Finding Hope in Texas (12 page)

“Glad you could make it, Sergeant,” Mr., err,
Captain Peet said to Jason, who returned his comment with a nod. “I
think we have mostly all veterans here today, so everyone should
know their manual of arms, right?” A few “Yes, Sirs” rose from the
group of men. “Good. As always, we will bring up the last part of
the parade. When we get around the grandstand and they announce the
company to the crowd, I will order ‘Present, Arms.’ Bring up your
rifles in front of you, left hand under the trigger guard, and
right hand between the second and third bands of your long arms.
Does everyone know how to do this?” Again, a few nods and mumbles
came from the group. Mr. Peet took that as a good sign and nodded
down to Jason at the end of the line. “Sergeant, will you take us
out, please?”

“First column, by fours, forward march,” he
yelled from the end of the line. Like a game of Tetris, the pieces
broke apart and shifted as they made their way into a line, moving
forward to the clomp, clomp of their boots and shoes. Mr. Peet
walked down the side of the column as they passed.

“Lizzy, Hope, if y’all want to fall in behind
us, you are more than welcome to. I think Daniel’s wife and kids
are marching. You can join them,” he said as he passed. Lizzy gave
a thumbs up gesture and waited for the rows of fours to pass by. As
they did, she and I scooted in behind them, joining the few wives
and children that were going to make the journey.

“Oh, that’s a lovely dress,” announced a lady
that stood next to me.

“Thank you,” I said and smiled.

“I would have worn my hoop, but I wasn’t sure
about the weather. This camp dress is a little easier to hide my
sweats.” She lifted the dress, revealing tennis shoes and sweat
pants hidden underneath. I really didn’t know what to say, but just
nodded in a confused manner. “Sorry, I’m Robin, Daniel’s wife. And
back behind me are our kids, Archer and little Julie.”

I looked to see a stout young boy, probably
eight to ten years old and dressed in black woolen pants and a gray
coat, holding on to the reigns of a small wagon that were attached
to a large German Shepard. In the wagon was his younger sister,
maybe four or five, covered in a dark blue blanket and wearing a
bonnet. She smiled up at me as the half-dog, half-horse gave a
slight tug forward, anxious to pull the cart.

“And that is Romo. Not as cute as the
football player, but just as lovable.” Robin bent down and gave him
a good scratch under the collar that Archer was holding him by.
Robin was probably in her mid-thirties, with blonde hair, which was
also wrapped in the cotton netting like both I and Lizzy were
wearing. Her dress was a tan color, like that of the men’s coats,
with a muslin top.

“I’m Hope, Lizzy’s friend.”

Robin nodded and stood up to shake my hand.
“Nice to have you out. Is this your first time?”

“First time?” I questioned.
First time for
what? Being in a parade? Yes. Being a southern belle? Yes. It was a
lot of firsts for me.

“Is this your first time participating in the
hobby?”

“Hobby?”

“It is,” Lizzy popped in, saving me. “She has
never done this before.” She gave me a wide-eyed expression as if
to question whether or not I was feeling okay. Was I supposed to
know this was a hobby? It was not one I had known much about
besides the movie
Sweet Home Alabama
, but I grew up in the
North where we had gotten over the war pretty much as soon as we
won it. These people were trying to relive an experience that
destroyed the country for four horrible years, and they called it a
hobby.

The column of men began moving forward again
and we slowly kept pace behind them. Turning out of the parking
lot, we finally made our way onto a main road leading into the
downtown area of Ft. Worth. The movement of the parade continued to
shift forward. I lifted the front of my dress with one hand to make
sure I didn’t step on the bottom hoops and fall flat on my face,
holding the wrap with the other. For being so much material, I
continued to feel that my top half was too exposed and my bottom
half was going to cause the whole parade to come to an abrupt halt
when I fell head over heels with my pantalooned behind up in the
air. Being an 1860s beauty seemed to take a laborious effort.

