Awaken, Shadows of a Forgotten Past

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Awaken, Shadows of a Forgotten Past Page 31

by Marcia Maidana


  “This wasn’t the plan. I’d never leave you out here alone. But when Thomas showed up, I knew there was more than one reason why your father had sent him.”

  “Are you going to blame it on my father now? He did order you to take me to France, didn’t he?” I angrily reminded him.

  “Before we left, your father ordered me that if the situation permitted it, I wasn’t to risk your life more than necessary. The ship could be intercepted or attacked by the enemy, or worse yet, there could be traitors on board. You’ll be safe here. You have Hurst Castle’s protection, and apart from the military, no one knows you are here. If you came with me, I’d either have to risk the life of my soldiers, or protect them and risk yours. Please try to understand how I feel. What happened in the forest is nothing compared to what could happen.”

  “I might be safe here, but what about you? What if I lose you?”

  “There is a slight chance of that. But it’s most likely that I’ll succeed on the mission if I travel alone. Once I board the ship, I’ll essentially be invisible. My whereabouts will be unknown until I deliver the information.”

  “I’ll be a burden to you. Is that what you are saying?”

  “You know it’s not like that.”

  Deep inside I understood perfectly what he said. Reality made too much sense to argue with him. Sadly, there was nothing I could do to change the facts—to make Alex defer from his plan. “Sounds like I have to get used to being alone.”

  “It won’t be for long…”

  “It doesn’t mean I have to like it—because I hate it. I can’t even entertain such an idea.” My voice softened.

  “Don’t be sad. To me you are what the lighthouse is to wandering vessels. I’ll always look for you. I’ll always come back to you.” He took me into his arms, and I took in a deep breath, absorbing his love, his warmth, his familiar smell, fearing that this might be the last time I’d have the chance to do so.

  “Every night when I see the light shining out into the sea, I’ll remember your promise. As long as it shines, I’ll be waiting for you.”

  “Florence, look at me.” Alex raised my face to see my watery eyes. “I love you. I won’t be gone long. I’ll deliver the documents and I’ll come back. If anything changes, I’ll send word to Hurst Castle for you to return to Forte Radici.” His fingers gently wiped away my tears.

  “Any news about my father?”

  “No. Although there is one piece of good news.” He smiled.

  “I could use some good news. Out with it.” There was a twinkle in his eyes to the sincerity in my words.

  “Colonel Swinger survived the attack. He’s in the hospital recovering.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Suddenly, the heaviness in my heart became lighter.

  “Indeed, it is.” Alex took my face in his hands. “Florence, promise me you won’t be afraid.”

  “I won’t,” I lied. He asked for the impossible; without him I would be afraid, insecure, and lost.

  “Wait for me here. I don’t want to risk anything happening to you.”

  “I will.”

  It wasn’t long until he was ready to leave. I was paralyzed with anxiety, torn between my own desires and the logical thing to do. I tried to be strong and let go, and to a certain measure I succeeded in the outlook, but on the inside, I was withering away. Soon our final goodbyes were said; he walked away, my heart left with him. I stayed in the cottage, empty and cold.

  21

  ~ Standing Still ~

  I wasn’t afraid, I was resentful. Resentful about the unfair things that, uninvited, had entered into my life and refused to leave. I was resentful about being left behind once more, abandoned, without Alex. I inhaled the twilight breeze from the advantage of the high attic window. My eyes wandered from the sunset, to the still trees, to the tiny visible piece of blue sea in the distance. My heart ached for Alex. The void he had left in it was like a growing tumor, slowly sucking the life out of me. It had only been a day, but the hours had dragged by in slow motion.

  “Good evening, Florence. I need to speak to you. Can you come down?” Thomas called from below the attic window.

  “Give me a second.” Dreading what Thomas had to say, I descended the ladder and opened the door. Thomas’s face was devoid of all color—never a good sign. “Please, come in.”

  “Have a seat, Florence,” he invited. His request was another bad sign. I complied. Thomas sat rigidly on the opposite side of the table.

  “Thomas, what’s wrong? Is it Alex?”

