Page 105 of The Unknown Birds

“I only wondered,” her mother pressed on, covering Ashley’s hand in a way that made her throat feel thick. “Is he the we from the war?”

“What?”

“When you used to write, you would so often write we instead of I. We’ve had a bout of stomachache, but we’re finally on the mend. We saw Charlie Chaplain’s new picture. We requested leave but were denied again.”

“Did I?” Ash hadn’t realized she’d written that way, though she’d come to think of herself and Rook as inseparable back then. “Suppose I might have been speaking for the whole unit.”

“It felt more personal than that,” her mother said. “You never wanted to talk about the war, but I know what heartbreak looks like.”

A denial was ready on her lips, but Ashley didn’t want to deny it any longer, even if she was afraid to seize it for all it was worth. “Do you have some sage words of advice for me?”

Her mother smiled, and Ash braced herself.

“Wear your burgundy floral dress. And have a wonderful time.”

It turned out, Ashley’s burgundy floral dress, while very pretty, was in no way glam enough for the sponsor’s box at Queen’s Hall. Ash had been a girl in men’s clothing tromping through the mud of France, and somehow she’d never felt more out of place than she did that night, surrounded by men and women in the height of fashion, wearing glossy furs and dripping with gemstones.

“You look lovely,” Rook whispered reassurance, sending a thrill down her back even as he pressed his warm hand there to guide her to her seat.

“What are we doing here? I thought we’d be in the cheap seats.”

“Disappointed?” he teased.

“Not exactly disappointed, but—how?”

“Davies gave me the tickets.”

“Of course he did.”

“It’s the New World Symphony. I’m on a mission to fill your life with beauty, remember?”

“So you stole his tickets?”

“His mother was a donor. He continues the sponsorship in her memory, but he very rarely attends since her passing.”

“Oh,” Ash said with a pang of regret. “That’s rather sweet. Did you ever meet her?”

“I did once or twice. She mostly left us to ourselves while we were convalescing. I think they’d had words about a mother’s tendency to hover.”

Ash chuckled sympathetically as the orchestra finished their warm-up and the lamps dimmed down low. In the darkness she found herself reaching out, and as always, Rook was there to catch her hand.

The first movement was stirring, alternately light and airy and boldly breathtaking. Ashley knew the name Dvořák, but she’d never heard his work before. She’d never even seen a whole entire orchestra before, all moving together in time like soldiers on the march.

The conductor was a marvel, just about dancing with the rhythm and keeping time, telling them all, somehow, what he wanted them to do.

When the movement ended, the entire assembly came to their feet in a thunderous roar. Rook and Ashley finally released each other’s hands to join in the applause. She’d never experienced anything like it.

The second movement was hauntingly beautiful and ultimately triumphant. The third was confident and determined, like coming to a long-fought decision, as the fourth propelled them forward, the promise of a future in that brave new world.

It reminded Ash of her brother and the new world he created for himself in Canada. It reminded her of Rook, and the new world he believed worth fighting for right here. It made her feel a million different ways, like she could soar without ever needing to land.

She was quiet as they made their way back home together.

“Another miscalculation?” Rook finally asked, his face a pensive frown.

“No.” She shook her head, trying to put into words all that she was feeling. “It was gorgeous. For a little while, I forgot about everything else. I even forgot to feel sad that war might make nights like this one impossible.”

Rook chuckled ruefully.