Infinite Faith Infinite Series, Book 4) Read online

  We stand in the cramped northeast corner of the walled cemetery, where the Father says a few more prayers and makes a gesture for the dirt to be shoveled in. Another wave of panic comes over me as the dirt starts to cover her and I have to turn away to pretend it’s not happening. Elijah takes me by the arm and brings me over to the priest to thank him.

  The priest nods. “I am sorry for your troubles, children. How can we help you at this time?”

  Elijah replies, “I’m going to join up tomorrow, but I need to make sure my sister is taken care of while I’m gone.”

  “Of course, my children. Michael O’Sullivan already spoke to me and I know Josephine only needs assistance for a month or two. We have found a devout parishioner who is kind enough to take her in.”

  He gestures to an older man waiting in the shadows of the cemetery gates.

  The priest motions him to come forward and continues. “Children, this is Freddie McCarthy and he has been so generous as to take dear Josephine in. We were going to have to place you in separate homes anyway so it’s good news you are signing up. Mr. McCarthy here is a widower with no children of his own and would welcome some feminine help.”

  While the priest talks, Elijah watches as the man clearly researches my shape and looks pleased with himself after his scan is complete.

  Elijah’s eyes narrow and he turns to the priest to say, “Well, thank you very much, Father. We are going to have one more night in our apartment and then we’ll tell you what we have decided tomorrow.”

  Freddie’s hunched shoulders quickly droop. He removes his hat to smooth down his greasy hair. “Father, I thought the girl was coming home with me tonight. I got a cot all set up for her and everythin’.”

  I smile in relief now, because I know Elijah is not going to leave me with a man like this.

  Elijah pulls me away. “We’ll speak to you tomorrow. Thanks for everything.”

  When we get back into our apartment, Elijah starts pacing the floors with his thumb pushed between the slight space in his teeth—a habit he has whenever he is deep in thought. I stare at my reflection in the window, trying to come up with something. I start to pull my hair up high on my head and turn my face from side to side.

  I jump up quickly and scream, “I’ve got it!” Then I dash into the other room, which used to be Elijah’s until Ma got sick and we had to share a bed. I push the quilts stacked up on Pa’s trunk off and throw the trunk open.

  He comes to see what I’m up to. “Stay there. I’m changing.”

  “What has gotten into you?” He retreats.

  I put my hair up under Pa’s old cap, throw on Elijah’s pants, button up one of his shirts and run back to him. He bursts out laughing.

  “Don’t laugh! I look just like a boy.”

  He calms down and tries to be serious, but he can’t hold it and starts to roll with laughter again. I throw something at him and jump on him. It’s always a pretty fair fight, since he’s only eleven months older; Irish twins. He’s starting to get stronger than me, but I can still get out of any hold he tries to pin me in.

  After I give him a few punches on the arm, I roll off and look him in the eyes.

  “I’m not a prissy girl. You know that. I’m as tall as any boy my age and I could probably arm wrestle them all and win. I can ride bareback faster than you in a saddle and I can shoot just as many cans from the fence as you too.”

  “Yeah, but there’s no girls in the army. They don’t let them in, not even to care for the wounded.”

  “I heard someone talking in the factory the other day about a woman who was in disguise fighting alongside men. No one knew until she was shot in the arm and the doctors found out. They said she fought just as good as the men and no one was the wiser.”

  He crosses his arms. “Even if that is true, how do you think you’ll get past the examination they do? Don’t you think they will figure it out then?”

  “Easy. Someone said they barely check anything anymore. They said they take every Mick that gets off the boat standing.”

  “And you really think you can keep everyone fooled with sharing latrines and tents?” he asks with one eyebrow arched.

  “Well…maybe we can share a tent and I’ll just be real careful. I only have to hold out until I collect the next check and then I can afford a small place with my wages from another factory.”

  He looks as if he might be considering it. “Get up and walk around.”

  I get up as masculine as I can, with my shoulders dropped and hunched, and my stride longer, hips straight, just like I’ve seen Elijah walk a million times. I don’t smile and let my mouth drop down more to make my face appear longer.

  Elijah smiles. “I didn’t realize how manly you were before. You might look more boy than me.”

  I throw another pillow at his head. Laughing, eyes sparkling, he pulls it off, then comes at me with the crazy look he gives, as if he’s going to beat the sin out of me. He takes the pillow and starts whipping me back and forth with it until I fall, hunched over, laughing. We then slide to the floor beside each other, catching our breath.

  I think about the reality of this. I don’t have much of a bosom yet, so I don’t even have to worry about that. I’m very strong. My legs are thick, my muscles tight. My hair is long and beautiful, but I can cut it all off. My face looks equally as feminine as masculine, which used to bother me but now seems like a gift from God.

  “If they don’t do an extensive examination and we pick a recruitment that’s just going through a load of whatever-is-fresh-off-the-boat, we could have a chance of you passing as a boy. I’m trying to lie enough as it is to pass for an eighteen-year-old, but you’re going to have to sign on as a fife or drummer boy. They can be younger.”

