In All Places (Stripling Warrior) (12 page)

“I came here to tell you goodbye.”

He gave a slight nod, then stepped out of the water. “I heard you were leaving.”

“Yeah.
I guess it’s getting around.”

I watched him wipe his spear down with a cloth from his satchel.
I knew I was making him uncomfortable. He was probably wishing I would leave.

“What is Eli short for?”

While he decided whether or not to tell me, I got up, moved to the stream, and began gutting and cleaning his fish.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said after watching me for a moment.

“It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done for me.”

He made a questioning sound, and I was sure his expression would have matched it if I had turned to see it.

“You taught me a lot of
combat skills,” I reminded him. “You watched out for my younger brother. You didn’t insist on discovering me that day at the training ground.”

I did look up at him then and was rewarded with the first full blown grin I
had ever seen him break into.

“When I saw you fight Gid, it
only took a moment to figure it had been you in the trees that day. You have a quick-thinking and protective brother.”

I grinned too.
“Do you still think I look like a boy?”

His eyes locked on mine, but after a moment he
looked away, embarrassed. “No.”

Our conversation fell off,
but the silence was not awkward. He went to one knee next to me and finished the last two fish.

Then it was time to go, and I hadn’t told him anything I
had wanted to. But Eli wasn’t the kind of man to whom you could come right out and say
I admire you. You have meant something to me.

I knelt back on my heels
, preparing to stand and leave.

“Elijah,” he said
with a sideways glance.

I smiled a little and felt the tears prick at my eyes.
“I wish you the best in everything, Elijah,” I said.

Seth was next.

I waited for him outside the training ground when training was done for the day.

“Make sure he walks you back,” said Lib as he walked away with the others.

I rolled my eyes. It was hard to believe sometimes that he was still so concerned about my safety, even inside the city walls. His vigilance was both endearing and annoying.

“You busy?” I asked Seth as I fell in beside him.

“No.”

“Good. Do you want to take your weapons back to camp?”

“Do I need to? What’s going on?”

“I just…wanted to talk.”

“About?”

“You know I’m leaving in a few days.”

He glanced around at all the other boys leaving the training field. “Did you have someplace in mind?”

“No.”

He hesitated. “I know a place. Come on.” He offered me a smile, but more noticeable than the black tattoo that lined them, was the measure of sadness in his eyes.

At first I thought he would lead me toward the large herb garden with the walking path through it, but he skirted it and led me toward
the north wall of the city. We soon came to a grove of trees that hid us from the guard towers. Within the grove we found an area that had been set with several upended logs for stools around a pit for a fire.

“I think they have church meetings here sometimes in the summer,”
Seth said as I looked around.

“It’s pretty.
”

“That’s what I thought.
I come here a lot to be alone.”

“I wish I’d known about it all these months,” I said.

“Then I wouldn’t have been alone.”

Our eyes caught.

He broke the contact by looking down. Positioning a stool near a tree, he sat and leaned back against it. It was probably the place he sat when he was alone, the place he felt comfortable.

I p
ositioned a stool so I sat near him. I held my hands in front of me and just looked at him.

The tattoo on his leg was half-covered by his long moccasin boot.
The one on his neck was half-covered by his tunic. But the lining around his eyes was as striking as ever. I remembered the first moment I had noticed the lining.

“From the
day I met you, when Micah introduced us, I knew you were the right captain for me. Even though you looked really scary, I always had a peaceful feeling around you.”

“I scared you?”
he asked on a laugh.

“No,” I said, a little defensively.
“You just looked kind of mean.” I let my eyes find his. “Until you smiled.”

He couldn’t hide his smile then, but looked down at the ground
in an effort to.

“Seth,” I
said. “During these years, you have been my captain, my friend, even my confidant at times. Your advice has been irreplaceable, your conduct exemplary. Your kindness and understanding immeasurable.”

He was quiet for a moment. “That sounds rehearsed.
”

“It was.
You could tell?”

