Page 43 of The Unknown Birds

“We were all in the war, son. One way or another.”

“Were you in the war, Miss?” Sarah asked.

It wasn’t something she often spoke about directly—to protect herself from the jagged edges of the past almost as much as to protect them.

“Aye, she was,” Rook said, before she could answer. “The bravest and the fiercest of us all.”

Ash looked up at him, and he caught her gaze and cradled it tenderly, but just as staunchly as he ever had. Perhaps he’d truly forgiven her lies, and they could regain their brotherhood—or something like it.

He was the best friend she’d ever known, and at one time, she believed she’d been his. She may have fallen in love with him under false pretenses, and any affection he’d once felt would have been for Ashley the lad, but they could still be friends.

Once, she might have believed mere friendship insufficient, but she’d been wrong. Rook was back now, and she would take what she could get.

“Look, I’m planting strawberries!” Mary told him, proudly pointing out her patch of earth.

“Well done,” Rook praised. “Any cherries?”

“Cherries grow on trees! Miss, can we plant cherries?”

“We’ll see,” Ash said, raising her eyebrows at Rook, who quickly stuck his tongue out in disgust. “Children,” she said on a laugh, “I think that’s enough for one day. Clean up and head home, and don’t forget to practice your spelling.”

“Yes, Miss,” they chorused as they dusted off their dirty hands and knees.

“You must study hard for Miss Ashley,” Rook reminded them. “Every day—and twice on Sundays,” he added with a wink in her direction.

“Twice on Sundays!” A ripple of dismay ran through the boys especially, but Ash couldn’t help laughing at Rook, who wore a cocky grin and looked well pleased.

“Can I walk you home, Miss Ashley?”

He kept using her name, almost to the point of excess, like he was trying to get used to the strange feel of it again or convince himself she was real, but to Ash that Miss was a stark reminder of who she was and who she used to be.

“Will you please just call me Ash, like old times?” she begged. “And…” She glanced down at his leg. Though there was nothing she would rather have than his company on her short walk, it seemed selfish to put him through it.

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “Please let me walk you home, Little Bird.”

Everything inside of her turned to silky soft moonlight, for how could she say no to such a plea?

He hoisted himself to standing, then held out his elbow like a bird’s wing, and she snapped to his side like a magnet made of human flesh and bone.

As they walked, they passed a lad selling evening papers, and Rook offered to buy one, but she shook her head.

“I can hardly bear to read them anymore,” she admitted. “You really don’t feel the similarities to 1914?”

Rook sighed, and his voice came out a little raspy. “I don’t know. We were so much younger then. Full of gumption and grit and ideals. Like the boys in your class.”

“Girls too.”

“Especially them.”

“God willing, it’s over before they’re old enough to join up,” Ash said.

“God willing, they follow the rules.”

“God willing, no one gives them a reason not to,” she added, and he pulled his arm in, bringing her closer to his side. “Do you ever wish someone had talked you out of volunteering?” she asked.

“No,” he answered, without a moment’s hesitation. “My number would have come up eventually, but I rather think if even one second had been different, I might have missed out on meeting you.”

Ashley’s stomach performed cartwheels, which a younger version of herself might have been tempted to try right there on the street.