Chapter 7

On Saturday, they all piled into Marc’s Jeep and drove to Benjamin’s house, which was all of two blocks further along the road.

“I can’t believe that he’s this close and he doesn’t have to worry about losing his house,” Donna said.

“But, Mom, we don’t have to anymore either,” Ralphie said. “We’ve got the pictures.”

“And the letters,” Marc pointed out.

“How important are the letters compared to the photos?” Donna asked.

“I’m not sure. I think he’ll tell us more today. He was interested in the fabric we found, too.” Marc came around the corner and slowed down suddenly. Enough cars to fill a small parking lot crowded the sides of the road as they approached Benjamin’s house.

He found a spot to park the Jeep, and they walked toward the gathering. Donna pointed out a group of hoop-skirted women dancing around a canvas tent. “I thought you said we didn’t have to wear costumes.”

“We don’t. Benjamin said that some women like to practice moving in the skirts.”

“Oh, okay,” she said. “Should we go around to the backyard? Or through the front door?”

“It looks like everyone is gathered in the backyard,” Marc said.

“Look! The bonfire has already started!” Ralphie ran towards the fire.

“Okay, I guess we’re going around the back,” Marc said.

As they got closer, Marc could see Ralphie near the fire. He was standing with a few men, passing around an antique-looking rifle, and Marc approached them. “Ralphie, stay away from the gun, okay?”

“I’m sorry about Ralphie,” Donna said to the men. “He’s eager to learn.”

“Not a problem,” one of the men said.

Marc held out a hand. “I’m Marc, and this is my sister, Donna. We’re the Shelbys from down the road. I see you’ve met Ralphie already.” They shook hands. “Do you happen to know where Benjamin is?”

The man with the rifle pointed towards the other end of the yard. “Last I saw him, he was over there with his fiddle.”

“Come on, Ralphie,” Donna said, looking nervously at the rifle.

Following the man’s directions, Marc found Benjamin with his little quartet. When Benjamin saw them approaching, he interrupted his solo to wave, and then he headed towards them. “Marc, Donna, I’m glad you could make it. Let me introduce you around. Crandall has been waiting for you; he’s got the most exciting news.”

“Please don’t leave your music,” Donna said. “We can wander.”

“It’s fine,” Benjamin said. “We’ve been playing for a couple hours already; you’re giving us a good excuse for a break.”

“Ralphie was interested in the guns,” Marc said. “Got something else he could do instead? Hey, Ralphie, this is Benjamin.”

“This is so awesome,” Ralphie exulted, shaking Benjamin’s hand. “And those guns are cool!” He kept looking back to the man with the rifle.

“Marc Shelby!” The shout echoed through the woods. The three of them turned to see Crandall running towards them. “You’ll never believe what I found in my records!”

“Crandall, slow down.” Benjamin patted him on the shoulder. “Our nurses aren’t equipped to fix you if you fall.”

The tall man grinned before continuing. “Marc, your Granddaddy Jimmy used to be one of us. He joined with his wife in the 1960s. Your mama must have been in her early twenties. It says in the notes that there was a baby.”

“That baby must have been me. I was born in the sixties,” Donna said, keeping an eye on Ralphie watch the men with the rifle.

“They didn’t play for long,” Crandall said. “I just thought you’d be excited to know that Civil War re-enacting is in your blood, so to speak. They went to a few functions, and then we lost touch with them. The story I heard was that he made your grandmother make everything, and she finally put her foot down. It was a lot of sewing.”

Benjamin turned to Marc. “That reminds me… what kind of fabric did you find again?”

Marc pulled a piece of paper from his back pocket. “This is the list we pulled together. There’s about ten boxes of various lengths of fabric and quite a few bolts of stuff too.”

Crandall looked over Marc’s shoulder and whistled. “That could fetch a pretty penny! Are you planning on making uniforms for yourselves?”

“Crandall, come on,” Benjamin cautioned. “Let’s not scare them away.”

Donna laughed. “I just want to keep my house. That’s the first thing. After that’s settled, we’ll see about joining you.”

Ralphie looked intrigued.

“Speaking of saving the house…” Marc turned to Benjamin. “Did you learn anything from the letters? Or just the pictures?”

“One second.” Benjamin gave the list of fabrics to Crandall. “I have to handle this. Do me a favor: check with the group to see if anything looks usable to us, would you?”

“Definitely, Ben.” He took the paper and headed back toward the main crowd.

Benjamin’s eyes closed a moment. “About the letters… I’m holding off to speak with the historian at the Capitol. I’m worried that people will think you created them yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

“There are tiny minds in this town,” Benjamin said. “Sure, these guys accept me because we run together, but if too many people discover the nature of these letters, they might lose their shit.”

“Love is love. What should it matter?” Donna said.

