Chapter 7

Dear Ben,
Well, you are officially no longer a teenager. Twenty whole years. That's impressive. Though I am only fifteen, I feel so much older. As you probably know, the capital has been moved to Richmond. Father finally came to his senses and fired David. I'm glad; he really was lazy and stupid, and Father caught him gambling at the tavern a couple months ago. He reeked of ale. This was when Father "let him go".
I am so sick of these British soldiers in town! They hassle us, they barge into our homes, and they took all of Father's good tobacco! I had an unpleasant encounter with some a while back. They were what could be called flirting, but not in an innocent kind of way, if you know what I mean. If Father had not been there at the last second, well, let's just say it would not have ended well for me. I'm not allowed out of the house anymore without a male escort, and since you and David are both gone, that only leaves Father. I expect some sort of battle here soon.
Elizabeth, of late, has been secretly seeing Caleb McClellan, the carpenter's son. Though they are young, they make a nice couple. The only problem is that he comes from a patriot family. His father even lost his leg in the army. This is why Caleb and his brother Zachary have taken over the shop with Mr. McClellan's supervision. Caleb is a year younger than you; he is not yet nineteen. Soon he will take over the business and plans to buy a house of his own. Mr. and Mrs. Cole (Mr. Cole came back in November) do not approve of the match at all. Does Elizabeth care? No, she still sneaks out to see him. I think it's rather silly, personally, but I guess that just shows how much I know about love. I'm forever alone.
Maybe, Ben, just maybe this war will end. I pray everyday for your safe return. Mother and Father send their love.
-Felicity

By October 1780, close to Ben's twenty-first birthday, the year had been quite eventful. The capital of Virginia moved to Richmond, and just as things were looking up for the Patriot army, Benedict Arnold gave West Point over to the British. This angered everybody, and even worse, the traitor escaped when it was found out. He and his soldiers then destructively raided throughout Virginia. John thought he should be hanged. Ben only hoped that his parents and the Merrimans would be all right. Now, some nine hundred frontier fighters had defeated a much larger force of British troops in South Carolina. Meanwhile, Ben and his troop were in Georgia, fighting off smaller British troops. This is where Luke lost his arm. He said the operation nearly made him pass out, but he lived and took it like a man. "Didn't it hurt?" asked wide-eyed Jacob as they gathered around his cot. Luke grinned. "Worst pain of my life," he said proudly. "But I lived to tell about it."
"When are you going home?" asked Daniel.
"In two days," Luke replied. "I hope Rebecca doesn't mind a cripple." Over the past year, ever since Matthew died, Luke and Rebecca had corresponded a few times, and just two months ago, he asked her to marry him. Though they had never met in person, she accepted. Ben privately thought that while it was a very noble thing of Luke to do, it was no way to start a marriage, but who was he to judge? Besides, Rebecca's little son needed a father.

Two more months went by, and under General Nathaniel Green, they marched back into South Carolina. It seemed again that they were starting to have a chance against the British. This raised their morale again, and they fought and fought and fought. Of Ben's closest friends, only John, Daniel, and Jacob remained. Now that Matthew was gone, Ben kept his promise and kept a close eye on Jacob. Lord knew the boy needed it, too.

That Christmas, Daniel brought Ben home to stay with him and his family for the holiday. They lived on a small farm a few miles outside of Richmond. The house was small, and the family was big, but Ben liked it. It had a cozy, loving atmosphere to it. The first person he met was Daniel's younger sister, Clara. She was working outside in the cold when they arrived. "Clara!" Daniel called. "Better get inside before you catch pneumonia!" Clara turned and frowned, then smiled when she saw that it was her brother. "Danny!" she cried, running to him and hugging him tightly. "Danny, you're home!" Daniel kissed her cheek. "How are you, Claire?" he asked. "I swear, you get taller and prettier every time I see you!"
"I'm taller?" she laughed. "You, Daniel, are a regular giant!" He just grinned at her, then turning to Ben, who had been standing off to the side quietly, said, "Clara, I'd like you to meet my friend Ben Davidson. He's staying for Christmas." Clara smiled at him. "Tis a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Davidson," she said. "Daniel has said much about you."
"He hasn't mentioned you at all," said Ben. "But it's nice to meet you too, Miss Thomas. And my name is Ben; Mr. Davidson makes me sound like my father."
Clara smiled again. "Very well," she agreed. "But then you must call me Clara, not Miss Thomas."
"Fine," he said with a smile. "It's nice to meet you, Clara."

