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Breaking through to the front, my eyes scoured up the window and found the source of the commotion, sucking in a breath of air through clenched teeth.
The sign was plastered on the plastic windows.Closing.My heart wrenched and dropped through my stomach. That wasn’t possible. The bookstore was infamous in the village and one of our best shops. It couldn’t be closing.
I looked over my shoulder, but there were too many people to truly look down the street. Less than two years before, the fabric shop had closed down, and that itself had brought in a good bit of people from other places. Now this? This wasn’t right. This wasn’t fair. I knew that it wasn’t even the shop owner. The bookshop was beloved by all the village folk, even those who weren’t big readers. So it was nobody in the village. Nobody personally had decided this. It was higher up on the line, a decision made by those who wanted the little towns to falter and end.
Collateral of the war.
ChapterSeven
“I’m going to miss you,” he said, twirling my ponytail around his finger.
I watched as the white strands slipped over his finger and fell back onto my shoulder. When he leaned in for a kiss, I pulled back and removed my hair from his outstretched hand. Timothy wrinkled his nose, his hand dropping at his side. He knew better than to try and argue with me.
“I’ll be back before you know it,” he promised.
I looked back toward the village and then to him, raising my eyebrows in question. We both knew that promise was nothing but crap. Only about twenty percent of soldiers returned every six months. It was a slim chance I would ever see him, my brother, or my father again.
The only reason my father hadn’t been lost in the throng of soldiers before now was that single fathers had a write-off until the last of their children were adult age. There was no excuse for my father now. I didn’t resent him or my brother or Timothy for leaving. I resented them because they got to be soldiers, fight for our home while I had to stay here, mend cuts and scrapes that parents overreacted about, and wash clothes in the bins. Every now and again, I got a client who cut their skin wide open. Those were always fun. I once even helped bring a little girl from the brink of death after falling into the river. That was as exciting as my pathetic excuse of a life tended to get.
But healing and washing clothes brought in a few bucks to keep food on the table every night. Now that my brother and father were off to war, I only had to worry about myself. One day of healing could pay for a fortnight of food for me. The other days, I could actually splurge. Buy myself a new coat or a new blanket, one of the nice ones. I wouldn’t have to ration for three people.
Others would look forward to that. But all I could see was the bleak future of wondering if the three men I cared the most about would ever return to me. And if they did, they weren’t going to be the same. The last man to return killed himself from the night terrors constantly wracking him and the flashbacks he had to endure. No amount of healing could resolve that part. He was gone before he came back, and they would be too.
“Azula.” Timothy gripped my chin, pulling my face forward to look up at him. “I will come back. I promise you that.”
“Can you say the same for my Jasper and my dad?” I demanded, holding back the sobs that wanted to threaten me.
Timothy leaned forward, but he didn’t say anything in response. Without a solid promise on their part, I pulled my head back and out of his grip.
“Azula,” he huffed, frustration drawing his eyebrows together. “I can’t promise for your brother and dad, but you know I will do anything I possibly can to help protect them, but I can only promise for myself to come back. I’m being realistic here, Azula.”
“You’re being an ass,” I told him, letting my emotions zip out.
His jaw ticked, but like basic training had taught him, all emotion was wiped from his face. “Will you teach my sister to heal?” he asked, changing the topic.
Anger boiled inside me. I tried to douse it and held my tongue, refusing to let myself lash out at him. I was angry for many reasons, and I knew it wasn’t right to take it out on Timothy hours before I could never see him again. I didn’t want to spend the last few hours I had with him arguing about things that were out of our control.
“She has your mom to teach her,” I pointed out finally.
Timothy shrugged. “My mom has two other kids to wrangle. She doesn’t have a lot of time for one on one with Mallory.”
Timothy’s father was part of a wave of soldiers drafted five years ago. He never came back, and Timothy had to step up as the man of the house at the age I was now. Poor guy had to stop his entire career to work some measly job closer to home. If he had kept advancing his career, there would have been a slimmer chance of getting drafted.
“I’ll help her,” I swore, knowing I was sealing my fate. “I promise I’ll help her.”
He stepped forward, closing the gap between us again, and cupped my cheeks before pressing our lips together. I didn’t return it, but I didn’t reject him either. I didn’t want to refuse him. What I wanted was to never leave his side. I knew it was stupid and girlish, everything I was against, but it was the truth. If I had to sit and mend cuts and bruises on little children and wash clothes, at least I could do it next to this man’s side. Even if he was my brother’s best friend.
“I have something for you,” he said softly, his lips brushing against mine before pulling back again and reaching into his pocket. “This was my mom’s. My dad gave it to her at his first draft, promising he’d be back. He did come back. Now it’s my turn to make you that promise.”
As the box flipped open, I saw the gold band with diamond studs encircling its circular shape. It was so simple and yet, so beautiful. I had seen Timothy’s mother wearing it before. I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen it on her finger. Guess I now knew why.
“That’s your mom’s,” I repeated his words. “I can’t take that.”
“We want you to.” He pushed the little black box to me.
The box was worn down, and puffs of yellow foam were poking through from age. That alone, though, made it even more special. It showed that it was a family heirloom. Hesitating, I reached up and curled my fingers around the box, eyes lifting to his.
“I’m going to come back. I swear I will,” he told me, cupping my cheek. “I’m going to come back.”
