Love is a Wounded Soldier (10 page)

“Honey, we don’t know if the draft is for
sure, and you know your family is going to be plenty upset,” I told her,
noticing I was talking as though my mind was already made up.

“Yeah, but you’re worth it, baby,” she
replied. The odd mixture of defiance and softness in her voice made me want to
kiss her.

“I want you
now
!” she pouted a little,
and any misgivings I still had about eloping that afternoon were neatly folded
up and put away.

The wind had driven the clouds into a wall
on the eastern horizon, and the sun was smiling down on us like a grandmother
beaming at her grandchildren. Then, as though the sun’s warmth and blitheness
was penetrating me through, I felt inexplicably optimistic, and got a feeling
of pure excitement that I was so unaccustomed to, it took me a minute to
identify it.

“Let’s go buy a marriage!” I shouted,
excitedly accelerating the car as I did so. Ellen clutched my arm, laughing, as
we fishtailed gently on the still somewhat greasy road.

“Well, I’m going to have stop at home and
pick up my made-to-order wedding dress,” she said facetiously.

“Indeed m’lady,” I affected a stuffy
British accent, “and I must be seeing if my haberdasher has finished the
alterations on my tails and trousers.”

“Tails and trousers!” she scoffed. “I had
expected a dashing knight like you would be attired in a suit of shining
armor!”

“Tsk,” I lamented, “I had wanted it to be a
surprise!” Just as I was beginning to adjust to silliness and jesting, she
became serious again.

“So, unless Ma has already left for her
ladies’ aid meeting, I’m going to have to talk to her without starting a
brawl.”

“Well, try not to make a fight out of it,”
I advised.

“I don’t care if I have to fight, if they
don’t want to support us, to heck with them,” she concluded flippantly. I held
my tongue. She was so headstrong. I finally spoke up.

“You don’t want to burn your bridges,
sweetheart,” I chided gently.

“You don’t need bridges once you’ve crossed
over into the Promised Land,” she whispered as her lips brushed my ear and her
hand squeezed my thigh and worked its way up.

The peak of her house was visible through
the trees now, and I was becoming a touch anxious about Ellen breaking the news
to her mother.

“You nervous about this?” I asked.

“A little,” she replied, “but mostly, I’ve
made up my mind, and if they don’t want what’s best for me, then I think I
don’t need them.” Strangely enough, I wanted to stick up for her parents, but
kept quiet. I didn’t think they were being malicious. I didn’t doubt for a
minute they wanted what was best for both of us, but sometimes I got the
feeling that older couples had been through so many problems in their married
lives, they seemed to want their children to get all the kinks worked out
before they’re married.

“Do you want me to come in?” I asked as we
pulled up to the front of her house.

“No, I’ll deal with it myself,” she
replied, pushing the door open on her side and getting out.

“Wish me luck,” she said, blowing me a kiss
through the open window. I turned off the engine as she walked up the steps,
and watched as the screen door slammed behind her. I drummed my fingers on the
steering wheel and shot frequent glances through the screen door and into the
windows of the house, trying to catch a glimpse of what might be going on and
listening for yelling, but it was silent.

Not more than two minutes after she’d
entered, Ellen reappeared with a large suitcase and one smaller one. Her mother
followed her out onto the porch. I didn’t want to look her in the eye, but I
acknowledged her with a nod and resumed staring down at the floorboards. Out of
the corner of my eye I could see she stood with her right arm across her chest,
hand tucked under her left arm. Her left thumb was pushed up under her chin,
the backs of her fingers covering her chin and quivering mouth.

“You kids take care,” she called out in a
shaky voice. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Ma,” Ellen replied before
she climbed in the car, but her voice lacked the same conviction her ma’s had.

I started the car and pulled away. In my
mirror I could see her watch us leave. She looked so sad, standing on the
porch, wiping her eyes with her apron. My conscience twinged slightly.

