Finding Hope in Texas (13 page)

“Are you okay?” I asked, concerned. Seeing
his limp earlier and his pained expression bothered me. His gaze
flitted up from his leg and met mine, his contortion soothed into a
controlled smile once again.

“Yeah. Just caught a Minié-ball at
Shiloh.”

“Oh.”
Oh? Was that a Civil War joke or
something?
“I guess I was asking because my legs were hurting a
little after the parade. I thought maybe you had pulled
something.”

“Nope,” he said more solidly this time, not
looking at me anymore, but gazing off across the room as though he
had something else on his mind.
Jeez, did I already say
something wrong?
Is that all I do down here in Texas, go around
angering people with only Mr. Peet and Lizzy able to put up with me
for long periods of time? I didn’t know how to continue the
conversation, if that’s what you wanted to call it, so I turned to
Lizzy who was playing with Julie on the opposite side of her. In
front of me sat a white-bearded middle-aged man, probably no older
than fifty, and his son that was probably close to my age. He must
have felt me looking at him because he immediately introduced
himself.

“Hello,” he said, reaching his hand across
the table, “I’m Mike, and this is my son, Hunter.”

“Hello, I’m Hope, Lizzy’s friend.” I expected
that by hearing her name, Lizzy would jump into the conversation
with these people, but she continued to play jokes with Julie and
turned away. I was on my own.

“Is this your first time out to something
like this?” It must have been my slight Northern accent or the
possibility that I looked so uncomfortable being surrounded by so
many strange Johnny Rebs that they knew immediately I was new to
all of whatever this was. I nodded to him. “Well, we all started
somewhere,” he continued. “I’ve been in the hobby for five years
now with Hunter, kind of a way to get out of the house on the
weekends. You should really try and make an actual event. They are
much more exciting than just a parade.”

“Don’t push her too fast,” said Mr. Peet,
seated a few people down from him, “I’m just proud she hasn’t run
for the hills already.” He gave me a wink and continued with his
conversation with those around him. Again, I felt like I’d
infringed on some meeting of a private organization, like I had
fallen through the ceiling during a Masonic Lodge ritual. For the
most part, they seemed like average folks, but did average folks
really dress up and recreate a war that was one-hundred-fifty years
ago for fun? And all these people knew each other. I was the odd
person here, waiting to go home and sit the rest of my weekend in
the house with Mags. Oh, that would be fun, like watching paint
dry. But the closest I was coming to having a conversation with
anyone was when I gave a small laugh at Lizzy and Julie fooling
around and when the pair of waitresses took our drink and food
orders. But I didn’t seem like the only one that was a recluse.
Jason sat next to me and didn’t say anything, either. Was he the
strong quiet type? I could tell that he was listening to people,
taking in their exchanges, but seldom had something to say of his
own. We sat there, practically shoulder to shoulder; I was muted
from my unfamiliarity of those surrounding me, but why was he so
quiet?

The food took a while, but the ensemble
didn’t seem to mind. It was if they were catching up with each
other, finding out what each other did over the Christmas holidays,
how work or school was going, how the economy was hurting them or
not. These were good friends and I was the fly on the wall. At
least the food was good. I ordered a burger and fries, nothing too
fancy or pricey and something that their menu said was one of their
specialties. It was hard to go wrong with that at any food
establishment.

“So, Hope, are you in Lizzy’s class at
school?” asked Robin who sat on the other side of Hunter, their
little family taking over the end of the table

“I’m in the eleventh grade,” I answered.

“Oh, neat, Hunter here is in the eleventh
grade as well,” said Mike, with Hunter nodding like he was agreeing
with what his dad had to say. “And do you have Captain Peet as a
teacher?”

“Yes, he’s my dual credit teacher,” I said a
matter-of-factly, seeing him twist his head in my direction.

“Oh, that’s neat. Is he giving you a grade
for being out here, then?”

“Extra credit, I do believe.”

“My ears must be ringing, or are y’all
talking about me down there?” Mr. Peet chimed in.

“It’s nothing too bad, Robert,” chided Robin,
looking over a few heads in his direction.