  My Pa had taught me how to play a fife. The Union was always in need of boys to lead them into battle. “Yes, I could be a fifer. I wouldn’t even have to fight.”

  “Alright, alright, but promise me, as soon as fighting begins—if you’re not found out by then—you’ll tell them and get out. Fifers still get shot you know. Why do you think the Union’s always looking for them?” He scoffs. “The last thing I need is a little sister to look out for when I’m getting my head shot at by Rebs.” He suddenly acts like he’s years older than me.

  “I promise.” And I honestly think I can keep that promise.

  He brings his hand up and joins it with my thumb and finger to make two joined circles. “Nothing can separate us.”

  “Forever.”

  ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

  That night I cut my hair short. I model it after Elijah’s cut and, when I’m done, I look like his smaller twin. I put on an undershirt, buttoned shirt, oversized pants with suspenders and an old pair of Elijah’s boots.

  Elijah takes one look at me. “You better hope this works out because no one’s going to marry you now.”

  I give him a punch in the arm but realize what he says is true.

  Chapter 3

  I take the only things I care about from the apartment, since most of our things were sold when we moved from Cortland.

  “We can’t take these with us.”

  “Why not?”

  “What will keep someone from stealing it from us? Then it will be gone forever.” He pulls out a handkerchief and holds it out to me. “Put Ma’s things in here and anything else you care about.”

  I lay Ma’s engagement ring in the center and place the small folding frame with her wedding portrait with it. Elijah takes Pa’s fob watch from his pocket and nestles it on Ma’s beautiful face.

  “Wait.” I go to move my hair out of the way but realize it’s gone. It’s much easier to remove my necklace now there is no hair to get in the way. I dangle it in front of my eyes as I fumble with the clasp. The silver heart turns in the air. I’d never taken it off since Pa gave it to me before going to war, not even to take baths. I place it hesitantly on top.

  His eyes dart to
the nightstand behind me and he grabs up the braid I lopped off with one chop of the shears.

  “What are you going to do with that?”

  Elijah coils it gently on the top of the pile. “You can’t just throw it away.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because…” He sighs. “You might want it later.”

  “My hair will grow back, one day.”

  “Maybe I’ll want it…if something happens to you.”

  I can’t control the smirk that breaks through.

  “Or maybe I’ll use it for a hex later if you bother me too much.” He laughs. “Let’s go.” He folds the cotton up over our treasures and we leave everything else behind, closing the door together.

  As soon as we’re out on the sidewalk he grabs my hand, but I pull him in the other direction. “The wharf is that way.”

  “We have to find a safe place for this.” He dangles the package in front of me.

  The church is only a few blocks away and he heads back into the cemetery, to Ma’s grave in the northeast corner. The mound is complete over her but everything is more peaceful than I could have imagined. I wish I’d brought her flowers. Her grave looked so plain without a tombstone. Elijah hunches down above where her head lies and digs.

  “Elijah! What are you doing?” I try to stop his hands and he shakes me off.

  “No one will look here and we’ll always be able to come back and retrieve it.” He places the pouch about a foot down.

  “Get some rocks from over there.” He points to the wall and I carry six small rocks to him. He places them on top of the treasure and then covers it over with dirt. With three pats he says, “Take care of this for us, Ma.”

  The church clock chimes.

  “We better hurry,” I say.

  We avoid anyone we know on the way down to the wharf. Elijah turns to me every few blocks and says things like, “Boys don’t walk this slow. You have to walk faster, longer strides.” and “Stop looking at everything! Boys just look straight ahead.” The shops and streets are festooned with red, white, and blue. Flags, buntings, and banners are draped from every possible place. Posters beckon boys to give themselves to the cause. Strange how I never noticed them before.

  Men in meticulous uniforms set up a table at the end of the dock and take out a stack of papers. American flags wave in eager abundance around the table. We wait at the docks until a ferry comes in from Ellis Island. Many of the men and boys get off the ship and go straight over to see what they’re offering at the table.

  The officer and two of his subordinates sell their hearts out. “God and your Country call! Thirteen dollars a month! Five dollars more for married recruits! Pay and rations begin immediately upon enlistment! Three squares and a chance to earn your place in this great nation if you sign up to shoot some Grey backs! Weapons and uniform provided!”

  I think about how Pa fell for such a pitch. Some of the immigrants sign up and we pay close attention to the process. They’re asked their name, age, and country. One of the uniformed men must be a doctor and he looks each new recruit up and down, asks him if he’s coughing, has any ailments or a fever. Sometimes the doctor asks a man to turn or walk to check for limps, but that seems to be the extent of the exam. They then are signed on and asked to wait to one side.

  I check with Elijah, who nods and starts walking toward the line. We don’t look like the only ones who are young. There are even a few who are shorter than me. Many of the younger ones don’t have any facial hair. It’s Elijah’s turn and he gives them his information.

  The officer calls out to him. “We’re looking to sign volunteer replacements, are you lookin’ to enlist?”

  “Yes, sir,” Elijah replies.

  “Name?”

  “Elijah John Slatery, Jr.”

  “Age?”

  “Eighteen.”