He nodded slowly.
“Tell me something you haven’t rehearsed.”

Suddenly, under the intensity of his gaze, my heart began to pound.
I recognized that the Spirit could speak to me this way, confirming an action I was about to take. I looked at his dark, lined eyes, his crossed arms, his skeptical smirk. This couldn’t be right, but I did it anyway.

Leaning slowly
toward him, I placed a light kiss on Seth’s lips.

“I’m sorry there could not be more between us.”
There was more to say, but that covered it well enough.

He swallowed and nodded.

“I hope that didn’t make it more difficult to say goodbye,” I said as Seth walked me back into camp.

He huffed
out a laugh. “It didn’t make it easier.”

The hardest
of these goodbyes to say was the one to Enos.

I
had spent a lot of time with Enos at council meetings, on hunts, and during downtime. After a year or so, we became friends and he began volunteering to take a watch outside my tent at night.

He and Gideon were
as close as brothers. I had known that since the day he gave us the spears on the training ground. I thought Gideon was closer to Enos than he was to Lamech. I knew Gideon loved him. But what really bonded Enos and me was that Enos loved Gideon too.

“Thank
you, Ket, for letting him go. It is,
really is
, what he was meant to do, and I know he considered giving it up.”

I got
a painful knot in my throat.

“For you,” he continued when I didn’t reply, as if I didn’t know what he meant.

It was never really any contest, but that Gideon considered making a life with me at all was an honor I couldn’t fully fathom.

When I still did
not reply, just held my arms around myself wishing I could say something light to change the subject, Enos said quietly, “You must love him a great deal.”

I shook my head, not to deny that I loved him, only to deny that it had been all my decision.
It hadn’t. I had made my own decision, but so had Gideon.

“No.
He chose to go.”

“You didn’t ask him to stay.”

He said this so positively, but he couldn’t know. I couldn’t imagine Gideon talking about our conversations or relationship, even to Enos.

“You don’t know that,” I said.

He laughed a little. “He wouldn’t be going to Zarahemla if you had. That’s what I know.”

I didn’t want him to tell me these things. I only wanted to say goodbye.
My mind searched for anything else I had in common with Enos.

“You know, after I leave
, you might actually be the best wielder of the javelin around here. But don’t let it go to your head.”

He laughed again, and to my surprise
, he pulled me into a kind of hug. “I can see how you bewitch a man.”

I
pushed hard against his chest.

He stepped back smiling, making it easy to push him away.
He held my gaze with eyes that looked so much like his cousin’s. “Goodbye, Ket.”

We set out early on the morning of the harvest moon.
Men darted around us through the camps, everyone in a hurry it seemed to get on with the business of the day.

The dew was still on the soft green grasses.
I imagined the smell of the ponderosa pines in the garden, wanted to go there one more time, but everyone was geared up and ready to move out.

We went to collect Kalem and Mother from their camps and circled back around toward the gates
of the city. But as we approached the gates, I saw that the road was filled with people—mostly the striplings, but also some older Nephite soldiers and people from the city that I recognized.

The
soldiers fell quiet as we passed through a narrow path they made for us. Soon the only sound was the rustle of fabric as all the soldiers knelt to one knee.

I ca
st my eyes over the large crowd. “What is this?” I asked Lib in wonder, but he didn’t answer until we reached the gates, and then his answer was to kneel, along with the rest of my unit.

I stood alone in the square.
Was this for me? I put my fingers to my throat, took one last sweeping look around the city and turned quickly to leave before I shed tears in front of the entire Nephite army stationed at Manti.

“Keturah.”
I heard the deep voice behind me. It was unmistakable. I had heard it often enough at the council meetings.

Captain Helaman.

I turned to see him striding toward me. When he neared, he held out his arm. I reached for it, and he grasped my arm in his large warm hand. I did the same, grasping his powerful forearm with my small hand.

“
Well done, my little daughter,” he said. Then he looked out over the warriors, still kneeling before us. “I once had a welcome like this. Is it not humbling?”

