Soldier On

by Erica Nyden

  She knelt. “I do not.”

  “Would William, do you think?” His grip tightened. “Would he think me a coward for breaking as I did? For being afraid to die?”

  “Not at all—don’t let the perception of your old friend fool you,” she said, recalling William’s own terror and how he was never truly rid of it. “There’s no shame in being afraid to die.”

  That night Olivia sat at the foot of her bed, bent over William’s journal, unnerved by the anguish that would possess his oldest friend for years to come, if not forever.

  She found the haunting excerpt easily.

  * * *

  30 September, 1941

  Olivia, what I’m about to write will not make you happy, but I must write it and pray you never read it. If you do, I hope you’ll forgive me. I’m afraid. For the second time in my life, fear is shaking me to the core. If I die, I leave you to raise our child alone. You’ll become a widow at twenty-two, and we haven’t even been married a year.

  For obvious reasons, I can’t back out. I wouldn’t anyway. I’m committed to our operation and to the men in my company. But I’m terrified, Olivia. Fully awake, I have the same mind I had as prisoner—full of dread, hopelessness, and loss. For so long, my dreams were the only place where I’d suffered such misgiving.

  If I don’t come home, will you stay at Keldor? The estate will not collapse into bankruptcy. My father was shrewd with money, as I’ve discussed with you before. You know to contact Mr. Bather in Truro if you or Polly are in need of anything.

  Please tell Polly how much she’s meant to me all these years. Tell her how sorry I am if I’ve ever hurt her or taken my pranks too far and for being beastly to her when I returned from North Africa. Thank her for me, will you? Thank her for stepping in and caring for me when my mother could not.

  I love you more than life itself, Olivia Jean Morgan. Forgive me for the pall of doubt descending over me this morning. I actually prayed to God that I would be home to you by January, so I could be there for the birth of our first child and to support you in any way I can. I promise I’m trying to be positive. This can’t be goodbye.

  * * *

  Her fingers traced her husband’s hasty scrawl. She’d been wrong to argue with him when he’d been so set on returning to war. He said she didn’t understand, and at the time, she hadn’t. The mind of a soldier was complicated and none were the same—a fact she’d been learning these many months from the men in her care. Most fought for love of country and a loyalty to the soldiers with whom they served, as William had. But he had other reasons, too. His return to service was supposed to end the terror he withstood in North Africa. Talking to her about it had helped, but it wasn’t enough. He needed to once again risk captivity and torture to prove to himself that he wasn’t a coward.

  He’d once told her he wasn’t afraid to die and never had been. Was the fear he’d written of in his journal a first for him, then—a new brand of courage, perhaps? For a fighting man to admit his fear of death took unimaginable courage. Surely, wherever he was, he knew that now. And for Peder, as with all things, time would help him to realize the same.

  Chapter 39

  Peder deserved more than the bare support they scraped together for the patients at Keldor. Surely his relationship with William called upon Olivia to go above and beyond for him. Though he was billeted in S Ward, she contemplated giving up the library so he could have a room of his own.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” her mother had said. “Lieutenant Werren’s proximity to the other men gives him the camaraderie he needs, and you need the space and privacy to get your work done. I realize he was William’s friend, but I believe he’d be the first to say that whilst he’s here, he wishes for no special treatment.”

  But whether he wished for it or not, it was difficult to avoid. Whilst Clare delivered supper to the rest of S Ward on Peder’s first night, the chef herself delivered his meal, as if he were the king of England. The other patients, many who had been there for days already but had yet to lay eyes on the woman who provided such tasty meals morning, noon, and night, clapped and whistled. Those who could stand did, causing Mrs. Pollard to shoo them off and shake her head as if they were full of nonsense.

  “They’ve every right to cheer for you, Mrs. Pollard,” Peder said, encouraging the ruckus around him.

  “Agreed,” Olivia said coming up behind her with Emily in her arms. “Your cooking, you realize, reminds them of their mother’s. All they want is to thank you.”

