The Soldier & The Spy

by Samantha Sommersby

  “Come on!” he shouted, climbing the stairs two at a time.

  “Bloody, hell!” Jackson quickly downed the drink and followed him. Upon reaching the foot of the stairs he glanced back at his overcoat still hanging from the coat rack in the foyer.

  “She’s the spitting image of her mother!” said Ahmed enthusiastically.

  Jackson swallowed and slowly climbed the stairs, trying to prepare himself. He felt as if his heart was breaking. Everything, everything was lost and now belonged to another man. He may have beaten Ahmed on that morning back in Arabia, but Ahmed had been the final victor. Jackson had never felt so alone or so empty.

  “Daddy’s home! Yes, he is!” he heard Janna say as she finished changing the baby.

  Jackson closed his eyes and tried to remember to breathe. He walked over to the crib and ran his hands along the rail. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Ahmed walked over towards the child and bent down to pick her up. He couldn’t bear to look. He turned around and picked up the small silver rattle that lay inside the crib next to the soft yellow blanket.

  “I can’t believe that in just a few months we’re going to have one of our own!” Ahmed said.

  Jackson turned the rattle over in his hands and noticed the engraving. Hope Drake Crawford March 29, 1918.

  The words that Ahmed had spoken slowly sank into his head. He turned around and looked at him.

  “Are you all right? You look pale all of a sudden,” Ahmed asked, concerned.

  Jackson looked down at the rattle in his hand to again read the words. But he couldn’t quite make them out; his eyes were blurry, clouded by tears that threatened to spill over. A laugh escaped his lips.

  “He’s probably just a bit shocked, dear. You didn’t expect this, did you?” Janna asked.

  Jackson shook his head, unable to say anything. Tremendous relief and surprise washed over him. He stared down for the first time at his daughter who was resting comfortably on Janna’s hip and he was flooded with unfamiliar emotions.

  “Here.” Janna handed the tiny creature to him. “She’ll be eight months the day after tomorrow.”

  “She’s beautiful.” Tears of joy began to roll down his cheeks. Jackson held her close to his chest, feeling the warmth of her little body as she snuggled against him. “And you’re mine!” he said with a tinge of disbelief. He lifted her high into the air so he could study her. “Look at you! You’re beautiful!”

  “Da!” Hope squealed.

  “And she’s smart, too! Did you hear that? She called me Da!”

  Ahmed laughed. “Hate to disappoint you, my friend, but she’s been saying da and ba pretty much non-stop for a couple weeks now. Haven’t you, Hope?”

  The little girl with the big green eyes turned towards Ahmed and began to babble, “Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba.”

  Jackson walked over to the rocking chair situated in the corner and sat down, resting Hope in his lap. “Do you… Would you mind leaving us alone for a bit?”

  “Not at all. This is your home after all.”

  “Home,” repeated Jackson running his hand tenderly over the fine blond strands on Hope’s head. “How long until Lillian returns?”

  Ahmed pulled his pocket watch out and checked the time. “You’ve got about two hours. Do you want to rest a bit? I can show you to her room. Well, your room.”

  “No. I couldn’t possibly.”

  “Jackson,” Janna began, “we were to have dinner together tonight. I’ve got a chicken ready to pop in the oven. I can whip up some mashed potatoes, and there are carrots. It won’t take me long. Hope’s food is already prepared, it’s in the Frigidaire and there’s a bottle. She should eat soon.”

  “The what?”

  “It’s a new kind of icebox,” Ahmed explained.

  “Oh, don’t worry about us, we’ll manage.” Jackson began to rock Hope in the chair. “Really, we’ll be fine. Won’t we, little one?”

  “Come on, Janna, let’s head home. Jackson, we’re just the next door over if you need anything. The brownstone to the left.” Ahmed wrapped his arm around his wife’s waist and led her through the door.

  As soon as they were alone, Jackson closed his eyes, held his daughter fast to his chest, and quietly wept.

  It was some time before he collected himself. As he wiped the tears from his face he shook his head and said, “I wasn’t any more prepared for you than I was for your mum. She took me by complete surprise, too, you know.” He stood up. “Care to show your da around the house?”

