Soldier On

by Erica Nyden

  Katie pointed. “There she is, back on the left. The woman in the blue greatcoat next to her, that’s Aunt Jeanette, Olivia’s mum.”

  “Thank you,” he said, tearing his eyes from the busy ward. “And thank you for your help back there.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Are you returning to your aunt? Have you your torch?”

  She laughed, erasing an hour’s worth of stress from her face. So he’d become overprotective of her. It seemed appropriate even after their short acquaintance.

  “Tell Livvy I’ll write. It was nice meeting you.”

  Once Katie left, William made his way to Olivia’s metal-framed bed. The bedside lantern illuminated the form of Mrs. Talbot, bent in silent prayer over her unconscious daughter. She was as oblivious to his presence as she was to the loud voices and bustle throughout the room.

  “My love,” he whispered at his first glimpse of Olivia’s face.

  Even with her injuries, she radiated beauty like a field of red poppies under stormy gray skies. A stitched gash on her forehead lay far too close to her right eye. He longed to kiss it.

  He sank to the edge of the bed.

  Mrs. Talbot’s head popped up. “May I help you?”

  “Forgive me—Mrs. Talbot?” He stood at once and pressed his cap to his chest. “I’m William. William Morgan.”

  He wasn’t sure if he should say more. Dr. Talbot had recognized his name, and he hoped Mrs. Talbot would follow suit.

  “Major Morgan?” She took his outstretched hand warily.

  “Yes, ma’am. I came as soon as I heard of the attack. I was afraid Olivia might’ve been hurt in this madness.” He cupped a hand centimeters from her wound whilst forcing Angela’s misshapen body from his mind. The water in his eyes distorted his sight of the milky stone pendant above the collar of her hospital gown.

  He looked up. “Can you tell me what happened? Will she be all right?”

  “I don’t understand. Two days ago, Olivia told me it would take time before your sight recovered. How on earth—”

  “My sight returned days before she came to Plymouth.” His nerves rocketed even higher than when he’d spoken to Dr. Talbot. “I asked Olivia to keep the news under wraps until I was sure it had returned for good.” His voice quavered at the lie, ashamed that he’d ever entertained the notion of keeping his returned vision a secret.

  “It appears she’s kept a lot from me recently,” she murmured.

  He ignored the remark. He just wanted Olivia to wake and to be well. Without regard for propriety, he sat and fished through the nappy blanket for her hands. Her soft skin calmed him despite their minor cuts and dirt-filled creases.

  “How long has she been here? Your niece mentioned damaged ribs. Is that all she’s suffering from, aside from these cuts here?” He touched her forehead. “Any internal bleeding? Have you spoken with her or—”

  “She was pregnant, Major,” Mrs. Talbot snapped. “Your doing, I presume?”

  A tingle crept up his neck, and a high-pitched ring muted the room’s clamor. He stared at Olivia. Had she known? For how long? Was she waiting to tell him?

  Mrs. Talbot awaited an answer, but he couldn’t give it. Shock and sadness dampened his cheeks.

  “That’s a yes, then.” She was relentless. “And because of her miscarriage, Major, she lost a lot of blood. When she wakes, she’ll remain incredibly weak. Her ribs are bruised, her body covered with contusions. No, I haven’t spoken with her. She’s been unconscious since she arrived.”

  William gaped at her, grasping for meaning.

  “I realize it’s been months since she’s lived in such conditions, but”—the pitch of Mrs. Talbot’s voice dropped as she covered her face—“she should’ve known to find shelter when the sirens sounded. My girl is smarter than that!”

  He reached across Olivia. “Mrs. Talbot—”

  The woman raised her head and pulled away. Though ringed in red, her eyes held their water. “Tell me, Major, were you planning on marrying my daughter? Or, since you have your eyesight, you’re not sure she’s up to snuff?”

  “I—”

  “What were you thinking, taking advantage of an innocent girl in this way? You’re at least ten years her senior!”