Over the next week, Ben took a liking to Clara. She had blonde curly hair and brown eyes, and she had a kind face and cheery disposition. He learned that she was eighteen and not courting (though her parents were trying suitor after suitor), and a lover of horses, which was something they had in common. She was left-handed, like he was, and she loved poetry, but he had never really cared for it. She was smart and funny, but was polite and poised at the same time. She was also on the shy side, like he was. She was the first girl in a long time that he had really felt an attraction to. When she was around, he felt his palms sweat, and he became tongue-tied. Daniel, of course, picked up on this, and naturally made fun of him for it. "You're in lo-o-ove!" he would mutter under his breath. "I am not!" Ben protested. "It's just hot in here." Daniel grinned. "Sure it is," he said. At any mealtime, he always made sure that his sister was next to Ben, just to make him anxious. He would force him to ask her if she needed any help with anything. Once, he even made him accidentally walk in on her when she was bathing. That was an episode Ben would rather not repeat, but luckily, Clara didn't hold it against him.

Everyone in Daniel's family liked Ben. He helped out wherever he could, which went anywhere from helping Mr. Thomas and the older boys on the farm to playing with the little ones. "You're good with children," remarked Clara as he lay on the floor playing checkers with the youngest son, Peter, who was seven. He looked up and smiled. "Am I?" he asked. She nodded. "Do you have any siblings?"
"I have an older sister," he replied. "And a younger brother, but he is sixteen."
"Well, for someone who doesn't have much experience with little ones," she said. "You're surprisingly good with them."
"Thank you," he said. "But I wouldn't say that I have no experience. When I was an apprentice in Williamsburg, my master had four children, ranging from ages two to twelve. Of course, they've grown up some since I left for war."
"Especially the two-year-old," she said. "You won't even recognize him when you see them again."
"Her," he corrected.
She smiled. "Fine, her." The clock struck nine. "My goodness, Peter, you have to get to bed!" she exclaimed. "Come along, now. Say good night."
"Good night, Mr. Davidson," said Peter. Ben smiled at the child's forced formality. "Good night, Peter," he said. Clara took him upstairs, then returned a moment later. She sat on the sofa next to him a bit awkwardly and resumed her stitching. Ben looked over. "What is that going to be?" he asked.
"A bluebird," she answered. "I'm making a quilt for Daniel's bed for when he comes home for good. Don't tell him, though. I want him to be surprised."
"I won't," Ben promised. Then, after an awkward silence, he asked, "Do you enjoy sewing?"
"As long as it turns out to be something," she replied. "Like a quilt or a new dress. Just plain mending is tedious. But regular sewing relaxes me, especially on a cold winter evening when there is nothing else to do."
"Daniel and I had to learn to mend in the army," he said. "Unless we wanted to live with a bunch of holes and tears in our clothes." She smiled as though she found the idea of men sewing funny, then said, "I suppose you would have to learn to sew, wouldn't you? I never thought about that.
"I'm not going to tell Felicity that, though," he said. "She's my master's oldest daughter, by the way. She would start making me do all of her mending for her."
Clara laughed. "Not much of a seamstress, is she?"
Ben smiled and shook his head. "Nor a cook, nor a good cleaner, nor anything that has to do with domestic abilities, really. She'd rather work in her father's store with me, or better yet, just trade places with me."
Daniel then came into the room. "Who now?" he asked.
"Felicity," Ben replied. "She probably won't make the world's best housewife someday, but I'm sure her husband will love her anyway. She's got this spunky way about her that's somehow endearing."
Clara smiled a tight smile. "From the way it sounds, I'd say that you have a fancy for her."
Ben raised an eyebrow. "Clara," he said. "She's fifteen."
Daniel started laughing, and Clara smiled and blushed. "Well, then never mind," she said.
"You talk about her a lot," remarked Daniel. "You miss her?"
"Of course," said Ben. "I miss all of them. Felicity and her siblings have become the younger siblings I never had."
Clara just smiled. Then she said, "I'll bet you're tired. I'll go get your bed ready." She left the room, and it was just Ben and Daniel. They were quiet for a moment, then Daniel sang, "She
li-i-ikes you!"
"You think so?" asked Ben nonchalantly (or so he hoped).
Daniel nodded. "Why else would she give up her bed for you and share with Susan?" Susan was his other sister, who was fifteen. "That's her room?" Ben asked. "I didn't mean to put her out."
"No, you didn't," Daniel assured him. "She offered the minute she laid eyes on you."
Ben felt his cheeks turn pink with pleasure. "Well, I appreciate it," was all he said. Then he added, "I'm-um-going to see if she needs any help."
"Sure you are," teased Daniel.
Ben rolled his eyes. "Good night, Daniel."
"By the way," Daniel called. "If she's not down in fifteen minutes, I'm coming up there!"
"Very funny!" Ben called back.