  Hope looked up at him, reached out, grabbed his nose, and laughed. Jackson removed her hand from his nose gently. He looked down and carefully examined her tiny hands as her fingers curled around his. He raised her hand to his lips and kissing it softly asked, “Do you believe in love at first sight, Hope? I’ll make you a deal. You help me with dinner and I’ll tell you a story.”

  After spending some time just simply wandering through the house, Jackson took his daughter to the kitchen in search of the icebox. He found a feeding bottle filled with milk, which he began to warm on the stovetop. He also discovered a small plate of mashed apples and bananas, and some pureed peas.

  “Okay!” he said, putting the plate on the table. “While your drink is heating up, let’s get one for Dad, shall we?”

  Hope squealed and bounced up and down on his hip. “Da! Da-da-da,” she said excitedly.

  He walked into the living room, poured himself another scotch and shaking his head he chuckled, “Bloody flirt! Just like your mum. You’re gonna have me wrapped around that tiny finger of yours in no time flat, aren’t you?”

  Hope began to fuss a bit.

  “Dinner is almost ready, Poppet. Let’s head back to the kitchen and see if your bottle’s ready. We’ll get you started on that, yeah?”

  Jackson settled her into his lap at the kitchen table and, after testing the temperature of the milk, he began to feed his daughter. She latched on, taking strong pulls from the nipple.

  “Slow down there, little one!” he chuckled. When she’d finished half of it he pulled the bottle from her mouth and walked over to the icebox.

  “Let’s get the chicken in, shall we?” He sat Hope down on the floor. “Hmm, how about a blanket and your rattle? Floor’s a bit cold, isn’t it? Can’t have you getting sick. Mum would have my head! Have you ever seen her right cross?” Jackson picked Hope up and swiftly carried her upstairs to get the quilt he’d seen in the bedroom along with some toys.

  Forty minutes later, he’d managed to get the chicken in the oven and was sitting in the kitchen feeding Hope while the potatoes and carrots boiled on top of the stove. He watched and grimaced as his daughter spit out the peas he was trying to feed her. He refilled the spoon and tried again. She reached out and stubbornly pushed his hand away.

  “Come on, Poppet, you need your vegetables.” He tried once more and again was met with resistance. “Here, how about a compromise?”

  Jackson added some mashed apples to the spoon and tried again. Hope opened her mouth like a little bird and happily gulped down the mixture. Jackson made a face.

  “That just can’t taste good together.” He tried again with only the peas.

  Hope persisted in pushing his hand away only this time she let out a frustrated whine.

  “Stubborn!” Again, he added more mashed apples and watched Hope open her mouth wide in anticipation. Jackson laughed. “Seems we’ve got a system now, yeah?”

  After watching her take several more bites he tried the combination himself. “Well! That’s not completely horrid, is it? It does get better, I assure you. By next Thanksgiving you’ll be feasting right along with the rest of us. I’ve never celebrated Thanksgiving before, you know. It’s a Yank thing. This will be the first for both of us!” He picked Hope up, walked over to the kitchen sink, and quickly rinsed off her plate.

  “Maybe we should clean you up a bit?” He wet a clean dishcloth with warm water and gently wiped clean her hands and face.

  Just as he fin
ished, he heard the front door open and then close with a loud bang.

  Chapter Twenty

  There was a quick approach of footsteps, hard heels clicking rapidly on the hardwood floors.

  “Hey! Dinner smells great! Lady with a huge turkey coming through!”

  Jackson stood stock-still as Lillian walked into the kitchen and set the turkey on top of the counter. The sink where he had been standing with Hope was along the same wall as the door and she had walked right past him in her haste to rid herself of the heavy parcel. He watched her step away from the counter, pull off her gloves, and stuff them into the pockets of her coat.

  “Whew!” she said, turning around. “We’ll be eating leftovers for—”

  Her cheeks were flush from the cold. Her hair was up in a proper bun and not loosely framing her face, as he preferred. But she was even more beautiful than he remembered. He resisted the urge to run to her, to rip off her coat and let down her hair and run his hands over every part of her, his mouth over every part of her. He could tell she was in shock and he wanted desperately to do this right.