“I know, and I agree with you, but we need to prepare for the worst. I’m planning on taking all afternoon tomorrow to go over the letters with a fine-tooth comb. Why don’t we take the letters to the library and do a little rough search, okay?”

“Sure, that sounds like a plan.” Marc said.

“Until then, join the party. Walk around. Get to know the folks. The cooks are practicing their recipes for the camp retreat in a few weeks, so there’s plenty of food. Oh!” Benjamin caught Marc by the arm as they turned to walk away. “Come with me, and I’ll show you the uniforms I was talking about.”

“I’ll be right back, Donna,” Marc said as he followed Benjamin.

“Sure thing, Marc.” Donna took Ralphie by the shoulder and steered him away from the rifle guys.

“You might want to take him over to the drum corps,” Benjamin said. “They’re out on the field.” He pointed.

“How’s that sound to you, Ralphie?” Donna asked.

Ralphie hesitated, torn between the power of the guns and the allure of the drums, but then gave in. “Sure, Mom, that sounds fun.”

Donna and Ralphie walked away as Marc and Benjamin headed for the house.

* * *

In the house, three men stood in the kitchen arguing.

“It’s just a rehearsal, Hank!”

“Yeah, but if we make the meat with Heinz, how will we know it tastes fine with our homemade ketchup? The judges will want to taste it.”

“I know, but the judges won’t be at the rehearsal.”

“Even so, Tim, shouldn’t we do it right the first time? If we use the Heinz, it won’t taste the same!”

A grinning Benjamin led Marc upstairs. “This is my bedroom. I’m not trying to be forward, but I figured you’d get a kick out of the uniforms I have.”

The room was painted a soft gray. The furniture was heavy wood, not unlike the stuff that Marc had discovered in his Grammom’s attic. The bed had a granny-square afghan in reds, creams, and blues thrown over one corner.

Benjamin opened the closet and pulled out three uniforms.

“This is the basic uniform. It’s essentially trousers, undershirt, and coat. This one is a junior officer, and this was the one I last wore before stepping up to the position of Brigadier General.”

“Who decides what you play?” Marc looked at the uniforms as Ben laid them across the bed.

“A lot of the guys base their characters on family members. I’m the Brigadier General because I’m in charge of the 12th Arkansas Infantry. The guy who had the job the year before moved out of state, so I stepped up.”

Marc lifted the junior officer outfit and ran his fingers around gold metal buttons, over rough fabric. He shook his head and picked up the basic outfit. “This would probably be more my style.”

“You should try it on. I’ll be right back.” Benjamin left the room.

Marc unbuttoned his shirt, sat on the bed and kicked off his shoes, and unbuckled his belt. He heard the door creak open as he pulled his jeans down. When he stood up, he turned to see Benjamin standing there, his lips in a startled O.

“Sorry! I assumed you’d use the bathroom.” Benjamin held out a pair of leather suspenders. “I brought these for the pants, in case they’re too loose.”

Marc laughed and held his jeans over his boxers, praying his growing hardness didn’t pop out. His face warmed and he wondered how red he was. Marc reached for the trousers on the bed, turned around, and dropped his jeans. He sat down to get his feet in and pull up the trousers.

“Purple and green—my favorite colors,” Benjamin quipped.

Marc looked down at his boxers, still visible through the open button fly. “Really? I would have thought that gray was more your speed.”

He buttoned up the front of the trousers, aware of Benjamin’s eyes on him. When he reached for the red shirt on the bed, the trousers fell around his ankles. “Oh, I see why I need suspenders.” He knew he was as red as the shirt in his hands.

“Hold still. I’ll put them on for you.”

He felt Benjamin’s warmth against his backside, then closeness as Benjamin slid his hand down the back of the trousers to fidget with something. He flipped the brown suspenders over Marc’s shoulders and reached around to button them to the trousers in the front.

With Benjamin pressed against his back, Marc closed his eyes. He shivered as Benjamin’s hand lingered at his waist. He shivered again as Benjamin’s lips brushed the back of his neck.

Behind them, the door opened without a knock. “Benjamin, you’ve got to settle this fight between Hank and me—oh, uh, I’m sorry.” Tim, the short cook from the kitchen, stood in the doorway. “Oh, man. Sorry, I didn’t know. I’m, uh.”

Tim backed out of the room and shut the door.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry. Are they going to…?” Marc said, not sure what he was asking. His skin was still tingling from Benjamin’s kiss.

Benjamin sighed. “I wasn’t complaining. But Tim has a habit of barging in without knocking. Get the rest of this on so you can see if you like it. I’ll handle Tim.” He went out the door, leaving Marc half-dressed next to the bed. “Tim! Tim, wait.”

Marc heard the muffled talk through the door.

