Soldier On

by Erica Nyden

  The major’s eyes creased, a cool blue enhanced by his warm smile. She smiled back, wishing he could see it or at least get some sense of the strange pleasantness he shared with her this morning.

  “I’m glad I asked,” he said. “I have a better picture of you now, not just of the outside but the inside too.”

  Chapter 6

  “She wrote you back! Already!” Olivia was almost singing as she entered the sitting room clutching a small white envelope.

  In his usual seat by the wireless, the major sat listening raptly. Olivia lowered the volume, souring the atmosphere at once.

  “I was listening to that,” he said.

  “And you can in a moment. I want you to listen to Miss Werren’s letter.” Riding the wave of his recent good humor, she placed the envelope in his hands and sat beside him. “Will you open it or shall I open it for you? You want to hear it, don’t you?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Why ever not?” Was she a fool for hoping she’d never again experience his disagreeable side?

  “After hearing I’ve ended our relationship, I’m certain Miss Werren has replied with enough curses to last a lifetime. I’m in no mood for a lashing today.”

  “Then Major, you don’t know women. I saw the look in her eyes. She still loves you, and this letter will prove it. Please, let’s open it.”

  Elbow bent, he rested his forehead in his hand and sighed—a sure sign of consent. She snatched the envelope back and read.

  “‘My dear William, Thank you for your letter. I’ve read it at least ten times and find much of it hard to believe. You say you’re a different person, but that cannot be. Your stubbornness shines through your written words, as does your blatant unselfishness. I’ve known you your entire life, sweetheart, and you will always be my William.’”

  Olivia glanced at William, whose expression remained stoic, so she continued.

  “‘I’m committed to my responsibilities in Bristol currently, but say the word and I will apply for leave so I can come back to Cornwall and care for you. Through the good and the bad, my wish is to be by your side. Won’t you have me? We don’t have to marry right away. Just let me be with you. Your Jenna’”

  Triumph curled Olivia’s lips as she waited for the major to respond. When he didn’t, she added, “Well?”

  “Well, what?”

  “I was right. She loves you and wants to be with you. I understand you don’t want her to see you like this, but what you don’t realize is that you need her. And if you don’t mind my saying so, I believe you’ve forgotten how much you still love her.”

  Maybe not. His face had developed anger lines she’d not seen before. She refolded the letter and placed it on the table.

  “You know nothing more of Jenna than what you witnessed the day you met her. Furthermore, you know nothing of me except for the scars on my back. And coming from someone so young and utterly ignorant of the world’s cruelty, save your handful of patients, I find it infuriating that you think you know what I need.”

  He banged his fist on the chair’s wooden armrest and crossed his arms.

  Her composure scarcely eased her own rising anger. “You’re right. I don’t know Miss Werren, or you. But as far as experiencing pain and loss, you know nothing of me either.”

  “Do enlighten me.”

  She approached the window, praying she’d keep her temper. “My older brother, John, joined the RAF weeks before the war started. He’d wanted to fly since he was a boy. He was killed last summer in a dogfight against the Luftwaffe. He’d just turned twenty-five.”

  His birthday party a few weeks earlier had been sunny and warm. The scent of freshly cut grass and her mother’s petunias had filled the air. John’s fiancée was there. They’d been engaged for two months, and though Olivia didn’t know her well, she liked the idea of having another woman in the family.

  It was the last time they’d all been together.

  She opened her palm on the cool glass windowpane. “They told my father first. He had the unlucky job of telling my mother, whose life also ended that day.” Mother refused to mourn with the family. Johnny had been her first born, and without him in her life, no one else existed, not even Daddy. “She forced herself to go, to identify the body alongside my father. To see my brother one last time before they laid him to rest.”

  “I’m terribly sorry.” The major’s hushed voice startled her. “I had no idea.”

  “In September, when the Nazis started blowing London to hell, an incendiary bomb buried my younger brother, Henry, and three of his mates. He was fifteen.”

