The Heart's War (6 page)

The older woman had the same nose, and the beginnings of jowls. Shelley's mother, I'd have wagered. She rubbed her daughter's back as they both looked at Jeff.

Had Shelley's brother been given such a send-off before he'd made his way on to the battlefields in Belgium?

I looked back to Jeff. An old man I didn't recognize, a horseshoe shaped wisp of hair clinging tenaciously to his mottled scalp, shook his hand and said something I couldn't make out. Had that same men said similar words to Shelley's brother?

I couldn't even remember her brother's name.

***

We sat together on the small wicker chairs set up on Jeff's mother's porch, watching the sun go down on his final day as a civilian.

"I have to leave at five tomorrow morning," he said, "The train for Quebec departs at quarter after."

The train station was only about ten minutes or so down Victoria Street from his mother's home. The tracks passed about a block distant from my house. The early morning trains tried not to sound their horns, but the rumble of cars and the rattle of steel wheels on the track still woke me sometimes.

"Training will be a few weeks, then it's off to Halifax and the Atlantic! I hope I get a berth on the Mauretania. It's faster than the Olympic."

I nodded, looking down at his feet. I found myself wishing he'd board White Star's Olympic instead. It would take a bit longer to get over to England. A little extra time for the war to end before he got anywhere near the German guns and bombs and artillery.

I also could fight off 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 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 his chest. My desperation leant my strength. But it wouldn’t be enough to keep him here, I knew. And that knowledge just made me all the more desperate.

“I’ll make it through,” Jeff said, running his fingers through my hair, gently squeezing the tense muscles at the back of my neck. They’d practically tied themselves into a knot.

“How do you know? Why are you so certain?”

Cupping my chin gently, he lifted my face so that he could look me in the eye.
“Because I have you to come back to, Ellie. And nothing’s going to get in the way of me coming back to you. Do you understand?”

Pressure built behind my eyes, and I couldn’t look at him anymore. But he kept me from looking away.

“Do you understand?” he repeated.

“Yes,” I said finally.

“I love you so much,” he said, tilting my head back a little further so he could kiss me.

It was a chaste, loving kiss at first. I don’t know which of us made it into something more.
Maybe both of us. But I do know that neither of us stopped it.

Again, I recalled being with him. My body recalled. That heat expanded within me. That now-familiar slick sensation returned between my thighs.

“Be with me tonight,” Jeff said, breathless.

“Yes,” I said, unable to offer any other response.

Emboldened by my new-found knowledge, I let my hand slip down his shirt to squeeze the front of his slacks. Jeff groaned at my touch, letting his head roll back. I kissed his neck this time. My lips parted, and I let the tip of my tongue play up and down his throat. He writhed against the couch, thrusting his hips against my grip.

It took a shockingly small amount of time to pull the skirt up past my hips. I wanted to feel him, I wanted his touch. So I grabbed his hand and guided it between my legs. He found the source of my heat and slickness there, his fingers exploring my most intimate area through the screen of cloth that blocked him from feeling my bare flesh.

And despite all that, we both tried to remain as quiet as possible. I don’t believe either of us could have borne the frustration of being found out.

It was so hard to remain quiet while he touched me, pulling aside my underwear and running one finger between my lips
there, and finally up into me.

My own hands busied themselves unblocking his belt,
then quickly yanking open his trouser to expose his stiff desire.

He let me stand long enough to kick my underwear off before pulling me back down onto him, my skirt draping our hips so that we had to go by sense of touch alone.

But at that moment, touch was the most primal and powerful of senses. I found him quickly, both of us sucking air in through our teeth as I sank down on him, as I surrounded him with the hot, slick folds inside me.

His hands explored my body while I rode him up and down, the sounds of our loving thankfully muffled by my skirt.

Every one of my senses drew inward to that present moment, concentrated on the joining of our two bodies into one. It could never end, but somewhere back in my mind I knew it would.

That thought sent a jolt of energy through me, and I forced our bodies together again and again, each movement more desperate than the last, as though I could somehow trap us both in a never ending cycle of pleasure if I gave myself to it as fully as I could.

The couch began squeaking against the floor, but I didn’t care. Hot droplets of sweat snaked their way down my forehead, down my back. Perspiration dotted Jeff’s face. The heat of the fire glowed against my back, but it couldn’t match the heat between us.