He looked around the empty house and realized he and Gemma didn’t know each other at all. They’d grown up together, lived in the same house as man and wife, whatever that meant, but were strangers. In those moments alone he thought about how much he’d missed in not knowing her—her kindness, strength, and pure capacity for living. It all had seemed so easy when he first came back. It felt natural that he would marry her. With Sam gone, wouldn’t it be expected? But he wasn’t the same Kyle who had left, and she wasn’t the Gemma he’d left behind.
He washed his hands and didn’t recognize them. He washed his face and looked at a stranger in the mirror, lines around eyes that used to hold more kindness and love. He looked and felt tired. Nothing was the same or ever would be. Not now. Before he realized what he was doing, he was going through the marriage vows in his mind. “I do take this woman as my wife. I will keep her for better or worse, in sickness or in health. We pledge to work together to honor the Triumvirate and the laws laid out by them. We do this with solemnity and singularity of purpose. Stay the course.”
Stay the course. Kyle went to the kitchen to start preparations for dinner but only stood pumping water over his hands, letting it run through his fingers and down the drain. He wondered if his choices, his life, were any more meaningful than that—water down a drain. He thought of his friends in the Corsairs and the oath of allegiance he’d made to them and the Triumvirate. When he first made it, it was meaningless to him. He’d been captured by the Corsairs and forced into service. Almost against his will, he began to enjoy their company, the camaraderie with his fellow soldiers. Then he’d met Mark. He didn’t think anyone would ever take Sam’s place as his friend, but Mark was different. Mark had a similar sense of humor and fun as Sam had, but he and Kyle had more in common. It was easy to fall into a friendship with him. Easy to pledge loyalty and fight alongside him.
“Kyle, I’m home,” Gemma called before she was even through the door. She saw him standing at the sink and hoped he’d worked through his anger from earlier.
He dried his hands and walked to her, taking her firmly in his arms and covering her mouth with his. There was an urgency, a need behind his kiss that surprised Gemma for its rarity. She let herself melt into it and tried not to think of anything but the feel of his lips on hers, the smell of his skin, his hands finding their way into her hair.
He stepped back and looked at her, seeing the tears in her eyes, and the pang of regret hit him again. “I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have said those things about you and Sam. I was wrong.”
Gemma tried to think if she’d ever heard Kyle say he was wrong before. “I just don’t know where it came from, and I hope we’re past it and that you believe me. There’s nothing between us anymore.”
“I do believe you. I do.”
She kissed him again, slower this time, tenderly. He was so like a child sometimes. The clock in the hall struck six. They had to be thinking of dinner. “I saw you got a grouse. Where in the world did you find it?”
“Just in the woods past the stream. Thought it would be a nice surprise for you.”
“It is. Thank you!” She put her hand on his shoulder before walking back into the kitchen to start dinner. She noticed the flowers on the table and was surprised again. A mix of yellow wildflowers, red clover, and pink dogwoods stood in a glass of water. “Flowers, too? This is quite the occasion.”
“I wanted to tell you. I saw Sam.”
“Oh? I figured you would at some point. How was it?”
“He’s pretty angry still.”
“About a lot of things.”
“He holds too much in. Doesn’t let things go.”
“Did you have a fight?”
“No, I tried to be his friend again. In fact, I invited him for dinner sometime.”
“That should be awkward.”
“No, I think it will be good. Maybe like old times. I miss how we used to be.”
“I don’t know what to do with all this . . .” She started to say “softness” but stopped herself. Her mind quickly searched for another word. “. . . this tenderness, Kyle. Has something happened?”
“Yes. It was seeing Sam. It reminded me what it was like when we felt like a group, like a family. I’ve missed that. I know you and Sam went through a lot after I left. And that haunts me, not being there for you.”
Gemma didn’t say anything but let him continue. He walked out to the porch to begin pulling the feathers from the grouse. “Can you hear me out here?”
“Yeah.”
“You know, sometimes I see men from the Corsairs I used to know. It’s still jarring.”
“In what way?”
“Well, because I was a part of them too, and now I’m not. It doesn’t seem like I’m part of anything. You should see the way they look at me sometimes. I guess I’m still trying to figure out where I belong. I’m not counted one among them anymore.”
“But that’s a good thing, isn’t it? Aren’t you glad to be away from them and back with us?”
“Yes and no. I still miss it. I miss them. Do you know what it’s like to be part of something greater than yourself, part of a purpose, and a group that looks after you? Then to just walk away and be nothing? Can a seed plucked from its parent tree not still long to become a tree itself?”
“Are you becoming a poet?”
Kyle was silent. She worried she had hurt him when she’d only meant to joke. She wiped her hands on her apron and walked out to join him on the porch. He was surrounded by discarded feathers dancing in the slow breeze, his hands covered in them, giving him a strange and almost comical predatory look so foreign to him as he labored over the bird he’d brought for her.
Gemma kissed the top of his head, the only clean spot left on him. He even had tiny feathers in his strawberry-blond beard.
