LITMIR.BIZ

      Arianna didn’t see Caleb again for another week. She kept busy by helping Lauren with party preparations, and squeezed in a lunch date with Daphne. Her sister talked of little except Seth Reilly, and how well connected he was. It made Arianna realize that although Caleb was given to moments of male ego, he was far from pretentious. She decided Gettysburg was her safest bet for seeing him again, and invited him on the field trip.

      When the day arrived, she met him at the school parking lot, the same rendezvous point for parents who were dropping off their children. The group was small, three girls and five boys. She’d made arrangements for a school-sized van and had lined up her regular driver. Caleb was already there when she arrived, waiting with Wyn, chatting with a handful of parents and students.

      “Good morning.” She hoped her voice masked the tingle she felt. It was difficult remaining neutral when her last memory of Caleb involved being held in his arms, his lips crushed to hers. Recalling how easily she’d melted into his embrace brought a heated flush to her cheeks, but thankfully, no one noticed.

      Caleb met her eyes, then glanced down, fixating on her outfit. She’d dressed in belted white shorts, a turquoise tank top and sneakers. The temperature was predicted to climb into the low eighties and she intended to be comfortable. There was nothing out of place with her attire, but the heat in his gaze made her feel like she’d chosen something risque.

      “I thought I’d play chauffeur,” Wyn explained, breaking the awkward moment. “I was headed this way, and–”

      “Caleb doesn’t drive,” Arianna finished, remembering his preference for horses. It was hard to overlook, considering she’d almost run him down on Ranger the night they’d met.

      Wyn hedged and cleared his throat, uncertain if she was teasing or being sarcastic. Deciding to put him out of his misery, she smiled. She couldn’t continue to fault him for what he’d done to her tire, when she’d made amends with Caleb.

      Some of the boys had broken off, chasing each other through the parking lot, anxious to be on their way. Arianna exchanged a few pleasantries with several of the parents, and then with Caleb’s aid, ushered everyone into the van.

      Caleb hesitated, unsure where he should sit, then took the seat behind her. Arianna wasn’t certain if she was grateful or disappointed he hadn’t chosen to sit with her. After a quick visual check to ensure all of her charges were settled in their seats, she gave her driver the green light to go.

      At first there was plenty of excitement, the kids wound up, chattering back and forth across the aisle. Eventually, they settled down, talking in quieter groups as the drive progressed. Caleb had turned sideways, his back to the window so he could view the children. One or two had already grown attached to him. Lisa Gaines and Trudy Walker, caught at that awkward stage of tween-to-teen, alternated between asking him questions and giggling behind their hands, caught up in a harmless crush. Arianna eventually saved him from constant attention by suggesting the girls “give Mr. DeCardian a break.”

      She turned in her seat, facing the window to converse with him. “I’m sorry,” she said as afterthought. “You’re probably used to being addressed as Colonel DeCardian.”

      “I haven’t been ‘Colonel’ for several years. I’m retired.”

      “Yes.” She was struck again by his young age in comparison to his rank. “You must have joined the Army right out of high school.”

      “College. I attended West Point.”

      The prestige struck her silent. Behind her, she could hear Danny Tusoni complaining to Scott Albright about the awful taste of the new Monster drink at the Quik Mart. The lament droned into a din and became white noise in the background, snarled with the hum of the van’s fat tires. Caleb was watching her in that manner that made her uncomfortable. She realized there was something magnetic between them, that–God help her–he was magnetic.

      “I make you uncomfortable,” he said, and then changed the subject in an effort to ease the tension. “How long have you been doing these trips to Gettysburg?”

      After that, they talked easily. She told him about her interest in the Civil War and he listened politely. Sometimes it was hard explaining her connection to a war that had happened over a century before her birth, how she admired the strength and fortitude of the men and women who had lived through such madness, suffering dreadful loss and hardship, emerging to put a nation back together. Self-conscious, she laughed, only then realizing she’d been monopolizing the conversation. It was easy to get carried away discussing something that inspired her.

      “I’m sorry. You must think I’m silly.”

      “Not at all. You view history with passion.”

      “Don’t you do the same?”

      He gave a bitter snort. “I have a more fatalistic viewpoint.”

      “I’m not romanticizing tragedy,” she protested.

      “I know that. That’s why I admire your passion. It’s easy to forget people like Lee, Longstreet and Chamberlain.” His voice grew soft and distant. “Or Hipplewhite.”

      “Who?”

      He shook his head. “No one.” He glanced around the bus. “I wonder how much they know of history?” He nodded toward the children.

      Most did fine in other subjects, but struggled with history. “I think they enjoy running around the battlefield more than listening to facts about dead men.”

      Caleb grinned, an amused gleam in his eye. “Then we need to make it interesting for them.”

      She’d never had the benefit of a co-tour guide, which was how she came to think of Caleb throughout the day. He added interesting facts and anecdotes about various parts of the battlefield, the men who’d fought there and the Civil War in general. He brought a fresh perspective that kept even her students intrigued, his view of the conflict unlike any she’d encountered. After a while she abandoned her preset curriculum in favor of spontaneity.

      Caleb talked about things she’d never stopped to consider: how the temperature had climbed to nearly ninety degrees on July third, the last day of battle, the sweltering intensity of the sun bronzing the sky like brass. The leaves on the trees had crumbled into ash, scorched by the belching black smoke of cannon and musket fire.

      Danny Tusoni, who Arianna had expected to be restless and bored, listened raptly as Caleb pointed out the infamous Wheatfield, relaying how a man could walk across the twenty-three-acre plot by stepping on the bodies of the dead at the end of the day, his feet never touching the earth. He spoke of such things as if he’d seen them, lived them. The faint melancholy in his voice left Arianna unbalanced.

      “You’ve obviously done a lot of research on Gettysburg.”

      Caleb shrugged. “Like you said, it was a tumultuous time.”

      In history, she mentally added, disturbed it seemed so real for him. Ten minutes later, the girls were getting hungry as the clock inched closer to noon.

      “Ms. Hart, when are we going to stop for lunch?” Beth Regal asked, joined in a chorus of whiney fidgeting by Lisa and Trudy.

      “Soon,”

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