  “Florence, I’m sorry to be the bearer of such terrible news.” He paused to take in a long breath. “They found your father’s body in the woods close to the manor.”

  An excruciating moment went by when neither of us spoke, when thoughts and feelings seemed to be suspended somewhere in time.

  “What about Mrs. Allerton?” I finally whispered, shaking my head in denial.

  “They found her too, along with Mr. Leroy. The priest identified their bodies.” Thomas reached for my hand across the table. His warm touch confirmed that this indeed was reality and not a nightmare from which I could wake up.

  Softly, I started to sob. It was easy to be brave when there was hope, easy as walking in daylight. But when the night came, and reality set in, grief turned into a well-armed enemy. I had been taught how to act in the darkness, but now that I had to actually navigate it, I shrunk from its evil face. I knew I had to be strong, to hold on to hope, but it would take time—time to forget and forgive, time to heal.

  “Tell me all you know.” My words came out broken but determined.

  “Are you sure you want to know?”

  “Sooner or later I have to know.”

  “Later might be better.”

  “No, I have to know, or I won’t be able to control the pain.”

  Thomas looked at the table as he spoke. “They found General Contini underneath some thick bushes. He was well hidden. Florence, I—”

  “Go on, please.”

  Thomas inhaled deeply again, as if getting the strength to let out the rest of the tragic news. “He was shot several times. No one could’ve survived that. My guess is that someone pulled him to safety after he went down.”

  “What about Mrs. Allerton and Mr. Leroy?”

  “They were also shot to death in an underground tunnel. I’m sorry, Florence.”

  “The tunnel…” My eyes flooded with painful tears, and even though my vision was clouded, reality was ever so clear.

  I thought of my dear Mrs. Allerton and Mr. Leroy being chased like animals in the narrowness of the tunnel. I imagined their heartbeats loudly shouting for them to hurry, to force their legs to move faster—their assassins gaining on them. What terror must have entered their hearts as they realized the disadvantage of their age over the young enemy’s speed, fueled by rage. In my mind, I saw a cruel bullet bringing Mrs. Allerton down in a pool of blood, and Mr. Leroy trying in vain to help her back up, to get to safety, then kneeling beside her and bravely dying. He would have refused to leave her behind.

  I closed my eyes and tried to erase the awful images, but they kept coming. I couldn’t breathe. The only way to let the air in was to let out the pressure, the grief and despair…and so I did; I cried uncontrollably, my whole body shaking.

  Thomas quietly arose, walked around the table, and knelt beside me bringing me into his arms.

  “They were great people. We’ll never forget them,” Thomas said comfortingly. I wasn’t sure how to describe it, but there was something powerful about the deep sympathy and sorrow that Thomas felt for my misfortune. I felt his strong desire to alleviate my suffering, and somehow it was empowering to my soul. It was an illusion, but somehow, I felt that Thomas carried some of the pain for me. Minutes went by, I held on to him letting my anguish express itself.

  When composure started to return, having cried all the tears I had, I felt lighter in body and in spirit. Perhaps, it was the light of hope that found a way to reach my soul onc
e again. I pulled myself free from Thomas’s arms to look at my bracelet. “Don’t you ever forget who you are and how much we love you,” I whispered. “Those were Mrs. Allerton’s final words to me.”

  Thomas gently caressed my face, and as I looked into his eyes, I realized that the room had grown completely dark. “It’s late…”

  “Yes…it is late.” I felt that the pause in Thomas’s answer concealed words that he would never say. He rose from his knees to light the lamp. “I better go. If you need me, you know where to find me.”

  “No, don’t leave me—” I rushed to his side; he was almost to the door.

  “Florence, I can’t stay in here through the night.” He understood my pleading. I was afraid of confronting the demons of the night, afraid of being alone with my thoughts. And I understood that he couldn’t comply with my request. General Sterling would shoot him, or worse, send him to the gallows if he did.

  “Please, don’t leave me,” I asked nonetheless, reaching for his hands. “Thomas, for the first time in my life, I’m afraid to stay alone,” I confessed mostly to myself. I needed to hear it. Looking into Thomas’s gaze, I saw the brother I had lost, a consoling angel.

