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Benedict’s leave days melted away until once again the time to depart had arrived. He had spent his two-week respite with his son, mother, and I as if he cherished each moment being home. I could not blame him for doing so because of what awaited his return. More often than he had done so before the war, he sought my body. In respect and honor, I performed my conjugal duties, accepting the reality of our marriage.
Stefan had all but disappeared, keeping cloistered at the cottage and taking his meals there each evening instead of joining us for dinner again. His father must have heard about the incident, and he too stayed away, working late hours at the hospital.
When the day arrived for Benedict to return to duty, it felt as if the scene we had lived through a little over a year ago repeated itself. The same goodbyes with his mother at home occurred, and the same silent journey to the train station followed.
As I stood on the platform, waiting to say farewell, my eyes fell upon the posters tacked on the walls of the station. One of them showed a wife and children at the window of their home. Outside were men marching to war. The words “Women of Britain say — “GO!” were printed across the picture, supposedly representing patriotic sacrifice. As wives, we were to encourage the men in our lives to fight for country and king. The advertisement offended me because no woman in her right mind would willingly inspire her husband to walk toward death. To my shame, since the war’s declaration, I had forgotten why we even were in this conflict. The onset and its political reasons made no sense to me. It seemed pointless.
My focus returned to Benedict as we came to a standstill before his coach. I threw my arms around his neck and gave him a tight hug. He deserved the show of affection even if no swelling of passionate love filled my heart. My husband was one of those men in the poster, marching into hell, and I hated it.
“Take care of yourself, Benedict.” My voice trembled as I pulled away.
“As best I can,” he replied.
His lips met mine with a glancing kiss, and I sensed an underlying worry in his actions.
“Percy will miss you,” I said, smiling. “He is such a darling boy, isn’t he?”
“Indeed he is.” A broad smile replaced the brooding look on his face. “I do love the lad.”
“Do you love me?” I have no idea why I asked except I wondered if the recent events had dampened his affections. He pondered silently before answering.
“Of course I do,” he said in an assuring voice. He brought his hand to the side of my cheek. “You know I do.”
The yearning in his gaze told me he wanted my affirmation as well, which I readily gave. “I love you.” My confession sounded insincere even in my hearing, and I feared Benedict sensed the words lacked depth. Perhaps he wanted to regain my whole heart because the day would come when Stefan would leave, and that would be the end of it.
The whistle loudly blew, causing me to jolt, and the conductor bellowed, “All aboard.”
“Goodbye, my love.” Benedict gave me a quick embrace. He turned and left, but his words had a definite finality in them that startled me.
A terrible fear of impending loss gripped my heart. Before I could say or do anything more, he disappeared and the train pulled out of the station. If it hadn’t been for this damnable war, none of this would have happened. There would have been no goodbyes. The Belgian families would not have arrived. Stefan would have never captured my heart that belonged to another. Olivia would still have her husband. My fear and anger overwhelmed me until I staggered in my stance unable to control my balance.
“Are you all right, miss?” An elderly gentleman came to my side and grabbed my arm, giving me stability.
“Thank you,” I replied. “Feeling a bit faint.”
“Saying goodbye to your husband, I see.”
“Yes, again.”
“Sad days these are,” he groaned. “Lost my only grandson last month.”
Death was everywhere, and my lower lip quivered. “My condolences,” I offered. “Yes, these are sad days indeed.” After regaining the strength in my legs, I left the gentleman and returned to the car to resume my position as Lady Grace and count the days until my goodbyes to Stefan would painfully arrive.
The repeated scene reminded me of my neglectfulness toward Olivia. She had recently left her flat and returned home but in doing so found housing for Anna and her daughter. With Thomas gone, she found no purpose in staying at their marital home surrounded by the fond memories of their marriage, now destroyed by the war. With Benedict’s leave and my selfish pursuits, I had not spoken to Olivia since that terrible day.
At my instruction, the driver took me to her parents’ estate not far from my own. Olivia would be closer now, and I determined in the months ahead to rekindle our friendship. Spending time with her would fill the void, albeit I could not compare my own to her terrible loss.
Although my visit was unplanned, I saw relief on her mother’s face upon my arrival.
“Grace, you have no idea how timely your call is today,” she said, grabbing my hands.
“I’m sorry I have not visited since Olivia’s return, but I felt compelled to see her today.” I glanced about looking for her, but she was nowhere in sight. “How is she, might I ask?”
“Dreadfully melancholy, I’m afraid.”
“I’m not surprised.” Naturally, Olivia’s grief would continue for some time.
“I had no idea,” her mother said, “how much she loved Thomas.”
“She was fortunate to find such an incredible man but so unlucky to have it cruelly taken away.”
“Go talk to her, Grace. She will listen to you. She’s up in her bedroom.”
“I’ll do what I can,” I offered.
Her circumstances had taken her full circle home to the bedchamber we played in together as young girls. When I approached the closed door, I stood silently asking heaven above for wisdom. After a quiet knock on the door, I heard her voice.
“Come in.”
When I turned the doorknob and crossed the threshold, I felt unprepared to deal with what I saw. Olivia had lost weight, and her natural rosy complexion looked like chalk. She appeared as if she hadn’t eaten or slept in weeks.
“Grace,” she said, forcing a smile. “You came to visit.”
