“We,” she said softly, her face falling. “But nothing changes for you,” she whispered. “You still go to work, still fly, still fight in this war.”
“I know this isn’t what you wanted—” His face fell.
“It’s not that,” she promised in a rush, lacing her fingers behind her husband’s neck. “I was just hoping I’d be ready. I hoped the war would be over, that we wouldn’t have to bring a child into a world where I worry if you’ll come home every night or fear a bomb may fall on our house while he slept.” She took his hands and covered the swell of her belly. “I want this baby, Jameson. I want our family. I just wanted to be ready, and I’m not.”
Jameson’s hands stroked over her stomach as they did every day when he said goodbye to their child as he headed off to fly. “I don’t think anyone is ever ready. And no, this world isn’t safe for her. Not yet. But she has two parents fighting like hell to change that. To make it safe for her.” The corner of his lips twitched upward as he looked at his wife. “I’m incredibly proud of you, Scarlett. You’ve done everything you can. You can’t change the regulations. All you can do is bring that fight home. I know you’ll be a wonderful mother. I know my schedule is unpredictable, and that I never know when I’ll actually make it home.” If he makes it home, she thought. “I know the majority of this will fall on you, but I also know you’re up for the challenge.”
She cocked a brow. “There you go again, thinking our baby’s a girl. Your son won’t take kindly to that when he’s born.”
Jameson laughed. “And there you go again, thinking our daughter is a boy.” He leaned forward and placed his mouth just above her belly. “You hear that, sunshine? Mommy thinks you’re a boy.”
“Mommy knows you’re a boy,” Scarlett challenged.
Jameson kissed her belly, then tugged Scarlett closer so he could brush a kiss over her lips. “I love you, Scarlett Stanton. I love every single thing about you. I can’t wait to hold a piece of both of us, to see these gorgeous blue eyes in our child.”
She ran her hands through his hair. “And what if he has your eyes?”
Jameson smiled. “Having seen both you and your sister, I’d say you might have some dominant genetics in the eye department.” He kissed her again, slowly. “You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. It would be a shame not to see them carried down. We’d call them Wright blue.”
“Stanton blue,” she corrected, something inside her shifting, preparing for the change she could no longer avoid through denial. “I still can’t cook. Even after all these months, you’re still better than I am. All I know how to do is throw an excellent party and plot aircraft for incoming raids. I don’t want to fail.”
“You won’t. We won’t. As much as you and I love each other, can you imagine how much we’re going to love this kid?” His smile was brighter than ever and just as contagious.
“Only a few more months,” she whispered.
“Only a few more months,” he repeated. “Then we’ll have a new adventure.”
“Everything will change.”
“Not the way I love you.”
“You promise?” she asked, her fingers trailing the line of his collar. “You fell in love with a WAAF officer, which, from the fit of this uniform, won’t be true in the next week. Hardly seems like you got the good end of this bargain.” How was he going to love her if she wasn’t even herself?
He pulled her even closer, so he could feel the curves of her body against his. “I love you in whatever role you play. Whatever uniform you want to wear. Whoever you want to be. I will love you.”
That was a promise she would hold on to later that day as she faced Section Leader Robbins in her office, fidgeting with her cap after her watch.
“I was wondering when you’d come to see me,” Robbins said, motioning to the chair in front of her desk.
Scarlett took it, adjusting her skirts as she sat.
“Honestly, I’m surprised you lasted this long.” Robbins gave her an understanding smile. “I thought you’d be here a month ago.”
“You knew?” Scarlett’s hands flew to her belly.
Robbins lifted an eyebrow. “You threw up for two months straight. I knew. I just thought it best to let you come to this conclusion on your own, and selfishly, I wanted to keep you. You’re one of my best girls. That being said, I was only giving you two more weeks before I said something myself.” She opened a desk drawer and pulled out some papers. “I have your discharge papers ready. You just need to take them up to headquarters.”
“I don’t want to be discharged,” Scarlett admitted quietly. “I want to do my job.”
Robbins studied her carefully and sighed. “And I wish you could.”
“There is nothing I can do?” Her heart lurched, feeling as though she was being cleaved in two.
“You can be a wonderful mother, Scarlett. Britain needs more babies.” She slid the papers across the desktop. “You’ll be sorely missed.”
“Thank you.” Scarlett squared her shoulders, then took her discharge papers.
Just like that, it was over.
There was a steady, dull hum in her ears as she turned in her discharge papers. It didn’t fade until she stood in front of that same oval mirror in her bedroom, staring at a reflection that was no longer rightfully hers.
She took off her hat first and placed it on the dresser. The shoes came next. Then the stockings.
She raised her hands to the belt of her jacket twice before she managed to get it undone.
This uniform had given her freedom she never would have experienced without it. She never would have stood up to her parents without the confidence she’d earned over the long days and nights of watches. She never would have seen her worth as more than a pretty showpiece.
She never would have met Jameson.
Her fingers trembled at the first button. Once she took it off, that was it. There were no more watches. No more briefings. No more smiling as she walked down the street, proud that she was doing her part. They weren’t just clothes—they were the physical manifestation of the woman she’d become, the sisterhood she belonged to.
She heard a shuffle behind her and lifted her eyes in the mirror to see Jameson standing exactly where he’d been that morning, leaning in the doorway, but instead of his pressed uniform, he still wore his flying suit.
…
His hands clenched with the need to hold her, but he kept his arms folded across his chest. He didn’t say anything as he watched her struggle with the buttons of her jacket. His chest ached at the pain, the loss in her eyes as she finally got them undone. She must have told her section leader today. She wasn’t just getting undressed; she was being unmade.