“Sure. Just let me grab my coat.”
The cool air hit my sweaty frame and chilled me even through my coat. Only it wasn’t an unpleasant cold. It was like a relief from how hot and sweaty I’d become dancing around the pub.
“I didn’t realize how stuffy it was in there,” I said, inhaling a deep breath.
“I had an idea. But I agree.” He pointed over toward a table sitting outside. “Care to sit with me?”
I nodded and followed him over to it, watching him brush away the snow then shake the flakes from his hands. He rubbed them together, blowing hot air into them to warm them back up.
“Are you looking forward to leaving the base?” I asked.
He shrugged. “A part of me is and a part of me isn’t. Being stationed here . . . at least I was close to you. Even if I only just arrived a bit ago. That first night I saw you was the first night they allowed us off the base.” His tone deepened with a hint of disappointment. “And now I have to leave again.”
“We can still write.”
“I would like that very much. Although, I have to warn you, it takes longer for letters to get to the soldiers out on the front lines. It’s easy for us now because we are in training, but out there.” He glanced toward the darkness down the lane. “Out there is different.” He paused a moment, then exhaled a deep breath. “By the way, I wanted to ask you if you’d come to the train station tomorrow to see me off.”
“Of course, I will.”
“We leave on the early morning train.” He arched his brow. “You don’t think it will be too early for you, do you?”
“You must not realize how early in the morning I have to get up to milk the cows and feed the livestock.” I laughed, wiggling my nose. “By the early morning train, I’ve done more work than probably you.”
“Oh, you think that, do you? I’ve got to say, that’s kind of a bold accusation to make, Miss Ashton. Trying to say a land girl works harder than a soldier in training.” He paused, giving me a wink. “I mean, you might be right, but still it was bold of you to say.”
We both laughed, then settled as snow drifted down from the sky. The flakes reflected in the moon's light.
“Are you scared about where you might have to go?” I asked.
“Not really. I’m anxious about how long I’ll be gone. How different everything could be when I get home. I know things will change, but how they will change is a mystery.”
“What do you mean?”
“How people will feel. How I’ll feel.”
“I can understand that. I’m scared to tell my parents I don’t plan to come home after the war. And that I plan to stay in London and go to university.”
“It’s not like you won’t ever go back though. You will go back for holidays and to visit.”
“I suppose so.”
“And of course, you will have to go back when you have a husband and children so your parents can see them.”
I laughed. “Oh, I will? So, I have a husband and children now, do I? And here I was only thinking about an education and a job.”
“Well, of course, you will have those things . . . as well.”
“Ah, yes, the journalist with the husband and children, heading home on Christmas holiday to her parents. Seems like such a picturesque moment. Of course, there is just one problem.”
“What’s that?”
“Who am I to marry? And how many children will we have? I guess that’s two problems.”
He dug his hand in his pocket. “I don’t know how many children you will have. It depends on what God chooses, I guess. But I do have an idea for your husband.”
“Who?” I laughed, throwing my head back at my next thought. “You?”
He pulled his hand out of his pocket and knelt on one knee.
I sucked in a breath and clutched my throat with one hand.
“At least I know you didn’t see this coming,” he chuckled as he held up a simple gold band. “Amelia, will you marry me?”
He grabbed my hand, clutching it in his as he continued looking up at me. Before I could answer, he removed the ring and slipped it on my left ring finger. The band was cold against my skin and it reflected what little light it could find.
Echoes of the crowd inside the pub rang through the windows as the people counted down. Ten, nine, eight, seven . . . their voices grew louder and louder . . . six . . . five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . Happy New Year!
“Happy New Year,” he said.
“Happy New Year,” I whispered.
“Are you going to make me ask again?”
“I . . . I can’t.” I yanked my hand away from his. “I can’t do this.”
Before he could utter a word, I spun and ran down the lane, fleeing in the darkness.
I glanced at the clock on the wall as I sat at the kitchen table. Up before the sun, I’d milked and fed the cows, fed the pigs, and fed the chickens after also collecting all the eggs. With everyone still asleep, I’d done it alone, relishing in the work of five that I did as one.
William’s train would leave in just a couple of hours and as I thought about last night, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the ring. I’d left so fast I had forgotten he’d slipped it on, and it wasn’t until I made it back to the farmhouse that I noticed I still had it. I didn’t want to think about how I’d practically stolen it from him, and I knew the right thing to do would be to return it. Even if returning it meant I would have to go down to the train station and see him.
I set the ring on the table in front of me. “You should give it back to him, Amelia. You know you should.”
I glanced at the clock again.
Footsteps thumped down the stairs, and the light from the candle glowed against the wall.
“What on earth?” Bea asked. Her mouth gaped open as she lifted her candle toward the table and me. “Amelia? What are you doing down here?”
I grabbed the ring off the table, clutching it in my clammy palm. “Just having some tea. I couldn’t sleep.”