“Very,” I laughed.

“There is much honor in it. But there is honor, too, in raising up God’s warriors. The battle for good will ever be fought.” His eyes were warm and kind as he counseled me. “On whatever battlegrounds you find yourself, Keturah, never doubt your worth in the cause of righteousness. In all things,” he said. “And in all places.”

I swallowed hard and nodded.

Then he very deliberately released my arm and rested his hand on my shoulder. “Let the Spirit guide you, follow its direction with exactness as you have followed the commands of your captains, and you will find happiness.” He took his hand from my shoulder and started to turn away. Almost as an afterthought he said, “The Lord does not want your heart to be in turmoil.”

“Thank you,” I began, “for allowing me to join—
”

He actually cut me off, waving away my comment.
“If only there were more youth with your faith,” he said.

My unit stood then
and prepared to leave. Zeke came to stand beside me.

When he clasped Helaman’s arm, Helaman said, “Bring this girl t
o my home in Zarahemla, Ezekiel, when the wars are over.” Then he turned and winked at me. “And bring her marvelous sword.”

Kenai met up with us on the West Road and continued with us to Judea where we planned to spend the first night. He waved to me and greeted Mother as was polite, but Micah was walking with her and Kalem. It wasn’t long before he joined Gideon, who had been alone at the head of our group.

“What is Kenai doing here?” I asked Zeke.

“He looks to be consorting with the enemy.”

I tried a laugh. “I mean, is he coming home with us?”

He shrugged. “I haven’t talked to him in weeks.”

When we approached Judea, I was filled with memories of the city and of the boys around me. Hardly boys now. They had grown into young men. They were strong and courageous and humble. They made me laugh. They brought me comfort when I was sad. They strengthened my faith in times when my own faltered.

I couldn’t help but inspect the fortifications as we drew near. The trench was deep, and the wall was tall and sturdy. Guards peered at us from the towers. The heavy gates were closed, but when Micah spoke to the guards, one gate slid back enough to let us enter two at a time.

“I miss this place,” I said as we walked through the streets toward the army camps.

Zeke looked around. “Why?” he asked. But before I could form an answer, he let out a breath. “Oh, no.”

I looked around, too, in time to see the beautiful Eve coming toward us. Her eyes were bright and intent on Zeke. When she saw he had noticed her, she skipped a step, started to run, and flung herself into his arms.

The entire traveling party stopped to see what was happening. Mother looked confused. Micah barely gave them a glance before he urged Mother on, bending to say something into her ear. There were some catcalls from the other boys, and Kenai was among the ones making them. Gideon watched the display with surprised interest, and his eyebrow rose when his gaze flicked to mine.

I turned back to Zeke. He was surprised, hopefully reluctant, but his arms came around her for a moment before he set her down.

“Enjoy your reunion,” I said under my breath and moved away from them. I stepped between Ethanim and Lib. “Please keep moving,” I begged quietly, and they did, escorting me quickly away from the embarrassing scene behind me.

At the evening meal, Zeke joined me while I was passing around food.

“Did you kiss her?” I asked.

He laughed. He had always been able to see through me.
“If I did?”

“You could use the practice.”

Reb spit water from his nose, and Noah choked on his first bite of food. Joshua had to pound on his back. I smiled smugly up at Zeke.

“You know that was nothing,” he said as we moved on.

“No I don’t.” I wasn’t ready to let him off the hook yet.

“Yes, you do. Ket, I told you before
—”

“You embarrassed me in front of everyone!”

He leaned close to my ear. “How does it feel?”

I looked up sharply at the scathing words, but he leaned back and pasted the carefree smile back on his face.

“I couldn’t stop it.”

“Yes you could,” I shot back and added an elbow jab to his gut. But the teasing had lost its playfulness, and I felt as if we were putting on a show for the others.

When everyone had food, I sat next to Kenai, and Zeke sat on his other side. Kenai cast me a curious glance, and I was sure he cast Zeke one as well, but we ate in silence.

