I didn’t tell him our country house was a mansion. Bigger than the one I was staying in now. I didn’t mention how lonely I was when we went. How there were no other kids nearby, just me and my little sister and our nanny. How my mother insisted on quiet during the day so we were forced to find daily activities outside, which was fine for the most part because the weather was usually lovely. But sometimes we got bored walking the same length of fence, riding bikes to the same pond, stopping in the same shops in the village, and picking bouquets of wildflowers we’d bring back for our mother and find thrown out with the trash the next day.
“That sounds idyllic,” William said. “We used to go camping every summer. Me, my parents, and my little brother, George. Fishing, campfires, a couple of tents...”
“Where’s your brother now?” I asked.
“He’s a pilot in the Army. He’s probably flying somewhere over France right now. Little brothers...always have to outdo their big brothers.” He chuckled. “Do you have siblings?”
I hesitated. I always dreaded this question, and it always came. The natural course of a conversation when families were spoken about. Aunt Vic, Uncle Frank, and I had long since made our peace with the lie we told, but it still pained me. Not because our version of what happened was false to keep our pasts secret, but because I had to say it at all. Because my sister was gone.
I shook my head, a sad smile on my face.
“I did,” I said. “A little sister. Her name was Catrin. Cat. Kitty Cat.” I whispered the last part, picturing her impish grin and wispy blond hair. “She got sick. It was years ago now. And she died. I don’t like to talk about it.”
William’s hand reached for mine, the warmth of his fingers bringing a calm to my soul I’d never felt before. He was a salve. A balm. And I wondered what it would be like to be held by him.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice low. “I can’t imagine how hard that was, and still is.”
I nodded, unable to meet his eyes for a moment. I hated that I’d lied to him about how she’d passed. But some things, I knew, were better kept secret.
I cleared my throat and sat up a little straighter, finally looking over at him again.
“Maybe when you feel better,” I said, changing the subject, “you can borrow a bicycle and take a ride around the area. I hear the nearby towns look like they came straight out of a fairy tale. I can’t wait to explore them.”
“Is that what you’re doing today?”
“I think so.”
“You’ll have to come back and tell me about it if you do.”
I nodded, not committing to the idea, but not saying no.
“May I ask you something?” he said and I looked around, wondering what he might say and hoping it wasn’t more about my sister. “I promise it’s nothing untoward.”
I laughed softly. “Okay then.”
“Were you injured?” He gestured toward my leg, which I’d crossed over the other and was running a hand over, gently rubbing the muscle. “You seem like you’re maybe in a bit of pain.”
My hand stopped.
“Not pain,” I said. “Just some tightness every now and again. I was stationed in the Pacific before I came here. Espiritu Santo in the New Hebrides. Our plane crashed and a large metal chest came loose and slammed into my leg. Thankfully, it hit just so, only fracturing the fibula. If it had broken my tibia too I’d still be at home.”
“That must’ve hurt something awful.”
I laughed. “It did. But it’s minor compared to what happened to you.”
He nodded and looked away, sadness washing over his features for a moment before he turned his attention back to me, a small smile masking the emotion I’d just seen a hint of.
“I had called my men back,” he said, his voice soft. “But one guy...a kid really...barely eighteen...he just wouldn’t listen. Wouldn’t back down. Wanted to be a hero. I had to go after him. Dragged him by his shirt as he kept shooting until we both got shot. He didn’t make it, and his body falling on mine kept me from getting hurt worse.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.
“The price of freedom.” His voice sounded light, but I could hear the pain behind it as he looked away from me again.
“Doesn’t make it hurt any less,” I said and he nodded, blinking, his eyes red.
“It’s not easy. We go in knowing not all of us will make it back out. But seeing it...seeing your men and friends fall...it’s terrifying. You want to turn and run. You want to hide. You want—” He stopped, looking around at the men in the beds beside him. The one to his left was reading a book. The one to his right was asleep, a fresh bandage wrapped around his head. Willaim’s eyes met mine again and I reached out my hand and took his, as if to tell him, without saying a word, that I understood.
We sat quietly for a time, and after a while I removed my hand from his and set it back in my lap.