“How long have you been awake?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps since about three or four o’clock in the morning. I fed all the animals and collected the eggs.”
“You did what?”
“Well, I couldn’t just sit around. I had to do something.”
She set the candle on the table.“Where are the eggs? You didn’t leave them out in the cart, did you? And the milk?”
I took a sip of tea, pointing over to the corner of the kitchen. “I left the milk outside so it would stay cold. The eggs are in the corner.”
Bea shrugged and made her way over to the cabinet, digging around for a pot before placing it on the stove and adding in the water, flicking on the gas burner.
“Is something troubling you?”
“Huh?”
“You said you couldn’t sleep, so I was wondering if something was troubling you.”
“Oh, you know.” I shrugged. “Just thinking about things. Home. The war.”
“I understand.” She opened the cabinet and pulled out the wrapped loaf of bread she saved from supper last night along with what little butter and jam we had from the refrigerator, setting everything down on the table. As she turned her attention back to the boiling pot of water, several more thuds pounded the stairs, and Claire, Isabella, and Ethel emerged from the second floor.
“Good morning,” Bea said to them all.
They each returned her greeting, Claire and Ethel yawned as they spoke while Isabella rubbed her eyes and sat down in the nearest chair. She rested her chin on one of her palms. Her eyes glazed over with a sleep deprived distraction.
“Seems you ladies have a rare morning break thanks to Amelia.” Bea poured a couple of cups of oats into the water and stirred them.
They looked at each other before Ethel asked. “What do you mean?”
“I already did most of the morning chores,” I said.
“How? Why?”
I shrugged. “I cou
ldn’t sleep.”
Claire yawned again, making me yawn, too.
“Why don’t you try to go get some rest? We can handle everything else for this morning.” Bea rounded my chair, patting me on the shoulder before she reached up into the cabinets for several bowls.
I shook my head. “I’m still not tired.”
“You left suddenly last night. Is everything all right?” Claire sat down beside me. “We asked William where you’d gone and why you left, but he said nothing. He just left. Did you two have an argument?”
“Not exactly.”
“Well, then what happened?”
“I didn’t feel well, so I came back to the farmhouse.”
Claire cocked her head to the side, narrowing her eyes at me for a moment. I knew the words sitting on the tip of her tongue while she sat there. Knew what she was thinking of saying, the advice, the questions. It all seemed to overwhelm me a little and in my sleep deprived haze, though, and I didn’t want to stay around to see if she’d remain quiet or speak her mind.
“I think I will go upstairs and rest.”
As I rose from the chair the ring slipped from my hand and dropped to the floor. Like in slow motion, I watched it flip over and over, hitting the wood and bouncing several times with a clank sound that echoed.
My heart thumped.
I reached down to grab it up before anyone saw it, however; it rolled away from me, and Ethel picked it up instead. She held it up.
“What’s this?”
The gold band glistened in her hand, and I snatched it from her grasp. “It’s nothing.”
“Whose ring is that?” Isabella asked.
“It’s no ones.”
“Amelia? Whose ring is that?”
“I said it’s no ones.”
Isabella slapped her hand over her mouth, and her eyes grew wide. She let out a muffled scream and pointed at me. “He proposed! Didn’t he? William proposed to you last night.”
A collective sound of gasps surrounded me and all of them rushed over, giving me hug after hug.
I wiggled away from them, holding up my hands. “I didn’t say yes. I didn’t say yes.”
“Why not?” Isabella blinked and folded her arms across her chest.
“Because I don’t know if I wish to marry him.”
“That’s a foolish thing to say, Amelia, and a foolish thing to think. You two have been destined for one another since that first day the Davenports brought you and Elijah to school to register you.”
Bea cut through the girls, clutching my shoulders as she moved me back toward my chair. The others mirrored her and sat down at the table too.
“I just don’t know if getting married is the right choice right now.”
“Getting married is always the right choice,” Isabella said.
“What is causing you to say no?” Claire asked, shooting Isabella a sideways glare.
Claire’s question had been the same one I’d asked myself already a hundred times since I left the pub, and each time I’d asked myself about it, I could never give myself an answer.
Was it because of Henry? At first I thought it could be, but then I knew it wasn’t. While I cared for Henry, I was a different girl than I was when I left Guernsey. He wanted the farm life on the island. His hopes and dreams involved cattle and pigs and raising a family while living off the land, away from the city I found myself longing for. Although I’d enjoyed my time at the Halifax Farm, with each passing day, I knew I wanted to live in a place with news bustling all around me. The thrill of finding the scoop. The excitement of going to press. Or however I thought it would feel working for a newspaper.
“Is it because you don’t love William?”
It was the question that always stopped me when I asked it myself, and the hardest one for me to even try to answer.
I glanced back up at the clock. I had just enough time to make it to the station if I hurried, and my breaths became heavy as I shoved my chair from the table and ripped my coat off the back of it.