“Sweetie, I know. I really do know what it’s like. And you’re not nothing. We’re something, the two of us together, when we’re not poking and lashing out at each other. We can let our pieces fall in place here in this space between us, all the pieces from our pasts and from now. We don’t have to be alone anymore. Alright?” She took his face in her hands and made his eyes meet hers.
“Alright.”
“You know, you never told me why you were able to leave the Corsairs, anyway. I would think your adopted father would have wanted to keep you close, as general of the whole Corsair army.”
“I was transferred out of his division. We hadn’t seen each other in years. Then I got sick. Malaria. They let me have some time to recover in the hospital on base. But the doctors said I would never fully regain my strength, so they released me. Gave me the new assignment at the Council of Doctors.”
“Well, heaven bless the mosquito that gave you malaria.” Gemma smiled and went back inside.
* * * * *
With the day still not ready to let go of the light, Ethan asked if he could go out to the stream to play with his turtle after dinner. Sam and Sophie were both happy to let him enjoy the evening breeze and the sunset. They’d all been working hard on the farm lately and could use the rest. When dishes had been cleared and Sophie took in a sigh of contentment, she went where her heart often called her, to sit at the piano to try to pick out the tunes that ran in her head from her memories of her mother. She thought of the times she’d sat at a similar piano with her and played along with the tunes. Her mother could read the notes, but Sophie had been too young to learn.
Sam sat in the rocking chair, listening with eyes half closed as her fingers danced along the keys. Sunset light from the front window broke into rainbows along her thin arms and lit up her hair like fire, fire tied in a golden ribbon. He began tapping his feet to the lively tune she was playing.
Seeing the movement out of the corner of her eye, Sophie smiled. “Did you ever learn how to dance?”
“Who, me? Not at all. But something about music just makes you want to move, doesn’t it?”
“It does. In fact . . .” Sophi
e stopped playing, spinning on the stool to face Sam. “I have a surprise. Stay here while I go get it.”
He heard bumps and footsteps above the ceiling. She was in the attic. What could she possibly be bringing?
“Need help?” he called.
“No, I’ve got it. Stay there.”
A few minutes later, she came down with a large wooden box in her two arms, holding a huge brass horn precariously in one hand.
“Here, give me that.” Sam took the box and set it on the table as Sophie attached the horn to it. She put a round disc on the top of the box, then quickly turned the crank on the side. This seemed to make the disc turn. Then she moved an attached needle to run along the grooves in the disc and after a few seconds of scratching sounds, music began to emanate from the horn.
“They called it a gramophone,” she said with a satisfied grin. “It’s how they listened to music before all of their electrical machines.”
“I’ve read about them, but I’ve never seen or heard one. It’s amazing!”
“I know! I was so happy to find this in the attic when I came to this house. It was just pure luck.”
“It is that. It’s beautiful. What’s the name of this song?”
“‘The Cecile Waltz.’ It’s one of my favorites, and perfect for dancing.”
“Oh, no, Sophie. Not me. I have no idea how to dance. I’ll look silly.”
“That’s part of the fun. Now come on. We’ve both read enough about it in our few books. I know we’re supposed to hold hands like this, and then you put your arm around me like this.”
She gently placed his hands in the right places, and Sam felt his heart quicken and leap. She lay her palm gently in his, and its softness unsewed the heart from his chest leaving it hanging, helpless. It occurred to Sam he had never held Sophie’s hand before, and the thought seemed strange to him. For as many times as he’d held her to still her nightmares, he’d never held her hand, never touched her skin, which rivaled every kind of light. And as he held it now, he was sure this was what it would feel like to try to touch the sun on a winter day, the heat and coolness running together through his fingers, solid and fluid at once. Her fingers were long and trailed around and through his like ivy on a tree. He noticed his own hand, brown and clumsy, and yet Sophie held on.
Sophie felt the slow 1-2-3 beat of the waltz and naturally moved her feet in time to the music as she and Sam turned round and round the room. She felt light-headed with the spinning, the scent of pine that clung to Sam’s tan skin, the feel of his lean arms holding her up and guiding her around the room.
“Did you ever dance with Gemma?”
Sam paused for a moment, taken aback by the question. Then his feet began to move again as he considered his answer. “How do you know about her?”
“Ethan told me what happened when you came back from the lumber camp and how he’d found you up in the mountains. You must have loved her very much.”
“I thought I did.”
“I’ve never felt that before. I’m not even sure I know what it is. I guess I’ve only ever known when someone wanted to possess or own me.”
“I think you know more about love than you think. Your heart is deep. Like the sea. So deep you may not even know what’s there, just like we don’t know what’s in the sea.”
“That’s fine, in the abstract. But you had Gemma. The great love of your life. You know what true love is. Even if it was never fully realized.”
“I wouldn’t call her the great love of my life. Maybe the great illusion of my life. All I ever really wanted was peace and maybe contentment if I was lucky. Gemma did seem like that for a while, that’s true. But it couldn’t last. Dreams never can. They’re fake. Wishes. I tried to push and pull it, shape it into what I wanted it to be. But it wasn’t what she wanted. In the end, I realized it was mostly an imaginary world I’d created in the image of all the romantic books I’d read. But not real. I want something real.”
