by Erica Nyden
Wherever William was, he was laughing at him.
“Peder!” Her eyes gleamed as if she were laughing, too.
Incensed, he gripped the arms of his wheelchair as if he might rise out of it. “Your former husband was lucky to have had you when he did, but don’t think for a moment your marriage would’ve lasted beyond this war. William was a fickle bloke, and beautiful wife or no, as soon as another attractive woman crossed his path, he’d be on her like a deerhound on a doe.”
His words had nothing to do with desperation, he told himself. She deserved to know the harsh realities wetting her chocolaty eyes. “He was always on the prowl for the next female to warm his bed. A handful of wedding vows could do nothing to change William Morgan’s true nature. Why do you think he broke off his engagement to my sister? Marriage meant chains to a man like William.”
Her face softened as though he was finally getting through to her. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I love you! And I am steadfast in that love, more than William could ever have been. I’ll not hurt you, Olivia, not ever.”
“You’re hurting me now, Peder!” She stood, ripped the nurse’s cap from her head, and fumed back toward the tree where she paced, each step hunching her shoulders as though she’d been struck in the stomach.
She believed him, then—all of it, even the bits he wasn’t so sure of. And she was crying, hard.
He had done this.
Olivia was finding it difficult to catch her breath, but walking helped, as did the mizzle, though she wished it would rain.
“I’m sorry,” Peder mumbled from his chair.
She pretended she couldn’t hear him. Back and forth and around the tree, she walked.
“Why, Olivia?” he shouted. He rolled toward her. “Why don’t you care for me as I do you? If it’s not my broken body that appalls you so, then what is it?”
She turned and faced him. “You’re my husband’s best mate, Peder!”
“You mean your former husband.”
Finished with this conversation and intent on taking him back inside, she strode back to take control of the chair.
He grabbed her wrist, stopping her. “Hold on a tick. You think he’s still alive, don’t you?”
He gazed at her. His eyes widened; he may’ve even smiled.
She glared back, unwavering. “I do.”
He let go of her and laughed, his callous chortles slicing through the belief that’d kept her afloat for years. Suddenly desperate to state her case, she spoke between his scoffs, sharing her theory of how William had been helped by local residents and was hiding somewhere in the desert, alive. But no matter how loudly she said them, the words lost their sway when they slammed into Peder’s derision.
“You’re out of your mind.” He shook his head, still smiling. “North Africa is a desolate wasteland dotted with land mines. The Bedouin were pushed out long ago. There’s no one to help, and there’s nowhere to hide.”
“William’s a skilled fighter, trained to live in the harshest conditions. He’s outsmarted Nazis before. He can do it again.”
“And he’s human, which means he can die like the rest of us—by bullet, bomb, grenade, and fire, amongst many other means.”
She covered her face. Peder had been to the front more than once; he knew of what he spoke.
“You’re right.” She knelt beside him and stared at her shoes and the muddy ground soiling them. “Dear God. You’re right.”
His hand gently smoothed her hair. “The war has taken everything we hold dear. But if you’ll let me, I’ll make you happy.”
Yes, the war had taken her brothers. Her father-in-law. William. It’d almost taken her beautiful home, where so many life-changing moments had unfolded, from William’s cries to Emily’s. And yet without the war, she’d never have come to Keldor; she’d never have met William or had his child. And though she sometimes agonized over life without him, she wouldn’t trade her mourning for never having had the experience of lying in his arms or kissing his lips.
Peder said he could make her happy, but she was already happy. She had an adoring little girl who lifted her spirits daily. She had her job. Caring for soldiers healed her wounds as much as it healed theirs.
She stood. Ignoring her stuffy nose and puffy eyes, she lifted her chin. “I care for you, Peder, even after your disastrous attempt to make me doubt my husband’s fidelity. But my heart belongs to William.” She paused, hardly able to utter the words that followed. “It will always be his—even if he doesn’t return to me.”