  “Florence, I wish I could stay—I wish—” He moaned, clearly bothered by the restricting situation. “I’m sorry, I have no choice, I better go.” He wrenched his hands away from mine.

  “You might not have a choice, but I do.” I was adamant about not being alone, adamant about not losing the security of his presence. “I’ll stay outside with you.” Thomas had no chance to argue; I gathered some blankets and followed him out.

  “I’ll stand guard tonight.” Thomas dismissed the guarding soldier, taking his post close to the cottage.

  It was a clear summer night. I wrapped my body in the blankets. We sat by the trees.

  “I sent a message to the priest. He’ll keep the bodies in the parish’s mausoleum until the funeral. He’ll also notify Mrs. Allerton’s and Mr. Leroy’s families.”

  “Thank you, Thomas. I don’t have the heart to think about those things right now.”

  “I know, it’s too soon. Listen, Florence, Forte Radici is still under custody, but now that all the bodies have been recovered, you could go back. I’m sure they would release it to you.”

  “I couldn’t confront it all alone.”

  “We’ll wait for General Sterling then?”

  “Yes, we’ll wait for Alex.”

  When morning came, Thomas suggested we go down to the beach. We settled on the same spot Alex and I had been not long ago.

  “Which one would you like to read first?” Thomas asked, holding up two books which he had borrowed from the fortress. I took the one labeled, As You Slept, but the words on the pages blurred, and my attention kept wandering. “I wish I would’ve met you before General Sterling did,” Thomas suddenly said, flipping the pages of his book.

  “Why do you say that?” My eyes darted from my book to Thomas.

  “Because I feel like an intruder in your life.”

  “Nonsense—Thomas, do you realize that if it wasn’t for you I would be dead?”

  “I did my duty.”

  “Risking your life for the safety of others is more than doing your duty—it’s a gift of love,” I assured, taking a mental note of how much my view on the world had changed since meeting Alex.

  “Florence, I…”

  “Don’t say anything—I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me.”

  Thomas’s saddened gaze rested over the serenity of the sea. “He will come back, you know.”

  Almost unconsciously I uttered the words, “What if he doesn’t?”

  “He will. General Sterling is always good on his promises.”

  My gaze found the lighthouse in the distance, reminding me of what Alex had said about returning to me. I sighed, and switched our discussion back to Thomas. “What are you going to do when all of this is over?”

  “Take a long vacation.”

  “Is the army going to stay in your life for good?”

  “Yes,” he answered firmly. “I like serving in the army. I like the discipline and the ability to serve our people.” There was a deep sentiment of patriotism in his statement.

  “I guess Alex feels that way too.”

  “I know it’s extremely difficult. But General Sterling has a powerful reason to stay alive—you. He’ll return to you.”

  “I want to convince myself that he will, but experience shouts loudly otherwise.”

  “I understand that, but without people like us, many more innocent lives would be taken, not just young men, but women and children. The cruelty would have no end.” Thomas’s words reminded me of the evil I had witnessed in the forest.

  “I wish it was different.”

  “So do I, Florence, so do I…in more than one way.”

  At Thomas’s insistence, I accompanied him to the fortress. “I have a surprise for you,” he said.

  “Good morning.” A young soldier greeted us at the Fortress entrance.

  “Captain Frankfort, Miss,” an older, bulky soldier said in a husky voice as he hurried past us in the courtyard.

  “Stand here, Florence,” Thomas eagerly instructed. “Look all the way across to the back wall. What do you see?”

  “Nothing. Am I supposed to see something else besides the wall?”

  “Yes, in front of the wall,” he pressed, impatiently pointing his finger towards it.

  “A line of posts?” I asked incredulously. It can’t possibly be what he is so excited about, can it?

  “Finally! Do you know what they are for?”

  “Why would I know that?”

  “It’s a shooting range! The posts are the targets. The back wall catches all the missed bullets.”

  “Is this a joke? There is nothing exciting about a firing range,” I said. He squinted at me.