We rounded a few corners and with each one,
Mr. Peet gave the order “Right, Turn,” gesturing his sword ahead of
him. The crowd smiled, cheered, and waved at us, and once again I
got the strange sensation that I was a minor celebrity, like the
people actually enjoyed seeing me dressed up like a southern belle
from one-hundred-fifty years ago. They especially enjoyed Romo,
Archer and Julie, whose little cart was entertaining to both young
and old alike. But then, who wouldn’t like a dog-pulled wagon and
kids as cute as they were? Even at the distance we were from the
front of the soldier’s line, I could hear the clear voice of Jason
giving commands to the rest of the unit of men. Every order would
have them shift their weapons from one side to the other, or held
in the same arm, but just carried in a different fashion. I guessed
it was for the men to move the weight of the gun around so that
they wouldn’t tire out so quickly, but I really wasn’t sure.

As we walked, the winter chill began having a
much smaller effect on me. In fact, I began to get hot under all
the fabric. Even the uncovered skin was warm underneath the stole.
Slowly, I shimmied out of the wrap and began to carry it in my
hands.

Do you want me to take that?” asked Robin.
“I’ll put it in the wagon with Julie.” I looked over at Lizzy and
she gave me a nod, removing her own shawl as well, we both placed
them on Julie’s feet and continued marching. This way I was able to
pick the front of the dress up with both hands, feeling more secure
that I was going to stay in the upright position.

The troops rounded another corner and I could
see that the crowd was getting thicker. This must have been the
main part of the parade. Up ahead to the left side, a row of
bleachers sat with a few distinguished looking men and women
sitting in a box seat. An announcer came on the microphone and the
setup speakers roared to life, “And here we have one of our
favorites, the 10
^th
Texas Infantry reenacting
organization based right here in the DFW area.”

The crowd applauded and cheered the men as
though they were real soldiers home from some foreign war. A
television cameraman came down the side of them and filmed their
passing. Cameraman?
Oh Jeez!
He wouldn’t!
Yes, before
I had time to react the camera had found its way upon me. This was
so embarrassing. No wonder none of Mr. Peet’s students ever took
him up on this extra credit assignment. Was I going to be on the
evening news or was this being broadcast live?

Even the announcer got in on the act. “And
following the rebel soldiers, we have a group of beautiful southern
belles, straight from
Gone with the Wind
.” The warmth I was
feeling before was replaced by sheer mortification. I just wanted
to curl up in a ball and disappear. Lizzy didn’t seem to mind,
though, smiling and waving as the cameraman found her and was
luckily not on me anymore.

After the paparazzi were through with us, the
parade route rejoined the road we had marched in on and we headed
back to the large parking lot. It was over and I was exhausted.
Reaching the car, Mr. Peet slid open the back trunk area and pulled
out a cooler. “Thirsty?” he asked. Without an answer I swiped an
ice cold water from his hands and began to drink, much to his
amusement. “Slow down there, O’Hara. You don’t want to give
yourself a stomach ache.” Another
Gone with the Wind
reference. Couldn’t they come up with a more recent book about the
Civil War? It probably was the most popular Civil War fiction, but
still. Did I remind everyone of a spoiled little girl being so mean
to the hearts of men around me? Anyway, I knew I wasn’t as pretty
as Vivien Leigh, so why was everyone comparing me to her? I
squinted my eyes at him so that he would know my contempt of his
southern belle judgment. He didn’t seem to mind, though, passing
out bottles of water to Lizzy and all the men who wanted one. The
group comingled around his parked car as men slowly removed their
equipment and prepared for the drive home.

“Alright men. Do y’all want to go and eat
downtown somewhere or in the stockyards? We can have a real quick
business meeting and elections if you want to.”

“Let’s go downtown this year,” suggested one
man in the back.

“Is that fine with everyone? Okay, how ‘bout
Huskies?” Again, everyone nodded his or her approval. “Alright,
let’s head that way. Whoever gets there first, tell them we need an
area for about twenty or so.” Before Mr. Peet lowered the hatch on
the back of his SUV, Jason walked up and handed him his rifle.

“Thanks for letting me use it again,” he
said.

“Not a problem—any time,” answered Mr.
Peet.

