are you going?” Enola asked Holde, who happened to be standing beside her as she handed him a bowl of hot food.
“No,” he said. “Are you?”
“I---no,” she replied. “This is something that Jacob does every Sunday, but it was never for me.”
“Of course,” he said as he shook his head. “How silly of me.”
“It is alright,” she answered with a shrug. “When I worship, I do not go into a building. I go outside normally.”
“That sounds peaceful,” he answered as she put down the large soup spoon she was using.
“It can be,” she replied. “Usually I have to walk far from here to be away from the noise and the energy, but it is still lovely.”
“Perhaps you could show me sometime?” he asked and she smiled.
“I can show you in approximately 6 minutes,” she replied, and then looked up to see Harper standing beside them. “Hello.”
“Miss,” said the Lord Bamber. “I have a favor to ask, if you do not mind.”
“Of course,” Enola paused, not sure what he was about to inquire about.
“My wife, the Lady Bamber....she may be happy here for a few days yet, but she is used to much grander things to occupy her time. Other ladies, the theatre, balls, that sort of thing. I was wondering if you could help?”
Enola raised an eyebrow. “How exactly am I supposed to help?” she replied. “Should I throw a ball, perhaps?”
“No....” Harold said. “But you are a princess, I understand, and you have been in town longer than us. Perhaps you could...attend to her? She would enjoy your company.”
That was the last thing Enola wanted to do. She did not know the Lady Annabelle, but it did not sound like her idea of a fun afternoon. A British Lady would have much different ideas than a Native princess, and Enola did not particularly want to spend any part of her day going into town, or attending the theatre. Therefore, she feigned an apology.
“I am sorry,” she said. “I just agreed to show Major Holde a good spot for trapping in the woods. Supplies are running low and sharpshooters can be useful for hunting, as you can imagine.”
“Of course,” Harold said. “Perhaps when you return?”
“Perhaps,” Enola said, non-committal. “Major Holde, shall we?”
“Right now?” Holde answered. “Of course. My apologies, My Lord.”
“Of course,” Harold said, as the two of them scurried off. Enola bit her lip from exploding with anger as she walked away from the camp, trying not to let her feelings rage. However, Holde could see from the tension in her shoulders that she had harsh words to say.
“He did not mean any harm by it.”
“Of course he did not,” Enola said. “But I am a woman of the land; I work hard and contribute to this camp. Just because I was born high does not mean I enjoy wasting my days living in some fantasy land.”
“British women are different,” Holde said. “They are not as....hardy, or as strong. Or rather they are strong in other ways. Most of them, anyways.”
He fell silent as they walked, and she could feel his grief creeping back up. “I am sorry,” she said, but he shook his head.
“It is fine,” he replied, even as they delved deeper into the forest. “I can see why you love this place.”
“The land gives us life,” Enola said. “And everyone came from it. The Earth, according to my culture, sits on the back of a giant turtle, and all life comes as a gift from Nature, not a right.”
“That is beautiful,” he said. “Our creation story comes in anger, in deceit. I like yours better.”
Enola shrugged as they came to a clearing. “It does not matter what the beliefs are,” she said. “As long as they are in peace, and with good intentions.”
Both of them fell into silence, looking at their surroundings. It was a small clearing, and the trees were tall, seeming to brush the sky. The birds chirped, and the ground rustled with squirrels. Enola breathed in a deep breath of fresh pine air, closing her eyes.
“This is home,” she said at last. “This is why following Jacob was not so hard. We're always outside, so I always felt at peace.”
“And yet we bring such death and destruction to your door,” Major Holde said, shaking his head. “I feel we owe you an apology.”
“Oh,” Enola said softly. “We are just as guilty. It takes more than one side to fight. We made peace with the British, and we feel responsible for their war with the Americans. They are our neighbors; those who share the earth with us. And if assisting to stop the war is what we can do, than it is what we should do. At least, that is what I believe.”
“That is a wonderful way to look at things,” Holde said. “But from what you have told me, it is not a view the rest of your people share.”
Enola said nothing, placing her hand on a thick tree stump and then inhaling. “Here,” she said, reaching for his hand.
He felt tingles go down his spine as they touched, even though it was a brief moment. She was so beautiful in the sunshine, her eyes catching the light and turning a yellow color, speckled with green. They were unlike anyone else’s, offset by her dark hair and tanned skin. Standing against this tree, he thought she could be a wood nymph, come from the very ground itself to greet him.
He was about to ask what he was supposed to feel when he put his hand on the tree. However, as soon as he did, he knew.
It was alive; it was fresh, and thriving.
“Healing,” Enola said. “When my people want to heal, they always come to the forest, to reach from the trees, to feel the sunshine. It can cure all sorts of things, if you let it.”
He met her eyes, and felt tears spring to his own. He had not expected to feel anything, but the grief was fresh, rising to his eyes and then lifting off his chest.
“Everything that is lost from the earth returns to it,” she said. “Nothing is ever gone. And those who have passed on...they live on, in the trees, in the air. With us.”
He choked, bending his head, and she softly put a hand on his shoulder. He had thought grief was ongoing forever, unable to ever heal. Now, he felt a tiny ray of hope; of sunshine. Maybe, just maybe, he would be able to feel happy again.