  She focused on the magnified raindrops trickling on the other side of the pane. Though she thought of her brothers daily, she’d stopped crying for them weeks ago. She’d even stopped crying for her parents: her father, whose lost sons would never carry on his name, and her mother, who clearly preferred her boys but was left with an exasperating daughter.

  Outside, a great gust of wind hurled water at the window. She drew back as a fumbling hand touched her shoulder.

  “Nurse Talbot—”

  But her self-control had run its course. She nodded tersely and found satisfaction in pretending he could see it. “I believe you’re the most insensitive, unappreciative, and selfish man I’ve ever met. For as much time and effort that Mrs. Pollard and I put into your well-being, we are relentlessly slapped in the face with your disregard, and I for one need a respite.”

  She wheeled about and came nose to nose with a puzzled Mrs. Pollard.

  “Terribly sorry to interrupt, but there’s a telephone call for you, Nurse Talbot.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Pollard. I’ll take it in the library.” She looked over her shoulder on the way out of the room. “Enjoy the rest of your day, Major.”

  “Oh, Katie, you couldn’t have rung at a better time.”

  Despite the welcome, chipper voice of her cousin and dearest friend, Olivia’s childish tantrum in the sitting room had begun to solidify, making her queasy.

  “You sound wretched. This isn’t about your patient, is it? I thought the major would have developed into the dashing Maxim de Winter by now. What’s happened?”

  “An argument. A rather explosive one too, I’m afraid, especially on my part.” She’d failed miserably and hadn’t the pluck to share details, not even to Katie. She’d been a fool to push the matter of Miss Werren. The major was right: She knew neither of them. Their relationship was none of her business.

  “Whatever’s happened, it can’t be that bad.”

  “It’s bad enough that I’ll be surprised if I’m not sacked as a result.”

  Allowing her emotions to take over and arguing with the major as if he was her mother had been incredibly unprofessional. Her father would be devastated—and the thought of the fury that only her mother could unleash turned Olivia’s stomach. After losing two of their three children, her parents had been adamant that she leave London before she suffered the same fate. Many had left—children, mainly, boarding with strangers in the country indefinitely. Lucky for Olivia, her opportunity to leave came with a paying job in her profession, one that could propel her career if all went well.

  And she’d botched the whole thing.

  “You’re panicking,” Katie said. “I thought the doctor needed you so desperately that he promised a glowing recommendation in exchange for your services?”

  “Only if things went well here. I doubt even Head Nurse Smythe would have me back after this.”

  Katie’s pep vanished. “Livvy, Nurse Smythe was killed. The Nazis bombed St. Mary Abbot’s two nights ago, completely destroying Block C. Four people are dead, all staff. Your mum hadn’t the fortitude to ring and tell you, so I said I would. I’m sorry.”

  Olivia opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out.

  Katie waited a moment before softly saying, “Stop worrying about your quarrel. Your main concern is the major’s well-being. All you need to do is remind him of that.”

  If
she hadn’t been so distraught, she’d have laughed.

  “And don’t forget,” Katie continued, “Maxim De Winter was a moody sort as well. Give it more time. Perhaps the two of you shall become friends after all.”

  Katie laughed with her typical optimism, coaxing a chuckle out of Olivia who shook her head at her cousin’s ridiculous comparison: William Morgan couldn’t hold a candle to the charming Maxim de Winter, and he never would.

  Olivia faced three frazzled reflections in her vanity mirror. Her nurse’s cap sat utterly askew. To hell with it—she threw it on the bed. Static electricity set disorderly strands of gold and light brown standing on end. The guise fit her; she looked as crazy as she felt. The sight made her want to laugh. Knowing full well she shouldn’t, she did anyway. But the madness didn’t last long. Each snicker nudged her closer to a reality that made her palms sweat. From the top right drawer, she grabbed her hairbrush and began pulling it through her tangled mass of hair, wincing when it caught in knots. The pain was punishment for her bad behavior.