“So you’ll remain alone, then? For the rest of your life?”
She grasped the handles of the wheelchair and pushed Peder back to the house in silence.
In Olivia’s arms, Emily waved goodbye as Mr. and Mrs. Werren drove their son away from Keldor. Olivia did the same, as did her mother beside them.
She should’ve discharged Peder weeks ago. Instead she’d kept him here, hoping he’d fill the void William had left. But she hadn’t needed a man in her life, as her mother had suggested; she needed a friend. The one she’d found was a living almanac of William’s life, keeping him alive in ways that even Polly couldn’t.
Though some of Peder’s tales had stabbed her heart like a dagger, part of what he’d said was true: William’s past was far from unsullied. He’d hinted at that more than once. Her husband was eleven years her senior, but however he’d lived before they met had only brought him, by some stroke of good fortune, to her, the love of his life—a position she’d hold for all eternity.
She kissed Emily’s chubby cheek. “We’ll visit Uncle Peder soon. Once he’s settled, you, Polly, and I will call on him.”
“Yes, Mummy.” Emily dropped her head onto her mother’s shoulder.
“He’ll miss you both,” her mother said.
Olivia stared ahead as the car crept from sight. “He asked me to marry him, you know,” she added, unsure of what compelled her to do so.
“I gather you declined? Poor man.” Her mother turned to her, eyebrows raised. “But Peder isn’t the only man out there. There are plenty of others who—”
“Mother.”
Mrs. Talbot closed her mouth.
“I’ll put Emily down for her kip, then I’m taking a bath,” Olivia said. “Will you tell Cora?”
“Of course. Will you be all right, dear?”
“Yes, Mother.” She patted her mother’s cheek, a gesture of which she was typically the recipient.
After two readings of Miss Moppet, Emily’s current favorite, Olivia went to her bedroom, lit a fire, and started a bath. As the tub filled, she flopped onto the bed with William’s journal. His final entry, read dozens of times, uplifted her more than ever before. She smiled wanly, confident that she could soldier on without him.
* * *
30 September, 1941
Soon I’ll depart, leaving this journal behind. I’ve released my soul amongst these pages. If anything tragic happens, read them and find comfort knowing my body may be elsewhere, but home is with you and home is where I will return. Even if you leave Keldor, I will find you. If you remarry I would not object (though the notion of you with another man delivers bile up my throat). But honestly, love, my utmost desire is for you to be happy.
I can’t say what my existence will be like after death (no pearly gates for me), but I will keep an eye on you, making sure you’re treated well and are content. I’ll flutter as leaves in the wind or rest as mist on your skin from spray off the sea. I’ll be the brightest flame in the library hearth or the pesky weed that keeps popping up in your garden. You’ll find me, my love. I shall return to you.
Chapter 42
“Mummy! Mummy!” Though a small child of three years, Emily’s voice rang through the garden like cathedral bells.
By mid-May 1945, Germany had surrendered to the Allies. Recovering soldiers continued to pour into Keldor, and Olivia still had summer crops to plant. The annex was running more smoothly than ever. Since last a
utumn, she’d gained three additional nurses, leaving her solely in charge of administration. She still had plenty of contact with patients (the best part of nursing), but now she engaged without the strain of a schedule. She also had more time in the garden and more time with Emily, who sometimes was and sometimes wasn’t the best helper.
Hands on her hips, she followed her daughter’s call. She spotted her ankles deep in an empty vegetable patch slated for a second round of broccoli and cauliflower seedlings. Between the child’s fingers, a fat earthworm wriggled lazily.
Olivia kicked her shoes off onto the grass and joined her in the dirt. “Well, isn’t he an attractive fellow?”
Emily’s belly laugh caused the worm to drop, just in time, into Olivia’s open palm. This sent Emily into another fit of giggles, and Olivia couldn’t help but join her.