  “I love her, Mrs. Talbot. That’s why I’m here. She knows I want to marry her, but I’ve been waiting for this.” He stood and fished his mother’s ring from his pocket. “I wanted to propose properly so—”

  “There is nothing proper about getting an unmarried girl pregnant.”

  He slowly curled his fingers around the ring and sank back onto the bed. What a fool he’d been.

  Isolated by Keldor’s serenity, he’d forgotten how the rest of Britain was struggling to survive. Cities were collapsing, people were dying. How ridiculous of him to stay fixed on tradition, waiting for a flaming ring. He should’ve called Dr. Talbot weeks ago. Mrs. Talbot was right setting her fury on him. If this were his daughter, he’d have been even more explosive.

  Mrs. Talbot rose, as though preparing for another battle. One at a time, she smoothed her hands down her sleeves and the front of her blue greatcoat. “Well, she’s not yours to worry over anymore, Major. Once she’s awake and able to walk out of here, I’m taking her back to London with me. She’s lost her baby, so that’s no longer an issue—and you, with your miraculously returned eyesight, won’t need her services in Cornwall any longer.”

  “Mrs. Talbot, I understand your frustration, and I’m sorry you feel I’ve taken advantage of your daughter. But—”

  “Did you even know she was pregnant?”

  He cringed as her bullet hit its target. In past relationships, he’d been careful to take the necessary precautions to prevent pregnancy, but all that had changed with Olivia and the day she agreed to marry him. He’d become lax in his diligence, and both looked forward to whatever might come of it.

  “No. But we welcomed the possibility.” He drew up to dispense some shots of his own. “The ring came the day she left. I phoned Dr. Talbot straightaway and asked for Olivia’s hand. Though surprised, he gave it.”

  As hoped, his words left her stunned.

  “Since arriving at Keldor,” he continued, “your daughter has done nothing but commit herself to my recovery. She has forced me to reckon with my demons and continues to teach me how much I have to live for—her companionship, for one. We belong together, and we will marry.” Despite the clout in his tone, he gave a timid smile to the woman he hoped to one day befriend. “I love her, Mrs. Talbot, and I would be honored if we had your blessing as well.”

  He caught her pained expression before she covered a fresh batch of tears, sitting abruptly in her chair. “She’s never even hinted at a change in your relationship. We were close! Why didn’t she tell me about you and this love affair? I wouldn’t have expected details, but I thought daughters were supposed to share happy news with their mothers. How could I not have known?”

  Though a part of him wished to comfort her, he stayed put, distracted by the twitching feet under the worn blanket.

  Olivia stretched. Her lips drew back in discomfort, and she muttered, “William?”

  He must be the one to relay the news. Frantic, he reached toward Olivia’s mother. “Please, Mrs. Talbot, let me tell her about the baby, will you?”

  Her face softened in consent. “Very well. She’s said your name more than a few times since I’ve been here. Maybe this time, she’ll wake up.”

  Chapter 26

  There was nowhere to run. Someone’s drawing room lay in her path, and the sofa had caught fire. A frightened dog with pointed ears and a fluffy tail darted past, whining incessantly.

  Unbearable heat wrapped her body like a sarcophagus. Olivia kicked in protest. “The fire …”

  “They’re out, love. You’re safe.”

  A well-known hand caressed her face. She leant into its perfect mold, enjoying the coolness.

  “You’re being well cared for, and soon you’ll be home.”

  The famil
iar voice forced her eyes open. “William?”

  Smartly dressed in a well-decorated army uniform sat the man she loved, as she’d never seen him before. Combed to perfection, the threads of his obsidian hair glinted in the light of a large and busy room.

  Relief softened his face. “I’m here.”

  In an instant, her arms were around his neck.

  “Oh!” she cried. The pain on her right side was unbearable. She relaxed her hold and gingerly surveyed the damage.

  William’s hand closed over hers, spanning the length of her rib cage. “Careful. You’re hurt.”

  In the nest of his arms, she was safe. The fires wouldn’t chase her again despite the scorched air that draped her like a dirty coat.

  “Here, lie back,” he said.

