Bring the Boys Home (12 page)

“Yeah, I guess I am a fibber.” He shrugged. But then he grinned and said, “But it’s going to be just like it used to be, isn’t it?”

“Almost, Jeff. Almost.”

It was a night that none of them would ever forget.

When the newlyweds were gone and it came time for the others to leave, Nelson Majors gave his old friend Dan another hug.

The frail, older man wheezed as Nelson released him. “Well, you don’t have to half kill a fella,” he said. He put out his hand and smiled. “Nothing has ever pleased me much more than this, Nelson—that we’ll be neighbors again.”

As the Majorses rode home in their carriage, a strange silence enveloped them for a while. “I just can’t believe it,” Nelson finally said. “It’s like something out of a storybook.”

“No,” Eileen said, “it’s like something God would do for us.”

“You’re right, Eileen, and we’ll never forget it. Not if we live to be a hundred.”

She leaned close and whispered, “Now our baby will be born in our own home.”

T
he day that Nelson Majors and his family moved back onto the old home place was one of those never-to-be-forgotten times.

The neighbors cleaned up the house and yard, then they helped move in the furniture the family had brought from Virginia—along with contributions of their own. Not all the neighbors were Southern sympathizers, either. Many had been strongly Union, but they came anyway in an attempt to heal the wound that still tore the nation apart in some places.

The Majorses endured the overwhelming goodwill of their neighbors for a whole day. One of them had brought half a steer, and a huge barbecue was prepared. Afterward there was square dancing on the grass to the tune of fiddles, guitars, and dulcimer.

“Come on, Jeff, let’s dance.”

“You know I don’t dance too well.”

“You do better than you did that time before the war—the first dance we ever went to.” Leah giggled. “You walked all over my feet!”

The music began picking out another melody, and soon the two were whirling around the grass.

“I think it’s nice you’re so tall,” Leah said, “since I’m tall too. It’s hard to find a man to look up to.”

“Maybe I can get some high-heeled boots so you can look up even farther.”

“No, this is just right!” They went around the grass a few times, and Leah said with surprise, “You’re a
much
better dancer now than you were when you were fifteen!”

“Well, I’ve had a little practice. Remember those fancy balls in Richmond at Lucy’s house?”

A twinge of jealousy went through Leah, but she put it aside. “Yes, I remember, but that’s all gone. I was really awful about Lucy, wasn’t I?”

“I suppose you were, but I was pretty awful myself. I thought for a while back there you were going to fall in love with Ezra Payne.”

They continued waltzing, and finally Leah looked across and saw Sarah and Tom. “Look, Tom said he’d never dance, but he does very well.”

“He’s going to do everything well,” Jeff said. “He set out to plow the other day, and he plowed as straight a furrow as he ever did. He can’t last quite as long at it, of course, but just give him time.”

Three days after the moving in, Charlene and Rosie were married in the same church where the other weddings had taken place.

As they came out of the church, Eileen, who had not wanted to come at all because she was so uncomfortable and felt so poorly, said suddenly, “I think we’d better go home, Nelson.”

Quickly Nelson looked at her.

“I think it’s time.”

Eileen was right, and on June 15 at 6:30 in the morning, Stonewall Jackson Majors came into the world.

Nelson, holding the red-faced infant, who was screaming with a powerful set of lungs, looked down and smiled.

“I think he’s going to be an evangelist, sweetheart,” he said. He sat down beside the bed.

“He’s got black hair like you. I hope he has black eyes too.”

“Oh, I hope not!” Nelson said in alarm. “I don’t want him to be like me! I hope he looks like you.”

“We’ll have a little girl, and she can look like me.”

Nelson bent over and kissed her. “Yes, that’s what we’ll do.”

T
wo weeks after the birth of Stonewall Jackson Majors, Jeff called at Leah’s house at dawn. She was probably still asleep, he thought, so he threw pebbles at her window.

She opened the window and said, “Jeff Majors, what are you doing here at this hour?”

“Going fishing! You want to go?”

“No!” Then she abruptly changed her mind. “I mean—yes. Let me get some fishing clothes on.”

Jeff looked for night crawlers while Leah was getting dressed. When she came out wearing a disreputable-looking pair of overalls, he said, “You look lovely, Miss Carter.”