Jason turned and looked at me for a moment
and I returned his stare. There was a deepness in his eyes that was
irresistible, like two pools of reflective ocean water that you
could never reach the bottom of, concealing something far within,
his eyelashes long and alluring, protective and shielding at the
same time.

“Is it all right if we take you out for lunch
or do you need to get back?”

Mr. Peet’s words startled me and Jason turned
away. “Oh, I’m okay with going to lunch with you.”
I hope the
Sergeant is going, too.

“Alright, y’all hop in and we’ll get
going.”

“Don’t I need to change first?” I looked at
Lizzy and she shrugged.

“There’s not any need to, unless you just
want to get out of those things.”

Although I really wanted to, I didn’t
complain and instead nodded that it was okay. We began to load the
vehicle and I placed the shawl back over my shoulders when I turned
to see Jason whipping off his felt hat and stuffing it into a side
compartment upon his bike. He creaked his neck from side to side as
he toyed with his helmet, his short brown hair dancing as he did
so. He placed the helmet over his head and threw his right leg over
the motorbike. Sitting, he patted the leg as if he was trying to
make sure it was still there. Starting the engine, he pulled
backward and sliced through the parking lot, leaving the snarl of
his engine in his wake.

I grabbed the handle inside the SUV and
scooted my rear into the seat. Pulling my legs around, I found
myself being absorbed into the hoop skirt. I looked over at Lizzy
as if to ask for any pointers that she might have, but I could see
that she was doing her best to control her laughter at my
expense.

“It’s not funny,” I said, but couldn’t help
smiling.

“Uh, from this vantage point, it is most
definitely funny.”

I rolled my eyes at her and continued waging
war with the hoop, winning enough so that I could shut the door
beside me. No wonder women didn’t go out much back then. It would
have taken a large shoehorn to get them through any door. They were
probably better off pregnant and in the kitchen.

Mr. Peet maneuvered his place in line of the
traffic heading out of the parking lot, cursing under his breath
about the disorder and confusion. Lizzy scolded him, saying that he
had to behave himself in front of his students. “Sorry, Hope. I’m
going to TAM, but it’s not doing me any good.”

I looked at Lizzy.

“Teacher Anger Management,” she answered. “I
really wish you would go to comedian school, Dad, so you could come
up with some better jokes.”

“Yeah. Your mother used to tell me the same
thing, Elizabeth.”

Even after the few weeks of knowing both of
them, I had never heard anything about Mr. Peet’s wife until now. I
didn’t know whether I should take the opening and ask about her or
just leave it alone. Reasoning on the side of caution, I chose to
remain quiet and gazed out the window until we made it to our
destination. Besides, the two mile hike was starting to do a number
on my legs. Even with all the exercise I got running from the
Secundas
during P.E., my calves were beginning to ache.

Finding a parking place close to restaurant,
we unloaded to the sidewalk. The hoop came back to its original
form as we strolled towards the building, Mr. Peet escorted his
daughter whose arm was through his, with me bringing up the rear. A
pleasant smile passed between them and for a moment, I felt like a
third wheel, like I was encroaching on a time that was better spent
between a father and daughter. However, as Mr. Peet opened the door
for her, he grinned back at me. “After you,” he said with a
nod.

It was a wonder that the place was able to
sit our large cluster of Civil War time travelers after only a
twenty-minute wait, but they had a large side room that had just
cleared out and was being cleaned as we waited, seating us away
from the
normal
people. Things were very busy because of the
parade weekend, and the throng of people made it practically
impossible for me to move through the aisles without brushing my
large hoop skirt up against a few people’s backs.
Why didn’t
Lizzy let me change before we came here?
I felt so odd and
cumbersome. Even the hostess gave me a bewildered look of confusion
and shot a couple of rushed glances at Jason as he made his way
around her. Lizzy helped me scoot around the table and plopped me
down in the chair. I looked up to see him standing next to me.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked with his hand
already on the back of the free chair.

“N...no, it isn’t,” I stammered.

“May I?”

“Yes.”
Please.

He gave a slight smile and pulled the chair
back, sitting down next to me. As he did, a slight grimace surfaced
on his face and again he rubbed his right leg for a few moments
before pulling the chair towards the table.