Chapter 31

The first thing that she was aware of was the pounding in her head. It was more of a throbbing really. She tried to sit up, but as soon as she moved she was hit with a sudden wave of nausea. She rolled onto her side, reflexively and began to retch. She felt it, as a cool, wet rag was placed on the back of her neck. Elizabeth’s hand reached back and covered the hand that was holding the rag with her own.

“Thanks, Will” she moaned. “Don’t know what’s wrong with me…I had the worse dream.”

“It wasn’t a dream,” said Ahmed. “You were attacked.”

Elizabeth spun her head around to look at him and groaned, lifting her hand to the back of her head, as a stab of pain coursed through her.

“There’s a small cut from where you connected with his head. Have some of this tea, it will help dull the pain and curb the nausea,” said Ahmed as he lifted a small cup to her lips.

Elizabeth smelled the tea and wrinkled her nose. “Eww!”, she said.

“Drink!” demanded Ahmed.

Elizabeth took a few tentative sips before admitting, “It’s not bad.”

Ahmed helped her to lie back down. He rinsed the washrag out and then gently wiped it across her face.

“You don’t have to do that,” she whispered a bit dreamily.

“Shh,” he soothed as he finished cleaning her up first, then the evidence of her sickness.

When Ahmed finished he carefully slid an arm underneath her neck and helped her slowly lift her head so that she could have more tea. “You should continue to take small sips. It will make you drowsy, help you rest. You’ll feel much better by tomorrow.”

“I’m so tired,” she admitted as her eyes started to flutter. “Where’s Will?”

“He’ll be back soon,” said Ahmed as he watched Elizabeth drift back to sleep.

Ahmed stood up, grabbed the washbasin he had been using and exited the tent.

“Will she be alright?” asked Angellah, anxiously.

“Yes, she needs rest,” responded Ahmed as he scanned the crowd that had gathered outside of Crawford’s and Elizabeth’s tent. The men from Hassan’s camp and those that had traveled to the oasis with Angellah stood apart. All of the men looked uncomfortable as they worriedly listened.

“Go about your business!” said Ahmed as he tossed out the water from the washbasin.

“There should be retribution!” shouted one of the men. Within seconds no one distinct voice could be heard as the men screamed for some vengeance.

The sound of a gunshot firing cut through the din. All eyes turned to Angellah who stood, silently, weapon raised. “I am the law,” he said, finally. “I will decide his fate.”

“You do not rule the Hassimi!” shouted one of Hassan’s men.

“He is not Hassimi,” countered Angellah struggling to keep his voice calm and neutral.

“He is not Bedu either,” shouted another.

“My Lord,” interjected Ahmed as he stepped forward, lifted his arm, and pointed. There, off in the distance, were the forms of the returning men on horseback. Their steadily growing forms silhouetted against the large orange sun as it slowly dropped towards the horizon.

They stood in silence, watching as the small party approached, Crawford in the lead. The first thing they noticed was the obviously tired state of their horses. They had been ridden hard; too far for too long without enough water. The animals were foaming from sweat, all but one, the one without a rider.

Angellah walked swiftly over to Crawford and reached for the reins of his animal. “There’s been an incident.”

Crawford’s head turned slowly towards Angellah. His face was encrusted in layer upon layer of sand and sweat as was the other men’s. But, there was something else. Angellah saw the spatters of dried blood on Crawford’s clothing and skin. “Lieutenant!” he said sharply. “Did you hear me?” Crawford looked towards him and Angellah swallowed hard upon seeing the vacant look in his eyes.

Crawford blinked. Then slowly began to dismount. “Harrhas is dead,” he said, wearily. “I’m sorry. I made sure he didn’t suffer.”

“The mission was otherwise a success,” interjected Hassan.

“Take care of the horses and bring food and water,” commanded Angellah as he reached out to take Crawford’s arm. “You need rest.”

“Where’s Elizabeth?” he asked, looking around for her. As soon as his eyes connected with Angellah’s he noticed the hesitation, the dread. Then he noticed similar expressions on the faces of the men that surrounded him. Angellah’s words about an incident flashed through his mind. He had at first assumed that Angellah had been referring to the absence of Harrhas. Now he was certain he was referring to something else. Fear passed through him as time seemed to lengthen and stretch out endlessly. The seconds it was taking for Angellah to find the right words seeming like hours.

“Recovering, in your tent. She-” started Angellah.

Crawford pushed past him and walked as if in a daze towards their tent. His heart was racing and he felt as if he were going to suffocate. As he reached the entrance he turned to look back at his men, most of them averted their eyes, uncomfortable witnesses to this private moment.

Crawford pushed open the flap of the tent and quietly stepped inside. Elizabeth was laying on the pallet facing away from him. He immediately noticed the bandage on her head. A small circle of blood showed through. He heard a noise behind him as the tent’s flap was pulled back and Ahmed entered.

“She will be out for a while. I gave her some tea with a bit of sedative,” he said.

Crawford nodded, his eyes starting to fill with tears. She looked so small, so frail. Elizabeth moaned in her sleep and moved slightly. As she did so the thin sheet that had been covering her slipped slightly revealing a deep bruise on her shoulder. He stepped forward and knelt down beside her. The bruise was in the form of a hand. He reached up and gently slid the sheet down, exposing her back. There at the base of her hip was a second bruise. There were many other contusions and burn-like abrasions on her torso that he had yet to notice.

“Parker. How-” began Crawford, his voice cracking as he realized what had happened. “How far did he get? How hurt is she?”

“She was lucky-” started Ahmed.

Crawford turned to look at him, a pained expression on his face, “Lucky?”

“Lucky that you taught her to defend herself. Lucky that Angellah returned when he did,” explained Ahmed.

“What happened?” asked Crawford as he reached out and tenderly began to stroke her hair.

Ahmed sat down beside Crawford and quietly began, “Angellah walked her down to the water to bathe. She had been helping me most of the night and was close to exhaustion. He left her for a few minutes. When he returned Parker had her pinned to the ground, facedown. Most of her clothes had been removed. As Angellah cleared the pathway he saw them. As Parker moved to unfasten his trousers Elizabeth bucked up and slammed the back of her head into his face, breaking his nose. Unfortunately, the force of the blow knocked her unconscious. Angellah subdued Parker-”

Crawford stood up, the lines in his face hardened.He reached down and pulled his knife from the sheath inside his boot. Then he turned and with a determined step walked out of the tent towards Angellah. The crowd of men that had congregated around the tent moved quickly out of his way.

“What have you done with him?” asked Crawford.

“Nothing...much,” answered Angellah. “Saved that for you. I’m sorry, William.”

Crawford nodded and brought an arm up to wipe the dust from his face. “Where are you holding him?” he asked.

“Down by the water,” said Angellah. “I’ll take you.”

Crawford followed Angellah down the winding path that led to the water’s edge. As the reached the end of the pathway Crawford looked around. Although several of the men were sitting about, he saw no prisoner.

“This is a private party,” announced Angellah. “Find something else to do.”

As the men dispersed he saw him, or rather it. Parker’s head, was sticking up out of the sand. “You buried him in the sand?” asked William.

“Well, not me. I mostly watched the boys dig the hole and then bury him. I had knocked him out pretty good. It took him a few hours to come to. He hasn’t had any food or water yet. You could just go with that,” said Angellah as he walked up to Parker and knelt down alongside of him.

Crawford approached and quietly said, “No. Don’t think so.”

Parker’s eyes widened to the size of saucers as the British soldier began to slowly circle him. He was sweating profusely and he was sunburned from being left in the open sun all day. The rims of his eyes were reddened and his lips were cracked. “Water,” he croaked.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding, mate!” barked Crawford. “He’s kidding, right?”

“I don’t know,” said Angellah, shaking his head. “He could be delirious from, you know, the sun and lack of water. Perhaps we should give him some water so that he can be fully alert when the torturing part begins.”

“Good idea,” said Crawford as he knelt before him.

Angellha clapped his hands loudly and yelled, “Water!”

His request was met with silence. “Oh, for heavens sake, I know several of you are out there, spying. Someone fetch water. Who among you is the bravest?” asked Crawford.

A young man by the name of Sudhir peeked out from behind a date palm. He bowed quickly towards Angellah and said, “I will get the water, my lord,” before running up the path and disappearing.

“So, what do you think?” asked Angellah. “Want to make him a eunuch? We can get some of the boys to pull him out of the sand, perform the procedure and then stick him back in until he’s healed. The procedure’s usually done on younger men and well, there is the high mortality rate. But either way it could work. Torture followed by life in servitude as a eunuch or death.”

Sudhir returned with the water and Crawford tipped the cup to Parker’s lips, allowing him to take some small sips. As he took the first few swallows he began to cough and sputter. Crawford allowed him to take his time recovering and then again tilted the cup to his lips, allowing him to drain it.

“Parker?” called Crawford crouching down in front of him.

Parker looked up towards him. Both of his eyes were black and his nose obviously swollen and broken. His tongue flitted out and ran across his swollen and cracked lips. “I-” he began.

“Shh!” said Crawford as if he were comforting a child. “Today is your lucky day. One, I’m tired and two, I’m feeling a bit impatient. So, although I’d like nothing more than to torture you endlessly for hours, I’m going to make this quick. I’m not going to let you hurt her, or anyone else ever again. Do you believe in hell, Parker? I do and I am certain that is where you are heading. Who knows, perhaps I’ll join you there someday for what I’m about to do,” said Crawford as he stood up and began to unbutton his shirt. “This blood,” he explained looking down at his sleeve, “is the blood of a hero. Yours doesn’t deserve to touch it.”

“Please,” whispered Parker, his voice hoarse.

“Did she beg?” he asked as he walked around him. “Did you exercise any compassion? Would you have?”

“Wh-what are you going to do?” asked Parker, his voice quivering as he tried desperately to think of a way out of his current situation.

“Thought that would be fairly obvious by now. I’m going to kill you,” said Crawford as he knelt behind Parkers head. As Parker tried to crane his head back to get a look at his executioner, Crawford reached down and forcefully grabbed a handful of his dark hair and pulled up ruthlessly, exposing Parker’s neck. He took a deep breath, and looked heavens-ward up into the darkening sky and whispered, “Forgive me Father, for what I am about to do.”

“M-murder is a sin, Lieutenant,” said Parker, looking for any argument that he thought might result in clemency.

Crawford leaned down, placed his knife at Parker’s throat and simply said, “You. Hurt. My. Girl.” Then he dragged it across in one fluid move, slicing open Parker’s neck and watching as his blood spilled out, sinking into the sand.

Crawford released Parker’s head and watched as it lolled back. His lifeless eyes frozen in a look of surprised horror. Crawford climbed to his feet and looked up at Angellah.

“Well, that was kind of disappointing. You could have at least let me cover his head in honey and watch as the local insects and animals nibble at him,” said Angellah as he moved to hand Crawford back his shirt.

Crawford shook his head. “I want to wash up. I have too much blood on my hands,” he said as he began to remove his pants. “Can you have someone bring me a robe?”