The day was fine. After weeks of rain, the sun shone and spring flowers perfumed the still air. Keldor’s rather unkempt landscape suffered in comparison to the massive victory garden, but the convalescents strolling the grounds didn’t seem to mind. The weather had brought almost everyone outside, and Olivia marveled at how the sun’s healing rays influenced even her most downtrodden patients. They all wore smiles today.
“Where should we put your new friend? Shall he stay in this bed, or shall we deliver him across the way to the potatoes?”
But Emily had lost interest in her discovery. Her chubby legs churned as her feet pounded through the grass toward the house.
“Where are you going? You haven’t said what you’d like to do with your new friend!” If Polly had arrived with luncheon, the toddler’s voracious appetite took precedent. Olivia carefully dropped the worm onto the welcoming earth and stood. She too was ready for lunch. “Sorry, Mr. Worm.”
But Emily hadn’t run toward Polly. A man in a dark suit was kneeling under the apple tree that shaded the back entrance, smiling at her daughter as though he knew her. Lieutenant Cleary, perhaps, though patients didn’t normally arrive looking so smart. And he wasn’t due until tomorrow, anyway.
Stepping out of the garden bed, she shook her head at her overly friendly child and followed. “Emily? Who—”
Her eyes met his. She halted with a jolt as though she’d struck an invisible wall.
“William?”
Stability left her legs. She reached out, but there was nothing to hold on to. And then there was. William was there, grasping her arms and saying her name.
“But … I, I don’t—”
“It’s me. I’m here. I’m home.”
With each syllable, he jerked her gently closer until their foreheads met. His lips caressed her nose and cheeks. She recognized these kisses, tender and earnest. And like William’s, they left her wanting. Thirsty for more, she closed her eyes and leaned into them, selfishly aware that if this were a dream, she’d drown in as many as the figment was willing to impart. Blindly, she studied his shoulders and arms. They too felt familiar—this man even smelled like William.
But what if it wasn’t truly him?
Risking all, she opened her eyes.
He was still there, staring at her, his face marked with worry. She traced her fingers over his cheekbones and across his lips. All was where she remembered it, and couldn’t have been more handsome.
“William. It is you! But I—I—”
“I’m here, I’m home, and I’ll never leave you again. I swear it, Olivia. I swear it.”
“This—this is real,” she said, trusting that the more she stated it, the truer it would be. But the fact, no matter how wonderful, baffled her. “But how? Over and over, I was told—”
“—that I’d been killed? The Nazis believed it, my superiors believed it too. It was the lie that kept me alive. I’m just so sor—”
Needing more of him and unwilling to wait, she pressed her mouth to his. He returned the kiss, pulling her close yet letting his hands wander in ways that indicated he hadn’t forgotten her body and was eager to revisit every part of it.
Dizzy with desire, she staggered. William held her fast, and their eyes met. The connection evoked years of fear, worry, and bottomless sadness.
She gripped the lapels of his tunic. “But what happened? Where the hell were you?”
He closed his eyes. “I’ve been living as someone else, under strict orders to keep my true identity dead. Even to you.” He opened them, and it was as if he had to force himself to look at her. “If you’ve found someone else … If—”
He was here—he was hers, and she was his. Always. She brought their wet faces together. This kiss, less violent than the first, carried a tenderness she hoped would soothe his worries.
He sniffed and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll tell you more of what I’m allowed to later. But first, I want to meet our little girl.” He crouched down to where Emily stood staring at him. “Hello, Emily. I’m your daddy.”
Miss Genial had grown shy. Uncertainty brought her dirt-stained finger dangerously close to her mouth.
She let him take her small hand and shake it. “My daddy?”
“Your daddy. How do you do?”
Once her smile emerged, it was all over. Her shyness evaporated as though it had never been there in the first place.
“My mummy and daddy!” Then she said it again and again, hopping in place, her hands in tight little balls until she dissolved in uncontrollable laughter.
Olivia knelt beside William and enfolded Emily in their first familial embrace. Her questions disintegrated; doubts and fears disappeared. For the first time in a long time, she let everything go and let the joy of the moment carry her.
