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

Shelley Clarkson and her brother. Had they tired that boy out, with their endless goodbyes and get-togethers celebrating his service?
    If I was tired at work, I might get my finger pricked by the sewing machine. If Jeff got tired on the front… Well, it didn’t bear thinking about.
    So, despite my strong desire to stay there with him well into the night, fighting off sleep to claim just a few more moments with him, I stood, the feet of the wicker chair scraping against the porch.
    “I should let you have your rest,” I said, looking at him. I wanted to memorize every feature of his face, from the delicate, smooth skin under his eyes to the way his bottom lip was slightly larger than the upper one.
    At the same time, I wanted to turn away, to hurry down those steps and back home. Every second I spent standing there with him made it harder to tear myself away. Some evil little voice within couldn’t help but to suggest that this might be the last time I saw him.
    “Won’t you stay, just a little longer?” Jeff said, taking my hand gently but firmly. The insistence of the touch made me think about the other day, up on his bed. My mouth went dry at the thought, and heat once more flushed up into my cheeks.
    “I shouldn’t…”
    “Yes, you should. Come back inside. The air has a bit of a nip to it,” Jeff said, already reaching for the door latch.
    “If your mother hears, she’ll be angry. Do you really want her angry with the both of us on this last night we have?”
    “She’s a sound sleeper. Besides, she’s been making such a fuss over me. I’m sure I could have an orchestra in the den and she wouldn’t dare say a word to avoid upsetting me.”
    I knew I should just go home. My mother would be upset with me as it was. Showing up even later than I’d told her would put her in a foul mood. But Jeff gave me another smile, cutting straight through my worry.
    “Yes, I’ll come in. But just for a little while.”
    “Just a little while,” he agreed. The door creaked on its hinges, but neither of us detected any sign of Marie rousing to come check on the noise. She probably thought it was just Jeff coming in after wishing me a good night.
    Still holding my hand, his palm warm against mine, he led me into the den. There, he opened the flue and lit a fire in the small stone hearth and then joined me on the couch. The piece of furniture was past its prime. Clearly once a nice piece, but now worn out.
    But the warmth of the fire was nice, and the ruddy light flickering out from it somehow comforting.
    Some nerves in my stomach acted up. I felt so aware of again being alone with Jeff in his home, just the two of us, sat side-by-side in the lusty heat of the open flames. My thoughts again sought back to those moments stolen up on his bed, the heat of our bodies like a fire…
    Jeff draping his arm across my shoulders broke me from my spell. My eyes had gotten caught by the dancing flames, and my mind had wandered beneath the weight of their enchantment. Anything to get away from this horrible reality of Jeff’s leaving, it seemed.
    “This is nice,” he said, squeezing my shoulder.
    I nodded.
    Jeff scooted his body closer to mine. We fit together nicely.
    “Are you afraid?” I said. There’d been an article in the paper about the deadly effect of the Kaiser’s weapons, from those awful gasses to the machine guns capable of spitting out hundreds of bullets a minute, cutting down entire battalions of infantry like a farmer might reap wheat.
    “A little,” he said, squeezing my shoulder again. I wondered if he read the same article. I wondered if maybe he might be having some second thoughts. Though, as I knew all too well, it was too late for them now. Too late for anything but goodbyes and hopes of a safe return.
    A mania descended over me then. I couldn’t let him go. No!  I wouldn’t. He needed to stay there with me, out of harm’s way.
    I pulled him closer, my arms tugging at his waist, my head laid on