“I’ve got to meet him. He’s leaving on the morning train.”
“Do you want us to go with you?”
I shook my head. “I don’t need you to. I just need to go.”
A train whistle blew as I hurried down the lane. Luckily I thought it wise to wear my wellies instead of my shoes, even if they made loud thumping noises that made people gawk at me as I ran by them and continued up to the dock.
I didn’t want to know how I looked with my uniform on right down to my ugly boots and a nice layer of sweat that dampened any of my hair sticking out from my headscarf. Not to mention the headscarf alone, probably covered in dirt where I wiped my hands after collecting eggs and milking the cows.
Surely, I was a sight to behold.
My breaths heaved as I scaled the stairs up to the platform, weaving through the pack of soldiers all standing around chatting with one another. A few silenced, watching me with blinking eyes or furrowed brows. Their confusion, obvious.
“William?” I called out, stopping in the center of the men, I spun a few circles. My sudden voice silenced the rest of the men and they all trained their stares at me.
My knees wobbled with a hint of weakness.
I hadn’t wanted to make a scene.
“Amelia?” a voice asked behind me.
I turned to find William standing with his duffle bag hooked over one shoulder and one eyebrow cocked.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to talk to you . . . and to see you off. I told you I would.”
He reached out for me, pulling me off around the corner of the station and away from the crowd.
“I . . . I didn’t think you’d come.”
“I’m sorry for giving you that impression. I know I didn’t do the right thing last night. Leaving you . . . it was rude of me.”
“It’s all right.”
I glanced down at my hands, fidgeting with them. “I’ve been asking myself why I couldn’t give you an answer all morning. I even went out and did all the chores by myself because I couldn’t sleep.”
“And what’s the answer you came up with?”
“That I’m scared.”
“Of?”
“Of actually admitting my feelings for you.”
“Why does such a thing scare you?”
“Because you’re leaving.” A lump formed in my throat and felt like it got caught as I tried to swallow. “What if something happens to you?”
“Nothing is going to happen to me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do know it, because I have to know it. I have to say it. And I need you to say it, too.” He clutched my shoulders, gripping tighter for a moment before releasing me. “I need you to say it.”
“All right. All right. I’ll say it. Nothing is going to happen to you.”
“Does this mean you’ll marry me?”
I ducked my chin as I reached into my pocket and pulled out the ring. I stared at it for a moment, thinking of how I would feel if I said yes and how I would feel if I said no. Could I watch him board that train after saying no, knowing I might never see him or hear from him again? And even if I did, could I live with the notion of our friendship never being the same, picturing a life where I loved and lived with someone else and he did the same?
I didn’t want to love anyone else, and I certainly didn’t want him loving anyone else either.
I glanced back up at him, meeting his blue eyes as I slipped the ring back onto my finger. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
Throughout the last several months, my life had changed so much. Leaving my home, placed with strangers who I now considered family, losing a little boy so dear to my heart I thought it broken when he visited my dreams, and now falling in love. I still held on to the dreams of university and writing for a newspaper. I would just do it as a wife instead of a young woman, and we would venture into the new world together—however long of road we would have to travel down with our count
ry at war with Germany.
Did you enjoy book one of
The Promises Between Us trilogy?
Turn the page for a peak at book two
Mine: The Promises Between us
Prologue
No one ever prepares you for death and loss, or the pain that comes along with it. Of course, you expect it every day. No one lives forever. We are all just walking toward the grave with every second we are breathing. Expecting it and actually living through it, however, well, those are two different things. Or at least they can be.
Children grow up knowing they will one day bury their parents as husbands and wives know that one day they will bury their spouse. It is always each one of them who hopes they will go first so as to not be left alone on this earth without the other, but of course, only God can decide to take them both at the same time. They also grow up knowing that one day they would lose any siblings they had, and their childhood memories, held only between them, would be lost in the wind. Forever remembered by those living until they themselves join the Lord in Heaven.
What is not expected is a parent burying a child.
Although, one never thinks about that. It’s an unthinkable situation. One you either push from your mind because you don’t think it can happen to you or one you push from your mind because you don’t want to face it.
I suppose in the end, death is still death, loss is still loss, and no matter how unexpected or expected it is, pain is still pain.
ONE
Evelyn - New Year’s Eve 1941
The Christmas holiday had lifted the spirits around the island. Although, once again it wasn’t celebrated in the way we always had in the past, there was still a sense of hope that came with the 25th of December as though for one day we could forget the occupation, forget the Germans, and live in the enjoyment of family and friends.
Just as with most houses around the towns of the island, Ian, Henry, and I woke up Christmas morning, celebrating with what little we could scrap together with another tree, cut from the grove like last year, and decorated with the same little trinkets and tinsel we had packed away in the attic.
Yours: An Emotional and Gripping WWII Family Saga (The Promises Between Us Trilogy Book 1) Page 27