Chapter 43
Warm breezes shifted the dappled sunlight above William and Olivia. With his back propped against a sturdy oak tree near the gardens, he twirled her wedding ring idly on her finger before bringing her hand to his mouth and kissing it. All was calm now, but Keldor had been in quite an uproar since his arrival. It had begun in the garden with Jasper, who had sprinted toward them after Emily had joined Olivia on his lap, knocking all three Morgans over with his aged white face and wagging tail.
“I knew!” Polly had exclaimed through her sobs when they entered the house. “I always knew you’d come home to us, Mr. William, you naughty, naughty boy.”
Thankfully, her arms were full of linens and not china when she first saw him, for everything in her grasp had plummeted to the floor. Hand to her heart, she gasped for air as though she’d been thrown into the Channel. Olivia had had to calm poor Emily, who began to cry until Mrs. Pollard, also in tears, drew the toddler into her embrace.
Polly had served vegetable pasties and tea outdoors for luncheon that afternoon, but both William and Olivia were still too elated to eat. After a few bites, he pushed his plate aside to bask in the sights and sounds of home. At his side, his wife’s slender legs stretched parallel to his, and across the garden, their energetic daughter bounded like a playful fawn. Olivia had challenged her to pick as many dandelions as she could find, and by her careening laughter, she was delighted with her assignment. Up and down, her blond head bobbed like a seabird on the ocean whilst her fleshy legs carried her through grass taller than her knees. Close behind loped Jasper. Emily gripped a fistful of wilted weeds in front of the dog as though employing his help. Annie had put her into a clean dress free of grass stains, and now she rolled on the earth with glee, creating more.
“That should keep her busy for a time,” Olivia said.
She pulled her legs up underneath herself, and a splash of green fell away to reveal her enticing bare knees. Aware that Emily was well occupied and safe in Jasper’s charge, William closed a hand over the one closest him and slid it down her shin.
She jumped.
“What is it?”
A smile lit her face. Her hand topped his, encouraging it to proceed with quick pats.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“Noth—nothing, darling.”
He frowned playfully, waiting for the truth. For
more than three years, he’d been ignorant of life at Keldor except that his wife had given birth to a healthy baby girl in January of ’42. It was only after he returned to England that he learned of Keldor’s transformation into a convalescent home. Funny thing—he knew the name of every patient, including that of his childhood mate, Peder Werren, and how long they’d been there. Six nurses had come and gone since the annex’s inception; he knew their names as well. But knowledge of Olivia’s heart was still a mystery. She still wore his ring, but had her love for him faded? If she felt uncomfortable being intimate with him, the sooner he knew, the better.
It appeared the composure Olivia had displayed over the past two hours was a façade. She crawled into William’s lap and snaked her arms around his middle, her face crushed against his neck.
“I still can’t believe it, that you’re really here.” Her words were terribly muffled. “That you’re not the ghost in my dreams, always off by morning.” When her wet red face emerged from the folds of his shirt, her eyes drooped and her lips pouted, full and supple. Her hair was long, and she wore it in a single plait that lay on her shoulder. She was lovely. “I thought I’d live the rest of my life with this gaping hole.”
“I’m so sorry to have put you through all this.”
“You keep saying you’re sorry, but you’ve nothing to be sorry for. Whatever happened, whatever you had to do, it brought you home to me. You’re here and that’s all that matters.” A spurt of laughter sent tears spilling down her cheeks. “These are happy tears, you realize.”
But guilt and deceit went hand in hand. While his unresponsive body had been found before the Nazis could dance around his burning corpse, his rescue had led to the utmost secrecy regarding his whereabouts, along with three and half years of lies. Even Colonel Adams had believed he was dead until four days ago. William’s special operations executive director spent hours trying to convince the colonel that his talents had been better served as a secret agent than as a light infantry officer. William sensed that the deception had bothered the colonel more than anything.