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Abby leaned forward, her arm brushing his shoulder. The little bit of contact felt weirdly natural now; there was both an ease and a heightened awareness between them, thanks to that kiss. Abby didn’t know how the two states could co-exist, only that they did, at least in her. She had no idea how Simon felt. He’d been married, after all. She hadn’t fully processed that, or what it meant. They were in different stratospheres experience-wise.
Simon clicked on Matthew Lawson’s name; there was no accompanying photo. The information was brief, and mostly what they already knew. Simon read it aloud: “Awarded for Actions during WWII. Service: Army. Rank: Master Sergeant. Regiment: 508th. Division: 82nd Airborne. Citation: The President of The United States of America, authorized by Act of Congress… yes, yes… for extraordinary heroism in connection with military operations against an armed enemy…” He lowered his phone to look at Abby. “It’s just the usual patter.”
“So no more information?” She realized she was disappointed.
“There’s something, look.” He showed her the screen. “Born in 1921, date of death unknown.” He frowned. “So does that mean he died during the war, or that he didn’t and they lost track of him over the years?”
“If he died in action, surely it would be noted?”
“Yes, I rather think it would. Which means Lawson was most likely alive when he gave his DSC to your grandfather.”
“Maybe he didn’t give it,” Abby thought out loud.
Simon turned to her, eyebrows raised. “You think your grandfather nicked it?”
“No, not necessarily. Maybe Matthew Lawson lost it, and my grandfather found it.”
“Why wouldn’t he return it, then?”
“I don’t know,” Abby admitted. “Obviously. But anything could have happened. Maybe he tried.”
“Possibly.” Simon slid his phone back into his pocket. “Although he could have sent it to a centralized office somewhere and had it forwarded on. It seems odd he would have kept it, if he meant to return it to him. I could dig a bit more, most likely. There might be a Facebook group or something online for veterans of the 82nd Airborne. Someone might even still be alive who remembers him.”
“They’d have to be a hundred years old.”
“Yes, but it’s not impossible.”
She let out a little laugh. “This has really whet your appetite, hasn’t it? Even more than Sophie Mather and Tom Reese.”
Simon smiled self-consciously. “Somehow it feels like more of a mystery. A Distinguished Service Cross, hidden away all these years. Aren’t you curious?”
“Yes, a bit.” Abby straightened, wrapping her arms around her knees as she hugged them to her chest. “Do you think they were friends?”
“It seems likely, but who knows?”
“And what about your grandmother?”
“I feel like she must have been involved in some way, considering she had Tom’s medal, but I can’t figure out how.”
“It all feels so far away, from this.” Abby nodded to the lake, the sunshine. “But it really happened. It was important to the people involved. It seems so strange.”
“It does.”
They looked at each other for a moment, and, with a flutter of nerves, Abby wondered if he would kiss her again. She wondered if she wanted him to, and thought she did, even if it felt scary, like leaping wildly into the unknown. The question was moot, because he didn’t.
“Maybe you’ll show me around Willow Tree one of these days?” he said instead. “I’d like to see it, if your dad doesn’t mind.”
“I don’t think he would.” She smiled wryly. “He’s not some ogre, you know. He’s just a cautious man.”
“I know.” Simon grimaced wry
ly. “But I’m not sure he’s taken a liking to me.”
“More what you’re doing, perhaps.” Maybe she should tell her dad about the Cross. It seemed silly to be so secretive about it, like she’d been a little girl digging through her parents’ drawers, when it really wasn’t like that. She had every right to look into her ancestry, find out something that had happened before her father was born, something that couldn’t possibly matter to anyone now. She wished she didn’t feel guilty, but it was an emotion she’d got used to long ago, especially when it came to her dad.
“Why don’t we have our picnic?” Simon suggested. “I’m starving.”
Abby nodded, relieved to be on easy ground. And it was easy, to eat sandwiches and chat about nothing in particular; she offered up some trivia about Wisconsin, and told him her favorite apple among the varieties they grew, as well as a little bit about the gift shop. In return, Simon explained why he loved history, and how inexplicable cricket was, and how he’d never been waterskiing but wanted to try.