  Lillian gasped as her hand flew to her mouth and the other reached out to grasp the countertop. She had turned around expecting to see Janna. Instead, there was Jackson standing at the kitchen sink and holding Hope. Lillian closed her eyes and swallowed, mentally chastising herself for indulging in the fantasy. But when she opened her eyes again he was still there.

  “Miss me, pet?” he asked quietly.

  Lillian took a tentative step towards him, then another, and another. She reached out slowly with her hand, as if in a trance, letting it rest on his chest. He was solid. He was here. He was hers.

  “You’re really here,” she whispered looking up into his piercing blue eyes. The eyes she dreamed about every night.

  “I promised, didn’t I?” he asked, his voice strained from emotion.

  Lillian wrapped her arms tightly around his waist and began to cry. “You’re home! You’re really home!”

  “Yes, love,” agreed Jackson as he held his two girls in his arms. “I’m home.”

  The sound of Hope beginning to cry forced the two lovers to collect themselves. Lillian pulled back and began to laugh.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart. Those were happy tears. You don’t need to join in.” Lillian reached for her daughter.

  “No bloody way,” said Jackson turning so Hope was a bit further from her reach. “You’ve had her for months. It’s my turn to wipe away her tears. How about you check the potatoes and carrots, and see if they’re done? I’m not giving her up until I’ve tucked her in bed, like a proper father. And then I plan on tucking you in bed, like a not so proper husband.”

  Lillian laughed as she unbuttoned her coat and laid it across the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

  “Well, you’re going to have to relinquish her long enough for me to feed her once more before bedtime and… How exactly do I know if they’re done?” She stepped over to the stovetop and looking down into the boiling pots.

  Jackson laughed.

  “I’m not kidding. I don’t normally do this.”

  “You can’t cook?”

  “Not really,” she admitted, embarrassed.

  “But they’re only potatoes.”

  “I have other skills…” She flirtatiously ran her hand over his chest.

  Jackson moaned, took a step back, and glanced down at the now prominent bulge in his trousers. “How much longer until she’s down for the night?”

  Lillian brushed her lips lightly across his. “Soon. Now, about the potatoes.”

  “Bloody hell, woman! Here!” He handed their child over to her, and then reached for a fork. “You just stick a fork in, like so, and if it goes in nice and easy they’re done!”

  “Okay!” she said cheerfully, walking away.

  “Oi! Wait a minute!” Jackson reached for her arm. “You try. Tell me whether you think they’re done.”

  Lillian turned around and looked at him a bit surprised.

  “What? Did you think I was just going to be your willing slave? That’s not how this is going to work, love. There are certain things I expect from a wife. Now, I don’t mind you not knowing. And I don’t mind teaching you. But I want—”

  “Maria’s your wife, Jackson,” Lillian said quietly. “Not me.”

  He felt as if he had been physically slapped. He looked at her and saw that she was frightened, not knowing her place. An unmarried woman with a child to raise and support.

  He turned back around to face the stove and took a minute to gather his thoughts. He extinguished the flames under the pots and drained the water from the potatoes and carrots. Then he covered them with lids and turned once again to face her.

  “We need to have ourselves a bit of a chat, love. Can you and Hope wait for me in the living room? I’ll finish the dinner. It’ll be ready to eat in just a few minutes.”

  “I’m sorry, Jackson. That was uncalled for. I’ve just been under so much stress, not knowing—”

  “It’s all right, love. Truly, it is. I’ll be along in a moment. Refill my scotch and pour yourself a sherry, I saw some, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” she said, guilt showing on her face.

  Jackson set about mashing the potatoes and whipping up a quick glaze for the carrots. He checked the roasted chicken and turned the oven off. He left the carrots and potatoes in covered pots on top of the stove to stay warm and then proceeded to the living room. On the way he grabbed his coat off the coat rack in the foyer.

