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Approaching his hidden getaway, nestled beneath sod and wood in the middle of the forest, it was a desperate little hole to live in. Sure, he’d made remarkable effort with what little he had, but it seemed scarcely any substitute for a real home as another brutal winter came on. It was better than throwing his life away in the ‘Eternal War’ that chewed up and ate her brothers, but still she fretted for him.
She gave a light knock on the door, the private little rhythm a shared thing, so when she opened the door she was greeted by the sight of her lover, his handsome face lit up with a smile. He was rugged, twice her age with a trimmed blonde beard and long hair tied back in a ponytail, and she adored him as the male ideal.
“Miss Amy,” he said affectionately, and in the dim, chill little hole he put his arms about her, drawing her in for a deep kiss, the prickling hairs of his beard tickling her soft, fair skin.
His lips were so cold against hers, and her arms wrapped around his broad form. Even though the fall nip chilled her through the simple garb she wore, he was colder still, and she pressed her body against his. Her skirt was thicker than it had been a couple of months back, the top heavier, and a thick shawl wrapped about her shoulders as she embraced him into her relative warmth. Her red hair was tied at either side in braids, which had become customary since he’d first expressed his love of it.
Her hand stroked along his jaw as they kissed, her body so much smaller than his, and when at last they parted, he could see the love dancing in her blue eyes. “I’ve missed you so.”
Legault’s emerald eyes lit up, and though the heavy military trench coat couldn’t keep out all the cold from living where he was, he seemed unperturbed as he stared down at her with such intense desire. “I’ve missed ya somethin’ fierce in return,” he said in his country drawl that showed her he too once grew up on a farm.
“The Up Above,” he said using her term for that backwater religion of hers, “my longin’ fer you don’t wither one lick the more time goes on, sweet Miss Amy.” His rich voice was such a pleasure to listen to.
Her fingers ran up along that heavy jacket, and she knew how cold he must be. How strong he was for being able to live in such unpleasant times, in such a hovel, but she didn’t let it show. She couldn’t pity him, even if she wanted to, because he wouldn’t want it. Her mouth simply pressed against his once more and she smiled affectionately, “Tell me how bad.”
Those strong hands of his slid into her shawl and went along her body, feeling out that slender form of hers and one moved around back to her ass. The firm squeeze they gave was enough to make her squeak just a little as he kissed her lips once more. “Like the fires of the Down Below been lit beneath my heart an’ loins, Miss Amy,” his voice so deliciously husky. “I can’t get ya from my thoughts for nary a second. Sleepin’ or awake, ya always right there,” he moved a hand to hers, guiding it over his heart.
Her rough, farmer’s fingers brushed over it as that sincere smile flirted on her lips, “My, my, you certainly know how to make a girl’s heart go aflutter,” she replied. Her mouth teased over his chest just above her fingertips, and she inhaled his rugged, masculine scent. It was like the forest itself, clean and healthy, and she let out a soft moan against him.
A shiver travelled through him, his first betrayal of weakness. “So. We ready for this then, Miss Amy?” he held her so tight, his dark green eyes betrayed just the slightest bit of anxiety. “Ain’t no messin’ this up, after all, don’t reckon I’ll get a second chance at impressin’ your pa. Not in this life,” he remarked wryly.
“You’ll do fine,” she said tenderly. “Just remember what ta say and if ya get stuck, I’ll be there. He needs help, and with so few men around, he don’t have much of a choice.” Amy’s cheeks flushed, but she pulled back from him a step. She couldn’t make love to him, not before something so important. “We don’t have time to waste, love.”
He gave her a kiss that was heated and filled with male desire. When he broke from it at last he gave a sigh, “With any luck, from here on out things’ll be better fer us both, Miss Amy.”
She fished the scissors out of her pocket and set to trimming his hair down. It had to be near military grade shortness, and she was so careful and diligent, taking longer than necessary to get it just so. Luckily she’d had practice with her Pa’s hair, and as she helped him with a borrowed straight razor to shave away his beard to a smooth finish, he looked so handsome.
With a smile, he tested it out and smiled to her. “Like a new man, reborn.”
Legault turned and plucked up the letter she’d left with him before. It was as careful a forgery of a dismissal as they could make with the resources they both had. He was literate and capable enough, and she supplied him the pen and paper. Together they’d written something that approximated a genuinely legitimate dismissal form. At least to the eyes of an old farmer they hoped it would.
Using an old potato they even carved out a stamp that looked something like an official seal.
“Let’s go,” he said with a smile, his cap slipped on. He looked good, like the soldier he once was, and not the hideout from the Eternal War he’d become.
* * *
The old farmhouse was larger than the small family of two needed. The last help her father had was called off to the war, and it was with enthusiasm that he had sent the young man. Having lost three of his sons to the never ending battle, he’d grown more and more passionate about it being a just cause. Still, it left just him and Amy alone to tend to the farm. With few animals they didn’t need much help through the winter, but spring was just a couple months away and Amy hoped to the Up Above that her father would realize what a valuable asset Legault could be.
She didn’t come to the door with him, instead lingering behind in the forest, catching fish for the harsh months ahead.
Legault had eyed her farmhouse from afar many times since he’d met Amy. He’d escorted her home again and again, and he’d stared at that farmhouse with longing for her after they’d parted each time.
To be so near to it though, was something else altogether. Headed to the front door, he took off his hat and brushed back his hai
r, shifting the weight of his travel bag on his shoulder. All their plans rested on this, and he couldn’t afford to mess it up.
The door opened long before Legault arrived to the front stoop, Tom’s blue eyes narrowed and an old, broken down rifle held tight in his hand, “What’dya want?”
The man looked a lot like Amy in some ways. He was slender and with a mess of red hair that poked off above his ears. Their eyes were so similar, that clear sea-blue, but his mouth was hard and firm unlike Amy’s soft, full lips. His voice, too, was so much more intimidating. Youth had been stripped away along with his left arm, and the scar that cut across his cheek was deep.
The farmer had been through the war, and with each son, he’d relived it. Amy was all he had left, and she was most beloved.
With cap in hand Legault gave a bow to the man. “Excuse me, sir,” he said a respectful voice, “beggin’ yer pardon, but headin’ off from the front. Got my dismissal due to a bum leg,” he said, a pat on his right leg which he’d faked a limp the way up. “By the grace of the Up Above, I’m hopin’ ta either make it across this here god given country towards the city, or else find a suitable place ta settle in with work and a future.” The words rolled off his tongue so convincingly, though he and Amy both knew words alone wouldn’t suffice. That’s what the letter was for.
The man stared at him sceptically. Legault didn’t even know his name, for he’d always just been his lover’s father. He looked so silly with the rifle, and only one arm to use it, though Legault figured it was more to instil fear than actually do injury to anyone. Besides, guns were rough to get around these parts, when the army needed so many more.
“A bum leg?” he asked. He moved and that invisible arm shook in its sleeve, “That’s all it takes to get out these days?”
