The Ember In The Storm

Part II

   "We have arrived," Roman said as soon as Jackson finished speaking. He got off his horse and towards the two, helping his General carry Elizabeth into his arms and the house.

Elizabeth flinched in pain, startling Jackson. "You'll be fine," he comforted her. Or himself. He could not tell.

"Isabella!?" Roman called, running past the kitchen and into the living room where his wife usually sat. Truly, there she was, her legs over the couch as she sipped on tea and read the newspaper.

"Well you're back ear—" she lost her voice as she faced the entry, seeing her husband walk in with Jackson, carrying a nigger in his arms.

"Please, my wife, she is—" Jackson tried to explain, fumbling over his words for the first time. He usually thought of words before speaking but then, all he could think about was getting Elizabeth safe. "I need your help."

"I—" Isabella still seemed show-struck by the scene. Which was understandable. "You can take her to the guest room whilst I prepare. Second room on your right."

Isabella held onto Roman's arm, a sign that she wanted him to stay. Jackson nodded at the directions before walking in that manner.

Once the two reached the guest room door, Jackson opened it with his foot, the door slamming against the wall inside before he walked them in. First thing he looked for was the bed, which he found at the far side by the window. He gently placed Elizabeth there, as careful as a two thousand year old vase.

"Stay still, don't move," he demanded, kneeling besides her.

Elizabeth turned her head to him, examining his chest. "I ruined this shirt, too."

Jackson looked down at himself. His white shirt now had a dark red map all over his chest. Rolling his eyes back to Elizabeth, he caught sight of the large mass of blood on her stomach. She was losing blood quickly.

"You can ruin as many shirts as you want, my love. Ruin them all for the rest of my life," he took her hand, opening her palm to rest against his right cheek.

Elizabeth caressed her thumb against him, trying to dry his moist skin. "Don't cry, it will look bad for a General."

Jackson had not even noticed he was crying. When was the last time he cried? He was kneeling just like this, holding a hand in his own hand like this, scared just as he was then.

"To hell with being General," he sniffed. "I hate it, I hate it so much."

"Good thing you're retiring," Elizabeth smiled.

"And when I do, you and I will leave this place, we will find a place good enough for you, for our children—"

"Jackson—"

"I'll be the happiest man alive, you want that, do you not?" He looked down at her, hoping to not see the doubt from the week before in her eyes.

Elizabeth smiled. "How many children?"

"Three, five, ten, as many as you want my darling," his smile grew.

Elizabeth chuckled, however her laugh turning into coughs.

"There, there," Jackson patted her shoulder, looking at the empty doorway. "Let me go see what is taking them so long, stay with me," he told her, kissing her forehead before walking out of the room quickly.

Jackson reached the corner of the living room, stopping once he heard the familiar voices of the couple.

"You are going to get us both killed, Roman, he will get us killed."