The Heart's War by Lucy Lambert Read Free Book Online Page A

a sudden jealousy. When I'd met Jeff, he'd never really been interested in travel. He'd been like his mother: content to stay right in the Waterloo region. He'd never voiced any opinion on the big ocean liners. And he got to go on one.
    I remembered reading about the Titanic after it launched. Unchallenged luxury, size, and safety. The last part, of course, hadn't really proved true. But I'd always held onto the desire to see it. Apparently, the Olympic was almost exactly the same.
    But jealousy was something that I knew I shouldn't be feeling at that moment. So I watched the shadows stretch and deepen along Victoria Street, the traffic getting lighter so that I could distinguish individual engines and the clop-clop noise the horses made.
    "Ellie?"
    "I wish you'd stay," I said.
    It was impossible, though. Jeff had made no attempt to see the draft board, had lodged no disagreement with them. If he stayed now, the boys from the 118 Battalion would show up at his door and throw him in their military prison.
    He'd live, at least, I thought.
    Jeff reached for my hands, but I withdrew them, clasping them in my lap. The cool night breeze ruffled the feathers in my bonnet as I looked down at my clenched fingers.
    You're being unfair, I said to myself. He's going to war, and there's nothing you can do about it, I continued, and you're going to deny him something as simple as holding your hand?
    So I reached out and took his instead. His fingers curled around mine, holding them tightly. His grip trembled. Was it excitement? Fear? Both?
    I thought more about my behavior towards him for the last few days. God! I'd been such a selfish boor!
    "Jeff!" I said, leaning towards him so that the feet of my wicker chair creaked against the porch.
    "Yes?"
    The front door opened, and Marie stuck her head through. She'd changed from her Sunday dress and had removed her hat. She wore a modest and thick nightgown, grey in the dying light.
    "Jeffrey, come in! You need your rest! Eleanor, dear, thank you for keeping him company. But I think you'd agree with me, yes?"
    "Yes," I said, a heat rising to my cheeks as my eyes swung back and forth between mother and son.
    I wanted so desperately to just let it all out, to tell him I was sorry and that I loved him and that I was being selfish. But already Jeff stood. I gripped his hands tighter for a moment, then let his fingers slide through mine.
    "I will write often, Ellie! And I expect the same of you!" Jeff said.
    Despite the presence of his mother, he touched my cheek. His hand trembled, and felt so hot against me. He kissed my forehead, and I closed my eyes as I felt the warmth of his lips press my skin.
    "You're right, mother. I do need my rest," Jeff said, standing in the doorway beside Marie.
    I balled my hands together in my lap, clenching them to keep Jeff from seeing the way I shook. I couldn't quite look at him; every time I tried to lift my eyes to meet his, a pressure built behind them and I had to let them drop down again.
    "Ellie? I'll see you again."
    My heart burned inside me. I could feel the empty space he'd left there. That space he'd have filled with, "And I love you," had Marie not been in the doorway.
    I wanted to reciprocate, but a bashful heat rose up my neck and cheeks.
    So I said, "Travel safely, and be careful!"
    He smiled, then disappeared inside the town house. It took me a moment to realize that Marie still stood there, watching me.
    "Come have supper with me again tomorrow," she said.
    "Of course! That would be lovely," I replied.
    It wouldn't, I knew. But I smiled at her anyway. I just wanted to run home and bury myself under the covers on my bed. Marie would just remind me of Jeff, and that he wasn't here with me.
    But it would be rude not to accept.
    Satisfied, Marie went back inside, the sound of her feet on the stairs muffled. I knew she was right. Jeff needed his rest. If the trip exhausted him too much, he might make a mistake over there.
    I kept thinking about poor