“I’ll get it myself,” said Angellah.

Crawford looked at him in shock, “You’re waiting on me?”

“Of course not, I’m just doing a favor, for a friend,” said Angellah.

“Thanks,” replied Crawford as he set off towards the waters edge.

Crawford dove into the water and swam out. As he pulled himself through the water he wondered if he would ever be really clean again. This wasn’t an act of war. This had been something else. He let himself sink to the bottom and stayed under as long as he could, running his fingers through his hair and his hands over his body in an effort to shed the sand and blood that had accumulated there since he had last bathed. Not until his lungs were burning from lack of oxygen did he push off from the bottom. Crawford gasped as his head broke through the surface of the water, and then swam a ways towards shore. As soon as the water was shallow enough he stood up and shook his head, casting off beads of water.

Angellah watched as Crawford walked out of the water and towards him. As he handed him the fresh robe that he had retrieved while Crawford bathed he said, “William, you’re not going to hell for killing him. You know that, right? The bastard deserved it.”

Crawford sighed before pulling the robe over his head. “It’s not the fact that I killed him that bothered me,” said Crawford looking up into the dark sky.

“What is it that bothered you?” asked Angellah, curious.

“What bothered me, was that I was going to so thoroughly enjoy it,” admitted Crawford.

Angellah nodded but in truth he was struggling to understand. “Revenge is justified,” he said. “Doesn’t your Bible say ‘an eye for an eye’?”

“It also says something about turning the other cheek,” explained Crawford as they started to walk back up the path.

“Don’t you find that a little contradictory?” asked Angellah.

“Are you wanting to discuss theology now?” questioned Crawford.

“Nah! Let’s save that for our next date,” said Angellah, slapping him on the back. “Had a real good time.”

“Goodnight,” said Crawford as he reached his tent. “And, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. By morning he’ll be buried and the evidence all erased. You can move on,” said Angellah before walking away.

Crawford entered his tent. Ahmed had left a small oil lamp burning and two cups of tea by the pallet along with some bread and fruit. He sat down on the pallet, picked up a fresh peach, and bit into it. He closed his eyes for moment to savor the taste of the sweetness. He quickly finished it off along with the portion of bread. He walked over to their water bucket and drank deeply after taking a moment to wash the sticky residue from the peach from his hands.

Quietly, he walked back over to their sleeping pallet and slipped between the covers. As he moved to brush Elizabeth’s hair aside his hand hovered over her shoulder. He looked once again at the bruise there and thought, “The evidence will not be erased by morning.” He rolled over and blew out the lamp, shrouding the tent in a cocoon of darkness. He started to move towards her, so that they could assume what had become their normal sleeping position. His body wrapped around hers, his right arm draped over for waist, her left breast cupped in his hand. But he just couldn’t.

Tonight was not a normal night. He wanted desperately to wake her. To tell her that he loved her and to hear her say she loved him. He wanted desperately to make love to her. His stomach clenched and he pulled away. He climbed out of their bed, suddenly filled with shame and self-loathing. Was it that he thought he could erase the memory of her attack through the simple act of tender lovemaking? No. He knew what it was. If he was to be brutally honest with himself, it was about a desire to reclaim what was his.

Crawford left the tent. Barefoot, he walked out into the desert, seeking a moment of solitude. As he left the camp behind and looked up at the night’s sky he felt a sense of sadness wash over him. So much had changed for him. And, it was all because of her. He had someone to lose now, someone that mattered to him. He thought about Drusilla and wondered briefly when she had stopped mattering, really mattering. He thought about Elizabeth losing both of her parents within the space of a year. He thought about Ahmed, losing his wife and children. He thought of Anyakalha not even aware that she is now a widow. Then he wondered about Parker, would anyone miss him?

Crawford sank down and sat in the soft sand. He pulled his knees up close to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He forced himself to face the inevitable. He was going to lose her. Someday it would happen. He made a decision then and with only the stars as a witness, the tough British Soldier rested his head on his knees a wept.

Chapter 32

Crawford returned to their tent unnoticed, under the cover of darkness. As he climbed between the sheets of their pallet and rolled onto his side, his back to her, he felt her stir.

“Will?” she whispered still sounding slightly groggy from the sedative that Ahmed had given her.

“Yes, luv,” he said as he quickly turned to face her.

And there it was. An awkward silence fell between them.

“What do you need?” he asked a moment later.

“I…I…” she started, then drifted off.

“Tell me,” he said, softly.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice tremulous as she tried not to cry. If he hadn’t been hovering directly above her he would never have even caught her words.

“For what?” asked Crawford, his heart breaking as he listened to her quietly begin to sob.

“I should have listened to you. I-” started Elizabeth.

Crawford reached out into the darkness and with the pads of his thumbs brushed away her tears. “Angellah told me what he saw. What he thought happened.”

Elizabeth nodded and filled with shame she tried to turn her head away.

“I have three questions and I want honest answers. Can you do that for me?” asked Crawford as he placed his hand under her chin and turned her head back towards him.

“Y-y-yes,” she said, voice still quivering.

“Did you want to have sex with Parker?” he asked.

“What? Of course not!” she said, angry that he could even ask such a question.

“Did you try in any way to discourage his advances?” he asked.

“How do you think I got this big knot on the back of my head, and the bruises and scrapes? ‘Don’t touch me!’ I said. ‘I’ll scream,’ I said. Only I couldn’t. He covered my mouth and he-he-” choked out Elizabeth, sobs now wracking her slight form.

Silent tears spilled over Crawford’s eyes and coursed down his cheeks. He sniffed as he reached for her hand and brought it up to that she could feel the dampness on his face. “How could you possibly think this is your fault? You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing!”

“I don’t know what to think! I don’t know what to feel! I’m not sure I feel anything. Will, shouldn’t I…shouldn’t I feel something?” asked Elizabeth.

“You’re probably still in shock, and you’re hurt, and then there’s the tea they gave you. It has a sedative of sorts in it,” he explained.

“Oh,” she said, her voice sounding hollow.

“Elizabeth? I-I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” started Crawford. “But, can- can I hold you? It’s killing me, listening to you cry and not being able to hold you in my arms.”

“What’s stopping you?” she asked.

“I-I don’t want-” he paused and wiped stubbornly at the tears that were rolling down his cheeks. “Christ, I can’t believe what an awful bloody day this had been!”

“Stay with me here, Will. What don’t you want?” asked Elizabeth her heart hammering in her chest. This was it, the moment she feared worse than anything, the moment where it would end.

“I don’t want you to push me away,” he whispered, embarrassed as he revealed to her that simple truth. “I’m not him. I could never…I could never hurt you like that.”

“I know that,” she said as she sat up and faced him. “I’m not going to push you away.”

Crawford reached out tentatively and lightly swept his hand over her hair. He released a heavy sigh as he leaned in towards her, touching his forehead to hers.

“I should have taken you with me,” he said. “It wouldn’t have happened if I had taken you with me.”

“Don’t do that,” said Elizabeth.

Crawford swallowed and said, “I’m so bloody sorry, sorry that you had to go through that.”

“Enough about me for now,” said Elizabeth as she turned around and laid down, pulling Crawford down with her. As he spooned up behind her and wrapped his arm around her waist she said, “Tell me what you did today.”

“Me?” asked Crawford, “Nothing much.”

“Come on, It’ll cheer me up. It had to be better than my day,” whispered Elizabeth.

“Let’s see. I rode all night so that I could blow up a train. It was quite the explosion by the way. But, people got hurt and killed. Not soldiers, just casualties of war. Then I watched a friend die at my hands. And finally after riding all day through the scorchingly hot desert I had to exact vengeance on my wife’s would-be rapist,” he finished.

Elizabeth rolled over and responded. “Remind me not to play this game with you again.”

“Wish it was just a game,” said Crawford. “I’ve got so much blood on my hands I-”

“What happened?” asked Elizabeth as she reached up to caress his cheek. “You lost one of the men?”

“Harrhas,” said Crawford.

“No!” groaned Elizabeth. “How, Will? What happened?”

“He tripped with a blasting cap. It blew a- a hole in his belly,” said Crawford as the image of the wound replayed vividly through his mind.

“So he died instantly?” asked Elizabeth.

“No, not exactly. He couldn’t be helped. He wasn’t going to make the trip back. I tried to make it as quick and as painless as I could. I tried-” Crawford drifted off.

“It’s okay, Will. You did the right thing,” said Elizabeth as she ran her hands through his hair.

“I killed him,” responded Crawford. “I killed him.”

“It was an act of mercy,” soothed Elizabeth. “You didn’t want him to suffer.”

Crawford reached up and stilled her hand. “Don’t kid yourself. I’m not a saint. I’m just a man, luv. I can tell myself that killing Harrhas was about mercy. But, Parker, that was about revenge plain and simple.”

“Are you telling me that you…you killed Parker?” asked Elizabeth her stomach churning and her heart racing.

“Yes,” said Crawford.

“How?” asked Elizabeth as she choked back a sob. “Why?”

“Why? I can believe you would ask that. I made it quick. It’s done, he’s gone, buried in the desert,” said Crawford. “I want you to know, I’m not proud of what I did. I’d do it again though, Elizabeth. I’d do it again in an instant. He never should have touched you.”

Elizabeth didn’t quite know what to think. She felt suddenly trapped. Crawford reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and she flinched.

“You pulled away,” he said, his voice cracking from emotion.

“I didn’t mean to,” she said, trembling almost uncontrollably. “Its, its just too much. I don’t- I can’t- I need air!”

Elizabeth scooted away from him, out of reach. Mindless of her condition, she climbed to her feet and stumbled towards the tents entrance.

“Let me get you a robe, luv. You’re not dressed. I’ll take you out for some air,” offered Crawford said, resisting the impulse to stop her.

Elizabeth looked down, unable to see herself in the darkness of the tent. Suddenly it felt as if the earth was shifting beneath her feet and she was falling.

Crawford jumped to his feet and as soon as she started to sway he was there, to catch her. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around his neck. He carried her back over to the pallet and dropped to his knees before moving into a sitting position. “I’ve got you, luv,” said Crawford as he held her in his lap and rocked her back and forth.

“It could have been you that was killed today, Will,” said Elizabeth, holding on to him tightly as she started to cry again.

“I know, but it wasn’t. I’m right here,” he said his eyes again brimming with tears.

“Please don’t die on me, Will! Please! Was it only a couple days ago you were saying you had never been so happy? How did everything change so fast?” whispered Elizabeth. “I want that other life back! How did everything go so wrong so fast?”

“Oh, sweetheart! Fact of the matter is…most times, life isn't bliss. Life is just this. It's living,” said Crawford. “One thing I know for certain, is that I want to spend my life with you. I’m going to insist that you go back to America, luv. There’s going to continue to be danger here. Death and destruction is all a part of war. There’ll be no avoiding it,” said Crawford.

“You don’t want me anymore? Because of what happened you don’t want me anymore?” she asked.

“No! It’s not that. It’s just the opposite, Elizabeth,” said Crawford as he kissed her on the head. “I just need to know you’re safe, out of danger. That you’re there to come home to.”