Marc moved closer to the door, the red shirt on, the suspenders resting on his shoulders. He couldn’t help it—he had to hear. He leaned against the door now, listening.

“I saw you lean in! You were kissing him,” Tim squeaked.

“His back was to me, and I was buttoning the suspenders. That’s all. You remember the first time you tried on the pants. No one knows how to button suspenders unless you wear them all the time.”

Tim didn’t sound convinced. “Um, okay. I’ll be quiet about it.”

“There’s nothing to be quiet about, Tim. Nothing was happening,” Benjamin said again.

I see why he’s their Brigadier General, Jed said.

Tim had apparently refocused. “Okay, can you settle this argument between me and Hank?”

“Sure, what’s going on?” Benjamin was closer to the door and easier to hear.

“I said we should make the beef with our own homemade ketchup, even for the rehearsal, but Hank wants to cut corners and use Heinz.”

“Can you make two batches? Try it both ways?”

Marc grinned and leaned back against the door. This is the guy you chose for me?

He’s a good manager. You need that.

“Maybe,” Tim said uncertainly. “Look, can you come down and explain this to Hank? He won’t listen if he thinks it’s my idea.”

“Sure thing,” Benjamin said. “I’ll be right down. Just let me finish helping Marc first.”

Marc darted back to his spot by the bed as the door opened and Benjamin came back in. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Are you and Tim dating?” Marc asked.

“No, no,” Benjamin snorted. “No, he’s just the worst person to find me doing anything because he’s notorious for expanding the truth. This ketchup thing probably isn’t that big of a deal, but he likes to be accurate in everything.”

“Is that why he wears tennis shoes with his Civil War get-up?” Marc asked.

Benjamin chuckled. “I think his boots are being repaired, actually. Hey, this looks good on your frame.”

Benjamin picked up the coat with all the buttons. “Turn around and slip your arms into the sleeves.”

It was another moment of backing up against Benjamin’s body, another moment of heat. They both lingered, pressed against each other.

“I’m sorry.” Marc’s heart was beating hard. Does he see what he’s doing to me?

“Don’t be.” Benjamin’s voice was almost in his ear.

Marc moved forward half a step, breaking that heated contact. But Benjamin moved forward with him, and they were pressed against each other once again.

Marc held still as Benjamin’s hands ran from his shoulders to his wrists. “Benjamin… we shouldn’t.”

“I know we shouldn’t. Don’t move.” Benjamin moved to the door, closed it, and locked it. Then he returned to Marc and knelt in front of him.

“Benjamin, I— That wasn’t even what I was thinking about when I said we shouldn’t,” Marc protested. But Benjamin ignored him and reached for the bottom of the jacket.

He buttoned the first three buttons, rising to his feet as he continued buttoning up the coat about halfway. Then, standing in front of Marc again, he placed his hands on either side of Marc’s face. “I know. This is what you thought we shouldn’t do.”

Benjamin pressed against him, and their lips met. Marc’s opened in a shocked gasp, and their tongues danced as they leaned into each other.

Neither said anything as they separated. For a moment, they looked into each other’s eyes. It felt like electricity was jumping between them, searing, shocking. A line had been crossed, and they both knew it.

Impulsively, Marc leaned forward, caught Benjamin’s lips with his own, and their kissing dance continued. This kiss lasted longer. Their arms wrapped around each other, holding tight, pressing close.

I don’t want this to stop.

This time when they parted, they both took long deep breaths. Marc shuddered with the effort of it.

Then they looked into each other’s eyes and began to giggle. “Just like that, huh?” Marc said when he could speak.

“Just like that,” Benjamin agreed.

“I wanted to do that when I saw you in the woods that first afternoon,” Marc said. He slid his fingers into the blond curls that fell around Benjamin’s face. “This hair, those eyes, those lips—and that violin of yours—stole my heart that evening in the woods. And all I could manage was that half-assed wave.”

Benjamin grinned. “I wanted it too. You popped out of the woods like a lost spirit wandering them, and I wanted to catch you and rescue you. But you disappeared as fast as you showed up.”

Marc looked down, embarrassed. “I’m sorry I ran away.”

Benjamin shook his head. “It worked out, didn’t it? You showed up to council and told me where you lived. And then it turned out you were in one of the houses that Upshaw wants to raze.”

“But we’ll save the house, right? And I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere.” Marc pressed his hand on his crotch. “I can’t hide how I feel. I’m sorry.”

“No, stop apologizing,” Benjamin said. “Now we both know we want it. We just seem to want it with a crowd downstairs.”

He turned Marc to face the mirror beside the dresser. “You’re looking sharp. Let’s introduce you to the group.”

“But you already have, haven’t you?” Marc said as Benjamin unlocked the door.

“Sure, as yourself. But now, you can be William Shelby.”