  Lillian sat on the sofa nearest the fireplace. The buttons of her blouse were undone and she had released her left breast from her brassier. Hope was latched on, firmly suckling. As Jackson walked into the living room he came to an abrupt stop. Lillian looked up and their eyes met. Her gaze was then drawn to the overcoat he held in his hands.

  “You’re leaving?”

  “No!” Jackson began to fumble through the pockets of the coat. He sat down on the coffee table across from her, his coat in his lap. “You’re a vision, you know that?”

  Lillian gave him a watery smile.

  “I told everyone that we were married,” she confessed. “It took a bit of time for me to get back here. I knew by that time I was pregnant. I just couldn’t bear the thought of Hope—”

  “I told you that I would make you my wife in every way that mattered to you. I meant it, Lillian. I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you—with you and Hope. I want us to be a family. Maria is gone, love. She was horribly injured in a fire over at the hospital. She died before I got back to England. I’d be doing this regardless; it just would have taken longer and been more complicated. As it was, it took me a few days to make arrangements with my solicitors and to get my leave arranged. But I’m here to stay. I’m resigning my commission.” Jackson opened up the cover of a small black velvet box and presented it to her.

  Lillian was stunned. She looked down at herself and her daughter. Then looking back up at him said, “You don’t have to do this.”

  “I want to do this. Don’t you understand? I want you. I love you.” He glanced down at Hope. “Both of you.”

  Jackson took the ring from its box, pushed the coffee table aside, and bent down on one knee before her. He took her left hand in his and looked up hopefully into her eyes. “Just say yes, Lillian.”

  “Oh, Jackson! Of course it’s yes!” Lillian said as tears once again sprung to her eyes. “I’m just a bit speechless. And how could you possibly propose to me when I’m looking like this!” she said in dismay, attempting to tuck her breast back into her brassier and rest Hope on her shoulder.

  Jackson smiled broadly. “Well, truth be told I had planned on proposing later tonight when I was buried deep inside of you. But what can I say? I couldn’t wait. I’m not the most patient of men.”

  “Oh! That would have made a nice story!” said Lillian watching him slip the ring on her finger.

  “It was my grandmother’s,” said Jackson. “A two karat
emerald in an antique gold setting. Matches your eyes. It was destined to be yours.”

  “Was it Maria’s?”

  “No, love,” he interjected as he reached for Hope so Lillian could re-button her blouse and admire her ring.

  “Maria and I, we just wore plain gold bands. It was what she wanted. We didn’t really have an engagement to speak of. I’ve bought a new wedding band for myself, and the emerald has a matching one. When you tell people our story, pet, you can tell it like it happened. I won you in a contest, a battle of wills and strength. I kicked Ahmed’s skinny arse, and then I threw you over my shoulder, carried you off to my tent, and made you mine for all eternity. I’ve been married to you in my heart since that very day, you know. I just want to square it away with the church and the law for you… for Hope.”

  “She’s asleep,” Lillian whispered. She stood up and looked down at the angelic face of her daughter, fast asleep on Jackson’s shoulder.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.” She reached out for his hand. “Let’s tuck her in, shall we?”

  “Let me,” he said, standing up and interlacing his fingers with hers. “You take a bath. I’ll build a fire in the fireplace in the bedroom and bring up our supper. We’ll have a bed picnic, like we did on our last night together.”

  “I’d like that,” said Lillian. “We’ve got so much to talk about, so much to catch up on.

  Jackson raised their joined hands to his lips and placed a kiss on the inside of her wrist. “We’ve got the rest of our lives, darling. The rest of our lives.”

  Lillian emerged from the bath, wrapped her robe around herself, and walked down the hall. She stopped briefly to look in on Hope. After confirming that she was fast asleep, she made her way down the hall to her room, their room.

  Jackson had set a tray with two plates and cutlery on the bed. He had opened a bottle of wine and left it on the nightstand with two glasses. As Lillian walked into the room, she saw him crouched in front of the fireplace, stoking the fire. The yellow-orange glow of the flames lit his face, causing her breath to hitch.

  He turned when he heard her walk into the bedroom, and stood up. He had removed his shoes, socks, and tie. His shirt was open, revealing his smoothly sculpted chest.