He stood in the doorway as Clara pulled the covers back. "It was very kind of you to do all this," he said. "I really would have been fine sleeping on the sofa." She turned and smiled. "You need a bed," she said. "Heaven knows the last time you slept in one."
"Thank you," he said, coming farther into the room. "I appreciate it."
"Tis no trouble," she assured him. "After what you've been through, you deserve it." He noticed the two pillows, side by side, as if expecting another person. He looked at Clara curiously. She glanced down, then quickly stacked one on top of the other. "I'm sorry," she said. "Force of habit." They were silent for a moment. Then she said, "You haven't told me much about yourself."
"Well, there's not much to tell," he said. "I'm twenty-one years old, I'm from Yorktown, I've been in the army for three years, and when the war ends I have to go to Williamsburg and finish out my apprenticeship with a storekeeper. I'm not married, and I plan on owning my own store one day."
"Will-will you marry when you go home?" she asked. He shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "It's never been a big dream of mine."
"That's too bad," she said. "Something tells me that you would make some lucky girl an excellent husband." He blushed and looked at his feet. Clara was silent. Then she said, "I'll give you some privacy and let you change. Call me if you need me."
"Thank you," he said. "Good night."

Christmas came a few days later. That morning, when he woke up, instead of getting up and getting dressed, he let his head roll back in bed and reflected on the past three years. Three years ago, he was at that awful Valley Forge. How young he had been back then, only eighteen! He hadn't even seen combat yet. He now smiled to himself. Oh, to be young and innocent. Two years ago, his sister had been married. Had it already been two years? It seemed like just yesterday he had had that awkward encounter with Bessie Sue. He laughed to himself. He wondered what ever became of her. A year ago, not a particularly exciting Christmas. It was spent in camp, and while it was nice enough with people singing carols around the fire and drinking coffee, it didn't compare to home. Two months later, they lost Matthew. Ben still missed him and thought about him everyday. He had been miserable when Matthew died, so miserable that he could barely eat or sleep. He didn't talk much until about April, when the spring weather cheered him up. The dark days following Matthew's death were the hardest, and it took all the willpower he had not to cry; that would ruin his pride. And Ben Davidson was not a crier. But that was nearly a year ago; this was a happy time. He was safe and warm in a home, not his own, but a home with good, friendly people (and a pretty girl, though he would never tell her or Daniel that). Maybe, just maybe, next Christmas he would be home for good. That would be a Christmas miracle.

That morning, after a big breakfast, everybody went to church. It was a small little country church, a few miles away, with a small congregation of farmers and others who didn't live close enough to town to go to the big church every Sunday. It didn't have many pews, nor did it have an organ, but Ben liked it. It was a pretty little white church with stained glass windows, and it had a cozy and close-knit atmosphere. Everybody knew everybody else, and everybody was glad to see Daniel. They received Ben with open arms as well, being that he was Daniel's friend and also in the army. The service was lovely. A small choir sang, and the minister read from the books of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John (it was then that Ben realized that some of his closest friends were named after the gospels). The church was decorated with candles and holly, and it was all around a beautiful service. It was much better than being in an army camp, that was darn sure.