  “Nonsense. I cook for Mr. Peder and for all the boys like I would my William. When you all get home,” she announced to room, “you make sure to thank your own mums, not me. I’m just doing my duty.”

  She delivered Peder a kiss and sailed from the room, a dozen cheers in her wake.

  “So this is Emily?” Peder asked.

  “We’re soon to have our supper, but first I wanted you two to meet. Emily, this is Mr. Werren.”

  He laughed. “No, no, Emily, don’t listen to your mother. My name is Peder, and that’s what you shall call me. How do you do?”

  He stuck his hand out, but the toddler crashed into her mother’s neck, utterly embarrassed.

  “If she’s not the spitting image of Charlotte!” he said, glancing at the woman’s portrait above the hearth. “But with your hair.”

  “Her hair has lightened since she was born. For months, it was dark like William’s.” Olivia buried her nose in the golden strands.

  “I’m afraid I haven’t spent time around children since I was one myself,” he said, his face open and kind. “But I wonder, Miss Emily, if you’d like to meet Morveren.”

  Out of his pocket, he pulled a small mermaid made of silver. “She’s my good luck charm. Tell me, Emily, do you believe in mermaids?”

  The child’s round eyes grew rounder. She took the mermaid.

  “Mm,” he said. “I thought you might. You’re welcome to play with her, but she mustn’t go into your mouth. She’s terribly small, and we wouldn’t want her getting lost in there.”

  “Perhaps you should only play with her when we visit Peder. She’s a very special mermaid.”

  “Yes, she takes care of me when I’m far from home or in need of help.”

  Emily, clearly enraptured by the silver trinket, would likely have exploded if it were taken away from her so quickly. Peder sensed this.

  “Would the two of you join me here for supper?” he asked. “Or does that violate annex protocol?”

  Olivia scanned the room. Three men lay in bed with meal trays on their laps. Others shared small tables. Peder’s meal sat on one such table, which he had to himself.

  Olivia chewed her lip for a moment. “Why don’t we join your new friend, Peder, for supper? And then you can play with Morveren a little longer.”

  The giggles the little girl emitted gave Olivia her answer.

  “May I leave her here? I’ll only be a moment.”

  “Of course.” Peder drew Emily onto his lap.

  Stalling at the room’s exit, Olivia watched as he gestured grandly with his hands. Emily’s eyes followed their every movement. When she wasn’t overawed by whatever he was telling her (though how much Emily really understood was debatable), she was smiling. And for the first time since his arrival, without the veil of civility, Peder did the same.

  “Nurse Morgan,” Cora summoned from the corridor.

  Olivia ignored the call, simply delighting in the scene across the room. She too was smiling as a piece of her wounded heart edged back into place.

  Peder hadn’t been joking when he said that he hoped Emily took after Olivia. He wasn’t sure he could handle looking at the spitting image of his best friend in the face of this child. But as her tiny fingers smoothed over the charm that had saved his life in Normandy, things were different. William and Charlotte’s wide cheekbones and pointed nose sparked memories this child had no part of. Her innocence and curiosity distracted him from his woes and selfish deliberations.

&nb
sp; “What do you think of her?” he asked, pointing to the charm she clutched in one sticky hand.

  Emily stared, her blue eyes shielded by the longest eyelashes.

  “She’s magical, you know. She tells fishermen when it’s safe to go to sea. And she protects those of us who wish to stay on land.”

  His nursemaid had given him Morveren before he’d left for Blundell’s, claiming it would bring protection and happiness whilst living away from home. It worked: he’d enjoyed school, passed his exams, and moved through life fairly contentedly. He even met pretty girls, thanks to William, of course, who’d laughed at his superstitious obsession with the trinket.

  William wasn’t laughing now.

  Peder bounced Emily gently with his good leg, more optimistic than he had been in months. He hoped the feeling would hold. “I’m here today because of Morveren—not just alive, but here, at Keldor, meeting you and getting to know your mum. Making new friends.”

