"Yes sir, what is it?"
"I need something to tell Carlisle, he'll be wondering about why you're here, as I am. What should I tell him?"
"Well... um... our parents left."
"Yes, you said that earlier, could you tell me a bit more though?"
"Well... we were..."
I sat cross-legged at the foot of her cot and looked her in the eyes.
"When that ship started coming here and the rumors were spreading about a Yankee attack they left for the mainland and left us here."
"Really?"
"Uh... yes sir."
I took one of her little hands in mine.
"Honestly?"
"Uhm..."
"I won't be mad at you. I promise."
A few seconds pass and I give her hand a light squeeze.
"You are welcome to stay here as long as you need to, no matter why you aren't with your parents."
"We left." She whispers.
"You left?"
"Yes sir. We left."
"Why?"
"Well... after our mother died our father was... well..." She glances to her sister, then back at me. "Not so nice to say the least. And then when there were rumors of an attack and he started packing up to evacuate, I grabbed Samantha and left."
I nod silently.
"Would you like to take a walk real quick?" I ask.
She nods and stands, then follows me out the tent. I tip my head in the direction of the beach. We go down the dirt path through the tall grasses that prick and slice at you arms and legs, then down to the shore.
I sit on the sand and look out over the horizon, the morning sun still dancing across the water. I start unlacing my boots and gesture for her to sit next to me.
"What did you want to say back there?"
"It's fine, I shouldn't be telling you this anyways."
"I need something to tell Carlisle, he's actually really serious when he's not around Emmett, and right now it's looking like I just helped you run away because you didn't like your family."
She sighed, then pulled her knees up to her chin, wrapping her arms around her legs to keep her skirt down in the wind.
"He was... he was hitting her. And me, but I didn't really care. She's only eight. You've got to understand. And, hitting me wasn't the worst he was doing to me any ways."
I re-position on the warm sand to look at her, my brow furrowed in confusion.
"He was... uh..."
"Touching?" I ask tentatively.
"Yes." She mumbles into her knees.
I pat a hand on her shoulder, and she looks up, tears welling up in her eyes.
"I-I-I'm sorry." She stutters through tears.
"It's fine, don't worry about it." I whisper back.
She lets out another chocked sob and flings her arms around my neck. She buries her head into my shoulder and lets out tiny little rivers of tears. I drape my arms gently over her back, which wracked with sobs.
"I-I-I-I" She hiccups.
"It's alright. You don't have to say anything."
She unclasps her hands and looks up at me to meet my gaze.
"Sorry." She sniffles, trying to compose herself.
"It's fine. I don't care if you need to cry."
She turns slightly so that we are both facing the sunrise and her head is rested on my shoulder. I relax my arm over her shoulders, holding her in a careful embrace.
"Sometimes, people crack not because they are weak, but because they have been strong for too long." I say softly, quoting what my father had told me once when I was little.
I had been playing with Emmett and he had accidentally set off a round and a piece of hot shrapnel had gone into my leg. We were ten. I had a somewhat... unconventional childhood.
She looks at me and lets out a short chuckle.
"I wish. I couldn't even get us off the island."
"It isn't your fault your sister sprained her ankle."
"It is my fault that we were running over those boulders in the dark. I should have gone a different route. It was dark and uneven and wet and-and-and... and it was my fault. It's my fault we are stuck here."
"You can leave anytime you want. I can't make you stay with us, though I would highly suggest staying with us until we can get you in a group leaving for the mainland."
"Even if Samantha could walk on her own, I doubt we would make it very far. We don't have any money or means of making any, we're too small to be of any use to anyone in the fields. We're basically useless."
"Don't talk like that."
"It's true. What would you do?"
"Well, in your position, I would stay with the army at least until Samantha's foot is better, then I would see about getting a job at a sewing shop or something in town."
She nods.
"Do you think they would take us?"
"It's worth a shot."
She relaxes, leaning completely against me.
