She protested that she still did not believe that I should have to sell myself. She also informed me that it wasn’t really her birthday it was Stephan’s. I did not care if it was Robert E. Lee’s birthday! I wanted her.
“Think of it as a gift for me then. It has been so long since I have known the pleasure of a woman.” I whispered in her ear.
“Then you are like me?” She whispered back.
“Yes, we are the same.” I answered her.
CHAPTER SIX
Well I certainly didn’t see that coming! I was overcome be weariness and could not read any further. Reluctantly I closed Haley’s journal and retreated downstairs. Curled up on my futon I could almost hear Haley’s words “Yes, we are the same.” I fell asleep with the image of these two women. One in uniform while the other explored the secrets that laid beneath. “Yup this is helping with my confusion!”
I was awaken by the sounds of Allison’s morning concert. Today it was Cher. I groaned as I rolled out of bed. The futon was comfortable but not as comfortable as the feather bed in Allison’s big brass bed. I had to stop this. I was going to get over my feelings for Allison if it killed me. “And it just might!” There I stood and my first thoughts of the day were of Allison. “Yes, we are the same.” Echoed in my head. Granted not the most poetic way to say it but still it was so simple and honest. I had so many questions. I showered and dressed quickly for my first day of classes. As I checked the lines of my skirt I wondered if maybe I should dress more casual. The way that Allison does. Perhaps the students would be more at ease with me and I would be more comfortable.
The aroma of coffee drew me upstairs to Allison’s apartment. As I walked in without knocking I told myself that I needed to stop being so familiar. That like Allison I should put some distance between us. I should have never accepted her offer to use her spare room. I vowed that I would use my new study only when I absolutely had to. As I passed the couch I could see Allison’s tennis bag. She had a game planned with Ruth. Perhaps I should go? Allison emerged from the kitchen dressed in blue jeans and a simple white oxford. She warmed with her smile as she walked over and shut off the music. “Coffee?” She asked me brightly. “I bought some milk yesterday.” She added in sweetly.
I thanked her and accepted the coffee. We went out on to the balcony and sipped our coffee. Allison made some comment about it turning into an Indian summer and how she could never live in the Midwest. I agreed after these few weeks at Haven I knew that I could never live that far from the ocean again. She invited me to come up on Saturday to watch the women’s finals of the US Open. I happily accepted quickly ignoring my earlier vow of distance. I did caution myself not to read too much into her invitation. When I inquired about when her match was with Ruth, she quickly explained that they had already played.
For a brief moment I thought I caught Allison’s sneaking a peak at my legs. Suddenly I was happy I had chosen the simple gray skirt that landed just above my knees. All of that working out finally seemed to be paying off. “Getting court time once the semester starts is a real pain.” Allison explained as she gave me another careful glance. “Yes she is looking all right!” “But it worked out. Ruth was so tired from her girlfriend’s home coming that I was able to trounce her in straight sets. Ruth is a great player you two should play sometime.”
“You really love tennis.” I said simply trying to distract myself. “So tall dark and brooding does find me attractive!” I must admit that I do look good today. I’m so glad that I cut my hair. With the new shorter style I no longer look like I am still in high school.
“I know it is a stereotype.” Allison teased. “If tennis were a religion Wimbledon …”
“Would be it’s cathedral.” I cut in. “I love that ad.”
“What did you think of my Great Great Grandmother’s diary?” Allison questioned me slyly.
“I wish that I could have stayed awake to finish it.” I sighed. “I have so many questions.”
“I bet you do.” Allison added knowingly. “Before I answer your questions and I will not answer all of them. I want to know what it is about my ancestors that interested you in this story?”
“Okay I know I have told you some of this already but here goes. When I first came across Stephan Ballister I began to question his identity.” I began to explain.
“Why?”
“Because he was a proper gentleman from New Orleans who opted to serve in a unit filled with immigrates.” I explained. “No one from his station in life would have done so. And from what I have learned about him prior to the war it was not in his character to do so. Plus he was already enlisted in a unit more appropriate to his station. He was a corporal in a rifle company along with many of his school chums.”
“True. His rank was earned solely by his station in society and no he would never associate with anyone he felt was beneath him.” Allison added.
“So why run off and join Company B?” I went on. “A man in his position would have stayed with his peers. He joined Company B in the middle of the night. I never believed the story that he was eager to join the battle. Everything I read about his life prior to the war indicated that he was not that kind of man. Granted it makes a great story but somehow it does not ring true. Here was a guy who leased his slaves out to farmers in Texas because he knew that the war was coming. He would not take the chance that his slaves would be freed. He also started building business dealings in England and sold equipment and supplies to the North just to make a buck. Which I think he hid in England.”
“All true.” Allison confirmed. “So the great old southern tale is nothing but lies.”
“Yes.” I agreed. “Enraged by the approaching Yankee troops as they made their way down the Mississippi River he runs off to join the fighting immediately. Telling his sister to be brave and that he will return. That is also hard to believe since everything prior to the war indicated that they got along about as well as Newt and Candace.”
“Oh yes his sister.” Allison chuckled. “Eleanor the spinster school teacher, who dies when the Yankees burn down the family plantation.”
“Now she was an abolitionist?” I inquire.
“Yes.” Allison answered. “You certainly have studied this. Eleanor worked for the Underground Railroad prior to the war. I have a feeling that she was not very popular with her family or anyone else in New Orleans.”
“You know what nailed it for me.” I explained. “I came across a letter from a man named James Belmont. He had written to his wife. Now Belmont had known Ballister from New Orleans and he claimed that the man he met at the Battle of Cross Keys was much smaller and younger than Stephan Ballister. He suspected that he was a boy who was too young to enlist, so he simply stole Ballister’s name. He also went on to say that he would not expose the young man since despite his youth he was one hell of a soldier.”
“You are a very clever woman, Stephanie Grant.” Allison complimented me.
“Not that clever.” I confessed. “Never in my wildest dreams did I suspect that Stephan James Ballister was a woman.”
“No.” Allison replied with a smirk. “Stephan James Ballister was a man. Master Sergeant Ballister was a woman.”
“Who was she?” I demanded.