Falling for the Enemy

Can't Hide Forever

                                                                                Henry

I have no reason to keep him from his daughter especially after everything he has done for me.  

“She is in Mary’s room.”  Mr. Cooney turns and walks out of the barn using his cane to balance as he walks back to the house.  

“But Mr. Cooney she will not be happy to see you,” I say trying to encourage him to stay out of her room.  

“Well you see Mr. Washburne this is my home and I can go where ever I choose” and with that our conversation is over.  

Quickly I make my way around to the back of the house trying to beat Mr. Cooney to the bedroom so I can give Catherine a warning.  I am still limping but I am no longer using a cane or crutch so I am quicker than Mr. Cooney.   As quickly as I can I rush through the main hall and up the stairs to Mary’s room.  I find Catherine asleep on Mary’s bed.    Swiftly I walk to the bed and gently place one hand on her shoulder and just barely nudge her hoping not to startle her.  She gives out a little moan and blinks her eyes open. 

“Henry, what’s wrong?”  

“Catherine, your father is coming.  I had to tell him.  He knew something was happening and he was very upset. I am sorry but he wouldn’t listen to our stories anymore.”  

“Henry it’s okay, I knew he wouldn’t be that easy to avoid for long. He was going to find out sooner or later.  I was foolish for trying to hide it from him in the first place.”   

“I will go then and leave you two to talk. He should be here in a few minutes.”  I walk out onto the veranda and stand staring out into the open field.  

I am glad that her father will know.  If it were my daughter I would want to know.  I would not want to be kept in the dark, but I understand why Catherine wanted to keep it from her father.  He is so fragile.  He has good days and he has his bad days.  Some days he is almost unresponsive and spends his days in bed.  Other days he is up and moving around the property.  She was just trying to keep him safe and I know her father will understand.

                                                                            Catherine

I slowly stand up from the bed, moving ever so slightly because with each movement an ache is sent quaking through my entire body.  My destination is the mirror hanging across the room.  Slowly holding onto anything I can grip I make my way gradually to the mirror.  I am hoping that in the short time that I have been home that miraculously my wounds have healed and I look as I always have.  Of course, when I stare into the mirror the reflection is just as gruesome as I expected it to be.  How can I possibly make what happened to me look any better?  I am almost unrecognizable except for the two blue eyes that stare back at me in the mirror.  

However, examining those closer I soon realize that there is something different about my eyes too.  Where there used to be happiness, there is now sadness.  Something has changed in me and all you have to do is look into my eyes to see the change. This war is tearing our homeland apart and even though I haven’t been in battle myself; This war has torn me apart too.   

In vain I try to make myself look more presentable.  I slowly slip a blouse over my chemise and force my aching hands to button each and every button.  I then step into a fresh skirt and with a great deal of effort wiggle the skirt up to my waist.  As I am tucking the blouse into my skirt there is a knock at my door.  I do not turn to face the door because I know who will be standing on the other side of the door.  Still looking at my reflection in the mirror I hear the door slowly creak open.  I do not turn to look.  I am happy that the bruises and cuts on my body are hidden safely under my clothes.   In the back of my mind, I hope that with my body being shielded from his sight that my bruised and swollen face will be less of a shock to him.         

“Catherine?” my father’s voice says quietly behind me.  

I can hear his footsteps moving across the hard floor slowly.   When I know he is close to reaching my body I turn to face him.  My father’s eyes are filled with shock and pain.  Then it is replaced by anger and tears. 

“My god Catherine what happened to you?”

 My father reaches out to touch the side of my face but barely brushes my cheeks because he seems afraid to touch me as I may break under his touch.  Placing my hand over my father’s hand and holding it tightly, I begin to explain.  I tell him of how I stumbled upon Charles Sankey and his friend in the woods.  I allow my father to know some of the details of the beating but I do not elaborate on every event that took place in the woods.  I purposely leave out the whipping and the time I spent tied to a tree.  I finish the story with the fact that both men were shot in our main hall downstairs and that now our entire family is safe and we will never have to worry about Charles Sankey and his evil ever again. 

Just as Henry was concerned about my innocence so is my father.  

“Catherine, did he touch you? Did he?” and he stops mid-sentence.  

My father is unsure of how to ask his oldest daughter if she was raped by an old friend of his.     

“No, papa.  They didn’t touch me like that” I say moving into my father’s chest and embracing him.  

I haven’t called my father papa since I was a child but right now in my father’s arms I feel like a little girl again.  I am able to talk my father into returning to his room, as I keep reassuring him that I am alright and I have merely sustained some injuries to my face.  I try not to wince or cringe in pain in my father’s presence and when guiding him back to his room it takes all my effort to hold the tears inside from the immense pain I am feeling.  

Suddenly I am grateful that my father walks at a slow pace or I would not be able to keep this charade up.  I assist my father into his bed and cover him up kissing him lightly on the forehead and leave him to rest.  As soon as I close my father’s door behind me, I droop to the floor on my knees, finally able to release some of the silent tears.  I am careful not to make a sound when I am crying. Samuel is the first person to find me sitting outside my father’s door limp on the floor with tears streaming down my face.  Gently he takes my hand and helps me to my feet.  

“Let’s get you back to your room Miss Catherine,” he says whispering closely to my ear.  Nodding through my tears I allow him to guide me to my room.  I have never been so grateful to see a bed in my life and as soon as I reach the bed I fall to my stomach and close my eyes.  Now I can let the sobs out more freely without any worry that someone will hear me. Unaware that Samuel has left the room; I pick up my head to thank him for his help, but he has already gone.