June 23, 1862

Lou sat at the desk in her room, not seeing the scene beyond the window in front of her. It had been a year to the day since she had last seen her beloved Kid. And the message that was delivered to her that morning meant that she would never see him again.

In her left hand she clutched the message that had been handed to her just a few hours ago. She had yet to shed a tear. Instead, she could only stare at the paper, as if willing the words to disappear. If only they would; she wouldn’t have to deal with this news; wouldn’t have to tell Rachel and Buck and Teaspoon, wouldn’t have to write to Cody and Jimmy, wouldn’t have to add a new marker to the ones already in the cemetery outside of town. The words were still there though, staring at her in their cold, stark heartlessness.

Sitting on the desk in front of her was Kid’s last letter--dated the very day he had died. Her eyes wandered back to the official notice. Josiah. Kid had taken her last name when they married, but he had been forced to provide his given first name when he joined the army. There was a time when she would have given anything to know his name, but now she took no comfort in finally knowing the truth. She would rather never know anything about the man who had become her life, if ignorance would only bring him back to her.

Sighing, she picked up a piece of paper. In the past year, her main source of comfort had been her ability to write her letters to Kid, and now, out of habit, she reached for her pen and ink, and began to write.

Today a man came to our door,
dressed in black, with news of war.
A face I’ve never seen before,
but, Kid, I will never forget him.
I knew at once that you were gone,
he tipped his hat and then moved on,
and left my world a cold and empty space,
such a lonely place.

But for the promise
that we made long ago,
for the nights
when you held me in your arms,
I will keeps life’s fragile flame,
for the honor of your name.

Her tears began to flow now, and Lou had to struggle to keep writing. Had she been able to see beyond her tears to the road outside her window, she would have seen the outline of a man walking up the road towards town. As it was, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and continued writing.

And maybe someday when I’m stronger
I will look back on this day,
and understand all the reasons why
the good Lord took you away.

If Lou had been looking out the window, she would have seen as the man got closer and closer, passing the newly paved lane which led to Buck and Jenny’s home in the bunkhouse, the deed to which Tompkins had given them at the wedding a month earlier. She would have seen as he paused before the gate which led to Rachel’s house, staring at it for a long moment before opening it and starting down the path. As he got closer, it would have become apparent that it had been a long while since he had a haircut or shaved. His right sleeve was pinned up at the shoulder, where his arm should have been.

Lou saw none of this though, as Noah had begun to whimper from his cradle. Moving over to him, she picked him up and rocked him gently. His eyes opened as he felt his mama’s tender touch, and as his hand reached out to grasp her hair, she found herself staring into them. Those eyes were so much like Kid’s, with their icy blue depth that looked as if they could pierce through her very soul.

She teared up once more as she thought of how she would never look into Kid’s eyes again. He was buried across the country, in some unknown cemetery--she couldn’t even have the comfort of having him close by.

Laying Noah back in his cradle, she moved back to the desk. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t hear the knocking at the front door. Staring at the tear-stained paper before her, she continued writing.

But for the promise
that we made so long ago;
For the man
that I see in our son’s eyes,
I will keep life’s fragile flame
for the honor of your name.

Laying the pen down, Lou buried her face in her arms and wept. One day, when the war was over, she would travel to Virginia and find her beloved’s grave; and leave her last letter for him. But for now, she wept--for herself; for her son, who would never know his father; and for Kid, who would never hold his son. They were all victims of the war--a war that had created so much tragedy and caused so much pain. And for what? It was all so unnecessary, created by human pride, and that human pride would destroy so much before it was all over.

Lou continued to weep, a year’s worth of loneliness and worry catching up with her. She heard neither the footsteps on the stairs or the door to her room opening. It wasn’t until she felt the hand on her shoulder and heard him say her name, that she was aware someone else was in the room.

“Lou,” he said again.

Turning in her chair, Lou found herself swallowed by the icy blueness of his eyes--eyes she thought she would never see again.

“Kid,” she breathed, afraid to touch him, in case he was a figment of her imagination. She took in everything about him--the long hair, the beard, the missing arm. He had lost weight in the year they were apart, and she almost didn’t recognize him...almost. But when she looked into his eyes, she could not deny what she saw. He had come back to her.

Kid stared at her tear-streaked face, almost afraid to believe he was really home. He had been to hell and back in the past year; and for a while, he wasn’t sure if he would actually make it back. Staring at her, he awaited her reaction. Would she be glad to have him home, or would she turn away from him in disgust, sickened by his handicap? The Lou he loved would never do that, he knew, but he couldn’t help his doubts. He had seen it time and again; men who returned to the girls they left behind, only to be rejected because their wives and lovers were unable to deal with the fact that they were no longer whole. So, even though he knew Lou would not be like them, he could not move until he knew what her reaction would be.

He did not have to wait long. “Kid,” she breathed again, before rushing to him, almost knocking her chair over in the process.

“Kid,” she said his name again and again, throwing her arms around him. “It’s really you,” she ran her hands along his face, still unable to believe he was standing in front of her.

“Lou,” he delighted in saying her name. Wrapping his arm around her back, he pulled her closer to him. His lips found hers, and she wrapped her arms around his neck as their kiss deepened.

“You’re really home,” she pulled away from the kiss and looked him in the eyes again.

“I made you a promise,” Kid brushed the hair out of her face. “I promised I’d come back to you.” He pulled a packet of letters from the pocket of his ragged coat. “I kept every one of the letters you sent me,” he said, handing them to her. “I promised myself that one day I would give them back to you--that’s why I ended all the ones I wrote with ‘until we meet again.’ Because I knew one day we would meet again.”

Lou set the letters on the desk behind her, not taking her eyes from his. The death notice fluttered off the desk, unnoticed as husband and wife stared at each other. She would learn one day what had happened, why the army thought he was dead, but for now she was content in the fact that he was home. Running her fingers through his hair, she kissed him again to make sure he was real. Her beloved was standing before her at last. Their ‘until we meet again’ was no longer. Instead, they could now say, “Together forever.”

The End