  She didn’t want to leave Keldor. This she readily confessed to Katie before ringing off. Though it was lonely here, her parents needed her safe, and she bore endless gratitude to the doctor who’d procured the assignment.

  More importantly, her charge as a nurse kept her bound to the man she was sworn to care for. Before today, she’d assumed Dr. Butler’s pills were working and the major had turned a corner. As his bitterness waned, he appeared on track to emerge as the wonderful man Mrs. Pollard bragged about. He smiled much more these days, making her heart skip. Yes, he could play the tyrant, but a good man resided there too. She just needed to alter her strategies if she ever wanted to see him again.

  If she still had a job.

  Sitting here, bullied by fear and duty wouldn’t do. She needed a walk. The weather was foul, so she shed her uniform for clothing that could withstand the rain. In her navy mackintosh and a pair of Wellies found outside the scullery, she ventured out the back door and into the wet, driving wind.

  “This war is far worse than the one your father and I fought when you were a lad. It seems bombing our cities isn’t enough for Hitler. Three days ago he raided Penzance. Sixty bombs! Falmouth before that, of course. And whilst Jerry thinks he can distract us from the sky, he’ll swarm our coastline, mark my words.”

  William slouched in his chair. Captain Dinham, who’d served with his father over twenty years ago, had arrived shortly after Nurse Talbot’s unpleasant departure. If he hadn’t been so rude to her, perhaps she would’ve warded off a visit from this (and his father would agree) most tiresome fellow.

  And still the captain yammered on.

  “Your portion of coastline is small and therefore dangerous. Air patrols on our end aren’t enough. Secret streams and overgrown bramble could provide the perfect place for a group of unscrupulous Nazis to hide along our shores. You know we’ve fortified Steren Cove?”

  “So I’ve been told,” he said, increasing the exhaustion in his voice and sinking another inch in his chair.

  “We’ve installed barbed wire across the two rivers that cut into your beach. We’ve yet to add beach scaffolding—depends on how HQ prioritizes. No room for mines, I’m afraid.”

  “I would love to help, Captain.” William stifled a yawn. “You’re right, this war is different from the one you fought with my father. I’ve seen hard evidence of that, and I’m most anxious for it to end. However, I’ve been discharged from His Majesty’s Armed Forces and am unlikely to return. I haven’t the stamina to do much more than thank you for your diligence.”

  “Haven’t the stamina? You’re an officer, Morgan. How can—”

  “Excuse me.” It was Nurse Talbot. Thank heavens.

  “Please don’t get up,” she said.

  But he stood immediately. “Nurse Talbot! Captain Dinham, this is my nurse, Olivia Talbot. This is Captain Dinham. He—he was a friend of my father’s and is currently leading the local, er”—he turned to the captain—“the Local Defence Volunteers, is that right?”

  “Home Guard now, Morgan. And it’s serious business. We’re not just enforcing blackout regulations.” The captain’s volume changed. William pictured him standing to his unimpressive height of five feet. “How do you do, Nurse Talbot?”

  “Very well, thank you. Forgive me for disturbing your tea, but—”

  “Not at all,” William hurriedly added. “Please join us. Captain Dinham was saying how they’ve adorned our cove with barbed wire and mines, is it?”

  “No mines, Morgan. Your beach is too rocky. However, it’s secluded enough for Jerry to hide unsuspected. We’re at risk living so close to the ocean, and we want to be ready and well defended in the unlikely event something should happen.”

  “I see.” Nurse Talbot’s voice moved closer. Her hand wrapped around his arm, setting him surprisingly at ease. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Captain Dinham, but I’m afraid the major needs rest.”

  “Yes, of course. Despite your lack of sight, Morgan, you look better than I’d feared. I hope you’ll continue down the path of good health and follow the course of country first. It would make your father proud. I’ll show myself out.”

  Once William was confident they were alone he said, “Thank you. I don’t think I could’ve handled much more of him. I’m afraid the captain can be rather overbearing. He’s also never wrong and knows everything about everything. Drove my father mad.”