“Oh, hush! Who wants to dress up to go fishing? Have you got enough night crawlers?”

“I guess so. Come on. I want to get to the river before it gets hot.”

They made their way along the familiar path through the deep woods, emerging at the riverbank.

“We’ll go down past the big elm where I caught the big bass. You remember? The one that had three hooks in his mouth.”

“I remember. He must’ve been a tough one to break away three times.”

“He didn’t know who he was dealing with
that
time.” Jeff winked at her. “But he knows now. If I remember right, he made mighty good eating.”

The morning was cool, and the wind sighed overhead in the trees as they followed the path along the river. They saw no one except a big dog fox that appeared suddenly, looked at them, then trotted off without any concern.

“I bet he’s gotten many a chicken off of us,” Jeff said.

“But he’s beautiful, isn’t he?”

“Yep. Have you ever noticed that male foxes are so much prettier than female foxes?” Jeff kept a straight face. “It’s always that way. Male peacocks pretty, females not much to look at. I wonder why it is that males are always better-looking than females?”

“I ought to crown you!” Leah said. She rapped him on the head with her cane pole.

“Ow! Watch what you’re doing! You want me to fall in the river?”

“You need it! You need a good baptizing!”

They teased each other until they got to their favorite spot underneath a huge tree. Soon they were sitting on the bank, watching their corks bob up and down with the current. From time to time one of them would catch a fish, mostly small ones, but neither of them really cared.

After a silence, Jeff said, “You know, I dreamed about this a million times while I was in the army.”

“Did you, Jeff?”

“Sure did. There were times at Gettysburg and Antietam when I would have given just about anything to have been pulled out of there and plumped down beside you on this bank, catching fish.”

Leah smiled at him. She pushed her hair back with her free hand, and it cascaded over her shoulders.

Jeff said impulsively, “You have the prettiest hair of any girl I ever saw.”

“Do I, Jeff?”

“Sure do.”

Again they sat quietly for a long time. By mid-morning they had caught a respectable string of small bass and large punkinseed perch. They broke open the picnic lunch.

“It’s too early to go back,” Jeff said after they’d eaten. “I’ll have to go to work if I do.”

“So will I.” But she stood up.

Jeff stood beside her tentatively.

“I know what!” she said. “Let’s go see if we can catch ol’ Napoleon.”

Jeff grinned. “We’ve tried that often enough, but I’m game if you are!”

Quickly they gathered the fish and wound up their lines. Then they walked back to the brook that flowed close to the Carter home place. A small bridge arched the stream, and they stood on it, fishing over the rail.

Leah delighted in pointing out different forms of life in the clear waters below, including frogs, craw-dads, and small fish.

It was turning hot now. The sun beat down, warming their backs. Both wore straw hats, for which they were grateful.

Jeff put out all the line he had and let it drift slowly away from him. “Right over by those lily pads. That’s where he likes to lie around and wait for a nice juicy worm. Come on, Napoleon, let’s see a little action here!”

Quietness seemed almost a solid thing as they waited. Far away a dog howled faintly, as though he had treed a coon. Overhead a flock of noisy, quarrelsome
blackbirds beat their way across the sky, headed for a cornfield, no doubt.

They stood elbow to elbow, and suddenly Jeff put his left arm around Leah’s waist.

Startled, she looked down at his hand and then swiveled her head to look at him. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing!”

Leah studied him, and a smile plucked at her lips. “I think you
are
doing something. I think you’re putting your arm around me.”

“I was afraid you were getting tired. I’m helping you stand up,” Jeff said blandly. He kept his eyes on the cork but pulled her closer. “After all, women are weaker than men. We have to be sure that you’re taken care of.”

“You can take care of me without hugging me!”

“Hugging? I’m not hugging!”

“Of course you’re hugging! You think I don’t know when a boy’s hugging me?”

Jeff suddenly turned to face her. He pulled her toward him and said, “I’ll show you what huggin’ is, woman!” Holding her so that her face was only a few inches from his, he said, “Now, this is hugging! Do you see the difference?”

“Let me go!”

Jeff said, “I can’t.”

“What do you mean, you can’t?” She shoved at him, but his strong arm held her tight. “What do you mean, you can’t? Let me go, Jeff!”