Crawford leaned forward and captured her lips in a tender kiss. He then lowered her back onto the pallet and carefully molded his body to hers in a protective embrace.

“I love you,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ll love you forever.”

“I love you too, Will,” she responded. “But, I’m not leaving you. You’re stuck with me.”

Crawford kissed her forehead, “Stubborn chit, always giving me a hard time.”

Elizabeth smiled as she snuggled closer to him. Within seconds she had drifted off to sleep, secure in her lovers arms.

Crawford continued to stare into the darkness long after. He listened to the sounds of her steady breathing and tried to memorize the feel of her body, as it felt pressed up against his. “You have to go on living,” he whispered to her in the darkness, hoping that one day she would understand and forgive him. “You have to so one of us is living. If we’re lucky we’ll both make it. But, if it’s going to be just one of us that does, I want that to be you.”

Chapter 33

Elizabeth poured herself a steaming cup of coffee and tightened the sash of her robe. There was a distinct chill in her brownstone this morning. Although it was always cold in Boston by this time of year, on this particular morning it seemed more pronounced. She took a sip of coffee and peered outside. In the light of the early morning she could see that the snow was coming down heavy again. She was glad that she wouldn’t have to make her way to campus.

Elizabeth opened the front door and leaned down to pick up her morning paper. Since returning from Arabia she had begun to take the paper both in the morning and at night. This morning’s headline read: Kaiser Wilhelm II Abdicates

She stared at the date, November 9, 1918. She had been back for over a year. It had been over a year since she had seen him. Oh, there had been news along the way, bits and pieces here and there. But not even his superiors knew exactly where he was most of the time.

Elizabeth placed the newspaper on top of the others that she had saved. Any day now, the war would be over. Any day now, she prayed he would be at last safe. She flipped through the stack of papers, glancing at the headlines:

September 29, 1918: Bulgaria Concludes Armistice Negotiations

October 4, 1918: Germany/Austria Send Peace Notes to the US Wilson Requests Armistice

October 21, 1918: Germany Ceases Unrestricted Submarine Warfare

October 30, 1918: Turkey Concludes Armistice with the Allies

November 3, 1918: Austria-Hungary Concludes Armistice

She walked back into the kitchen to refill her coffee. As she stirred in the cream her mind wandered, searching for a comforting memory. She was doing that more and more these days. Spending stretches of time in the past. There was a part of her that was afraid that if she didn’t continue, that soon she would forget, forget what he smelled like, looked like, felt like. And she didn’t want to forget. She reached for the bottle of scotch that sat on her kitchen counter. She uncorked it, lifted the bottle to her nose and inhaled.

She closed her eyes and conjured up the image of the night they spent together before the capture of Acaba. The journey there had been long and arduous. The element of complete surprise was on their side and that night they knew without a doubt that the following morning Acaba would be theirs.

After the incident with Parker and prior to that night, their lovemaking had been strained, perhaps for a variety of reasons. As they traveled sleep was minimal as was privacy. But more than that, William had been unusually restrained, his touch tentative and uncertain. The change in his behavior had made her feel more and more undesirable, more and more uncertain, more and more unloved.

As she tried to fall asleep that night she found that she just couldn’t. They would be moving into battle in the morning and there was a chance that one of them, or both of them wouldn’t make it. Too much had been left unsaid over the past few weeks. In those early days of their relationship they had been so open with one another, the connection passionate and immediate. But now it seemed that they were separated by a chasm and she didn’t know how to breech it. How to reach out to him and recapture the intimacy, the fire that she so desperately missed.

She left their bed that night, searched through his saddlebag until she found his bottle of scotch, and walked out into the desert. That’s how he found her. Alone, sitting in the sand, sipping on his scotch.

“You’re drinking?” he asked.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes at him and tilted the bottle to her lips.

“Why?” he asked, obviously concerned as he sat down alongside of her.

“I’m trying to forget,” said Elizabeth, quietly as she looked away from him.

“It’s just going to take time, luv. What Parker did-” began Crawford.

Elizabeth turned back towards him and looking directly at him said, “Not Parker, you.”

“Me?” repeated Crawford, stunned.

“Yes, you,” she said as she tilted the bottle again to her lips. “Trying to forget that you used to make me happy. Trying to forget how good it was.”

“Christ, Elizabeth. I’m doing the best I can here. I can’t do this any better. I’m holding back as much as I can, trying to give you space, trying to be tender and careful. Trying to-” he started to explain.

“Oh! You’re so stupid!” she said, angrily as she shoved him before climbing to her feet and stomping off.

Crawford jumped to his feet and followed her. He reached out and grabbed her wrist, the one that held the bottle. “I think you’ve had enough,” he said as he reached for the bottle.

“I’ve only had a sip! Or, six!” she said, struggling to wrench her wrist from his grasp. “You’re hurting me!”

Crawford quickly released her wrist. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not, it was the first time you’ve touched me and meant it in weeks,” she said.

“What do you want from me!” he said as he grasped her shoulders and shook her. His eyes widened in shock as he realized what he was doing and he released her. He stepped away from her and turned around. He was breathing rapidly, and closed his eyes, trying to restrain himself. His nerves were frayed and he was tired, so tired. Tired of fighting, tired of holding back.

“Don’t turn away from me, Will,” she said as she walked around him and faced him.

He looked at her and she saw it in his eyes, “You’re afraid.”

Crawford snickered. “Bloody terrified is more like it!” he said as he began to pace.

“Of what?” asked Elizabeth.

“Hurting you! Losing you! Losing what we have! Losing myself!” he muttered under his breath.

“Hurting me how? During sex?” she asked.

“No,” he muttered staring at the ground. “Worse.”

“Worse?” she asked, feeling suddenly sick to her stomach. Elizabeth waited.

He looked up at her and looking at her steadily said, “I’m going to send you away. After Acaba you and I are going to make the journey back to Cairo, together, just the two of us. We’ll report in to Travers, and then we’re going to say goodbye.”

“What? No!” said Elizabeth as she reached for his hand.

“Yes,” said Crawford, resigned. “I’ve made a commitment to Hassan, a year of service. It’s going to be dangerous and I don’t want you there. I don’t want you in the line of fire. I don’t want you to see…I-I can’t do this…” he drifted off.

Elizabeth squeezed his hand and swallowed, “Go on.”

“I don’t want you to see what I’m going to have to do, what I’m going to have to become to survive,” he said. “I don’t want you to see all of the death, the killing. It’ll change you. It’ll change the way you look at me. God knows it’s changed me. You’ve changed me. You’ve made me feel and now it’s all so bloody hard!”

“There’s always casualties in a war,” said Elizabeth, softly. “I know that.”

“Casualties… it just sounds so casual,” responded Crawford. “These are men. Some I’ll get killed. Normally I’d cut myself off from them, all of them. Knowing that I’m going to lose some of them. It’s how I’ve handled things. I’ve always cut myself off. I’ve always… being a soldier it’s necessary it’s-”

“Oh, you’re insufferable. You think I don’t understand? I’ve seen things! And, I see you. If there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s you,” said Elizabeth.

Crawford shook his head and said, “You don’t know me.”

“Hey, look at me,” she said as she reached up and caressed the side of his face. “I’m not asking you for anything. When I say I love you, it’s not because I want you, or because I can’t really have you. It has nothing to do with me. I love what you are, what you do, how you try. I’ve seen your kindness and your strength. I’ve seen the best and the worst of you and I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are. You are a hell of a man. You’re the one, Will. Tomorrow you’ll lead us to victory. Then we’ll go to Cairo, just like you said, just the two of us. We’ll report in to Travers…”

Crawford took her face in his hands and leaned down, resting his forehead against hers. He sniffed, swallowed down the lump in his throat and quietly confessed, “I don’t want to be the one.”

“Well, I don’t want to be so smart and pretty, but we all have crosses to bare,” she said with a smile.

“I’m ready for a normal life. I want a normal life. It’s so close within my reach I feel I can taste it,” he explained.” For the first time I believe it might happen and the fact that this chance could just slip through my fingers…that I could lose you-”

“You’re not going to lose me,” assured Elizabeth. “But you’ve got to promise not to shut me out. I understand that you want to see me back safely in the States. I get that. And, if you end up convincing Traver’s to send me back, I’ll go, obviously, I’ll have no choice. But until then, I need you, all of you. Please, Will.”

Crawford nodded, “I need you, too. I’m sorry. I’m not very good at this.”

“I’m not an expert either,” she said pulling back slightly and looking up into his eyes.

“You won’t fight it?” he asked. “If Traver’s discharges you?”

“I won’t fight it. I’ll abide by his decision,” said Elizabeth. “But I have one condition. A point on which I’m not willing to negotiate.”

“What’s that?” asked Crawford.

“You. You have to come home to me,” said Elizabeth as she dropped the bottle of scotch and crushed her lips to his in a heated kiss. He gasped in surprise and she slipped her tongue inside his mouth, exploring the familiar territory with new abandon. Crawford wrapped his arms around her and pulled her flush to him. Elizabeth could feel it as his body started to respond to hers and she pressed into him rubbing up against his erection.

That night they had set things right. They had recaptured the passion that had initially drawn them together. But more importantly their union had created….Hope.

“Hi, honey! I’m home!” he called as he closed the front door.

Startled, Elizabeth let the bottle slip from her hands. She bent down to begin to pick up the broken pieces and inadvertently cut her palm on a section of broken glass.

“Are you alright?” asked Ahmed as he brushed the snow from the shoulders of his overcoat. “I heard a crash.”

“You startled me,” said Elizabeth from her position on the floor.

Ahmed crouched down, took her hand in his, and examined the cut. “You’re cut. Were you drinking?” he asked as he looked at the shattered bottle on the floor.

“No,” she said quietly. “Well, yes, coffee,” she said nodding to the coffee cup that was on the counter. “I just knocked over the bottle. You know I don’t drink.”

“I’ll get the first aid kit from the bathroom and bandage that up. Just…sit. Stay away from the glass,” said Ahmed. “They say that the storm’s going to get worse as the day goes on. I’m going to run to the grocery store. Anything you’d like me to pick up?”

“No,” answered Elizabeth as she stared at the spilt contents on the floor. “Thanks.”

Chapter 34

Crawford sat at the bar at the officers club in Cairo. He had arrived just last night, summoned by Travers. He tilted the crystal tumbler and studied the amber liquid there before raising the glass slowly to his lips and taking a sip.

He closed his eyes and remembered his last meeting with Travers. It had occurred here, in this very bar over a year ago.

He and Elizabeth had arrived in Cairo after weeks of traveling by camel through the desert. He walked with her into the bar and ordered two glasses of lemonade. Heads turned and eyebrows were raised from the mere presence of a woman in the club. Initially the barkeep refused to serve her. After one look from him he smartly changed his mind. The news of their arrival reached Travers quickly and he managed to make his way to the bar before they finished their second glass.

“Lieutenant Crawford,” said Travers in greeting as he approached their table.

“General Travers,” responded Crawford with a curt not before bringing the glass once again to his lips.