  She nuzzled into his neck until he guided her down toward the meager pillow. “How did you find me? How long have I been here?”

  “A few hours, I think.” He kissed her hands before turning toward the person at her right.

  “Mother—” She extended an arm but remained on the pillow as William directed.

  Her mother looked as bad as Olivia felt. Dark semicircles bobbed like tiny boats beneath her bloodshot eyes. Black flecks of ash peppered her yellow hair and the shoulders of her blue greatcoat, on which she’d done the buttons all wrong.

  A trillion questions swamped Olivia’s mind, but what rose to the top was the need to defend her lie about William, clearly no longer blind.

  “This is Major Morgan” was all she could muster.

  “Yes, dear.” Her mother’s lips narrowed, spreading out rather than up, and lines of disappointment streaked her forehead. “We’ve met.”

  “Oh.” Olivia tried sorting that out and couldn’t. She was glad she’d missed it.

  “How do you feel, dear?” her mother asked.

  She swallowed and scanned the room, where important people bustled about with clipboards and stethoscopes. “I’m thirsty.” Her heart had yet to calm, and each new question sent it hammering. “How did I get here? Did you bring me? The siren sounded, but I’d no idea where to go. There was an explosion. A nurse found me, and”—she swallowed again, unsure if she’d dreamt the next part—“I saw blood. Loads of it.”

  Her mother’s distress deepened, so she turned to William. “What happened to me?”

  He glanced at her mother expectantly.

  “I’m going to fetch the nurse and get you some water.” Her mother patted Olivia’s hand before nodding toward William and leaving the bedside.

  Like a lost child, Olivia faced William directly.

  “I’m not sure what happened exactly,” he said, “except that you came awfully close to being killed. By the looks of it, the explosions knocked you unconscious and possibly covered you in rubble, causing these bruises and scrapes.” He stroked her forehead and cheek. “Strangers brought you in. Very kind strangers.”

  “But the blood? It was all over my shoes.” The intensity of her own voice frightened her.

  His eyes were mournful, but they never left hers. “You had a miscarriage. Were you aware you’d started a baby?”

  For one sweet moment, before hell rained from above. “I had an idea. More of a hope, really.” A tear slid down her cheek, the image of William snuggling their bald bundle no longer an imminent reality.

  He secured a stray lock behind her left ear. “In the future, we’ll have many children if that’s what you want. I envision a little Olivia, hands on her hips, telling her parents a thing or two. For now, we’ll enjoy each other’s company, the two of us, a little longer.”

  He was right, of course, but still, the grief hurt worse than her ribcage. “Does my mother know?”

  He nodded tersely. “She’s the one who told me.”

  “I sensed she was unhappy with me. She has a hard time hiding her disappointment—and with me, she’s always disappointed.”

  “You’re all she has left. She wants what’s best for you. She certainly wasn’t happy with me when I arrived, but I think we’ve come to an understanding. For a moment, she was planning to take you back to London.”

  She inhaled sharply, painfully. “What?”

  “Calm, yourself. You’re coming back to Keldor. I get to be caregiver, and you’ve got to do what I say.”

  “Oh, no.” She rolled her eyes.

  Ignoring her cheek, he dug into his trousers pocket. “But first, Olivia Talbot.” He opened his fist. “Will you marry me?”

  In William’s palm lay the prettiest ring Olivia had ever seen. Elevated above a platinum filigree, small glittering diamonds encircled a glowing solitaire like happy spectators cheering the leading lady.

  Finally.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Yes, of course it is. I told you already!” The question’s absurdity, the timing, and the backdrop set her to laughing until pain transformed her gaiety into a muted yet earnest nod.

  He slipped the ring onto her finger. “Do you like it?”

  The diamonds dazzled her eyes, even in the dim room. “I love it, but … Was this your mother’s? Are you—”

  Before she could finish, he seized her face. His lips made up for what explorations he couldn’t make to her broken body with his hands, and her desire outwrestled her pain.