  “The officer in charge of the fortress gave me permission to teach you how to fire a rifle.”

  “Are you crazy? I know how to use a pistol. That’s more than enough,” I assured.

  “A pistol? In the world we live in, you won’t get very far with a pistol. We are at war, Florence, and you need to know how to handle a rifle. Besides, this is for the sake of all of us around you.”

  “This is a result of the other night, isn’t it?” It had been a windy evening when Thomas and I made our way back to the cottage from the seashore. A sudden, fast approaching noise had startled us. I was carrying Thomas’s rifle while he gathered firewood.

  “Florence, get ready to fire!” Thomas’s instincts were to prepare for the worst, hope for the best. My reflexes were too slow. By the time I had managed to properly lift the rifle and aim it, the scared horse had run past us. The rifle then fired, sending Thomas flat on the ground seeking cover. The booming sound had been earsplitting and brought the soldiers from camp on a frantic search for us.

  “Stop—put it down!” Thomas yelled in distress. My hands burned from its metal. I was more than happy to drop the rifle to the ground.

  “Are you all right? I’m so sorry.” I apologized many times.

  “You almost shot me! I thought you knew how to use a rifle! For goodness’ sake—you are the daughter of General Contini!”

  “I hate rifles. They are too heavy for me to handle.”

  “I noticed.”

  “I’m glad I didn’t shoot the poor horse,” I said, helping Thomas to collect the scattered firewood.

  “Yes, better me than the horse!” Thomas laughed sarcastically.

  We hadn’t talked about the incident since it happened. Evidently, forgetting it had been far removed from Thomas’s mind.

  “Truly, Florence, if you can’t handle a rifle, you are pretty much defenseless,” observed Thomas.

  I looked at a few soldiers strolling around the courtyard in pity. “Seriously, Thomas, how many soldiers do you think I’ll manage to wound or kill before hitting a post?”

  “Don’t worry about them. As soon as yo
u touch the rifle, they’ll run inside.” Thomas smirked.

  “All right—all right!” I exclaimed. “You don’t need to make me feel any guiltier. I’ll do it.”

  Thomas spent countless hours over the following days helping me hold the rifle in place as it fired. I went from almost falling to the ground every time I fired to being able to stand in the same spot; although, my body would still shake from the impact and my shoulder burned in pain. When I finally achieved a little control, Thomas taught me how to properly aim. I was amazed at how easy it was to miss and fully understood the wall’s purpose now.

  Seven emotionally exhausting days had passed to never return. Alex’s absence was almost unbearable now. Thomas’s friendship was an anchor in the storm. I’d forever be indebted to his kindness but could never completely fill the emptiness in my heart.

  After a particularly difficult day, the night had come to release my mind from thinking, yet I was neither asleep nor awake. I was somewhere suspended between the two worlds. My body was numb, but my mind was too alert to lower its guard. The deepest concerns in my heart seemed to take advantage during this fragile state of the mind.

  What if Alex didn’t come back to me? How much longer should I wait? Should I go back to Forte Radici without him? Was I more prepared to confront my loved one’s deaths? How would life be for me from now on? Had Alex succeeded in his mission? What was really happening with the war? How many more lives had we lost? I wrestled with my thoughts and tried to fall into a deeper sleep.

  At the first abnormal sound, considering that it was midnight, my mind fully awoke. All my senses focused on the intruding movements in the floor down below. The old wooden door creaked, and a moment later, a floorboard gave a small squeak of protest. Someone had entered the cottage.

  My conscience instantly reproached me for my carelessness. As I had become more familiar with the place, I hadn’t retrieved the ladder into the attic that night. It was still in place, ready to be climbed.

  Footsteps crossed the lower room and headed towards the ladder. I held my breath until the only thing I could hear was the blood rushing in my ears. The realization came all at once, a single thought encompassing all the facts—I was trapped. The window was too high to use it as an escape, and it faced south. The soldiers were camped north. Yelling would give me a great disadvantage—it would warn the intruder, accelerating his purposes. Perhaps the night guard wasn’t even alive.

 

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