“It’s customary to report in at headquarters before retiring to the bar,” admonished the General as he pulled out a chair and sat down. “I see that you and Miss Giles found one another. Any success?”

“It’s Mrs. Crawford. And, yes. Acaba is ours. We crossed the desert and took it by land in a surprise attack. It’s under the control of the Bedu and Hassimi. I had to make some promises to get it done. I’ll go over those with you later. It’s been a long journey. Right now we’d like to retire,” said Crawford as he reached for Elizabeth’s hand.

The General’s eyes widened as he scooted back his chair. He looked at Crawford with concern and then slightly alarmed cleared his throat, leaned towards Elizabeth and began to say, “My dear, how long-”

“Not long, we’re still newlywed,” she said interrupting him.

“You mean it’s true?” gasped Travers.

“What part didn’t you believe?” asked Crawford.

“Acaba?” asked Travers.

“It is what you sent us to do, isn’t it?” asked Elizabeth, puzzled.

“Well, yes!” answered Travers.

“We’d like a room. The nicest you can find,” said Crawford. “One with a big bed and a hot bath. Oh, and if you’d be so kind as to arrange for dinner?”

“Anything else you’d like at the moment, Lieutenant?” asked Travers, clearly stunned.

“Yes, I’ll take a bottle of single malt scotch. Point us in the direction of our room and we’ll be out of your hair for a bit. I’ll report in officially tomorrow. But, meanwhile, I’d start mobilizing,” said Crawford as he rose to his feet.

Crawford waved the barkeep over and requested a refill. After getting his second drink he made his way over to the quiet table in the back corner where he had held his last late-night meeting with Travers.

“Do you mind telling me what I’m doing here in the middle of the night? I thought you and the Mrs. were taking the night off,” said Travers as he walked up to the table and sat down.

“Elizabeth is fast asleep. She’s what I want to discuss, actually,” said Crawford staring into his glass. He looked up at the General and said, “Now, you know, and I know, that I’m already married.”

“But she doesn’t,” said Travers. “You really are a scoundrel, William. You have no idea the problems this is going to cause.”

Crawford stared into his glass and smiled. “I’m your bloody hero. You’ll find a way to forgive me. I’ve gotten you Acaba, haven’t I? And I’ll do more. I need munitions and money, a lot of money. I’ll go back out there. I agreed to help lead the sabotage efforts. The people trust me and respect me. They’ll follow me.”

“What about Elizabeth?” asked Travers, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“She’s completed her mission. She’s served her purpose,” said Crawford as he chewed on a piece of ice.

“You’re done with her? Tired of her? Is that it?” asked Travers as he waved down a waiter and ordered himself a drink.

Crawford set his drink down on the table and leaned back in his chair. For several moments he said nothing. The waiter appeared and served the General his drink. Crawford pulled two letters from his pocket and slid the first one slowly across the table.

“Here is a list of what I need, what I’ve promised in exchange for Acaba. There are instructions as to where to deliver the items and the money,” he said.

Travers accepted the letter and put it in his pocket.

“This one is for Elizabeth,” he said, as he handed the letter to Travers. “You are to give it to her in the morning.”

“No,” said Travers as he laid the letter on the table and slid it back towards him. “This isn’t like when you were a boy and convinced me to tell you father that you broke the dining room window with that ball. You’re a man, William. You need to clean up your own mistakes.”

Crawford smiled, placed his hand over the envelope, and slid it back towards the General, “Godfather, she wasn’t a mistake. And, neither is the child that she’s carrying. I didn’t trick her. She knew about Drusilla. She knew about the risks of pregnancy and she chose to take them. I need to know that Elizabeth and the child are safe and that they are taken care of. There are instructions for my solicitor in there. Make sure that she gets them. Don’t say anything to her about the child. She’s not much more than a child herself and I’m not certain she knows yet.”

“How?” asked Travers.

Crawford raised his eyebrow and smirked.

“Well, of course I know how-” blustered Travers.

“I can count, you know. I’m not a complete git. It’s not the first time, I’ve managed to impregnate a woman, I remember the signs,” said Crawford, feeling only slightly guilty from the deception. The truth was he knew nothing of the sort. Elizabeth had had her last menstrual period during their journey from Cairo. He had no idea whether she was pregnant. What he did know was that with that knowledge, his godfather would ensure her return to the States.

Travers picked up the letter and turned it over in his hands. “When will you be leaving?”

“Now,” said Crawford as he finished his drink and placed the glass on the table. “I’ve got to go now.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being a complete bastard or if you actually love her,” said Travers as he stood up.

“You can’t?” asked Crawford as he patted the General on the back. “Good! Seems I’ve managed to recapture my edge,” he said with a wink as he picked up the General’s glass and drained it, “the ability to always keep them guessing. That and my superior intellect, rakish good looks and devastating charm…gets them every time.”

Crawford sat the empty glass down on the table, rotated his neck and shoulders in an attempt to release some tension and then turned towards the exit and walked silently away, a bit astounded at how easily he had slipped back into his well-worn persona.

Travers watched as his godson walked out of the Officers’ Club and into the night. As he turned the letter over in his hands he said a silent prayer, a prayer for the woman upstairs in the guest quarters and a prayer for the man that was leaving her, and a part of himself behind.

As Travers stared at his godson’s back he breathed a sigh of relief. At least he was physically safe. He took a deep breath to ready himself and then approached him.

“Major Crawford,” he said.

Crawford looked up and stood to acknowledge the General.

“Please, sit. This is a personal meeting,” he said as he pulled out a chair.

“I’m afraid I have news, about your wife-” began Travers.

“Elizabeth? Is she alright?” asked Crawford obviously shaken and concerned.

“No,” said Travers patiently. “Drusilla. Remember Drusilla?”

“Of course I bloody well remember Drusilla. I haven’t gone daft,” said Crawford.

“Well, you could fool me. I don’t know what kind of pagan ceremony you went through to convince Elizabeth to…but it’s not going to fly. You can’t have two wives, William. It’s simply not done. Although I suppose that’s all being sorted now-” said Travers.

“What do you mean?” asked William as he leaned forward in his chair, trying to contain the sense of alarm that he was feeling.

Chapter 35

It was Wednesday, November 27th. Crawford stood up as the train pulled into the station. He was filled with a nervous excitement as he realized that he was on the last leg of this long trip. As the train came to a stop he quickly reached for his bag and disembarked. He still wore his uniform and overcoat. Officially he was on leave, but soon he would be a civilian again.

As the British soldier stepped off the train that had carried him from New York to Boston he took a moment to take in his surroundings. The sky was gray and there were patches of snow and ice all about the well-worn area. As he exhaled he could see his breath. He pulled the collar up on his overcoat and made his way diagonally across the tracks of Boston’s famous South Station. As he entered the Headhouse he noticed immediately the grandeur of the gothic architecture. The five-story building with its huge archways and glass-canopied trainshed was a modern architectural marvel. Crawford spotted a shoeshine stand over in one corner that was manned by a gentleman and three young boys.

“Excuse me, mate. I need to get over to Birch Street. Can you tell me where I can find a taxi?” he asked.

“Oh, you don’t have to take a taxi. The EL is right through those doors there,” said the man pointing straight ahead. “It’s much cheaper and it’ll get you there faster. Get off at Tremont, Birch is only three blocks east of that stop.”

“The EL?” asked Crawford.

“The Elevated Railway. Runs on electric,” answered the man. “Right through there,” he said again, pointing.

Crawford walked out of the station and looked skeptically at the railway tracks that were suspended in the air above and in front of him. “Come on mate, you can find your way from Acaba to Cairo with nothing but a compass, surely you can get yourself to Birch Street,” he said as he crossed the street and made his way towards the train.

About an hour and several wrong turns later Crawford had managed to make his way through the busy winding streets and to find the one he was searching for. As he saw the street sign he smiled. He turned left and immediately began searching for the house numbers…2022, 2024...2026. His smile broadened as he confirmed he was heading in the right direction. It was late mid afternoon and the overcast sky made it seem even later than it was. He looked up the street, lined on both sides by old birch trees. He pictured them in summer, imagining how they would look and then in fall, when they would be filled with vibrant color and wondered which house was hers…theirs…their home.

As he walked, the snow crunching under his feet, he noticed a small church and adjacent to it a cemetery across the street. He was drawn to it and paused to look at the old headstones through the iron gate. He remembered back a couple weeks, when he stood in a similar cemetery adjacent to his family home.

He stared at the words on the headstone. Under the year of her birth and death he had simply written: Drusilla Crawford. Beloved. For so many years she had suffered, and those that she loved along with her. It had been so long since she had been a sister, or a daughter, or a wife. But they loved her nonetheless. He loved the memory of her. The way she used to be…before.

When Travers told him of the fire at Bedlam that had taken her life he had felt…relief. It was over. For years she had been trying to take her own life, as if martyring herself would make everything right again. He pulled the rumpled sheet of paper from his pocket that she had sent to his apartment just a week before her death and once again read her words.

My Dearest William,
I dreamt of you. You were on a beach. There was a woman with you. You were happy. I’d almost forgotten how you look when you’re happy. She was beautiful, golden like the sun. She had daisies in her hair. I plant them here, but they always die. Everything I plant in the ground withers and dies.
William? I’m cold. I’ve spent so many years in this room, looking out at iron gates. But now, as I look outside at the morning sun coming up over the horizon I feel for the first time in ages the warm glow of hope. The angels spoke to me when I woke and promised me that this suffering will be over soon. I have served my penance for my sins and will at last be released into the Kingdom of Heaven. I am sorry that so much of your life has been stolen from you. Stolen by me. Stolen because of your sense of duty.
Once upon a time I chose the wisest and bravest knight in all the land – and I made him mine forever with a kiss. But the fairytale became a tragedy, forever didn’t last and you were never really meant to be mine. Find happiness my sweet. And, plant daisies for me. I long for daisies.
Drusilla.

Crawford leaned over and placed the bouquet of Daisies on top of her headstone. They had been hard to come by this time of year, but he had managed. He took out a box of matches and struck one. The flame flickered in the breeze as he held it up to the letter. The parchment caught quickly, however, and he stared at it as the fire spread, devouring her words and turning them to ash. He placed the flaming letter atop of the headstone next to the Daisies and waited until there was nothing left, nothing but a few cinders, which he watched, blow away and catch on the breeze. As they floated up towards the sky past the branches of the dormant trees, he prayed that there was a heaven and that Drusilla had found it.

“Would you like a paper, sir?” asked the small boy in front of him.

Crawford blinked and looking down said, “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked if you’d like a copy of the evening paper, Sir?” repeated the young lad.

“No, thanks. I believe my wife already takes the paper. I’m looking for number 2032, son. Can you tell me where that it?” he asked.

The boy looked mildly confused and repeated, “2032?”

“That’s right,” answered Crawford.

“That’d be that one, right there, but-” said the boy pointing across the street and two houses down.

“Thanks!” shouted Crawford as he raced across the street and up the steps of 2032.