"Thanks."
"What for?"
"You know what."
I lift her to her feet and pick up my boots, taking her hand in mine. We walk to the shore and the water laps around my ankles, then recedes back into the Gulf of Mexico.
"A storm is coming." Alyssa says.
"How do you know?"
"The water. Normally the rise and fall of the waves isn't so dramatic. The sky is a grayish color though, not red. Red would be a big storm, like a hurricane or a tropical storm. It's probably just a thunderstorm. It'll pass." She explains.
"How did you know that?"
She shrugs.
"I grew up here. You just figure some stuff out on your own. But the storm thing is common knowledge on the coast."
I smile and watch as another wave comes in from the gulf, watching it rush over my feet, soaking the bottom half of my pants in salty, sandy water.
"If you had an option after the war, would you come back here?"
"If I could find work, then yes. It's where I grew up, I love it here. The beach is like home. You can feel the sun on your cheeks, the sand in your toes and the mist on your face. It's like the whole place is just saying 'Hello, how are you?' You know?"
"Yes. That's exactly what it is. I grew up in Houston, and this is the first time I've ever been on a beach, it's wonderful."
"Houston?"
"Yes."
"Isn't that place like, a swamp?"
"More so marsh, but yes, mostly."
"A lot of mosquitoes?"
"Yes, defiantly more than here."
"There are even fewer on the beach because the wind blows them away."
"Maybe I should move out here."
"Maybe so."
"I'm not sure what Maria would think of it though. I know she doesn't particularly like heat, but with the breeze this is much better, don't you think?"
"How do you know what she thinks of heat?"
"We write to each other. Every summer she mentions how hot it is, though I'm pretty sure it's hotter here. That's why I was planning to move there, since I don't have much family here in the first place."
She nods, dragging her feet through the loose wet sand and turning it up with her toes. As the sand settles there are twenty or thirty of these tiny little pink and purple shells, then after a second or two, they start digging back down into the sand.
"Woah!"
She smiles, looking at my face that must reflect my awe.
"Butterfly clams. When they die, their shells open up and they look like butterflies."
"They're alive?"
"Yes, so are sand dollars."
"I've heard of those before, what are they?"
"Little circular shells, they're kinda' fragail but they are everywhere. The hard part is finding a whole one before you step on it. Someone said that when they are alive they are blue and purple and pink, but I've never seen a live one." She bends over and brushed the sand off a little patch of ground to reveal a little tan disk with something that looked like a flower in the middle. "Here's one." She reaches to pick it up but when she lifts it only half of it is whole, the rest is shattered. "Or the rest of one at least."
"These things used to live?"
"I don't know, I've never seen one alive but some people swear that it's true, they've seen it in books."
"They must be really pretty when they are alive."
"I suppose they would be." She mumbles.
"Let's head back up to the camp, you need to get some rest."
She looks up at me, swinging her head in a way that made her short cropped hair swish in front of her eyes. She blows it away.
"You have to?"
"Yes, I just barely got the assignment in the first place, and I have a particularly grumpy Colonel who would love to yank it away along with several ranks." I shake my head, sitting back on the sand and pulling on the boots over my wet slacks.
"Oh. I'm sorry to keep you waiting."
"No, it's fine. The first group of escorts won't even be ready for a few more hours, I just need to call roll for my men."
"Major Whitlock-"
"I told you you could call me-"
I'm cut off by a huge wave splashing down on my, soaking me to the bone.
I bite my lip and slide on my last boot, tying it off below the knee and standing up, turning slowly to Alyssa.
"Yes?"
"There's... uh... um... there was a wave coming."
"Yes." I chuckle, "I noticed. Thank you for the advanced warning." I manage through laughs.
"I-I-I-I'm sorry." She stammers nervously.
"It's fine." I smile, pulling my soggy hat off.
We turn to walk back up the path, me swinging the wet hat by my side.