“I’ve got a cramp in my arm. It’s locked. It won’t open.”

Leah laughed. “I believe you’ve lost your mind.”

“It’s just that having a pretty girl like you this close, a fellow is—
hey!”

The pole held loosely in Jeff’s right hand was nearly jerked free as something hit the end of the line. He released Leah and seized the pole with both hands. “It’s him!” he cried at the top of his lungs. “It’s ol’ Napoleon!”

“Get over to the bank, Jeff! You can’t lift him out of the water here!”

“Don’t tell me how to catch a fish! I caught him once, didn’t I?”

But Jeff worked his way over the small bridge and then down the bank, as Leah followed. The pole was bent almost double, and several times he was afraid it would snap. He worked the fish for five minutes. Leah kept calling encouragement.

“I wish I’d brought a heavier pole and line,” he groaned. “We’re never going to get him in. He’ll either break the line or snap the pole.”

Jeff had to wade out in water up to his belt, but he finally wore the fish down. Backing up, he said, “I’m going to try and pull him in! Step on him if he tries to flop back!”

“All right, Jeff!”

Slowly he backed up to the bank. The huge fish was still struggling. “Here he comes!” he yelled. Reaching down, he stuck his hand inside the fish’s jaw, clamped his fingers together, and with one mighty heave threw it over his head. “Catch him, Leah!”

The fish struck Leah in the stomach. She said,
“Whoof!”
and fell over backwards.

The fish flopped madly, trying to get back into the water.

Jeff, afraid he would lose the fish, threw himself down on top of it. “We got him! We got ol’ Napoleon!” he hollered.

Leah was looking down at the front of her overalls, smeared with the green moss that had clung to the fish.

Jeff held up Napoleon. “Look at that! He must weigh ten pounds if he weighs an ounce. He’s bigger than he was the last time we caught him.”

But Leah was watching Jeff, and a smile came to her face. His eyes were alight, and he had lost his hat in the struggle. His black hair was in front of his eyes. She said, “If I live to be ninety, I’ll still remember you holding that fish, Jeff.”

He stood up, then looked at her thoughtfully. “So will I, Leah.” He looked back at the fish and then took a step toward the stream.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m turning him loose. I wouldn’t feel right eating ol’ Napoleon. I’d feel like a cannibal.”

“Good!” Leah cried.

She watched as Jeff carefully removed the hook, then placed the fish in the water. There was a sudden boiling of the creek, and he cried, “There he goes! Go on, boy! Live to be a hundred!”

He watched the fish disappear, then came back to stand beside her. “I dreamed about that too,” he said.

“I’m glad you let him go, Jeff,” she said softly.

They stood there for a moment, still thrilled by the excitement of catching the large fish. Leah said suddenly, “Jeff, show me again the difference between hugging and whatever it was you did.”

He grinned. “You haven’t changed a bit! Yes, you have! The little girl I knew would never ask a man to hug her.” He pulled her close. “Leah, I wanted to wait for a real romantic night, but I guess I can’t wait.”

“Can’t you, Jeff?”

Jeff looked down into her face, admiring again the beauty of her expression and the smoothness of her skin. “I guess I’ve got to tell you that I love you. Maybe I have for a long time. Since you were a little girl—but it’s different now.”

He kissed her, and when Jeff lifted his head, he said, “I want you to marry me. I want us to live together until I’m an old man and have to use a cane and you’ve got white hair. I want us to have kids and grandkids and—”

“Give me a chance to say yes, will you!” Leah cried.

Jeff held her tightly. “It’ll be a while yet, but sooner or later I’ll see you walk down the aisle of that little church. You’ll be wearing a white dress, and I’ll be standing there waiting, and then the preacher will say, ‘Will you have this woman, Leah, to be your wedded wife?’ and I’ll say yes.”

“And then he’ll ask me, ‘Will you have Jeff to be your wedded husband?’ and I’ll say yes.”

“I guess we’d better go home now. We can’t get married here at the river. Someday, though.”

Leah said, “Yes, Jeff, someday.”

Holding hands, they made their way up the creekside path toward the house. The birds overhead suddenly seemed to sing more loudly. Jeff and Leah looked up and smiled.