As he lifted his hand to knock on the door the memory of their last night together raced through his mind. First he saw the image of her as she stepped into the bath. Then it was the shape of her arm as she lifted it up out of the water. The way that the candlelight made her golden skin gleam even more. He remembered the way that her hair looked fanned out on the pillow of the bed as he hovered over her, sliding in an out of her body, making love to her, worshiping her. He remembered how full and sweet her lips tasted and how her breath had smelled like the chocolate cake they had had for dessert. But most of all he remembered her last words before falling asleep and the promise he had made her in that letter.

“I don’t want this…us… to end. I love you, Will. I’ll see you in the morning,” she whispered.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said as he extinguished the light. “I love you too.”

But he didn’t sleep. He waited. He waited until she was fast asleep and it was well past midnight. Then he climbed out of bed, dressed, and made his way over to the desk, which was situated by the window. He pulled out a sheet of paper from the top drawer and wrote the last of the two letters that he needed. The one he didn’t know how to write. He looked at her sleeping peacefully, and a heavy sigh escaped his lips. He then focused on the paper before him and by the light of the moon wrote:

My Darling Wife,
It is early morning and you look beautiful. You are sleeping soundly, peacefully, bathed in moonlight. I will forever remember how you looked before drifting off tonight. I have never seen you appear so sated. Perhaps it was the chocolate cake and the wine, but I prefer to think it had something to do with me, and that at least I have left you well loved. I am certain that you will be quite cross when you waken to find me gone. If you are reading this, then I managed to convince Travers and I have returned to the field knowing that you will soon be back in the States and safe. Have no doubt, luv. I intend to keep up my end of the bargain. Believe in me, Elizabeth. I will fight my damnedest to win the bloody war. I will live through this. And we will be together again. You are home to me now. I will come back to you.
Faithfully yours,
Now and forever…..William

Chapter 36

Special Agent Riley Finn stood at the back of the class and watched as Elizabeth stood and announced, “I’m afraid that is time! Please pass your papers to the left and then forward. I wish you all a very happy Thanksgiving.”

He watched the flurry of papers make their was across and then down the rows. He moved out of the way as students began to file through the doors, ready to escape for the Thanksgiving holiday. As soon as the aisle was clear he made his way down the steps of the large lecture hall and approached the petite blond.

“Good afternoon Mrs.-” he began.

“I thought I told you to call me Elizabeth,” she said with a bright smile.

“You’re only being nice to me because I agreed to do you a favor!” he admonished shaking a finger at her. “You know, my mother warned me about girls like you; fiery temper one minute sweet as-”

“Are you suggesting that I’m moody Agent Finn?” gasped Elizabeth her lips forming into a pout, her eyes wide and innocent.

“Does your husband know that you flirt to manipulate and get your way?” asked Finn.

“Oh! My, yes! And he finds it quite vexing, I assure you. You were much easier before you were married, by the way,” she said leaning back in her chair and tapping her chin with her pencil. “I’m not sure I could convince you to help me now. How is…Samantha is it?”

“She’s fine, thanks. And, I’ve managed to do as you’ve asked,” said Finn reaching into his pocket.

Elizabeth sat up straight in her chair and excitedly said, “You know where he is? Is he okay? Tell me!”

“I was actually talking about the other favor,” he said pulling a set of documents from his pocket and handing them to her. “But with the war over I should be able to get news soon.”

“The citizenship papers for Ahmed,” said Elizabeth as she looked them over. “Thank you. This means a lot…to both of us.”

“You’re welcome. How is Ahmed?” asked Finn.

“Good!” said Elizabeth. “Very good, in fact. He’s been working over at McLean Hospital.”

“I thought he was at Massachusetts General?” asked Finn.

“McLean is their psychiatric facility, it’s just outside of Boston,” said Elizabeth.

“I know about McLean, that’s where the rich people go to play tennis, ride horses and eat food the rest of us can’t afford,” said Finn with a fair measure of distain.

“You’re sounding like him!” said Elizabeth, laughing. “He’s afraid that the patients there are too comfortable and that they have little motivation to get well. But change is hard, and he has little influence there. In all honestly, he would prefer to be over at the Boston Psychopathic Hospital, working with the indigent. He’s doing some volunteer work over there, using psychoanalytic techniques. The medical school here is actually considering his proposal to fund a research project. He should hear any day now.”

“Wish him luck!” said Finn. “It was nice seeing you again.”

“Good to see you, too,” said Elizabeth. “And, I mean that. I really appreciate your help. You’ve been…great. Really, great.”

“Look, I know someone who knows someone, I’ll see what I can find out. I know that he’s out of Arabia. He spent some time back in England, maybe a few days, then left for France with sealed orders from Travers. I just don’t have the clearance to nose around any more. You’re still listed as his next of kin. He requested that change over a year ago and it stands. If he was injured or killed they’d contact you,” offered Finn.

“Thanks,” said Elizabeth, giving him a watery smile and wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “Let me know if you hear anything more?”

“Sure,” said Riley, leaning over and offering his hand. “Look, maybe I’ll be back with news soon.”

“For Christmas maybe? Put in a good word for me with Santa, will you?” asked Elizabeth as she walked around her desk and embraced him.

“Absolutely!” said Finn. “ Absolutely!”

Chapter 37

Crawford knocked on the door and waited. He held his breath as he heard someone approach and watched the doorknob turn. The heavy wooden door swung open to reveal a tall dark haired woman with delicate features, soulful brown eyes, and slightly protruding belly.

“Yes?” she asked.

Crawford wrinkled his forehead as he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the scrap of paper that had the address written on it. He glanced at it and then at the house number next to the door, “Sorry, I guess this is the wrong address. This is Birch Street, right?”

Her hand flew up to her mouth and she gasped, “Oh! Dear Lord!”

Crawford raised his eyebrow obviously surprised at her reaction.

“Your accent! You’re British,” she said.

He smirked and responded, “That I am. I’m looking-”

“For Elizabeth,” she finished. “You’re him. Oh my, she’s going to faint dead away. Come in, come in!”

The woman stepped aside and swept out her arm, inviting him into the two-story brownstone.

“I’m Janna,” she said.

“Unusual name,” said Crawford as he watched her close the door.

“My family emigrated from Romania back in 1905, it’s quite common, really, amongst the Kalderash,” explained Janna.

“Is Elizabeth here?” he asked looking round.

“No, she’s at School. She’s teaching again over at Harvard. What am I thinking? Set down your bag and let me take your coat,” said Janna.

“Are you roommates?” he asked as he handed her the coat.

“What? No!” she said as she hung it on the coat rack that was there in the foyer. “I live next door. We’re friends and I’ve been babysitting for her since she’s started teaching again. I’ll have my own little one here soon,” she said patting the swell in her tummy. “I’m sure the two of them will be fast friends. Come into the living room?”

Crawford’s head was spinning as he followed her into the next room. The walls were painted a soft cream color. There was a large Persian carpet covering the dark hardwood floors that reminded him of the exotic richly colored carpets of Arabia. On the far wall was a rather large fireplace where there was already a roaring fire crackling inside. The walls on either side of the fireplace were lined with floor to ceiling built in bookcases, stocked with all kinds of books. There were two brown leather sofas sitting perpendicular to the fireplace with a square coffee table in between.

“Did you say-” he started to ask.

“Hi, Honey! I’m home!” he heard a familiar voice shout.

He turned around swiftly. It seemed, suddenly, as if everything slowed down. He watched as Ahmed walked into the room. As their eyes met he felt the bottom of his stomach drop out.

“Goodness! William! Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?” asked Ahmed as he walked over to him and extended his hand.

Crawford automatically returned the handshake. “I-” he started to say, looking around the room and feeling the need to escape.

“Won’t Elizabeth be surprised!” said Ahmed walking over to the table under the window that held some crystal glasses and a small array of liquor bottles. “Let’s have a toast!” he suggested as he poured two fingers of scotch out for each of them. “To your safe return!” he said as he handed William a glass and raised his.

Crawford raised his glass and said, “Cheers,” before taking a sip.

The brief silence was interrupted by the sound of an infant crying. Crawford turned his head in the direction of the sound. The scotch tasted bitter in his mouth and he struggled to swallow it. He realized that Janna had said something, but he had no idea what it was. She left the room and he watched as Ahmed settled himself comfortably on one of the sofas.

“Sit, William!” said Ahmed.

Crawford’s jaw was clenched so tight it hurt. He was filled with resentment. “Too late, too late,” he thought as instead of sitting he walked over to the window and glanced out. “So, you got lucky after all,” he said staring into the bottom of his glass. “Looks like you’re a family man again. Got to say, I didn’t expect this. Never saw it coming. Don’t know why…” he said quietly.

“I’ve got so much to tell you and so many questions,” began Ahmed. “But, what am I thinking? You must meet Hope! She’s simply beautiful, William.”

Without waiting for a response Ahmed stood up and walked out of the room. “Come on!” he shouted as he started to climb the stairs two at a time.

“Bloody, hell!” murmured Crawford as he quickly downed the drink and followed him. As he reached the foot of the stairs he glanced back at his overcoat that hung from the coat rack in the foyer.

“She’s the spitting image of her mother!” said Ahmed enthusiastically.

Crawford swallowed and slowly climbed the stairs, trying to prepare himself. He felt as if his heart was breaking. Everything, everything was lost and now belonged to another man. He may have beaten Ahmed on that morning back in Arabia, but Ahmed had been the final victor. He had never felt so alone, so empty.

“Daddy’s home! Yes, he is!” he heard Janna say as she finished changing the baby.

Crawford closed his eyes and tried to remember to breathe. He walked over to the crib and ran his hands along the rail. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Ahmed walked over towards the child and bent down to pick her up. He couldn’t bear to look. He turned around and picked up the small silver rattle that lay inside the crib next to the soft yellow blanket. “I can’t believe that in just a few months we’re going to have one of our own!” said Ahmed.

Crawford turned the rattle over in his hands and noticed the engraving. Hope Giles Crawford March 29, 1918 it said. The words that Ahmed had spoken slowly sank into his head. He turned around and looked at him.

“Are you alright? You look pale all of a sudden?” asked Ahmed, concerned.

Crawford looked down at the rattle in his hand to again read the words. But he couldn’t quite make them out; his eyes were blurry, clouded by tears that threatened to spill over. A laugh escaped his lips.

“He’s probably just a bit shocked, dear. You didn’t expect this, did you?” she said walking over to him.

Crawford shook his head, unable to say anything. Tremendous relief and surprise washed over him. He stared down at his daughter who was resting comfortably on Janna’s hip for the first time and he was flooded with unfamiliar emotions.

“Here,” said Janna as she handed the tiny creature to him. “She’ll be eight months the day after tomorrow.”

“She’s beautiful,” choked out Crawford as tears of joy began to roll down his cheeks. Crawford held her close to his chest, feeling the warmth of her little body as she snuggled against him. “And she’s mine!” he said with a tinge of disbelief. He lifted her high into the air so that he could study her. “Look at you!” said Crawford in awe as he smiled up at her full of pride. “You’re beautiful!”