  “Where is your parental consent?”

  “Parental consent?” Elijah hasn’t prepared for this.

  “Under the age of twenty-one, all men need to have parental consent to enlist.”

  “Both my folks are dead, sir.”

  “What about a guardian then?”

  “None, sir,” Elijah says solemnly, as he realizes this isn’t going to work.

  The officer says, with a smug grin, “Then there ain’t nobody to contest this then, is there?”

  Elijah straightens up happily at this. The officer continues asking him questions and tells him where to sign. Elijah looks so much older and a wave of pride washes over me. I have to act just like him. When he gets examined by the doctor, the man in uniform speaks to me without even looking up. “We are looking for signing volunteer replacements. Are you lookin’ to enlist?” He smells of cheap tobacco and gunpowder.

  “Yes, sir,” I mumble like a boy would.

  “Name?”

  “Joseph Slatery.” I don’t think of fake middle name fast enough so I just leave it out.

  “Age?”

  “Fourteen.”

  That makes him look up and study me. A flash of heat crawls up my neck and engulfs my face.

  ‘“Don’t you know, young man, that the army only enlists eighteen-year-old men?” he says, almost hoping I’ll lie so he can get his signing bonus on me.

  “I can play the fife, sir,” I say, wondering if I can still play it now that my mouth has gone dry.

  “Play me something then.” He waits.

  I take my fife out and nervously play Pa’s favorite marching song, Battle Hymn of the Republic.

  “Yes, you can play, boy! Well, we have been in need of a fife player since they sent our last fifer to play for the brigade.”

  “Yes, sir.” I turn to catch Elijah’s smile.

  “Where is your parental consent then?”

  I point to Elijah. “We’re brothers—”

  “And we need to serve together, sir.” Elijah avoids eye contact while the officer studies him and strokes his well-groomed beard point for a long, uncomfortable moment.

  He looks back down at his paper, which makes me feel a little more at ease. “Country?”

  “United States, New York,” I add, not sure if he wants that information.

  “You literate?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Okay. Sign here and you’ll get to see the doc.”

  I sign my new name on the company roll. He stamps a paper and gives it to me to give to the doctor. I’m so nervous I can’t even look at the man. The thought of Elijah now leaving without me makes me almost get sick and that would be the worst thing to do right in front of the doctor. He looks at my face and eyes.

  He asks, “Open your mouth.” I comply and he reaches his rough hands in to check all my teeth and throat. “Do you have any ailments?”

  I say, “No, sir.” I hope he doesn’t have to feel my hands since they’re sweating profusely.

  He looks at my body and I have to do everything to keep from shaking. He then lifts up my hand to examine them. I’m wondering why he does this. Then he lets them drop at my side and he wipes my sweat off on his coat.

  “Pass. Wait over there with the other recruits until we’re done.”

  I walk faster than I should’ve away, but I’m so anxious to be by Elijah’s side. As we wait, I stare at my hands and realize what he’s looking for: I forgot to cut my nails. Scanning my hands now I see the mole I was born with on my left hand, see my long fingers and narrow fingernails, all feminine looking. What probably saved me was how square and thick with padding my palms are. Thank God for that. I never was so happy to have manly hands in my life. I can’t believe the adventure we’re embarking on. I can feel every cup of blood pulsing through my veins.

  ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

  After about two weeks the nervousness, which plagued me day and night, has died down. I feel as if I’m actually getting comfortable with my new routine. I do get to be tent mates with Elijah, so that makes any required changes easy, si
nce he would go outside the tent and make sure no one happened in. Most soldiers live in their clothes twenty-four hours a day anyway, and the only bathing available is a rare sponge bath here and there. Once a week, when the kettles are scraped out after an early supper, we’re allowed to fill them with water from a nearby creek. Once we get them to a boil, men peel off their underclothes and socks and, while wearing the scratchy uniform, they take turns scalding the filth out. Some men strip down to nothing to boil all their clothes at once, but I’m satisfied with beating the dust out of my coat and pants while in my clean underclothes within the safety of the shelter tent.

  Unfortunately there are too many that fail to make the effort to clean their clothes. Victor, one of our company who regrettably befriends Elijah right away, is of the lazy philosophy and he’d chuckle as his underclothes actually begin to disintegrate upon him from dampness and grime. There is something about his fish-face and dull eyes that turns my stomach, and the more I tell Elijah he’s a bad apple the closer they get.

  There is a private latrine at the military training camp that gives me my needed privacy. It’s actually easier than we thought it would be. I do very well on all my marching drills and learning the different calls to play—twenty-five general calls and twenty-four skirmishers. I also find I’m a much better shot than many of the city boys who had never fired a gun in their lives. Elijah stands out as one of the quickest learners amongst us. Elijah makes friends fast, while I hang back more. Not wanting to get too close, since with just one wrestle or misplaced jab, my secret could be suspected. Since I’m responsible, along with Timmie our drummer, for all the calls for camp duties (reveille, guard mounting, sick call, retreat, tattoo and taps) and drills, I don’t have to perform fatigue duty or guard duty like the other boys do.