That afternoon, Mrs. Thomas and her daughters prepared a big Christmas dinner. They worked all afternoon, and their work paid off in the end. There wasn't as much food as there was back home because the Thomases were poor and the war forced people to cut back on their rations, but it was still delicious. There was roast beef and potatoes and baked apples and cranberries, then pumpkin and apple pie for dessert. There was plenty of everything, and for the first time in a long time, Ben felt full afterwards. Friends and relatives dropped by to say merry Christmas, and in the evening, Mr. Thomas and some of the neighbors brought out their fiddles and started playing while everyone else danced. Ben, having two left feet, sat out and watched, until Clara urged him to dance. "I'll only step on your toes," he warned her, but she just laughed and grabbed his hands. "And I will on yours," she said. "Now come on!"
"All right," he finally agreed. "But don't say I didn't warn you." She took his hands, and the two started dancing. There were quite a few "Ouch!"s and "I'm sorry!"s from both of them, but neither minded. Dancing, dare he say it? was actually fun, so long as it wasn't some stuffy waltz or minuet. Soon the song ended, and Clara sighed contently as Ben twirled her one last time. "That was fun," she breathed.
"Aye," he agreed, also out of breath.
"Are your feet all right?" she asked. "I know I stepped on them quite a few times."
"They're fine," he said. "Yours?"
"Fine," she assured him. She then looked up, then back at him and blushed. "What?" he asked. She smiled shyly and pointed up. He looked up, then back at her and smiled. "Well," he said. "I guess I can't argue with mistletoe, can I?"
"No," she giggled. "I mean, no, Mr. Davidson, you cannot. Tis tradition, after all."
"And one can't break Christmas traditions," he said. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and gently kissed her. Their lips didn't meet for very long, just for a second or so, but it made his heart pound and his hands grow sweaty. Clara was the one to draw away first. Her face was pink when she did. She said nothing, just smiled at him, and he smiled back. Then she broke the spell by saying, "We should probably get back to the others."
"Probably," he said softly. She turned to leave, then turned back to him. "I'm sorry, Ben," she said. "I know I'm being far too bold, but please, let me kiss you again." His heart pounded again. He just nodded stupidly. "All right," he whispered. And so they kissed again.

Soon Christmas was over, and then New Year's, and then Daniel and Ben had to go back. Ben was going to miss Clara. She was the first girl he had kissed since Diana that he had actually enjoyed. "Take care of yourself," she said right before they left. "I will," he promised. "You do the same." She nodded, then asked, "Will you ever come back here?"
"Maybe," he said. She touched his hand. "Do," she murmured. "It's important to me."

Dear Felicity,
I hope all of you had a merry Christmas and a happy new year. Daniel brought me home for the holiday. He lives on a farm outside of Richmond. His sister was lovely. Her name was Clara. I told her about you. She laughed when I said that you weren't much of a seamstress. I think you would like her, though. She loves horses too.
I'm sorry you had a bad encounter with some British soldiers. Thank God they didn't hurt you. If I would have been there, I would have punched them in the nose for you. Well, maybe not, but I definitely would have protected you somehow.
Things are starting to look up here. It seems like we may have a possible chance. Thank God, too. In the winter, there's snow. In the summer, there's mosquitoes. I must have scratched myself raw from their bites! Oh, and British fire year round is no help either. I'm honestly sick of fighting, and I'm sick of death. Luke lost his arm back in October, but he lived and is home. He and Rebecca are now planning a wedding. I wish I could be there to see it.
As for Elizabeth and Caleb, well, if it's real (and I'm not saying it is because let's face it: you girls are fifteen!), everything will fall into place. Fifteen year olds often think they are in love, when really, they have no idea what love is. And you, Lissie, you will not die an old spinster. Some unsuspecting man out there doesn't know what he's in for!
I'd say let's hope for peace in 1781, but we've been saying that for years now and it's never come. I don't mean to be pessimistic, but why should this year be any different? Anyway, take care of yourself. Watch out for redcoats, and I'll do the same.
-Ben