  Emily’s attention went back to the charm. She petted the deep grooves of the mermaid’s hair and the scalloped scales of her fin.

  “Have you had a nice visit, then?” Olivia returned with two plates, which she laid on the table. She brought up a chair beside them, then took Emily and sat.

  Peder laughed. “Your daughter’s quite talkative.”

  Olivia wrinkled her nose fetchingly. “I know you’re joking, but I’m afraid she rather can be. Though most of what she says is gibberish, she does go on and on. The future implications frighten me.”

  “I’m afraid, Miss Emily, that Morveren must take her rest.” He held out his hand, curious as to whether or not his request might trigger a tantrum.

  She looked up at her mum, who raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Sticking her bottom lip out, Emily plopped the mermaid back into Peder’s hand.

  “Good girl.” He closed his fingers tightly around the charm and slipped her back into his trousers pocket, eager for the next bit of luck she might send his way. “I wonder what delicious meal Mrs. Pollard has prepared for our supper this evening.”

  “Okay, okay. That’s enough. I can’t lift it any further.” Peder gritted his teeth against the pain grinding his shoulder.

  “All right, we’ll stop.” Olivia rolled the unused gauze into a tight coil, her eyes steady on him. “But over the next few weeks, with hard work and a willingness to suffer a little pain, you will lift it.”

  Already, Peder hated physiotherapy. “Because losing a leg isn’t enough pain.”

  “On the contrary,” she replied, helping him with his T-shirt. “It’s enough to last a lifetime. But sadly, if you want to use that arm the way you used to you, you’ll have to endure a bit more. Remember, you’re one of the lucky ones.”

  “Am I?”

  She sank onto the bed across from his wheelchair. “You are. And you know it.”

  He said nothing. If he were truly lucky, he’d have someone to go home to other than his aging nervous mother and infirm father. But when it came to women, despite his good luck charm, Peder was far from lucky. William had always said he lacked confidence—this from the man who could charm the skirts off girls with a simple hello. So whilst his best friend luxuriated in the caresses of whichever beautiful woman he chose to spend the night with, Peder ruminated alone, reflecting on words he wished he’d said or hadn’t said until he finally fell asleep. At least now he’d no longer sulk within William’s shadow.

  “You know, I never thought William would marry,” he said.

  Olivia lifted her head as if she’d been pinched. “Excuse me?”

  He glanced about. Where was little Emily? Surely she could dispel the negativity he was so good at summoning at the most unwelcome times. No wonder he couldn’t find a wife.

  “Y-you mentioned luck,” he stammered. “William was lucky to have you, if even for a short time.”

  “You never thought he’d marry? Not even your sister?”

  He wrinkled his face. “Especially not Jenna. A doomed relationship from the start. I’ve no idea what he was thinking when he first asked her, not when he could’ve had anyone.”

  “Anyone?” Her eyes twinkled, and she raised her brows.

  Did she think he was joking? He ought to steer the conversation away from William’s many conquests, though she might’ve appreciated knowing that none had held his attention more than a fortnight.

  “When he finally wrote telling me he’d married, I didn’t believe it,” he said. “He apologized for being a rotten friend and for not staying in touch as he once did, and then the rest of the letter was about you. That’s when I realized he was telling the truth and wondered: Who is this nurse? How did she ensnare my friend, the terminal bachelor? Was she dosing his tea?”

  He laughed, but Olivia looked uneasy.

  “It seems we knew two different men, the one before North Africa and the one after,” she said.

  “Perhaps. You know, he’d been incredibly tight-lipped about that whole ordeal, including his father’s death. Did he ever talk to you about it?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  Had she bristled?

  He smiled. “Of course. I therefore repeat: William was a lucky man.”

  It had rained for five days. Cornwall could be a wet place, and the low gray clouds stretching for miles mirrored Peder’s mood. His parents were visiting for a second time, and though Olivia’s library provided privacy, their visits brought a pang of guilt for the other men who wouldn’t see their families for weeks or months yet. His mother’s fawning brought on still more guilt; her affections weren’t always reciprocated.