"I'm not going to hurt you." I say, after a few minutes of silence.
Her eyes flick up to my face, then quickly back at the ground.
"I won't. I promise."
She mumbles something I can't understand.
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
"What?"
"It was nothing. Sorry."
"It's fine, you don't have to tell me." I lean over and take her hand in mine, walking next to her as we push the grasses away.
"I said that a promise isn't worth anything if you're drunk."
"I'm not drunk."
"No, I mean when you're drunk, a promise you made before doesn't matter to you. Our father... he used to drink. A lot."
"I don't drink."
"Ever?"
"No. I drank a bit of moonshine from a neighbor's still when I was little and I had a hangover for a week. I haven't drunk since."
"Why did you drink moonshine from a still? Everyone knows that you aren't supposed to drink it before it is done, or else it keeps fermenting your stomach and you just have a hangover longer."
"Well. I learned that one the hard way thanks to Emmett."
"Emmett?"
"Yeah, you met him earlier, I've known him for longer than I can remember, and he's been getting us in trouble for longer."
"How?"
"Putting a flaming trash can in the middle of a road. Painting all the pages in the school books over with black ink that he stole from the general store."
"You stole ink?"
"He did. I wasn't involved in that one, but I still couldn't sit right for a week."
She lets out a quick little laugh.
"It's not that funny. He got us kicked out of school for a week and for that my daddy whipped me. I didn't even know he'd done it until the teacher called us out of the class."
"I-I-I-I'm sorry." She freezes in she middle of pushing aside an armful of grass.
I kneel down next to her, crouching at her eye level.
"Alyssa, it's fine. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not mad. Don't worry about it. I was just joking."
She forces a grin and starts on through the grass again.
"I just didn't see you as the type of person to get into trouble."
"I'm not. Emmett is."
"He was that really big one who came in the tent earlier, right?"
"Yes, and the other was Carlisle. He's also an old friend of ours. He's the oldest, twenty-three. Then Emmett is twenty, and I'm nineteen. Carlisle practically raised Emmett. His mother died in childbirth and though he had three older brothers, they didn't want anything to do with him, and his father worked a lot. Carlisle is the one who would yell at him about his grades and tell him not to throw rocks at the birds."
She giggled and turned to look at me.
"Throw rocks at birds?"
"Yes, if you throw stuff and Mourning Doves, no matter how close you get, they won't fly away. He hit them a few times and killed them and Carlisle yelled at him."
"Who does that?"
"Emmett."
We clear the grass and walk back into the camp where Emmett is, once again, waiting. When he sees us he nearly chokes on moonshine he is downing.
"He's a she?" He sputters through the alcohol dripping down his chin.
Alyssa looks down and brushes the toe of her boot against the other.
"Aw shit, Carlisle is gonna have it out for you!"
"He knows. And watch your mouth McCarty."
I snatch the bottle away and empty it on the ground, dropping the bottle next to him.
"Carlisle knows? And let them stay?"
"He let Rosalie stay? Didn't he?"
"Well, yes, that's different though."
"Alyssa, you should go get some sleep. Remember where the tent is?" She nods. "I'll be there in a few hours for lunch, try and get some sleep."
She walks off down the worn path to the barracks with a bright blush on her cheeks.
"And how is it different Emmett?"
"Well... you know."
"How's about you explain it anyways solider?"
"Look, Rose is an adult. She has means of making money and can take care of herself. You just took in two orphaned little girls. What are we supposed to do with them?"
"That's exactly it, Rosalie can take care of herself, no matter exactly how legal her 'means of making money' is. They can't. And what am I supposed to do? Bring them here, then, when we find out they aren't boys say 'Nope, never mind, we don't want you here.' Is that what you want?"
"You should have known."
"When you see two starving kids on the street, is the first thing through your mind to question them on their gender?"
He sets his jaw and turns on his heel, picking up the bottle at his feet in the process, and stalks away.
