Wives of War

by Soraya M. Lane

  She bent to drop a kiss to Lucy’s head, lips touching her silky soft hair, before standing and walking from the room. She’d be back, but for now she was going to respect Lucy’s wishes.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Lucy

  ‘Lucy, there’s a gentleman here to see you.’

  Lucy looked up from where she was sitting. She spent most days in her chair, reading, knitting what she could for the hospital to keep soldiers and new babies warm, and drinking tea. Cup after cup of tea – tea she enjoyed every sip of compared to the shudder-worthy Compo tea they’d all suffered. She wasn’t used to having visitors, and the ones who had come, well, they hadn’t kept coming back. She was wallowing in her own self-pity and she knew it, but it didn’t change how she felt, even if the guilt from pushing Ellie away the week before was still weighing on her. One day she’d tell her that she’d helped, that it was she who’d made her get up each day, let the sun in, and do her best to help the war effort from home. But she wasn’t ready to reach out yet.

  ‘Lucy!’

  ‘I heard you, Mother. Whoever he is, tell him to go away.’ Her mother had barely spoken to her after her violent reaction the last time she’d suggested an outing. She didn’t seem to get that she wasn’t about to walk out of that door, that she wasn’t ready to face the world. Everything she’d planned had been taken away, because she certainly wasn’t going to go to medical school and face the stares and whispers of others.

  There was a shuffle in the hallway and then her mother’s head appeared around the door. ‘Dear, it’s an American soldier. He said his name was Captain Jack Colton.’

  Lucy froze. She then carefully took the book from her lap and placed it on the table beside her. ‘You’re certain?’ she asked, staring at her mother. But there was no reason for her mother to be playing games; Lucy had never once mentioned Jack to her. Unless she’d mumbled it when she’d been heavily sedated in hospital.

  Her mother nodded, looking uncertain.

  ‘Please tell him I’m unavailable.’

  ‘Lucy, there is an extremely handsome soldier standing at our door. Don’t make me leave him standing there! I’ve had it with having to pretend you’re as good as dead!’

  Lucy summoned all her courage, all her determination, despite the rapid beat of her heart. She’d never been so desperate to see another human being in her entire life, but there was no way she was letting him ever see her like this. Anyone but Jack! Why had he come looking for her? After all these months of telling herself that it had been an empty promise, and here he was standing on her doorstep. Asking for her. Waiting for her.

  ‘Mother, please. I’m not seeing him, so tell him to leave.’

  Lucy could only guess how hard her mother had found it having her home like this, caring for her and most likely wondering when her happy, strong girl was going to come back. She wished for her old self some days, too, and she certainly wasn’t going to let Jack see her like this.

  ‘Lucy . . .’

  She turned away, looked out of the window, at the curtains blowing in the breeze, the world looking so sunny and leafy today, it was almost impossible to believe there was still a war going on.

  Lucy sat still, then couldn’t stand it any longer, knowing he was out there and not being able to catch even a glimpse of him. She touched her hand to her face then slowly let her fingers trail down her neck, stalling when they touched the edge of her burn scars before bravely following the path down to her collarbone. She knew there were a million reasons to be thankful – that she was alive, that most of her face had been spared. But the burns slicing across her jawline, down her neck and her arm, her hand, they were impossible to ignore and even harder to forget about. She was a different person now.

  She rose, walking so quietly across the carpet and leaning into the window. She could hear them, her mother being friendly, and then the deep voice that she’d never forget, no matter how hard she tried.

  ‘I don’t know what to tell you. I’m sorry, but she’s – well – Lucy has been through a lot.’

  ‘You tell her that I’ll be waiting here,’ he said, so confident and strong. ‘I don’t mean to be a nuisance, ma’am, but I owe your daughter my life, and I’ll just sit and wait her out until she’s ready to see me.’

  ‘Oh no, I couldn’t have you sitting out here,’ her mother gasped. ‘You can come on in, maybe you could tell me all about how my little daughter managed to save a soldier like you.’

