“You’d be surprised. We don’t have an aristocracy, but an old family name and a good reputation are still highly valued, especially in families like mine that have been around since before the Revolution. There’s a lot of pressure on the sons—especially only sons like myself—to follow in the footsteps of their fathers and grandfathers. I’m expected to attend Yale Law School after the war and join the family practice.”
“That’s what struck me the last time we spoke—how alike we are. I don’t know if you feel trapped, but I sometimes do. Yet when one spends their entire lifetime trying to please one’s parents, disappointing them is out of the question.”
“I understand, believe me. But just for a moment, let’s try to imagine what we would do if we truly were free from all of those expectations. You go first.”
“I don’t know! . . . I haven’t dared to imagine . . .”
“Okay, it wasn’t fair to spring the question on you. I’ll go first because I’ve been thinking about it ever since I started basic training. Joining the Army turned my life upside down, ripping away all my usual props. It forced me to rethink everything I once knew—”
“Yes! That’s exactly how I’ve felt since enlisting. Army life is so opposite the life I’m accustomed to that my identity felt pared down to the bone. I still don’t know who I am. Just now, I felt like an intruder in my old bedroom. The girl who once lived here wasn’t me. I even hung up my own uniform—something I would have left to the servants in the past.”
“So why not try to imagine a new future? During all those long hours coming over here on the troopship, I watched the other guys playing poker or sleeping and I tried to imagine what I would do if I didn’t have to go back to the life mapped out for me—marrying Linda, joining the law firm, adding my name to the distinguished line of Barretts.”
The idea made Audrey feel even more lost and alone. Who was she? What did she really want her life to be like? The questions frightened her, just as seeing the stranger in the mirror had. Yet Robert’s ponderings intrigued her. “What did you decide you would do?” she asked.
“If I could have my wish? . . . When I first started asking that question, I felt a little like the rich young man in the Bible who asks Jesus what he should do. Are you familiar with that story?”
“Yes. Rev. Hamlin preached a sermon on it. Jesus told him to sell all that he had—”
“And give the money to the poor. Right. It struck me that Jesus didn’t say to give everything away. He said to sell it. That involves taking an inventory of what he had, analyzing its value, getting the most out of what it was worth so then he could offer the profits to the poor. The lesson for me was to take a close look at how God created me and all the assets I’ve been given—and then generously invest it all for His Kingdom. That’s the opposite of following everyone else’s expectations for me, living the life that’s been decided for me. Instead, I should live the one I was created for.”
His words intrigued her, excited her. Yet frightened her. “But how do we know what we were created for?”
“That’s the key question.” He sat forward on his chair as he faced her, his dark eyes intense. “I still don’t know in my particular case, but I think the broader answer can be found in the second half of Jesus’ command—give to the poor. In other words, I’m to give all that I am to help others so that God is glorified. Rich people usually don’t sell everything they have and give away the proceeds. There would have been a lot of questions and a lot of amazed people if that rich young man had actually done it. People would want to know what motivated such a sacrifice—and he could point to Christ and say that his love for his Savior had changed him.”
“That’s profound, Robert. You could be a minister.”
“I don’t think so,” he laughed. “I don’t have answers for why good people suffer or why there’s evil in the world and men like Hitler and Mussolini.”
“When I lived at home before joining the Army, I felt compelled to do something to help people. A lot of my motivation sprang from guilt. My family had so much, yet they ignored the needs of the villagers. And I also wanted to show God my gratitude for bringing my brother safely home after Dunkirk. The vicar said something similar to what you’re saying. That the work of the church is serving Christ in any way we can with what we’ve been given.”
“I think he’s right. I admit, though, that I’m still a lot like that rich young man. I’m still saying no and backing away from what Jesus asks because I fear the unknown. There’s safety in my familiar life and in my family’s expectations. I know I can probably please them and still have a great life.”
“And that’s why I’ve never dared to think of another future. It’s why I came home this weekend. There’s safety in what’s familiar. Thank you for challenging me.”
“No, I’m the one who’s grateful. I’ve been holding all these thoughts inside with no one to share them with.” He moved to the edge of his chair and reached for her hand. The warmth of it startled her, then quickly spread through her with a sensation that was much like sinking into a steaming bath. “Please tell me if I’m out of line, Audrey . . . but if I may presume . . . could we talk some more while you’re home?”
Audrey squeezed his hand. She felt none of her usual cold reserve with Robert, and that surprised her. “I would love that. I know the tide of this war is changing and I finally dare to hope it will end. So I do need to think about how I want to live afterwards.”
“And maybe . . . ,” he said, still holding her hand, “maybe we could write to each other after your leave ends and keep this conversation going.”
Audrey felt a moment’s hesitation, remembering Robert’s girlfriend, Linda. But Robert wasn’t asking for love letters.
“I would like that very much,” she said. “Very much.”
Eve found the glade in the woods where she’d first met Audrey and the little island in the stream where they’d had their picnic. They were unchanged, just as she’d hoped, offering comfort in a world that was changing much too quickly. Today the woods were bursting with life, the leaves the deep-emerald color that was her favorite. Ferns and wildflowers had pushed their heads through the ugly brown leaf mulch, declaring that the season of death was over, new life had come. If only the same could be true of the rest of the world, and the season of death and loss were nearing an end. She was tired of death, tired of living nearly every moment of every day with the awareness of war, weary of seeing bloodied reminders of it everywhere she looked.
She leaped from stone to stone to cross the swollen creek and sat down on a rock on the island thinking, This is where I belong. If she closed her eyes, she could be a girl again, believing that the world might cycle through its appointed seasons without ever really changing. She could have the faith of an innocent lamb from her Sunday school lessons, trusting the Good Shepherd to keep her safe and secure. Her eyes shot open as she remembered calling on God in the bomb shelter in the East End—and then emerging into a scene from hell when the all clear sounded. She remembered praying that Mum would be safe as she’d raced to the town house on a yellow bicycle, only to find her prayers in ashes. Eve struggled to breathe as the woods seemed to close in on her. She quickly looked up to see blue sky through the bright-green branches. Her panic slowly subsided.