  “I’ve brought you something,” she sang, pulling two enormous books from her bag. “They’re scrapbooks I made when you and Jenna were children. I thought you’d like to see them and maybe share them with Nurse Morgan?”

  “Whatever for?” he asked.

  Mr. Werren stepped forward. “William is in here too, as well as photographs of his parents. I’d meant to pass on the ones of Charlotte to William years ago, but …”

  “It seems your father couldn’t still his infatuation for Charlotte Morgan enough to part with them,” Mrs. Werren snickered, reminding Peder that the long-running joke was anything but.

  Once his parents stopped their petty bickering, they indulged in walking Peder down memory lane. His mother had done a brilliant job of recording the short history of his immediate family, and the more he scanned the carefully preserved photographs, locks of hair, postcards, and dated newspaper clippings, the more he appreciated this. It turned out to be a lovely afternoon.

  “Your mother said you had something to show me,” Olivia said after showing his parents out.

  “I do.” He held out the smaller of the two books. “Here.”

  She sat down beside him and rested it on her lap, turning the pages slowly and respectfully until Peder could no longer stifle his excitement and flipped half a dozen at once.

  “Do you recognize that face?” he asked, pointing to a young boy with unruly dark hair in short knickers, whose head rested against the skirt of the woman beside him on the beach.

  Olivia’s hand flew to her mouth. “William! And Charlotte Morgan?”

  “Mm.” Peder nodded, turning a handful of pages. “Here’s another taken at Tredon, our estate, in the south garden.”

  Two women, both with coal-black hair, stood together whilst clasping the hands of their young sons. “Through thick and thin” was written in his mother’s flowery handwriting.

  “Mother said this was taken shortly after Mrs. Morgan had lost a baby,” he said. “A miscarriage.”

  Olivia studied the photograph’s every detail, her finger tracing the length of Charlotte’s faded face. “So they were friends, your mum and Mrs. Morgan?”

  “Not at first, I don’t think. I’m told my father had hoped to marry Mrs. Morgan until he learned she had eyes for someone else—always had and always would.”

  “What a beauty. And how sad she looks—for good reason, I know. What do you reme
mber of her?”

  He flipped back a few pages to three photographs taken outside a school. Both families were showcased, and the year 1915 was etched under them.

  He tapped the glowing face of William’s mother. “Here. Do you see her smile? I remember this day well. William and I had finished our first year at Blundell’s. My mum, Jenna, Mrs. Morgan, and the colonel, who had a few days’ leave, came to retrieve us. Summer holidays at last.”

  “She had both her boys with her, if only for a short while.”

  He nodded. “This is how I remember her: radiant, warm, and forever beautiful.” Fixed on Olivia’s mournful yet pretty face, and curiously unable to stop speaking, he continued. “It’s no wonder William married you, for you’re very much like her.”

  She reddened and closed the book. “Thank you, Peder, for sharing these.”

  He’d embarrassed her; he hadn’t meant to.

  She stood. “I’ll phone your mum to thank her as well. Might I show these to Emily before they go back to Tredon?”

  “Of course. They’re for you both to enjoy. I’ll leave you to your library. Thank you again for its use.”

  Chapter 40

  By August, Keldor’s patient numbers remained at thirty, prompting the Red Cross to send another nurse as soon as they could. Nurse Talbot would return to London, much to Dr. Talbot’s delight, in a matter of weeks. In the meantime, Olivia worked more than ever. She spent less time alone and less time alone with Emily. On top of her regular duties, she played games, listened to the wireless, and even ate meals with the soldiers—well, with one soldier, anyway.

  Her mother, of course, was the one to bring this to her attention.

  “It seems Lieutenant Werren has taken a shine to you, or is it you to him?” she asked one morning as Olivia fluttered past in search of jam.

  She stopped, and looked sharply at her mother. “Sorry?”