She lowered the tray onto the table and herself onto a chair because she felt like her knees were going to give out on her.
She’d just barely begun to think of herself as a wife. She and Arthur had joked with one another, calling each other ‘husband’ and ‘wife.’
All too soon, she was Mrs. Gilcrest but without a mister.
“Mrs. Gilcrest?” The words spoken aloud echoed the name in her mind. She shook her head.
Major Cockfield stood just inside the door, sun streaming in behind him.
This man had returned so very alive. It wasn’t fair.
“Come in,” she managed. “Sit down.”
Inside now, she noticed droplets of water on his face and in his hair. He must have stopped at the well to clean up before joining her.
Without asking permission, he poured lemonade into one of the glasses and lifted one of the sandwiches to his mouth but then stopped. “Aren’t you eating?”
Had she eaten? For the life of her, she couldn’t remember. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to fall apart completely. But she deserved to fall about, didn’t she? When her husband had gotten himself killed?
But there was not only herself to consider. She couldn’t afford to fall apart.
“You need to eat.” He narrowed his eyes.
Ester chose that moment to step out of the pantry and set a plate in front of her. “I’ve been telling the missus that for two days now.”
Naomi hadn’t really eaten anything since she’d taken breakfast with the major yesterday morning. Had that been yesterday? Time was losing all meaning.
Naomi reached for one of the sandwiches and took a bite. She didn’t want to enjoy the flavorful chicken and spices Ester had cooked the night before. She didn’t want to savor the texture of the freshly baked bread.
“It’s delicious.” He’d eaten nearly half a sandwich already.
How could he take such enjoyment in it? Hadn’t he lost his friend as well?
“How can you eat at all? Knowing you’ve led men to their death?” Naomi spoke the words aloud without thinking through them first. It was an inordinately cruel thing to say. But there he sat, enjoying his lunch almost like nothing had happened. Ester froze across the room and the look on her face sent shame washing through Naomi.
He stopped chewing but, after a moment, finished his bite and swallowed.
“Seventeen,” he said, his gaze locked on her as his frame suddenly stiffened with tension. “The first was three years, two months, and eight days ago. Lieutenant George Platt. He was not yet nineteen. Mourned by six sisters and his mother. Hit by a sniper in a routine march along the coast. He lived for an hour after he was injured. I had all but convinced myself he was going to make it. Left his side to write up my report and when I returned to the tent, he was gone.”
Naomi immediately felt horrible, but she didn’t know what she could say. An apology wasn’t going to erase her snapping cruelty.
“The second man, Second Lieutenant Bart Goulding. I hated that I’d lost even one man on this march but losing a second made me the worst sort of failure. Goulding was seven and twenty when debris from an explosion ripped him to shreds. He had a family awaiting him at home. The year before, he’d lost his crops from a flood. He only joined up so he could send money back to his wife.”
Naomi held up a hand. “I’m sorry.”
Cobalt eyes burned as they stared across at her, his shoulders set like steel, on alert, expecting another attack.
Naomi reached across the table and clasped the wrist of his hand that clutched the blasted sandwich. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Please… forgive me?”
How stupid and thoughtless could she be? How sorry he must be that he’d ever promised Arthur he would help her.
And then, with a deep exhale, he relaxed his jaw and nodded.
“The thing is, Naomi…” He used her given name but she couldn’t exactly chastise him at that moment. In fact, she didn’t want to. “I am still alive. You are still alive. Your baby is still alive. We don’t know what the future holds so we are beholden to make the most of the days we have now.”
“I had no excuse to say that to you.”
“But you do. Take another bite and savor it. I haven’t had homemade bread in months.” He removed his hand from beneath hers but instead of raising the sandwich to his own mouth, he extended it across the table.
Too confused to decline, Naomi took it from his fingers and then bit into it. The chicken tasted of hints of rosemary and the bread was soft and yeasty. Ester had just removed the bread from the oven before Naomi put the sandwiches together. The combination of savory meat and spices was good. It was delicious even. Before she could swallow, the major was pouring out a second glass of lemonade and sliding it toward her other hand.
As she took a sip, the little miracle inside of her chose that moment to kick.
“Thank you.” The food ought to have gone down like sawdust.
Before she could give him back his sandwich, he’d already claimed a second one off the tray.
“How did the wood get here so quickly?” If possible, she wanted to prove to herself, maybe also to him, that she could continue on like a normal person. She could make normal conversation without falling apart. She hated that she’d been so out of control—taken over by her emotions.
“I purchased it yesterday. It was just a matter of time before someone broke an ankle.”
Naomi nibbled at the sandwich and watched as he made quick work of his own. She wanted to apologize again for insulting him but kept remembering how angry she’d been that first day when he’d told her he was sorry over and over again.
It didn’t make sense.
“When will you return to the conflict?”
“I’ve been allotted a month before I’m due to travel south again. I have two sisters in Sussex who will skin me alive if I don’t visit while I’m on leave, though. And of course, my brother will want to see me.”
And at that moment, he was suddenly no longer the random soldier whose sole purpose in life had been to destroy hers.
“How old are your sisters?”
“They are recently turned nine and ten. Twins.”
Naomi shook her head. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to carry and then deliver two babies. “Do they look the same?”
“Identical. Before I joined up, I was able to differentiate between them for the most part. Since I no longer live at Crescent Park, it has been more difficult each time I come home.” He took another bite and shrugged. “Before this past spring, I was away for three years. They turned into young women while I was away.”
She’d realized military life would be difficult for any man with a family. Whenever she’d discussed Arthur selling his commission, he’d changed the subject. Would he have sold out as he had promised?
“The worrying is worse than I had imagined it would be.” Imagining that he was in danger… wondering if he was ever coming home.
There it was again. That giant weight on her chest—that strangling feeling.
That wondering if she was going to be able to go on.
“This will pass.” His voice penetrated the swell of despair. “It’ll never go away completely, but the terror, the explosion of pain, it will subside into feelings that you can eventually live with.” And then the cold glass she’d been drinking from was pressed into her hand. “Drink up.”