As I was finishing up, I said, “I can’t believe I
am going home without you guys.”

Kenai swallowed and turned to Zeke. “Keturah says she can’t believe she is going home.”

I smiled at my brother’s antics. How many times in our youth had he been our mediator? How many times had Zeke mediated between brother and sister?

But Zeke said contritely, “Tell her I am sorry I embarrassed her.”

Kenai turned to me needlessly. “Zeke says he’s sorry.”

I leaned around Kenai. “Forgiven. It wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry I made a big deal out of it. I am only surprised every girl in this city didn’t jump into your arms.”

“You didn’t,” Kenai said at the same time Zeke said, “Don’t be dramatic.”

I wanted to punch Kenai, but he was so right. I peered around at Zeke. Did he want the kind of girl who would jump uninvited into his arms?

“I’m going to the river,” I told them as I gathered their dishes. They both nodded a goodbye, but it wasn’t long before Kenai joined me. He didn’t say anything, and neither did I. We walked in silence toward the pool in the river I had used for bathing when the army had been stationed in Judea. It lacked the rush of water I loved about the waterfall at home, but it was my place here and the only place I knew to be alone for a while.

I sat beside it. After a moment, Kenai sat too.

I picked a flower and began to twirl it between my fingers. “Are you traveling to Melek with us?” I asked him.

“No. I just wanted to say goodbye.”

Why did he sound so sad? It wasn’t going to be forever. According to what Gideon had told me, Kenai would probably be home within the year.

“You’re going back to Manti in the morning?”

“Not to Manti, exactly, but back to my work, yes.”

“Will you see Darius?”
I began plucking the petals from my flower and tossing them into the water one by one. They fluttered down and floated on top of it.

“You should be more direct and just ask
me what you want to know.”

I sighed.
Of all the things he had forgotten about me during these years, this was what he remembered of me.

“Jarom needs to talk to you.”

He stretched his legs out in front of him. “I already talked to him. It was so obvious.”

“His problem with Zeke?”

“He’s got a problem with Zeke?”

I frowned. “What did you talk to him about?”

He cast me a sideways glance. “His crush on you.”

“Oh, that. I kind of thought that was secondary.”

“To what? Is something wrong with Zeke?” His gaze shifted back toward camp where the others were.

Besides his personality, his attitude and his ugly face?
I nearly laughed.

“Jarom is jealous of him. Extremely so.”

Kenai waved the idea away.

“He thinks Zeke gets first pick of everything.”

“It’s his right. He’s older.” He paused. “But he meant you, didn’t he?”

“He thinks he loves me. I believed him when he said that.”

Kenai sat up straight. “He said it? Outright?”

I threw away the stem of the flower and flopped my hands down into my lap. “
It is just a passing fancy.”

He looked down at his own hands for a moment and then his gaze drifted again toward camp. His jaw worked until he said, “It has to be.”

As I looked at him, I noticed he bore a new scar. This one ran down the outside of his left arm, as if he had used it as a shield. It had healed well, and I could see Mother’s touch in the healing.

“Why won’t you tell me about your scars?” I asked him.

He folded his arms. “They are my burden to bear. Did you at least tell Jarom goodbye?”

I knew he wouldn’t tell me. He hoarded the
scars like prizes that were his alone.

“Not privately.
Zeke said to act normal with Jarom.”

“You told Zeke?”

“Melia said I should.”

“Zeke s
ays, Melia says. What does Keturah say?”

I sighed wearily. “I say it’s time to go home and be a wife to the man I love.”

Neither of us knew what to say to that.

“
How much longer do you think the war will last?” I asked when I couldn’t stand the silence anymore.

This had been the main topic of speculation in the camps since we
had taken Manti, but I had yet to hear Kenai’s opinion, and I valued Kenai’s opinion above almost all others.

