“You’re so much better at this than I am.”
“You’re better at telling stories than I am,” she noted. “Gardening is learned, just like mathematics or history.”
“You write perfectly well,” Scarlett argued. They’d always received similar marks in school.
“Grammar and essays, sure.” She shrugged. “But story lines? Plots? You are far more talented. Now, if you truly want to help, you sit there and tell me one of your tales while I put this girl in.” She formed a mound of dirt at the bottom of the hole, then placed the crown of roots over the mound, measuring the distance to the surface.
“Well, I guess that’s easy enough.” Scarlett sat back and crossed her ankles in front of her. “Which story and where were we?”
Constance paused in thought. “The one about the diplomat’s daughter and the prince. I think she’d just discovered—”
“The note,” Scarlett jumped in. “Right. The one where she thinks he’s sending her father away.” Her mind slipped back into that little world, the characters as real to her as Constance was sitting beside her.
Eventually, the two sisters lay on their backs, staring up at the clouds as Scarlett did her best to weave a story worthy of distracting Constance, if only for a few moments.
“Why wouldn’t he simply tell her he’s sorry and move on?” Constance asked, rolling to her side so she could face Scarlett. “Wouldn’t that be the most straightforward answer?”
“It would,” Scarlett agreed. “But then our heroine won’t see his growth, can’t really find him worthy of that second chance. The key to bringing them the ending they deserve is to pick at their flaws until they bleed, then make them conquer that flaw, that fear, in order to prove themselves to the one they love. Otherwise it’s really just a story about falling in love.” Scarlett laced her fingers behind her head. “Without the potential for disaster, would we ever really know what we have?”
“I didn’t,” Constance whispered.
Scarlett locked eyes with her sister. “You did. I know you loved Edward. He knew it, too.”
“I should have married him the way you did Jameson,” she said softly. “At least we would have had that before…” She drifted off, her eyes lifting toward the trees above them.
Before he died.
“I wish I could take your pain.” It wasn’t fair that Constance was in such misery while Scarlett counted the hours between Jameson’s days off.
Constance swallowed. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does.” Scarlett sat up. “It matters.”
Constance mirrored her but didn’t meet her eyes. “It really doesn’t. The other girls who move on, who see love affairs as temporary—I understand. I really do. Nothing here is guaranteed. Planes go down every day. Bombing raids happen. There’s no point holding your heart back when there’s a good chance you’ll die tomorrow anyway. May as well live while you can.” She glanced over the small garden. “But I know I’ll never love anyone the way I did Edward—the way I still do. I’m not sure I’ll ever have a heart to give. Seems safer to read about love in novels than it is to honestly experience it.”
“Oh, Constance.” Scarlett’s heart broke yet again for what Constance had lost.
“It’s fine.” Constance hopped to her feet. “We’d better get ready, since we have watch in a little over an hour.”
“I can make us something to eat first,” Scarlett suggested. “I’ve gotten rather good at a couple quick things.”
Constance looked at her sister with well-deserved skepticism. “I’ve got a better idea. Let’s get dressed and run over to the officers’ mess.”
“You don’t trust me!” Scarlett scoffed.
“I trust you implicitly. It’s your cooking I doubt.” Constance shrugged, but her teasing smile was genuine, which was more than enough for Scarlett.
Dressed and fed, the girls made it to watch in plenty of time. They left their coats in the cloak room, then headed for the filter room. As busy as their boards were in their small sector, it was hard to imagine what the ones at Group Headquarters looked like.
“Ah, Wright and Stanton, always the pair,” Section Leader Robbins noted with a smile at the door. “Anything you ladies need before watch begins?”
“No, ma’am,” Scarlett replied. Out of all her section leaders, Robbins was turning out to be her favorite.
“No, ma’am,” Constance echoed. “Just show me to my section of the board.”
“Excellent. And when you both have a moment, I’d like to talk to you about your responsibilities.” The woman smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Are we lacking?” Scarlett asked slowly.
“No, quite the opposite. I’d like you both to train as tellers. More pressure, but I would be willing to wager that you’d both make Section Officer by the end of the year.” She glanced between the sisters, measuring their reactions.
“That would be wonderful!” Scarlett answered. “Thank you so much for the opportunity; we would—”
“I need to think on it,” Constance interjected, her voice dropping.
Scarlett blinked back her surprise.
“Naturally,” Robbins said with a kind smile. “I hope you have an…uneventful night.”
The sisters made their farewell, and before Scarlett could question Constance about her answer, her sister opened the door and disappeared into the always-silent filter room.
Scarlett followed her in, then put on her headset and relieved the WAAF at her corner of the board, taking a quick sweep over her section to familiarize herself with tonight’s activities. There was a bomber raid coming across her quadrant, nearly to Constance’s.
Would the raids ever end? Tens of thousands had been killed in London alone.
The radio operator’s voice came through her headset, and she fell into the routine of work, letting the other worries wait until later.
Every so often she’d glance at Constance. On the outside, her sister appeared normal—her hands were steady and her moves efficient. This was where Constance thrived lately, where emotion couldn’t reach her. Knowing the emptiness that swirled inside sent another wave of nausea rolling through her.
It wasn’t fair that she’d been able to keep her love, when Constance hadn’t.
Minutes ticked by as she moved the aircraft across the board, and then her stomach pitched for an altogether different reason.