“Da!” squealed Hope.

“And she’s smart, too! Did you hear that? She called me Da!” he said as he lowered her so that she could settle back onto his hip.

Ahmed laughed, “Hate to disappoint you, buddy, but she’s been saying Da and Ba pretty much non-stop for a couple weeks now. Haven’t you Hope?”

The little girl with the big green eyes turned towards Ahmed and began to babble, “Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba.”

Crawford walked over to the rocking chair that sat in the corner and sat down, resting Hope in his lap. “Do you…would you mind leaving us alone for a bit?”

“Not at all, my friend. This is your home after all,” said Ahmed.

“Home,” repeated Crawford as he ran his hand tenderly over the fine blonde strands on Hopes head. “How long until Elizabeth returns?”

Ahmed pulled his pocket watch out and checked the time. “You’ve got about two hours. Do you want to rest a bit? I can show you to her room. Well, your room.”

“No. I couldn’t possibly,” answered Crawford.

“William,” began Janna, “we were to have dinner together tonight. I’ve got a chicken ready to pop in the oven. I can whip up some mashed potatoes, and there are carrots. It won’t take me long. Hopes food is already prepared, it’s in the Frigidaire and there’s a bottle. She should eat soon.”

“The what?” asked Crawford.

“It’s a new kind of icebox,” explained Ahmed.

“Oh, don’t worry about us, I’ll manage to find what I need. ” said William as he began to rock Hope in the chair. “Really, we’ll be fine. Won’t we little one?”

“Come on, Janna, lets head home. William, we’re just next door if you need anything. The brownstone to the left,” he said as he wrapped his arm around his wife’s waist and led her out the door.

As soon as they were alone, Crawford sighed. He closed his eyes, held his daughter fast to his chest and quietly wept.

Janna and Ahmed turned towards one another. Ahmed took his wife into his arms and said, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” responded Janna as she was released from the hug and began to walk down the stairs in front of her husband. “I’m so happy for them,” she added as she wiped at the tears of joy that began to roll down her cheeks.

“You’re not crying again, are you?” asked Ahmed.

“Hush! I saw you mist over in there too!” admonished Janna.

“Did not!” exclaimed Ahmed.

“Right!” said Janna rolling her eyes as she slipped her coat on.

“I didn’t!” insisted Ahmed.

Janna placed both hands on her hips and glared at him. “Okay!” he said holding up his hands in surrender. “I might have gotten slightly misty…I’ll give you that,” conceded Ahmed as he grabbed his coat, opened the door, and ushered his wife out.

It was some time before Crawford collected himself. As he wiped the tears from his face he shook his head and said, “I wasn’t any more prepared for you than I was for your Mum. She took me by surprise too, you know, Poppet,” said Crawford as he stood up. “Care to show your Da around the house?”

Hope looked up at him, reached out, grabbed his nose and laughed. Crawford removed her hand from his nose gently. He looked down and carefully examined her tiny hands as her fingers curled around his. He raised her hand to his lips and kissing it softly asked, “Do you believe in love at first sight, Hope? I’ll make you a deal. You help me with dinner and I’ll tell you a story.”

Chapter 38

After spending some time just wandering through the house Crawford took his daughter to the kitchen in search of the icebox. He found a feeding bottle filled with breast milk, which he began to warm on the stovetop. He also discovered a small plate of mashed apples and bananas and some pureed peas.

“Okay!” he said as he placed the plate on the table. “While your drink is heating up, let’s get one for Da, shall we?”

Hope squealed and bounced up and down on his hip, “Da! Da-da-da,” she said excitedly.

As he walked into the living room and poured himself another scotch he chuckled and shaking his head said, “Bloody flirt! Just like your Mum. You’re gonna have me wrapped around that tiny finger of yours in no time flat, aren’t you?”

Hope began to fuss a bit. “Dinner is almost ready Poppet,” he soothed. As he started to walk back to the kitchen he noticed a gramophone over in the corner. Sitting on it was the 78rpm recording of "Rock-A-Bye Your Baby With a Dixie Melody" by Al Jolson, Crawford began to play the record. “Maybe this will help?” Mammy mine, your little rolling stone that rolled away, rolled away,

Mammy mine, your rolling stone is rolling home today, there to stay!

I want to see your smiling face, smile a welcome smile,

I want to feel your fond embrace, listen, Mammy mine!

Rock-a-bye your baby with a Dixie melody,

When you croon, croon a little tune from the heart of Dixie!

Just hang that cradle, Mammy mine,

On the Mason-Dixon line,

And swing it from Virginia

To Tennessee with all the pull that's in ya…..

Hope began to cry more loudly. Crawford winced, “Can’t blame you,” he said. “It’s bloody awful it is.” Crawford turned the music off, picked up his drink and walked back to the kitchen. “Let’s see if your bottle’s ready. We’ll get you started on that, yeah? Tomorrow we’ll go in search of some good music. Your Mum may have good taste in men but her taste in music? Questionable.”

Crawford settled her into his lap and after testing the temperature of the milk began to feed Hope some of her bottle. Her crying ceased immediately as she latched on, taking strong pulls from the nipple. “Slow down there, little one!” chuckled Crawford. After she finished half he pulled the bottle from her mouth and walked over to the icebox.

“Let’s get the chicken in, shall we?” he asked as he sat her down on the floor. “Hmmmm, how about a blanket and your rattle. Floors a bit cold, isn’t it? Can’t have you getting sick. Mum would have my head! Have you ever seen her right-cross?” asked Crawford as he picked her up and swiftly carried her upstairs to get the quilt that he had seen in the bedroom and some toys.

Forty minutes later Crawford had managed to get the Chicken in the oven and was sitting in the kitchen feeding Hope as the potatoes and carrots boiled on top of the stove. He watched and grimaced as his daughter spit out the peas that he tried to feed her. As he refilled the spoon and tried again she reached out and pushed his hand away.

“Come on, Poppet, you need your vegetables,” he coaxed. He re-approached her and again was met with resistance. “Here,” he said, “how about a compromise?”

Crawford added some mashed apples onto the spoon and tried again. Hope opened her mouth like a little bird and happily gulped down the mixture. Crawford made a face, “That just can’t taste good together,” he said as he tried again for only the peas.

Hope persisted in pushing his hand away only this time she let out a frustrated whine.

“Stubborn!” he said as he added some mashed apples and watched as Hope opened her mouth wide in anticipation. Crawford laughed, “Seems we’ve got a system now, yeah?”

After watching her take several more bites he tired the combination himself, “Well! That’s not completely horrid, it is? It does get better, I assure you. By next Thanksgiving you’ll be feasting right along with the rest of us. I’ve never celebrated Thanksgiving before you know. It’s a Yank thing. This will be the first for both of us!” He picked Hope up, walked over to the kitchen sink and quickly rinsed off her plate.

“Maybe we should clean you up a bit?” he said as he wet a clean dishcloth with warm water and gently wiped clean her hands and face.

Crawford heard the front door open and then close with a loud bang. He heard the quick approach of footsteps, hard heels clicking rapidly on the hardwood floors. “Hey! Dinner smells great! Lady with a huge Turkey…coming through she said as she walked into the kitchen and set the Turkey on top of the counter.”

Crawford stood stock-still. The sink where he had been standing with Hope was along the same wall as the door and she had walked right past him in her haste to rid herself of the heavy parcel. He watched as she stepped away from the counter, pulled off her gloves and stuffed them into the pockets of her coat. “Whew!” she said, as she turned around. “We’ll be eating leftovers for-”

Her cheeks were flush from the cold. Her hair was up in a proper bun and not loosely framing her face, as he preferred, but she was even more beautiful than he remembered. He resisted the urge to run to her, to rip off her coat and let down her hair, to run his hands over every part of her, his mouth over every part of her. He could tell that she was in shock and he wanted desperately to do this right.

Elizabeth gasped as one hand flew to her mouth and the other reached out to grasp the counter top. As she turned around expecting to see Janna she instead saw the image of William, standing at the kitchen sink, holding Hope. She closed her eyes and swallowed, mentally chastising herself for indulging in fantasy. But when she opened her eyes again, he was still there. The image became fuzzy as the reality of him began to set in.

“Miss me, pet?” he asked, quietly.

Elizabeth took a tentative step towards him, and then another, and then another. She reached out, slowly with her hand, as if in a trance, letting it rest on his chest. He was solid. He was here. He was hers. “You’re really here,” she whispered as she looked up into his piercing blue eyes, the eyes that she dreamed about every night.

“I made a promise to lady,” he said, his voice strained from emotion. “Two it seems,” he added as he covered Elizabeth’s hand with his own and placed a small kiss on the top of Hope’s head.

Crawford released her hand and reached out to pull her towards him. Elizabeth wrapped her arms tightly around his waist and began to cry, “You’re home! You’re really home!”

“Yes, luv,” agreed Crawford as held his two girls in his arms and began to cry himself. “I’m home.”

Chapter 39

The sound of Hope beginning to cry forced the two lovers to collect themselves. Elizabeth pulled back and began to laugh, “It’s okay, sweetheart. Those were happy tears. You don’t need to join in,” she said as she reached for her daughter.

“No bloody way,” said Crawford turning so that Hope was a bit further from her reach. “You’ve had her for months. It’s my turn to wipe away her tears. How about you check the potatoes and carrots, and see if they’re done? I’m not giving her up until I’ve tucked her in bed, like a proper father. And then I plan on tucking you in bed, like a not so proper husband,” he added wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Elizabeth laughed as she unbuttoned her coat and laid it across the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “Well you’re going to have to relinquish her long enough for me to feed her once more before bedtime and… How, exactly do I know if their done?” she asked as she stepped over to the stove top and looked down into the boiling pots.

Crawford laughed and walked over to her. She looked up at him, a helpless look on her face and said in all seriousness, “I’m not kidding.”

“You can’t cook?” he asked, amazed.

“Not really,” she admitted, embarrassed.

“But they’re only potatoes,” said Crawford.

“I have other skills…” she said flirtatiously as she ran her hand over his chest.

Crawford moaned, took a step back and glanced down at the now prominent bulge in his trousers. “How much longer until she’s down for the night?”

Elizabeth smiled, brushed her lips lightly across his, and promised, “Soon. Now, about the potatoes.”

“Bloody hell, woman! Here!” he said as he handed their child over and reached for a fork. “You just stick a fork in, like so, and if it goes in nice and easy they’re done!”

“Okay!” she said cheerfully as she started to walk away.

“Oi! Wait a minute!” he said, reaching for her arm. “You try and tell me what you think.”

Elizabeth turned around and looked at him a bit surprised.

“What? Did you think I was just going to be your willing slave? That’s not how this is going to work, luv. There are certain things I expect from a wife. Now, I don’t mind you not knowing. And, I don’t mind teaching you. But I want-”

“Drusilla’s your wife, William,” said Elizabeth quietly. “Not me.”

He felt like he had been physically slapped. He looked at her and saw that she was frightened, not knowing her place, an unmarried woman with a child to raise and support.