He squinted into the distance above the tree line.
“I think the war is all but over in this quarter of the land. The enemy armies have completely retreated except for some rogue bands, but they are friendly to neither side. They are the reason you have this fine escort home.” He placed a hand to his chest with a flourish, and I wondered what exactly the work was that he was returning to in the morning. Scouting this trip from a distance? “Now our work will just be restoring things to the way they were here. I don’t know how long that will take. I don’t know if Helaman will retain all of the striplings here to do it. You and Mother may not be alone for very long.”

“Well, Micah will not be coming home to stay.”
I was going to say how Micah would build his own hut for Cana and himself, but the pain in Kenai’s eyes stopped me. It was fleeting, but it had definitely been there.

“Ket, it’s okay,” he said before I could ask, before I could demand he tell me the truth.
“Cana and I never even spoke of it.” He took a deep breath. “It wasn’t like with you and Zeke.”

“What Zeke and I had has not given us any guarantees, either,” I said. It was stupid. I
t was not helpful.

“She doesn’t matter to me,” Kenai said flatly. That was even more stupid, and it was a lie.

I studied his face. “Let’s go.” I couldn’t stand one more second watching him try to convince himself this was okay.

He helped me to my feet
, and we walked back to camp in silence.

We left at
dawn and climbed up and down through the hilly terrain. I looked around for Kenai and his men in the trees. I couldn’t see them, but I definitely felt their presence. Were there so many rogue bands of men that we needed the double guard?

The trek home would be long and boring.
I took the opportunity to walk for an hour or so with each of the men in my unit. I wanted to thank them, to tell them goodbye, but it all seemed much too inadequate for the years we had spent together, the battles we had been through.

By the time we
had reached the southern border of the land of Melek, I had talked to almost all of them.

At the sight of the yellow fields below,
I slowed my pace and sidled up beside Gideon.

“I was
wondering when you’d get to me.”

“Well, it’s not now.
” As if I could say my last goodbye here, like this. Did he think he was the same to me as the others were? Did he think I had kissed them all in the guard tower? “I was just wondering if you were going to stop to see your parents.” I gestured to the fields we were passing.

“Not this
trip,” he said. “If we went there now, my father would make everyone help with the harvest.”

“The other men would help.
They’re strong. They would be willing. Perhaps it’s fortunate that you’re here during the harvest.”

“There is nothing fortu
nate about this trip,” he said quietly.

“Well, I don’t suppose we can change our minds now.”
I recognized an unauthorized note of wistfulness in my voice and hoped Gideon hadn’t noticed it.

But h
e had. His eyes shot to mine.

I
looked away from him. I couldn’t help but think of the things Enos had told me. Was Gideon not so very firm in his decision?

I changed the subject quickly.
“Gideon, how come you don’t like your parents?”

I had met his father several times when he
had come to bring provisions for the striplings. I had eaten barley he had harvested with his own hands. He was a very nice man and very much like Gideon.

Gideon looked at me with surprise.
“I love them.”

“But you resent them.”

He lowered his voice a little. “It’s difficult for me to accept their decisions. I can’t always be there to protect them.”

“I understand that, Gideon, I do.
I still wonder if my father’s death was necessary, if it could have been prevented, if he could have shown his commitment in some other way. And I think of that time with Mother in the meadow. I can’t stand to think of what might have happened if I hadn’t been there or I hadn’t been able to protect her.”

Gideon looked down at me.
“I forget sometimes that every man in this army struggles with the same feelings.”

“You just called me a man.”
I feigned offense.

“And you, Kanina, just called me Gideon.”

I had been avoiding that. I had been trying to call him Gid or Captain like the other men did. But to myself, I thought of him as Gideon. I always would. Gid was my commander. Gideon, my friend.

I wore a bracelet with gold disc
s my mother had given to me. She said it had been my father’s. I loved it, but glancing ahead to see that no one was watching us, I slipped it off.

“I want you to have this,” I said to Gideon.
I hadn’t planned it, but I suddenly loved the idea of him having it.