  He laughed and Lucy found it impossible not to smile. He was charming her mother, a woman certainly not used to the charms of Yanks in uniforms.

  ‘I’m fine waiting out here, and that’ll be her story to tell you, ma’am,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘But your little daughter, well, she’s got the heart and courage of a lion if you ask me.’

  Lucy wanted to call out to him, to give in and follow her heart, but she couldn’t bear to see the look on his face. She’d rather exist in his memory, a pretty nurse with perfect skin. She hadn’t thought so back then, but now she could understand just how lovely her skin had once been, something she’d always taken for granted. She wanted him to remember the person she’d been then, the nurse with more determination and courage than she could ever summon now.

  ‘You’re certain? You’ll sit out here?’

  ‘Tell her I’ll wait. I’ll be waiting for her, all night if I have to.’

  Lucy heard her mother shut the door. It closed with a soft thud, and then she listened to footfalls echo down the hall before her mother appeared in the room again.

  ‘Lucy, please,’ she begged, voice soft but full of desperation.

  ‘Mother, that man out there, that handsome soldier . . .’ She inhaled, releasing a shaky breath before continuing. ‘Do you honestly believe he’d still feel the same about me if he saw this?’ She extended her neck, letting her mother get an eyeful of her daily reminder from that awful day, the day she’d almost burnt alive, or at least that’s what it had felt like. ‘This?’ She held out her arm.

  Her mother turned then, a sad look on her face as she walked out of the room. Lucy knew she was hurting her and she hated it. But she sat back down, picked up her book, and pretended to read. Because it wasn’t only her burns, it was the broken feeling inside of her that made her feel a hundred times removed from the woman she’d once been.

  ‘Lucy?’ her mother muttered, marching into the room, hands in fists at her sides.

  She tried to appear unrattled even though it upset her to see her mother so worried. ‘Yes?’

  ‘He’s still sitting out there. In the cold.’

  Lucy shrugged. ‘Perhaps it will get cold enough that he’ll leave.’

  Her mother threw up her hands in desperation. ‘It’s been six hours. Six hours, Lucy!’ She folded her arms crossly. ‘I’ve taken him tea, and now supper. Please, just go out there and see him or he might still be there come morning. It’s ridiculous.’

  Lucy closed her eyes, squeezed away the tears. Crying was for dealing with skin grafts and pain, not for worries concerning a man.

  ‘Please tell him again, Mother, I don’t want to see him.’

  ‘Lucy, enough,’ her mother said, walking closer, her eyes full of her own tears. ‘If you want him to go, then you march out there and tell him yourself. Whatever it is you think has changed about you. Whatever it is that’s making you think you’re not good enough.’ She leaned forward, touched her finger to the side of Lucy’s head. ‘The change is in here,’ she said, moving her fingers, reaching for her hand. ‘Not here.’

  Lucy stared up at her mother, knowing she’d been awful to live with, awful to care for. She stood, throwing her arms around her and holding her tight.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I am so, so sorry, Mother. I regret every harsh word, every time I’ve lashed out at you, but I can’t seem to help it. Please tell him to go, please do that for me.’

  Her mother held her then kissed her head. ‘No. Go and make peace with him. He to
ld me you saved his life, and I don’t think he’s leaving until he says whatever it is that’s brought him all this way.’

  Lucy wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands, trying to steady herself. Her mother was right, she needed to be the one to tell him to go. Only she knew why he’d come, and she was going to have to show him that she wasn’t the nurse he remembered, far from it. Once he saw her, spoke to her, he’d understand.

  She stepped past her mother and pressed her hands against her skirt, smoothing out the fabric, then ran her fingers carefully against her hair. She wasn’t going to make an effort to disguise or hide her burns; it was an impossible task and besides, it was dark outside. Perhaps he wouldn’t see them and she could convince him to go regardless.