“I’m sorry it’s been so long since we last spoke. I’ve been remiss in not checking on you sooner.” I gave her a hug, and my friend clung to me tightly for a few moments. When she pulled away, my heart broke seeing tears well in her eyes.
“Sweet, sweet Olivia, what have you done to yourself?” I sympathetically asked. A slight puff of air escaped her pursed lips.
“I don’t care if I live or die. Each day I wish I could be with Thomas.”
Her lower lip quivered, and I knew she meant every word of it. After taking her hand, I pulled her toward the edge of the bed. We both sat down, and I placed my arm around her waist.
“Thomas would not approve.” I tried not to sound accusatory. More than anything, I wanted to give her hope for a future. “He would want you to dry your tears, cherish the love you shared, but find strength and encouragement to build a happy life in his memory.”
“How can I be happy?” she protested. “He was the love of my life, Grace, and now he’s gone. I can’t even visit his grave and leave flowers. The men who died in Gallipoli are buried in the fields in which they fell and left there for eternity. It’s so cruel.”
“War is cruel,” I responded. “Thomas fought bravely, Grace, of that I’m sure. No doubt you were the last thing on his mind before he left this world.” After brushing her wet curls from her cheek, I smiled at her warmly. “He would want you to be happy. You need to start eating and get rest.”
Olivia lowered her face into the palm of her hands. Watching her deal with the loss of the man she loved incited me to declare my self-centered dilemma.
“I just came from taking Benedict to the station.”
Olivia swiftly lifted her head. “You mean he came home?”
“Yes, on leave for two weeks.”
“Oh, how wonderful for you, Grace, to be able to see him.”
“For the most part, yes, but not all of it turned out to be pleasant, I’m afraid.”
“What do you mean?”
Olivia sat upright and gave her attention to me. Perhaps it would help get her mind off her grieving woes if I confessed mine.
“He punched the lieutenant in the jaw.”
“Oh dear, why?”
“Well, I blame it on his mother. You know she can be a meddling witch when she puts her mind to it.” Relaying the story, I became exuberant. “She had the audacity to write to Benedict, suggesting I might be having an affair with Stefan. That was the sole reason he asked for leave to come home and take care of matters as he put it.”
My friend’s eyes grew wide, and I swiftly acted to clarify the falsehood of the accusation.
“You can be assured I have not been unfaithful to Benedict,” I said. Then my brow crinkled as I thought of the truth of the matter. “Well, not physically anyway, but I cannot deny I’ve fantasized about it.” Naturally, I expected Olivia to scold and warn me as she had done before. She sat there studying me for a few moments in silence and then reached out and grabbed my hand.
“Have you fallen in love with him, Grace? The lieutenant, I mean.”
The question haunted me continually. Whatever emotion I felt for Stefan, it had been far different from my sentiments for Benedict. I had spent so much time examining the inner workings of my heart that I could not discern where I stood on the matter. Perhaps I loved them both but in different ways.
“I honestly do not know,” I replied. “Oh, Olivia, I do like him so and have often pondered since his arrival if I shortchanged myself by marrying Benedict. I married for my convenience if nothing else and always held him in high regard. You know that I do.”
Olivia shook her head. “Of that I am sure, Grace, but you haven’t experienced the totality of love even though he is your husband.”
“On the other hand, I dream about it with Stefan so often. I even asked him to kiss me, but he was such a gentleman that he refused.”
“Doesn’t he feel the same about you?”
“I’m sure he does, but he is honorable and has not crossed that line.” I smirked. “You know, I oozed with green envy when I heard you speak of your intimate love and enjoyment with your husband. Even though he is gone now, you were so lucky to have experienced such a beautiful relationship when he was alive.”
“I know I shall never love another as I loved him,” she confessed.
“Do you promise me for his sake and your own that you will start eating again and find peace so that you can rest?”
“I’ll try.” Her shoulders slouched once again.
“Good then.” I heaved in relief. “I’m sorry, dearest, but I must get back to Stratton Park.”
Olivia rose to her feet and gave me a hug. She opened her mouth to speak but then hesitated. By the look in her eyes, I knew she wanted to say something but felt reluctant to do so.
“What is it?” I asked. She lowered her head for a brief second and returned her gaze to me.
“If I’ve learned anything, Grace, is that this war gives no promise to return those we love. Benedict may never come home, and Stefan may never return once he leaves.”
“Yes, I know,” I painfully admitted to myself.
“As your friend, I would never encourage you to be unfaithful to your husband, but...”
“But what?”
“But if you have indeed fallen in love with the lieutenant, then you must grab what you can of the few moments of joy it may bring you. Tomorrow holds no promise for anyone.”
The moral advice given before had diminished. In Olivia’s advice, though not so plainly stated, she suggested not to let my chance to experience what I had dreamed about slip away.
“I understand.”
After giving her a long hug and a goodbye kiss on her cheek, I left Olivia alone in her room. I hoped she would take my guidance to eat and sleep while cherishing the precious memories of her husband.
As I returned home, Olivia’s words to grab my chance for happiness stirred my desires to be free. Whatever that meant, I only knew it frightened me, causing me to examine my loyalty to my husband. The days were slipping away like sand between my fingers. Stefan would soon leave, and I would never see him again.