He turned back around to face the stove and took a minute to gather his thoughts. He extinguished the flames under the pots and drained the water from the potatoes and carrots. Then he covered them with lids and turned once again to face her. “We need to have ourselves a bit of a chat, luv. Can you and Hope wait for me in the living room? I’ll finish the dinner. It’ll be ready to eat in just a few minutes.”

“I’m sorry, Will. That was uncalled for. I’ve just been under so much stress, not knowing-” she began.

“It’s alright, luv. Truly, it is. I’ll be along in a moment. Refill my scotch and pour yourself a sherry, I saw some, yeah?” she asked.

“Yeah,” she said, feeling guilty.

Crawford set about mashing the potatoes and whipping up a quick glaze for the carrots. He checked the roasted chicken and turned the oven off. He left the carrots and potatoes in covered pots on top of the stove so that they would stay warm and then proceeded to the living room. On the way he grabbed his coat off of the coat rack in the foyer.

Elizabeth sat on the sofa nearest the fireplace. The buttons of her blouse were undone and she had released her left breast from her brassier. Hope was latched on, firmly suckling. As Crawford walked into the living room he came to an abrupt stop. Elizabeth looked up and their eyes met, her gaze was then drawn to the overcoat that he held in his hands. “You’re leaving?” she asked.

“What? No!” said Crawford as he began to fumble through his coat pocket. He sat down on the coffee table across from her, his coat in his lap. “You’re a vision, you know that?”

Elizabeth gave him a watery smile as relief washed over her. “I told everyone that we were married,” she confessed. “It took a bit of time for me to get back here. I knew by that time I was pregnant. I just couldn’t bear the thought of Hope-”

“I told you that I would make you my wife in every way that mattered to you. I meant it, Elizabeth. I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, with you and Hope. I want us to be a family. Drusilla is gone, luv. She was horribly injured in a fire over at Bedlam. She died before I got back to England. I’d be doing this regardless; it just would have taken longer, been more complicated. As it was, it took me a few days to make arrangements with my solicitors and to get my leave arranged. But, I’m here to stay. I’m resigning my commission,” he said as he opened up the cover of a small black velvet box and presented it to her.

Elizabeth was stunned. She looked down at herself and her daughter. Then looking back up at him said, “You don’t have to do this-”

“Shh, I want to do this. Don’t you understand? I want you. I love you,” he said, and then glancing down at Hope added, “both of you.”

“It’s just so sudden. I don’t know what to say,” said Elizabeth as she stared at the ring he was presenting to her.

Crawford took the ring from its box, pushed the coffee table aside and bend down on one knee before her. He took her left hand in his and looking up, hopefully into her eyes said, “Just say yes, and make me the happiest man on this earth.”

“Oh, William! Of course it’s yes!” said Elizabeth as tears once again sprung to her eyes. “I’m just a bit speechless. And how could you possibly propose to me when I’m looking like this!” she said in dismay as she attempted to tuck her breast back into her brassier and rest Hope on her shoulder.

Crawford smiled broadly and said, “Well, truth be told I had planned on proposing later tonight as I was buried deep inside of you. But what can I say? I couldn’t wait. I’m not the most patient of men.”

“Oh! That would have made a nice story!” said Elizabeth as she watched him slip the ring on her finger.

“It was my grandmothers,” said William. “A 2 ct emerald in an antique gold setting. Matches your eyes. It was destined to be yours,” he said.

“Was it-” she started to ask.

“No, luv,” he interjected as he reached for Hope so that she could re-button her blouse and admire her ring. “Drusilla and I, we just wore plain gold bands. It was what she wanted. We didn’t really have an engagement to speak of. I’ve bought a new wedding band for myself, and the emerald has a matching one. When you tell people our story, pet, you can tell it like it happed. I won you in contest, a battle of wills and strength. I kicked Ahmed’s skinny arse, and then I threw you over my shoulder, carried you off to my tent, and made you mine for all eternity. I’ve been married to you in my heart since that very day, you know. I just want to square it away with the church and the law, for you… for Hope.”

“She’s asleep,” whispered Elizabeth as she stood up and looked down at the angelic face of her daughter, fast asleep on William’s shoulder.

“Really?” he asked quietly looking down at her slumbering form.

“Yeah,” she said reaching out for his hand. “Let’s tuck her in, shall we?”

“Let me,” he said as he stood up and interlaced his fingers with hers. “You take a bath. I’ll build a fire in the fireplace in the bedroom and bring up our supper. We’ll have a bed picnic, like we did on our last night together.”

“I’d like that,” said Elizabeth. “We’ve got so much to talk about, so much to catch up on.

Crawford raised their joined hands to his lips and placed a kiss on the inside of her wrist. “We’ve got the rest of our lives, darling,” he said as he followed her upstairs. “The rest of our lives.”

Chapter 40

Elizabeth emerged from the bath, wrapped her robe around herself and walked down the hall. She stopped briefly to look in on Hope. After confirming that Hope was fast asleep she proceeded down the hall towards her room, their room. William had set a tray with two plates and cutlery on the bed. He had an open bottle of wine on the nightstand with two glasses. As Elizabeth walked into the room she saw him crouched in front of the fireplace, stoking the fire. The yellow-orange glow of the flames lit his face, causing her breath to hitch.

He turned as he heard her walk into the bedroom and stood up. He had removed his shoes, socks, and tie. His shirt was open, revealing his smoothly sculpted chest. “That’s a beautiful fire,” said Elizabeth as she walked over towards it and reached out with her hands in an effort to absorb the warmth.

Crawford walked behind her, rested his hands on her shoulders, and then leaned down to savor the scent of her hair. “I’ve missed the way you smelled,” he said, his voice already rough from arousal. He reached up and began to pull the pins from her hair. His breath quickening as he watched it cascade down her back. “Your hair has gotten longer,” he observed as he ran his fingers through the long silken strands.

Elizabeth leaned her head back on his chest, exposing her throat to him. He wasted no time in leaning down to rain a trail of hot open-mouthed kisses along the side of her neck. As he reached her pulse point just behind her ear he nipped at her slightly. At the same time he reached around her front to untie the sash of her robe.

Elizabeth moaned as he slipped the robe off of her shoulders, leaving her standing, nude, in front of the heat of the fireplace. He tilted his hips forward, grinding his erection into the round globes of her ass as he reached around and gently fondled her breasts. “My golden goddess,” he groaned as he ran his tongue over the outside shell of her ear. “I’ve been dreaming about this…being with you again…for so long.”

“Careful, with my breasts, they’re still-” began Elizabeth.

“Are they sore?” asked Crawford as he lightly ran his fingertips around the areola. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” sighed Elizabeth. “I’ve missed your touch.”

He reached down with one hand and slid his finger between her legs, running it up and down her wet slit, separating her folds and making her impossibly wetter. “You thought about me?” he asked.

“Every minute of every day,” confessed Elizabeth.

Crawford stepped back from her. “Turn around,” he commanded. “I want to look at you.”

Elizabeth slowly turned around to face him. Her stomach was slightly less taught, her hair was longer, her breasts were fuller, but everything still somehow felt familiar. His breath caught in his throat as she reached out and unfastened his trousers then slipped his shirt from his shoulders.

“You look exactly this same,” she said quietly, “and my body, it’s different.”

“Yeah,” he said nodding in pleasure as he led her over to the chair that was positioned in front of the fireplace.

“You…like?” she asked with hesitancy as she sat down, then reached for her robe on the floor, feeling suddenly shy.

Crawford took the robe from her hands, then shook his head at her and threw it out of reach. “What? Knowing that I’m responsible for that little-one in there? Knowing that we made her, together. That she grew inside of you?” he asked kneeling before her and reaching out to caress her stomach. He gently separated her knees, and then moved between them. “That these breasts feed and nourish her?” he added as he ran his hands over her full mounds.

“Oh!” gasped Elizabeth, embarrassed, as she felt the telltale signs of letdown in her right breast and noticed leakage. “I’ll just…I’m sorry,” she said as she started to get up.

Crawford reached out for her arms and stilled her. “Don’t go,” he said. “Don’t be embarrassed, luv. It’s okay. Better than okay,” said Crawford as he leaned back, spread her legs apart even wider and said, “God, you take my breath away.”

William held Elizabeth’s face in his hands and then leaned up; rested his forehead against hers, and slowly brought his lips up to grazed her mouth, his tongue darting out to sweep across her bottom lip. She opened her mouth in invitation and he slipped his tongue inside delving deep within its wetness. He realized that he had never wanted a woman so badly, not even her, as he pulled back and took her earlobe between his teeth. “Tell me you’re mine,” he asked.

“I’m yours,” said Elizabeth, panting.

“Tell me you’ll be mine, forever” demanded William as he lightly lapped up the milk that had leaked from her right breast.

Elizabeth gasped as his tongue circled her nipple.

“Please,” he moaned, begging her.

“Yes! Yours forever, William,” said Elizabeth, as she reached up and ran her fingers through his hair.

He cupped the bottom of her full breast in the palm of his hand and ran his tongue around the underside of her nipple. Elizabeth was taken aback by how aroused she was by his action, how erotic it felt. Involuntarily, she arched her back. Crawford smiled around her nipple before latching on.

“Oh! My God!” gasped Elizabeth as she began to writhe in the chair. “Need you!”

He released her slowly, lapping up the remnants before crouching down on his hands and knees before her. He possessively ran his hands up her legs. With his index finger he then teasingly traced little patterns near the center of her heat. He licked his lips in anticipation, then reaching behind her pulled her just a little closer to the edge of the chair.

“Ask me to taste you,” he requested.

“Oh, please, William,” moaned Elizabeth, “Please, I need you.”

“What do you need?” asked William, still on his knees, looking up into Elizabeth’s eyes.

“You,” Elizabeth replied. “Want…you.”

William spread her legs, used his fingers to separate her folds, and then he slowly dragged his tongue up the length of her slit. She was already wet and he gratefully lapped up her juices. He explored her inner folds, applying pressure with his tongue. Then using just the tip he flicked his tongue across her clit for a few seconds before taking it lightly between his teeth, pulling on it gently. William could feel Elizabeth’s excitement growing as her juices flowed exquisitely into his mouth.

He took two of his fingers and slipped them inside of her, moving them in and out in time to her now thrusting hips as his mouth continued to pull on her sensitive bundle of nerves.

“More!” demanded Elizabeth.

William grinned, in pride, as he kept up his ministrations, but added an additional finger. He gently curled the fingers of the hand moving inside of her forward, searching for the spot that would ensure her release. He could hear Elizabeth’s breathing becoming more and more ragged. One hand desperately holding onto the arm of the chair, the other entwined in his hair. Her upper torso arched forward and her head was thrown back as she approached the edge. Her legs and thighs were quivering, then trembling, and then, she came- screaming his name- he had never heard a more satisfying sound.

William rolled back onto his heels, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and gazed up at Elizabeth. She was glistening with a sheer layer of perspiration, her hair was tousled, her breathing winded, her skin flush, she looked wanton as she gazed at him through dazed eyes. He had never seen anything so beautiful.