  Lucy walked slowly but steadily forwards. She turned the knob and pulled the door open, her eyes taking a moment to adjust to the dim light outside. It was after dark, but the moon was high in the sky, bathing the porch in enough light to see by once her eyes focused. And there he was, leaning against the railings and looking out at the street.

  She wished she could run to him, throw her arms around him and pretend nothing had changed. She wished the war was over, that things were different.

  ‘Hi, Jack,’ she said simply.

  When he turned to her, his smile was so big it almost broke her heart. In a few fast steps, he’d know. He’d see how different she looked, what had happened to her.

  ‘Lucy!’ He closed the distance between them in four short strides, scooping her up into his arms. ‘You kept me waiting long enough!’

  Lucy refused to give in to his warm embrace, stayed stiff, pushing him away when he let go enough for her to do so.

  ‘Jack, you need to go,’ she told him.

  ‘What? Why?’ He looked confused. He was so dashing in his dress uniform, the jacket firm over his wide shoulders, his dark hair a handsome contrast against the olive of his skin. She wished she didn’t have to act so cold when all she wanted was to hold him close.

  ‘You can’t be here. Please, just go,’ she said, her voice breaking, the crack in her softly spoken words impossible to miss.

  ‘No. Not unless you give me a good reason.’ He took her hand and openly studied her fingers and then met her gaze. ‘You’re not married. Are you engaged? Because whoever it is, whoever beat me to it . . .’

  ‘There’s no one else, Jack. That’s not it.’

  ‘Then what?’ he asked. ‘I’ve been playing this moment through my head ever since I went back to active duty, imagining your face, your smile, everything about you. It’s what kept me going. You’re what kept me alive.’ He paused. ‘I slowly remembered everything, time healed that, but I never once forgot about you.’

  Lucy sobbed then, she couldn’t help it. One big, heart-wrenching sob escaped from her mouth, depleting all her energy and making her double over.

  ‘Lucy, what is it? Why are you . . . ?’

  ‘Look,’ she sobbed, holding out her other hand, letting him see her skin, all tortured and pink. ‘Look,’ she whispered this time, standing up and moving into the moonlight, turning her face so he could see the mangled skin that made its way up her neck, almost to her jaw. She had it over her stomach, too, on the same side. Her skin had literally burnt off her body the day she was trying to help those children, children that had been blown apart when the SS soldiers had started shooting and a grenade had exploded, parts of them sprayed on to her as she lay burning on the grass.

  Jack didn’t say anything. He looked at her, held her gaze, his eyes damp as he then turned his stare back to her arm and neck. He was quiet, so quiet, and she bit down hard on her bottom lip, trying to stop the sobs, trying to quiet the emotion that was so raw within her.

  He reached for her hand, paused, then stepped back, his hands now both by his sides.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said simply.

  Lucy nodded. ‘Now you know.’

  ‘This is the reason you didn’t want to see me?’ he asked. ‘This is why you’ve kept me waiting half the day and night?’

  She nodded again.

  ‘I see.’

  They stood there a moment longer, awkwardly. She looked down and she wondered if he did, too.

  ‘Lucy, I don’t know what happened to you over there, but I have a feeling you did that for someone else. To save someone else.’ He cleared his throat. ‘You risked your life to save me. I know what you’re capable of. Is it true? Am I right?’

  She stepped back to lean against the front door, her body braced against it for fear she might collapse otherwise.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So tell me,’ he said firmly. ‘I want to know what happened.’

  Lucy stared at her hands and took a shaky breath, hating the idea of reliving the moment that had changed everything. ‘We were transferring from our field hospital to Brussels,’ she told him. ‘It was supposed to be a nice change, somewhere with better facilities and plenty to look forward to, and instead I ended up being rushed there as a patient with burns that almost killed me.’ She stopped, nails digging into her fisted palms as she fought to find the words to continue. ‘I was injured in an enemy blast when I was trying to save the lives of some young children on the side of the road. There were SS troops hidden. They must have injured the children in the first place.’

  ‘I can’t imagine what you’ve been through,’ Jack said.

