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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1001987-Love-Never-Dies
Rated: ASR · Fiction · Drama · #1001987
A love story in the midst of World War II
Night was just turning to day when she lifted her head off the pillow and looked at the clock. A low groan escaped her throat as her mind tried to pull back the foggy curtain of sleep and bring her to wakefulness. Lighting the small lamp on the nightstand beside her, she dragged herself from the bed, quickly donning her housedress in the brisk morning air and grabbing her old sweater. She needed to get the fire going in the stove to chase away this chill.

She peeked in on Reggie as she passed his room, making sure his blankets covered him. Finding his stuffed bear on the floor, she put it under the covers with him, hoping that when he started to wake up he’d hug his bear and go back to sleep for a while. The fire would need some time to warm the kitchen.

She was tired of the winter. And tired of the war that dragged on with no end in sight. She wanted life to be normal again, with Jay home. She wanted to cook his breakfast, make his lunch and kiss him goodbye when he went off to work; she wanted to wash his clothes and cook his supper; she wanted Reggie to know his father. And, most of all, she wanted her husband back. But she knew that wasn’t going to happen for a while. The last two years had seemed to last a lifetime. Air raid sirens and bombs had become a way of life. There were food shortages, fuel shortages and no nylon stockings to be found anywhere. Women learned how to make repairs to their homes and children were given responsibilities beyond their years. The bombing made everyone realize how precious life was. But freedom demanded sacrifices. They had no choice. Her worry for Jay was constant.

Shaking her auburn head, she told herself that wishing and worrying wasn’t going to change anything. He had a war to finish and it was up to her to keep life as normal as possible for their son. There were chores to be done and clearing the front steps of the snow that had fallen during the night would be her first one today. She knew she better get moving if she wanted it done before her son woke up.

The cold air chased away the last vestiges of sleep from her brain as soon as she opened the front door. Overcast skies now spit icy rain as London prepared for another dismal day. The snow that had fallen throughout the night dusted the lampposts, and the few cars that were on the road looked like black ants marching across spilled sugar on a tabletop. The white snow brought a bright contrast to her dull world and, for just a moment, made her smile. But she knew the sleet would soon wash it away. Winter refused to loosen its hold. Every time Spring tried to step her dainty foot into the city, old man winter shoved her away. He held the city in a stranglehold while he spewed out nothing but lifeless gray clouds that mirrored the mood of the country. War was bad, but war during the winter was worse.

With the steps cleared, she stomped the snow and slush from her feet before she came back inside the flat. Where it had once felt cold, it now felt warm and almost inviting. Even the old wallpaper in the foyer didn’t look too bad. With numb fingers, she removed the scarf from around her neck and tucked it into the sleeve of her coat before she hung it up. She sighed with relief as she pulled off the heavy boots. A missing buckle on her old rubber boots had let the snow seep inside and down into her shoes. It felt good to slip her feet into her warm slippers. Rubbing her hands together to warm them up, she glanced at the grandfather clock standing against the wall. Reggie would be awake soon and her day would begin.

Breakfast was on her mind when she heard the knock on the door. Opening it, she saw the messenger and then saw the yellow telegram he held out to her.

“No! Oh, no,” she said, covering her lips with trembling fingers. “No!” She knew what it was without reading it and she didn’t want to take it from his outstretched hand. Hot tears followed one another as they traced the contours of her cheeks and rolled down to her neck before she could wipe them away. The telegram lay on the floor where it fell after slipping from her fingers when she read the words, We regret to inform you… Her greatest fear had happened. Jay wasn’t coming home.

Fog shrouded her mind and kept the thoughts that made her cry at bay. She needed to be strong for her son. At the age of three, he wouldn’t understand what happened. Hang on, she thought to herself, night is coming. She promised herself she could give in to her grief when he was asleep.

She dragged herself through the day, trying desperately to hide her feelings from Reggie whenever they threatened to overwhelm her.

“You all right, Mama?” he asked when she set his lunch on the table for him. His brown eyes were as big as saucers as he peered up at her. He knew something was wrong.

She gave him a hug and nodded yes. She commanded herself not to cry. Focus on something else, Gwen, she thought, and you won’t cry. She knew that concentration would be the key that would allow her to keep the door to her tears locked until she was alone.

That night, as she prepared Reggie’s supper, it took all the strength she had to remain calm and to chat with him about his day and the games they’d played that afternoon. Bath time came and the routine gave her surcease from the pain for a little while. She tucked him into bed, making sure his favorite teddy bear was with him, and managed to hold on to her emotions until she gave him his kisses from Daddy. This was their nightly ritual since Jay had gone. Every night they talked about Daddy and how much he loved them both. She tried to keep Jay’s memory alive in her son’s mind. It would be even harder now.

It had been hours since she received the news and her head throbbed in the aftermath of her day long struggle to contain her tears. Reggie was finally asleep, tucked in against the chill of the night. He was restless tonight and it had taken him longer to fall asleep. He didn’t know what happened, but he knew things weren’t the same. As hard as she had tried to protect him, the despair that filled the house had woven its way into his little soul. She walked down the stairs and let her hand slide along the banister as she descended, her slippered feet quiet on the treads. Her mind could no longer block out the horror of the day. It was time to give in to the emptiness within her and release the tears that had built to a crescendo since this morning. The house was still. It was her time to weep.