“My, you’d think she was sending us off to
be buried,” Ellen observed.

“Well, I guess in a way she is losing a
daughter,” I replied. Ellen was quiet as I turned down the road toward my
place.

“How’d she take it,” I asked after a bit.

“Oh, she was upset, but calm. It’s Daddy
that’s going to have a conniption,” she predicted.

Once we reached my place, Ellen helped me
set everything up to allow all the livestock to be self-sufficient for a few
days. Then we went in to get my things.

As we were packing, I noticed Ellen looking
around the place, as though mentally rearranging and renovating. I thought
about how much more I’d wanted to accomplish to make the place woman-friendly,
and consoled myself with the thought that she’d probably like to have input
into any changes that went into the house, anyway. My ma had always had to be
content with a fairly plain house, but still went to some lengths to
personalize it, and I knew Ellen would want to do the same.

“Sure didn’t take you this long to gather
your
things,” I remarked, noting how long it was taking to get my meager wardrobe
packed.

“I had my bags packed before you picked me
up this morning,” she smiled slyly. I stopped what I was doing and looked at
her questioningly.

“So I guess you were planning on getting
married come hell or high water,” I commented, thinking about the future
ramifications of her stubbornness.

“Yeah, I guess I was,” she affirmed. Doubt
and distrust infected my mind.

“So, is that how you’re going to be with
me, make up your mind and just do whatever it takes to get what you want?” I
challenged, plopping myself down on the bed. I’d never thought I would get cold
feet, but I was having visions of being made a fool of by a strong-willed,
out-of-control wife, and it made me nervous. “You don’t want to be rushing into
forever,” parroted an advisor on my shoulder, and I was at a loss to determine
whether it was a demon or an angel.

“Baby!” Ellen scolded, perching on my knee.
“I’m just scared if I don’t marry you now, I’ll never be with you,” she said,
putting on a forlorn look. “And I
need
to be with you—in every way.” Her
look went from mournful to bewitching, as her hand slipped in between the
buttons of my shirt and she disabled me with her lips. She gently tried to push
me down onto the bed, but with my fingernails still shallowly dug into high
moral ground, I resisted, good-naturedly nudged her back a little, and said,
“To be continued,” though not exactly sure how I’d managed to resist her
advance. She looked a little hurt, but soothingly reassured, “Don’t worry,
we’re going to have a beautiful, happily-ever-after marriage. I promise.” My
fears receded somewhat and I kissed her on the forehead, collected a few
toiletries and a wad of cash I’d been saving, and we headed outside.

“Do you like camping?” I asked her
suddenly.

“Yes,” she responded, looking slightly
perplexed.

“I mean, do you like it enough to spend
tonight in a tent instead of a hotel?” A smile spread across her face.

“Any place I spend the night with my prince
is the Waldorf-Astoria to me,” she embarrassed me.

I dropped off the bags by the car, leaving
her to load and arrange them. Then I located the tent inside and rummaged
around for suitable bedding. I decided I should really get a fresh set of
sheets and blankets after we got back, so I opted to demote my current set to
camping status. It was early afternoon by then, so I rushed to get everything
loaded up.

Ellen was seated, ready to go when I got in
the car. I let out a long breath as I looked over at her.

“Are you ready for this?” I asked.

“As ready as I’ve ever been,” she smiled
confidently. Seeing I was still tense, she added, “Don’t worry, Robbie. This is
the happiest, most exciting day of my life. Don’t ruin it by being all uptight.”

“OK, I’ll do my best,” I promised her. I
finally took a good look around at the glorious day surrounding me, and the
turbulent storm of doubt in my mind that had preoccupied me lifted. I began to
feel the excitement Ellen had just been talking about.

As we drove past my small herd of cows
grazing near the drive, I hollered, “We’re gonna get married! Woohoo!” out the
window. The news appeared to astonish the whole lot of them. One white-faced
cow named Molly was so flabbergasted she even raised her head and stopped
flicking her tail long enough to lob a dumb look my way. We both laughed as I
steered the car toward Gatlinburg.