“Hope, whatever they tell you, it’s
not
true!”

I smiled and continued with my burger; taking
another bite and sticking myself back on the wall again. All in all
though, these people seemed to be nice—strange, but nice. All
except Jason. His mood was either deep into contemplation or he was
working hard to control his ire. Either way, the warm-hearted
spirits seemed to sink around him. He looked like he was in a funk
and there was nothing that could bring him out of it.

As people began to finish their meals, Mr.
Peet stood up and caught everyone’s attention. “Alright people.
Let’s do a quick business meeting, if that’s okay. Robin, do you
have the itinerary?” She passed a piece of paper down the table to
him and he pulled on his small frame glasses before he started
reading. “Okay, first off, start of the year, everyone is supposed
to pay dues. It’s just a few bucks; so give those to the unit
treasurer, and husband of the secretary, Daniel, down there on the
end. Do that as soon as possible, please. They just help support
the website and dinners that we have at the reenactments. Secondly,
the Stock Show is always a good start to the new spring season, but
our first real event is about three weeks away, down in
Madisonville. It’s always a nice little event that the
20
^th
puts on so let’s have a good turnout. Umm, is there
any new business we need to take care of?”

On the opposite end of the table someone said
something that I couldn’t hear, but Mr. Peet shook his head in
agreement. “Yes, yes. I agree. We do need to have an annual
election, people. I did send out an email about this a couple weeks
ago, asking all those who wanted to run for a spot to let me know.
But, guess what? No one did. So we can open it up to the floor to
see if anyone wants to be nominated for either the captain,
sergeant, or the two corporal spots.” A couple moments passed
without a word. “Come on, no one wants to be the captain? It’s a
hard job with no pay where everyone yells at you. People, I have
been waiting for someone to take my place for a few years now, but
if there are no nominations for any of the spots I will assume that
those currently holding these positions will continue to do so. Is
that right?” Mr. Peet looked around, making sure he was doing the
right thing. “Mike, Daniel, are y’all still going to be
corporals?”

“If we must,” said Mike.

“Jason, you still going to be sergeant?”
Jason said nothing, but gave a nod.

“And if no one wants the job then I will have
to be captain again, I guess.”

“We like you as captain, Robert. You get us
into some of the worst fights around.” A few chuckles and
agreements were concurred upon and Mr. Peet took a small bow. He
was as animated here as he was in the classroom. His second calling
could have easily been something in theatre.

“My only job is to make sure all my men end
up dead on the field at every reenactment. One hundred percent
casualties is what I say,” he said, his fist punching the air as if
he’d scored a touchdown in the Super Bowl.

“As long as you join us, then that’s fine,
sir,” someone else noted.

“Alright people, with that the meeting is
adjourned. Again, please see Daniel about the dues before you leave
today,” Mr. Peet said reclaiming his seat.

About ten minutes passed when a few chairs
began to be pulled away from the table, and then it was a rush with
everyone getting to their feet, shaking hands, giving hugs, and
saying their goodbyes. Lizzy had already moved in an open area with
Julie’s little hand leading the way, her brother and parents not
too far behind. I began to push my seat away from the table,
feeling the chair stick as I tried desperately to budge the hoop
skirt from underneath, still a little annoyed that Lizzy chose to
run around with a six-year-old instead of keeping me company.
Quickly, the thought of
that would be exactly what the spoiled
little Jody would have thought
flashed in my mind and I shook
my head, knowing I didn’t want to be that shallow. She had been
friends with these people much longer than I had and had the right
to enjoy their company as much as possible.

My frustration must had stayed with me,
though, for when I went to stand up, my foot caught on the under
part of the dress, causing me to lose balance and stumble backward.
It felt like slow motion. I heard the gasps escaping people’s
mouths as they watched me tumble, saw the expression on Lizzy’s
face as I threw the shawl off my shoulders and my arms reached down
to brace my collapse in a heap of linen, feeling my feet take to
flight and waiting for the inevitable thud as my backside was
certainly to hit the floor. I was about to make a big splash in the
reenacting world or at least in the Huskies restaurant.