In a daze, she brewed herself a cup of tea and walked to the small, round table in the corner of the living room. It was the table where she kept her daily journal and wrote to Jay each night. Placing her teacup next to the oil lamp, she turned up the light just a little and sat down. Blackout shades had covered the windows for so long, she was used to the low light. The soft orange glow from the lamp spread over the table but it didn’t bring her comfort like it had the night before. There would be no more letters to write; and, worse, no more to read.

******

Memories swirled in her mind as ethereal as the steam swirling in the air from her teacup. She let her mind wander back two months to the coldest week of the year. The damp and chill of the London air had invaded every corner of the house and had decided to take up residence with them for the remainder of the winter. She had bundled Reggie in layers of sweaters to protect him from the frigid cold.

The unexpected opening of the front door had startled her, but when her mind finally registered who it was, she crumbled in shock. Jay caught her as her body turned to jelly. Touching his face with her hands, she felt its warmth and the roughness of his beard that had grown during his overnight travel. She ran her fingers through his hair and then threw her arms around him, hugging and kissing him until a little voice behind her said “Mama?”

He stood there, confused, looking at the tall man in the army uniform who held his mother. His lips were starting to quiver as his young mind tried to sort out the events that were happening.

With a smile, she turned and picked him up. She held him close to her and nuzzled his cheek, whispering, “Sweetheart, do you remember Daddy? It’s Daddy, Honey.”

She watched the emotion on her husband’s face go from surprise to wonder as he gazed at his son. He hadn’t seen him in two years. Gently stretching out his hand, he tentatively touched his hair. “So soft,” he whispered, as he took the baby from her and buried his face into the blonde curls. He breathed deeply as his nostrils filled with the scent of baby lotion, baby powder and his son’s own fragrance. Little arms, with skin as soft as rose petals, wrapped themselves tightly around his neck as Reggie gave him a big hug.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” he said, his voice muffled against the sweater his son wore. Tears welled in his closed eyes and seeped under lashes that were the same color as his son’s.

“I can’t hug him tight enough, Gwen. I sat in frozen and muddy foxholes and listened to the devil play his horrific game of maiming and killing and all I could do was pray to God to let me see you and Reggie again.” He moved one arm from around his son and wrapped it around her, pulling the three of them together. “I owe Him,” he said, pulling back from her arms and smiling at her.

“Take off your coat, Honey,” she said as she took Reggie from his arms. “I still can’t believe you’re really here.” Her face reflected her happiness and the tiredness that had encompassed her body was gone. She hung his coat in the closet and shut the door with a million questions running through her mind. But the most important one was “How long can you stay?”

Taking her into his arms, he hugged both of them again. “I have a week.”

A week, she thought. Only one week for him to play husband and daddy, the two roles he wanted to play most in life; and only one week for her to be his wife. It wasn’t enough, she knew that, but it was all they had right now.

After supper Jay had lit a fire in the fireplace and, as she snuggled with him and Reggie that night, she knew it would be one of those memories that would remain with her forever. With his arms wrapped around her, she felt like she had been rescued from an icy river and wrapped in a warm wool blanket. They were a family again; even it was only for a week.

Their last night together had been hard to endure. The knowledge that the next day would tear them apart again was uppermost in their minds. They danced to soft music playing on the radio, holding each other as tight as they could while their hearts, minds and bodies fused into one spirit. Their love filled their hearts and spilled over onto the little boy sleeping soundly on the sofa.

She remembered the heart wrenching pain of his departure, pain tempered only by the soothing solace of his fingers as they caressed her cheek.

“Gwen, I’ll always be with you,” he told her. “Remember that.” He kissed her and Reggie and gave them a final hug before he boarded the train that would take him back to the war. “I love you,” he whispered as he tried to control the hot tears spilling from his eyes.

******

As the distant memory faded, she opened her well-worn journal. A picture of Jay in civilian clothes slipped from the pages onto the tablecloth. It was a photo taken shortly before the start of the war. A lifetime ago, she thought, when we were young and thought we had all the time in the world. Fresh tears fell as she touched his image with feather light strokes. “What am I going to do without you?” she asked him.

“Mama?” He was standing beside her, tugging at her skirt with his teddy bear clasped tightly to his chest. He was crying. “I’m scared. I had a bad dream.”

She scooped him up, brought back from her reverie, and angry with herself for not hearing him when he first started to cry. “Oh, Sweetheart, you’re okay now. Mama’s got you.” Wrapping her arms around him, she snuggled him close to her, realizing she was receiving as much comfort as she gave. How am I going to raise you alone? she wondered. How am I going to make sure you grow up to be the man your father was without him here to help me?

She felt a soft, fluttering touch on her shoulder and thought she felt the warmth of fingers caressing her cheek again. It brought to mind the last time he had touched her, with his fingers softly grazing her cheek. I’ll always be with you echoed in her mind. Hope infused her worried mind and her loneliness lessened. She knew she was no longer alone. Murmuring to her son, she told him, “Yes, Honey, it’s going to be okay. Everything will be okay.”

Kissing her fingers, she lightly brought them to the face in the picture. She knew he would always be with her.

© Copyright 2005 katrinka (tstation at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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