Table of Contents

FOUR

OH, SWEET INNOCENCE!

“Have you been to
Gatlinburg before?” I asked Ellen when I could see the city looming in the
distance.

“Maybe five or ten times,” she speculated.
“Daddy preaches at the church there sometimes.”

I nodded absentmindedly. I’d visited the
city a total of two times, once that I could remember, so I knew I might have
to rely on Ellen’s recollection of how it was laid out. It wasn’t much of a
city, but using Coon Hollow as a yardstick, it stood tall at the time.

“So, we should buy wedding rings,” I
remarked, almost before the thought landed in my mind. Ellen looked at me as
though I’d announced water is wet, and I immediately felt inadequate at
impromptu nuptial planning.

“So, you gonna want a big diamond and all
that?” I tried to ask without flinching.

“Yes. I’m going to want a stone that people
can see a block away,” Ellen replied, poker-faced. My agony must have been
obvious, as I had visions of selling off half the farm to purchase a ring with
a stone that could be mistaken for a small planet, but Ellen revealed her bluff
with a laugh, and assured me that plain wedding bands would suffice for the
both of us.

The drive to Gatlinburg took just over an
hour, and for much of the time we basked in each other’s company, lost in our
respective daydreams. Ellen’s mouth was positioned in a pleasant way that made
it very easy to believe a barely contained felicity effervesced beneath her
placid expression, like the involuntary smile of a sleeping baby.

The roads were mostly dry by now, and the
cool, soggy morning had turned into a warm, humid afternoon, and rather than
peaking around noon, the temperature seemed to continue its ascent as the day
wore on.

When we arrived in Gatlinburg, both of us
were a little damp, but not unbearably so.

 We stopped at the first jewelry store we
stumbled upon, Rothwell’s Jewelry, though it may have been the city’s only, for
all we knew.

A wizened old man with bright eyes served
us. His hands were shaky, but a steady mind ordered his glib tongue. At first
he awed us with bedazzling diamond rings and a brilliant discourse on the
stones, but when we told him exactly what it was we were after, he obligingly
put them away and produced precisely the type of gold bands we had in mind, let
us try them on, and looked pleased with himself when both our rings fit us
perfectly.

As he boxed them up, we inquired as to
where we could find a marriage license vendor and Justice of the Peace.

“You can buy the license right here,” he
told us, and reached under the counter and pulled out the necessary forms. As
we filled them out, he told us the Justice had probably gone home for the day,
but said we could try him at home, and gave us clear directions to his house.
He went even further by providing a hand-drawn map after I had paid. Grateful
for the help, we offered redundant thank-yous, and he followed us to the door and
continued to shower us with gems of advice even as we walked toward the car.

“Nice old fella,” Ellen commented as we
seated ourselves in the car and waved to the smiling man still standing in the
doorway of his shop.

“Um-hmm,” I grunted, already studying the
map he’d drawn on the back of a used envelope.

Finding the Justice wasn’t as easy as it
had sounded, but we found him. He lived across town, on a twisted, almost
hidden little road aptly named Serpent Drive.

The neighborhood had a distinguished, yet
congenial air about it, like a silver-haired grandfather figure. Stately houses
rested in the shade of towering elm trees on spacious, well-manicured lots.

We found house #217 and parked in front of
a two-story brick house that looked generations old, but well kept. In front of
it was not so much a porch, but a portico. Giant white pillars stood in front
like sentries. An open newspaper and a pair of legs appeared to be rocking the
large white porch swing.

Ellen and I exchanged uneasy looks as we
both waited for each other to open their door first. I took the initiative and
she followed, and we almost tiptoed uncertainly up the walk. Even as we mounted
the steps, the newspaper continued to obscure the face of the gentleman on the
swing.