  She smiled. ‘But you can, Jack. You’ve been there, you’ve been injured for your bravery, lived through hell over there. I was doing nothing more than what so many of our soldiers have done, yet I’m a woman and somehow that’s seen as different.’

  Jack took a step forward and she went to move back before realising that she couldn’t back up any further.

  ‘You are nothing like most of the soldiers I know, I promise you that. You’re the woman who bravely told me she was going to be a doctor one day and be damned with what anyone else thought,’ he murmured. ‘And I don’t give a damn about your burns. You deserve them, Lucy, because you risked your life to save another. They should remind you every day of your bravery.’

  She wanted to believe his words, to believe that he didn’t see her any differently. But she couldn’t, because she knew the reality, knew how ugly she looked.

  ‘Please, Jack. Can’t you leave me in peace?’

  He leaned in, cupped her chin and pressed a soft, warm kiss to her lips. The feel of his mouth brushing hers almost made her feel like herself again, even though she knew it was a goodbye kiss.

  ‘It was good seeing you, Lucy.’

  Jack walked backwards, holding up his hand, a smile on his face that she knew she’d never forget. This was it. This was goodbye. One last kiss, in the dark as if she were still normal, unmarred by war, and now he was gone.

  She held up her hand in a wave, knowing that her mother was probably watching from inside, hoping she didn’t ask her too many questions until she’d had the chance to pull herself together.

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow!’ he called out.

  Lucy blinked, wondered if she’d heard him right. Her right ear was damaged, but she’d thought she’d heard him say . . .

  ‘Pardon?’ she yelled out.

  ‘You heard me,’ he replied, before whistling and disappearing down the road.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Scarlet

  Scarlet rushed inside, the washing hanging on the line forgotten. Her heart was beating so fast she could hardly breathe, her arms pumping at her sides as she ran.

  ‘Thomas!’ she called, bursting into the house. ‘Thomas! Germany has surrendered!’

  She couldn’t hear him, wasn’t sure where he was in the house. She walked through, stopping outside the front room when she saw his silhouette. Of course he was in there. He could have moved his wheelchair on his own to another room or even another spot, there was nothing wrong with his arms, but she was used to him not doing anything without her assistance. Being told her husband could walk if he set his mind to it was one thing
, but forcing him to do it? She had decided it was an impossible task.

  ‘Thomas, did you hear me?’ she said, breathless, as she stood pressed against the doorjamb. ‘Thomas, Germany has surrendered. It’s over.’

  He didn’t say anything, back turned to her, not even a flicker of movement that showed he’d heard her. She’d preferred it when his mother was staying with them, but she’d returned home and now here she was trying to pretend everything was fine. Every day was a struggle, every hour of every day driving her a little further into a desperate kind of sadness that she wondered if she’d ever manage to emerge from. But this was news to celebrate.

  She walked around, placed a hand on his shoulder, and tried to summon the strength to be sweet, kind and patient with him. Every day it was harder to pretend that she was happy to be married to him, harder to remember why she’d ever wanted to marry this man who was equal parts cruel, miserable and depressed. But then she’d remind herself what he’d been through and try to be patient all over again. She nursed her arm, glancing down at the bruise. Being patient to a man who tried to hurt her, who grabbed her around the wrist so tight sometimes she’d been certain he’d snap it, was starting to become tiresome.

  ‘The news just came through on the wireless,’ she told him, stroking the back of his neck, trying to push her thoughts and fears away. ‘Mr Grey next door told me. I was out hanging the washing and—’

  ‘Leave me,’ he muttered, smacking away her hand.

  ‘Thomas, I know you’re suffering, but it wouldn’t hurt you to make an effort. Please.’

  ‘Leave,’ he muttered again.

  Scarlet couldn’t stand another moment in the stuffy room. He wouldn’t let her air it, complaining of the cold, and he never wanted to come out into the sunshine with her on a nice day and sit in the garden, or simply sit and enjoy a cup of tea with her and ask her about her day – about anything.