  “You looked rather uncomfortable.”

  “I’m better now, thank you,” he said. And he meant it.

  This afternoon’s quarrel had been entirely his fault. But like an angel, she’d returned and dismissed the captain as well. Her compassion hardly seemed warranted. If he’d been in her shoes, he’d have asked the captain to stay for supper as payback for his mistreatment of her.

  Her grip loosened. Afraid she’d walk away, he groped for her shoulder. Instead, he caught the side of what he determined was her face. It was cool, as if she’d been outdoors. He rubbed his thumb across what felt like her chin and aimed his eyes, he hoped, toward hers.

  “I apologize for my behavior earlier. It was deplorable.”

  “Maj—”

  “I’m terribly sorry about your brothers. How awful for your parents—and for you. Now I understand why you’re really in Cornwall, helping me, a miserable bloke who doesn’t deserve your kindness.”

  “But sir, I’m the one who should apologize. I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did. I’m not here to carry on about my problems. I’m here for you.”

  She could carry on as much as she liked—anything to detract from his own torments. “Will you sit?”

  The sofa squeaked, and he sat beside her.

  “Just because I’m unhappy doesn’t mean you should be. You aren’t unhappy here, are you?”

  “No, not entirely,” she said, her tone teasing.

  “Good.”

  “And what about Miss Werren?” she asked.

  “You’re rather persistent, aren’t you?”

  “Always.”

  “Someday I will explain further the situation regarding Jenna and myself. But I don’t need her. However, I do need you to pour me a cup of tea. And tell me more about your family. Please?”

  He waited whilst china clinked and tea splashed. She said earlier that she needed a respite from him. He hoped their hour or so apart had been enough, for strangely, this London nurse was not so disagreeable a companion after all.

  Chapter 7

  “How’s the weather looking this morning, Polly?” William asked.

  Full from breakfast, he turned to the sitting room window as if he could see out of it.

  “It’s raining and blowing. Has been since I woke this morning. Not as hard now, I reckon, but wet just the same.”

  “Excellent. I’d like a walk. Nurse Talbot, you’ll accompany me?”

  “Of course.” Her voice lacked the zest he was used to. “Unless you’d like the rain to let up before venturing out?
I’m happy to wait.”

  “Not long ago, I would’ve given anything for a walk on our rain-soaked property. Come, we’ll have an adventure. Jasper will love it.”

  A short descent down the kitchen steps landed the pair in the southeast garden. Over the clamor of the rain, Keldor’s chickens clucked about their coop. William recalled the vegetable plots dotting the grassy meadow and the surrounding stonewalls and wooden gates. At one time, this area was the picture of perfection—a painter’s paradise, and a gardener’s as well. It had certainly given his mother joy. Though many had cared for it after her death, her presence here still reigned.

  “This reminds me of my grandmother’s garden,” Nurse Talbot said. “But hers isn’t this big.”

  “My mother had full charge of her garden. She planted, harvested, and kept up the maintenance in between, even pulling weeds. My father told me she found gardening relaxing.”

  He kept one hand swinging his cane and one wrapped around Nurse Talbot’s arm. Thanks to his practice and her patience, walking together had developed into a sort of dance where each partner instinctively knew when it was their turn to step.

  “I’m glad my father kept things running after she died,” he continued, “with hired help, of course.”

  Keldor had been known for its gardens. His grandmother’s roses had been famous all over the county. But that wasn’t why his father had kept them going. It was for William’s mother. Keldor’s gardens were forever enshrined in her loving memory.

  The restless air sent a chill across his shoulders. Harder rain followed. He shouted over the kerfuffle of tree branches and dead leaves. “Take us to the glasshouse!”

  He lifted his white cane and moved his hand down Nurse Talbot’s arm until it locked onto hers. Trusting her lead, he kept pace as they rounded raised beds and garden sculptures. He caught fragments of her laughter as the rain blew at them head-on.