Then everything stopped, like Luke Skywalker
had used the force on my derriere to hold me in place. I opened my
eyes and stared straight up into Jason’s baby blues. His face was
smooth yet stern, but his deep eyes were caring and reliable. Even
looking at him upside down was tranquil and I could’ve hovered
there as long as he was willing to hold me, with his arms wrapped
around me from behind, strong, and determined. His firm hands
pressed into my waist with just enough pressure to have a grip, yet
felt soft against the fabric of the dress. He held me there with no
more power exerted than if I was a small, scared puppy in the
middle of a thunderstorm. We just gazed at each other, not knowing
what to say, upside down and eye to eye.

“Oh, Hope, are you okay?” I heard Lizzy’s
voice at the end of the table, but I didn’t break eye contact with
Jason.

“I’m fine,” I finally muttered. Slowly and
effortlessly, he pulled me up to where I could put my feet back
under myself. I turned to him as those around us began to close in
to see about my safety. “Thank you,” I gulped, the adrenaline from
the fall just now reaching my system.

He nodded at me. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I believe so.” I still held on to the
back of the chair, more out of feeling secure than anything else.
“Thank you,” I repeated.

“You’re welcome.” A small grin emerged upon
his face giving a hint of his straight-lined teeth and salacious
lips, ones that had probably known more women than I cared to think
about. He looked over my shoulder as Lizzy approached me from
behind, handing me the shawl that I had flung to the floor

“Are you okay?” She whipped me around.

“Yes, he...he caught me.” I looked back over
my shoulder, but Jason had already moved far to the other end of
the table and was lost in the sea of other gray reenactors.

“Man, I just saw those feet go up and knew
you were going to hurt yourself. I’m glad you’re okay, though.”

“Yes, just a little embarrassed, but I’m
fine.” Even with feeling like such a buffoon, my mind was already
passed the fall and was concentrating on him. Who was this quiet,
reserved young man? Where did he go to school? Why didn’t he have
much to say during lunch? There were so many questions about the
motorcycle-riding, confederate rebel. Others began to make sure I
was okay as we made our way around the table towards the cash
registrar, where the rebels pulled out their Federal greenbacks to
pay for their meals. No Confederate script would be taken here.

“You okay?” asked Mr. Peet, more out of being
polite than anything else.

“Yes, I just...yes.”
Why should I explain
it? I fell, I was caught, end of discussion, right?

“Give me your ticket, Miss Kilpatrick. It’s
the least I can do for you,” he demanded, holding out his hand to
accept it.

“Um, that’s okay. I have the money. Besides,
you and Lizzy have done enough for me already by bringing me and
letting me wear this dress. And you
are
giving me extra
credit, aren’t you?”

“I’m a man of my word,” he said, feigning a
sneer, “and I appreciate you coming with us. It gives Elizabeth
someone to hang out with besides us old fogies. She has enough
trouble making friends, with me being a teacher and all, and she
needs to have another girl to hang out with here, anyway.”

“Well, I was going to say, there is Hunter
and Jason.”

Mr. Peet looked over his shoulder to see if
Lizzy was in earshot and then whispered. “I’m not quite sure she is
all that boy-crazy just yet.” He straightened back up. “Besides,
boys will be boys and Hunter is always worrying about the upcoming
battle and not worrying much about the pretty girls his age,
either. They are good friends, but I’m not sure either have any
interest in the other. As for Jason, well, you sat next to him;
he’s very introverted, probably even more than you are. He always
has been, but was even more so since he’s come back.” He shook his
head as if disappointed.

“Come back?”
Oh, now here are some
answers
. “Come back from where?”
Jail? Hiking across Europe?
Off to college? Where did he go?

“Iraq,” he whispered again, this time with a
sigh. The word hung like an ominous cloud and was enough to bring a
pause in the conversation. My eyes widened as I put it all
together. The handsome young man sitting next to me had been a
soldier, a veteran of the war my generation had been sent to. Mr.
Peet continued. “You know, war, real war. It will do things to
you.”