“What is real?”
“You are.”
The music stopped and they heard the slow clicking of the needle on the record. The two of them stood looking at each other in the middle of the room. Sam noticed a bird calling from out among the trees. His heart was beating fast, perhaps from the dancing, or from Sophie’s nearness to him. The scent of lavender was in her hair, wafting around him and through him.
Sophie began to feel nervous. She couldn’t quite work out her feelings. Was it the sense of family she’d come to feel with Sam and Ethan both, or did she really care about Sam for himself? She thought about her upcoming mission and her muscles tensed. She realized she and Sam hadn’t separated since the song ended. The needle continued to click against the record, and he held her still. Ethan would be walking in any moment, and she stood occupying the same breath as Sam. She would be leaving them both in a couple of days, but something held her there. She gripped Sam’s hand tighter.
“Ethan will be coming back . . .” she started to say.
“Not ’til we call him.”
“I have to tell you something, Sam.”
“Not just yet,” he whispered.
He freed his hand from hers and ran his fingers along her cheek, sending a ripple down her spine. As his trembling hand found its way behind her head, he untied the ribbon, releasing her hair in a wave. With the lightest pressure to the back of her neck, he pulled her to him and brushed her lips with his. Sophie closed her eyes, wanting to lean in, wanting to let him kiss her, but felt him pause.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I don’t know if I can kiss you just once without wanting more. Maybe we shouldn’t. I’m just worried . . .”
“I know. So am I. Close your eyes. Clear your mind.” She spoke to herself as well as to him.
She cupped his face in her hands, feeling the heat of his cheeks beneath her skin, and kissed him, slowly at first, acquainting herself with his lips, his mouth. For a moment, just a moment, everything else fell away. All of her fears and hesitation melted. And in this kiss, she knew all she needed to know. Knew she could share her worries, fears, and dreams with him. Knew he would always be on her side and help her in any way he could. But then she knew too that one kiss would not be enough for her either, and if she didn’t stop now, she never would.
She placed her hand on his chest and slowly pushed away from him.
“I’m sorry,” he stumbled, “I didn’t mean . . .”
“No, don’t apologize. It’s alright.” She squeezed his hands and met his eyes with her own. She had never noticed his eyes were green before. Not a soft muted green, but a vibrant green, alive, like the forest.
“We really do have to talk, though, without Ethan here. Is that okay?”
Sam took a deep breath. “Yes, of course.”
She walked to the gramophone, removing the record, letting the turntable spin out silently.
“I think you already know that I’m in the Watch.”
“I do.”
“Well, I have a new mission. I’m going to be gone a few days.”
“Alright. Is it dangerous?”
“They’re never exactly safe, Sam.”
“Are you sure this is what you want to do, sure this is the way you want to handle things?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, what’s the Watch’s end goal? They’re fighting the government, but to what end? To replace it? An underground force only works if there’s an above ground army fighting as well. So they’re going to have to build an army, right?”
“What’s your point?”
“Well, doing reconnaissance and sabotage missions are one thing, but have you ever fought in a war, Sophie? I’m not trying to antagonize you. I’m really asking. Have you?”
“Not exactly like you, no. But I have fought and I have killed when I had to.” Griffyth’s face flashed unbidden in her mind.
“Can I ask you another question? Do you know what you’re fighting for?”
Sophie thought for a minu
te. She knew and yet she struggled to find the words. “I fight against anything that destroys individuality, the freedom to be ourselves, the one thing that separates us from the animals.”
“Okay, that’s a fine idea in the abstract, as you said earlier. But what are you fighting for?”
“Not what. Who. For Bridget.” Her voice caught in her throat, holding back her tears. “For what she could have become if she’d been allowed to grow up. For the other children without parents. For the children we weren’t allowed to be. For all the children and those yet to come. To restore the light in their eyes. To give them a chance to dream again. When you weigh it all in the balance, don’t you think we’ve all been cheated out of our lives? That’s all any of this is about for me. And that makes it very personal. And tho’ we are not now that strength which in old days moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are; one equal temper of heroic hearts, made weak by time and fate, but strong in will to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. My mother used to read me those lines. We are the only defenders left who will fight against the Corsairs, Sam, and we cannot yield. No matter what.”
Sam looked down at the floor, the shadows of leaves playing with the last light of the evening. He stepped toward Sophie and again they stood facing each other in the middle of the room, and she felt as if they were floating in space, as disembodied as shadows. Sam didn’t touch her but looked through the tears in her eyes and said, “Okay, then. I will help you.”
* * * * *
Night draped herself over the valley with lengthened shadows and the sounds of the inhabitants of the woods calling their children home. In the fading light, Sophie found Ethan by the stream. She wanted to tell him herself that she would be leaving. They’d grown very close over the past months, and she didn’t want to frighten him.
“You really like it out here, don’t you?”
“Oh, Sophie. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how late it was. I’ll come back.”
“No, it’s alright. I wanted to talk to you anyway.”
“My mother used to take me on walks along a stream that ran beside our tent. I like to pretend this is the same one. I know it’s not.”
A Light From the Ashes Page 21