  Nose to nose, he took a breath to say, “I’m sure. And I’m sorry for making you wait. I hope you never doubted my commitment.”

  “Never. Every time we made love, every time you kissed me, every time you held me, I knew. An implicit bond. I could feel it here.” She flattened her palm to her chest.

  “I wasn’t the only one, then. How pagan of us.” He kissed the top of her head. “I was a fool to wait for the ring. It finally arrived the day you left. I phoned your father and—”

  “My father?”

  “Of course. I wanted to do this properly, remember?” He backed away and brought her hand to his lips. “This is far from the proposal I’d planned, but that doesn’t matter anymore. Let’s get you home.”

  Home. To Keldor—their home, miles away from destruction and death, where she would heal in comfort and safety. Where she could mourn the loss of her baby, and thank the heavens she herself hadn’t been added to the war’s collection of casualties.

  Then, as though disentangling from the thronging darkness, her mother’s grim face emerged. Every muscle in Olivia’s weak body stiffened. William sensed the change and followed her gaze. Here she was: an adult officially engaged to be married. But none of it mattered—Mother served as judge, jury, and executioner, as masterful as the war itself when it came to ruining everything.

  The main routes to the hospital and surrounding neighborhoods were the first to be cleared of rubble. After planting a swift kiss on her cheek (and her mother’s), William set out on foot in search of a lift to his abandoned motorcar. Mother and daughter stayed behind on a bench in what used to be the ornamental courtyard opposite the hospital’s entrance. Beneath the sun’s paltry light, victims continued to arrive, fewer on foot but more by way of ambulance, lorry, or motorcar.

  With the hospital well over capacity, the staff had been happy to see Olivia stand and walk out of the building with help. Free of her threadbare hospital gown, she wore her own dress under a greatcoat of Aunt Hilda’s and a clean pair of shoes. Her mother had patted a cool cloth over her face and pulled her unwashed, oily hair into a bun, leaving her somewhat refreshed. She’d been released long before she should have, her mother opined, but Olivia didn’t care; she just wanted to go home.

  But until that happened, she had to suffer through her mother’s uninformed opinions over her unseemly behavior with “the major,” as she kept calling him.

  “Funny,” Mother finally said with a sniff that meant her next sentence would be miles from humorous. “Sending you to Cornwall was supposed to keep you out of harm’s way. Had quite the opposite outcome, did it not?”

  “Mother, I was never in harm’s way.”

&nbs
p; “Pregnant by your employer, a man years older than you, spells nothing but ruin, Olivia. Tell me”—Mrs. Talbot turned to face her—“did the major ever use his age or position to threaten or intimidate you? I know he was rather disagreeable in the beginning. Katie told me all about it.”

  With no time to dwell on her cousin’s loose lips, Olivia snapped, “William has been nothing but a gentleman, Mother, even early on.”

  “That kiss in there hardly looked gentlemanly.” Mrs. Talbot nodded toward the hospital.

  William’s kisses rarely were. That’s what she liked about them. Olivia crossed her arms carefully against her tender midsection and suppressed a smile.

  “If the major is truly the man you’ve chosen for yourself, then so be it,” her mother said. “Lord knows my opinion, whether it matched yours or not, would go unheard.”

  For once, Olivia agreed.

  “So rather than give you motherly advice, I will relay the following instead, as a seasoned midwife: If you want more children, you must permit yourself time to heal before succumbing to the major’s wants and needs—or those of your own.”

  Again, Olivia hid her smile.

  “And when the time comes—after you’re wedded, of course—pregnancy can be prevented. Were your father and I wrong to believe you were more conscientious than this? Honestly, Olivia, sometimes I think you’re trying to disappoint me.”

  Her mirth faded. Mother would never have spoken to John or Henry in this manner, no matter what their age or circumstances. But she hadn’t the energy to argue. Shades of her sixteen-year-old self simmered in silence.

  “And as much as I’m eager for grandchildren,” her mother continued, “I can’t understand why anyone would want to bring a child into the world as it is. I’m certain you agree, especially after what you’ve undergone.”