William kneeled up and while she watched him, he slowly licked his fingers. Then, he kissed her, softly, deeply on the mouth, allowing her to taste herself. As he broke off the kiss he stood up, pulling her with him. He swept her up in his strong arms and carried her to the bed, their bed. “Don’t move,” he said.

“Can’t,” she responded, smiling contentedly. “I don’t think my legs are working anymore.”

“Good!” he told her as he removed the tray of food from the bed and set it on the floor. “All part of my plan to make you my personal sex slave. I figure paralysis will decrease your odds of escape,” he added as he began to climb up towards her from the bottom of the bed, smiling seductively.

“Oh! You have a plan, huh?” asked Elizabeth, playfully.

“Uh huh!” admitted Crawford. “I’m gonna make love to you,” said Crawford as he began to kiss her stomach, “all night long.”

Elizabeth giggled, “All night long, you say? That’s your plan?”

“Yup!” he confessed. “Not elaborate, I admit,” he said as he continued to kiss her stomach. “God, I’m sorry I missed seeing you pregnant,” he added as he looked up at her and gazed into her eyes.

Elizabeth smiled down at him, and ran her fingers through his hair. “Well, I was quite the site at the end there.”

“We made a beautiful baby,” said Crawford, as he climbed further up her body and hovered above her, settling himself between her legs.

“Yes, we did,” responded Elizabeth as she wrapped her arms around him and ran her hands over his back. She lifted her knees slightly off the bed and wrapped her legs around the back of his. She could feel the head of his cock poised at her entrance.

“Let’s make another,” whispered Crawford as he kissed her softly on the mouth, slowly entered her and began to slide in and out.

“Welcome home, Will,” said Elizabeth as she lifted her legs higher and wrapped them around his hips, returning his thrusts. “I’m never letting you go,” she said as she felt him push deeper into her. “I’m never letting you go!”

Crawford felt it as her inner walls began to quiver. “I can’t hold on, luv. It’s been too long,” he said, apologizing.

“Come for me, Will. Come for me, baby. I love you!” she wept as she wrapped her arms and legs more tightly around him so that their bodies melded together, making them one. “I love you.”

Elizabeth felt his body shudder as he spilled his seed deep inside of her. He looked up at her, his piercing blue eyes meeting hers. He reached up and brushed her hair away from her face then brushed his lips across hers while murmuring over and over again, “I love you, too, Elizabeth. I love you, too.”

EPILOGUE

July 5, 1922 Provincetown, Massachusetts

Elizabeth sat on the front porch of the simple three-bedroom cottage in a wooden rocking chair. She briefly glanced up from the book she was reading to look out at the ocean. It was still early morning. She loved this time of day, after the sun was up but before the beaches became crowded. She took a sip of her morning coffee, set the cup back on the side table adjacent to her rocker, and returned to reading.

A few minutes later she was startled from her reverie by the feel of her husband’s lips grazing her cheek.

“Oh!” she gasped. “I didn’t hear you come back. Where are the kids? You didn’t lose them did you?”

“Down at the tide-pools with Janna and Ahmed. Hope managed to find a sand-dollar right off, she’s pretty proud of herself,” said William as he walked into the cottage. “Finally gotten around to finishing Eugene’s book, I see?”

“Yup!” said Elizabeth as he emerged with a glass of water. She held up the copy of Anna Christie that she had been reading and announced, “I’m almost through. I admit it’s a fabulous piece of work. But, I still say that The Redemption of a Soul should have taken this years Pulitzer for drama. It was brilliant. Hey, the daisies are pretty.”

“And you’re not the least bit biased…” teased William as he dropped the daisies into the glass.

“Nope, not me. I can sleep with the author and still maintain my objectivity…totally,” declared Elizabeth as she returned to reading her book.

“You’re sleeping with Eugene?” asked William feigning shock.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and said, “Right, like I would have time. What, with taking care of four children.”

“Three children,” he said absently as he put his spectacles on and picked up the newspaper that was on the adjacent table. After a moment he looked back up at her, removed his glasses and asked, “Unless… Are you?”

“Huh?” said Elizabeth looking up. “No! And, you stay away from me. I was including you in the count. You, Hope, Joy and Noel are plenty. You have your boy, so back-off buster!”

William smiled seductively at her, wiggled his eyebrows and practically purred, “But the trying is so much fun,” as he lifted a few of the daisies from the water glass and walked over to her and crouched down. From his position he looked up, wearing an expression of wide-eyed innocence, and suggested, “maybe we could just practice?”

Elizabeth closed her book, laid it aside and repeated, “Practice?”

“It’s just a thought,” said William as he kissed her on the tip of her nose, stood up and walked behind her. He sighed as he looked out at the ocean. “I love it here.”

“Me too,” she said leaning back in the chair. “Is it important to you? Having a fourth?”

“No,” he admitted as he began to run his fingers through her hair. “I know that the last pregnancy was hard on you. The truth is that I’m so bloody relieved that you and Noel made it through…I don’t ever want to feel that afraid again. I love the children, but I don’t want to risk having another if it means I could lose you. You, Hope, Joy and Noel are everything to me. You’re my world.”

“You’re getting sentimental in your old age,” teased Elizabeth.

“Oi! What are you going on about?” huffed William as he separated her hair into sections. “I’m not old! I’ll have you know-”

Elizabeth started laughing, “You’re so easy to tease! What on earth are you doing back there anyways?”

“Braiding some of the daisies in your hair, like you do with Hope,” responded William.

Elizabeth smiled and said, “Happy Birthday, William.”

“Well, technically it’s not until tomorrow! But, if you want to give me an early present you could come take a nap with me?” he suggested.

“Nap? It’s still early morning! What-” started Elizabeth.

William released her hair and throwing his hands up in the air exclaimed, “It was bloody code! You used to be a spy, woman!”

Elizabeth turned around in her seat so that she could look at him and said, “So when you said ‘nap’ you meant….”

William wiggled his eyebrows, curled his tongue behind he front teeth and smirked.

“Nuh uh! Not enough time,” declared Elizabeth.

“I can be quick,” suggested William.

Elizabeth frowned, “That’s suppose to be an incentive? And…just for the record, you are never quick, Mr. Crawford. Besides, they’ll be back soon.”

“Speaking of the devils…I mean angels-” said William as he nodded down the shoreline.

Janna and Ahmed were walking with the children back towards the cottage. Janna was carrying Noel in her arms. Ahmed had Joy resting on his hip and Sasha and Hope were walking alongside them.

“Janna looks happy with Noel in her arms. They’re trying again, you know,” said Elizabeth as she shielded her eyes and looked at them.

“Yeah! I hope things work out for them. Despite my grumbling, I’m glad that you insisted on inviting them for the weekend. We’ve all been so busy this past year…seems like we haven’t hardly seen them!”

“Speak for yourself, dear. Janna and I see each other every day. It’s you and Ahmed that have been so wrapped up in work. Between his new assignment at Mass General and your spending so much time in Chicago this year…”

“I’m sorry, luv. But when you’re an investigative journalist you need to go where the story is, and since the passing of prohibition….well, that is more and more looking like Chicago,” explained Crawford. “But for the next week…I’m all yours. And we could talk again about moving there. It doesn’t have to be permanent. We could always come back to New England. I still have that offer pending with the Chicago Daily News.”

“Take it,” said Elizabeth.

“Really?” asked Crawford. “You mean that?”

“Yes. Take it. I’ve been stubborn, not wanting to move. I’ll miss our friends and I’ll miss Boston, but this past year…with you traveling back and forth…well, I’ve missed you more,” she admitted.

“Yeah?” he asked searching out her eyes. “I miss you too, when I’m away. I hate leaving you. I-”

“Well,” said Elizabeth, looking away shyly.She began to nervously play with a button on her dress and she explained, “I have a tiny confession to make. My inviting Janna and Ahmed for the weekend? Wasn’t just about wanting to spend time with them…I had a bit of an ulterior motive.”

“Ulterior motive?” asked William.

Elizabeth stood up and walked over to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaned up and whispered in his ear, “You. Happy Birthday, darling.”

Crawford’s forehead wrinkled in confusion, “Not sure I followed you round that last bend.”

“Tonight they are taking the children back with them. Noel’s weaned now. Janna and Ahmed agreed to watch them. We get to spend the rest of the week here. Alone. Just the two of us,” said Elizabeth as she nuzzled his neck. Crawford pulled away, “No!”

“Yes!” nodded Elizabeth enthusiastically.

“Now, you do realize how bloody cruel it would be for you to tease me about this, don’t you?” asked Crawford.

“No teasing,” said Elizabeth. “Scouts honor!”

“You mean I have five entire days with you? Only you? Your undivided attention?” asked Crawford.

“Yup!” confirmed Elizabeth. “Oh! And let’s not forget the five nights that go along with them!”

Crawford wrapped his arms more tightly around her waist and repeated, “Five entire nights, alone, just you and me. Whatever will I do?”

“You can do….anything….” Elizabeth trailed off coyly as she pulled away from him and twirled an errant strand of her honey blonde hair around one finger.

“Anything?” asked Crawford, leaning back himself and pointedly looking down at the now prominent bulge evident in his pants.

“Anything you want,” said Elizabeth slowly as she leaned up to whisper into his ear. “There’s just one…little…catch.”

Crawford’s eyes grew wide with anticipation, “And that would be?”

Elizabeth backed away from him towards the steps to the porch. She looked over her shoulder out towards the ocean, and then glanced back towards Crawford a playful smile forming on her lips and a glint of mischief in her eye.

“What?” he asked almost overwhelmed now with anticipation.

“You’ve got to catch me first!” she shouted as she bolted from the porch with a squeal.

“Bloody Hell!” he said as he jumped off the steps into the soft sand. She was already about 50 feet ahead of him. The skirt of the simple white cotton dress that she wore was almost translucent in the sunlight. The long braid of her hair, entwined with daisies, flew out behind her as she ran, her feet kicking up sand. Crawford paused for a second, wanting to commit the vision to memory. Her melodious laughter traveled back to him on the morning’s ocean breeze. “If you can catch me…you can have me!” she shouted over her shoulder as she continued to run, taunting him just as she had done one night years ago, in a land far away.

“Oh, I can catch you, luv” he said, confidently before taking off at a full run. “Help me catch mum, kids!” he shouted as they approached their family and friends.

Hope who was a bit over four immediately joined in the fray, “Come help catch Mummy, Sash!” she squealed to her little friend before beginning to chase Elizabeth down towards the waters edge.

“Hope, you close in on the right! Sasha, move in on the left!” shouted Crawford. “Come on girls, don’t let her get away now!”

Joy let go of Ahmed’s hand and she immediately tried to chase after her older sister, but her little 3 year-old feet were a bit clumsy and she stumbled as she struggled to run in the loose sand. Crawford noticed her plight as he caught up with them and without breaking pace he scooped her up in his arms, ran four or five steps closer to the water and set her down on the firmer sand.

Elizabeth was now wading up to her ankles in the water, gingerly lifting up the skirt of her dress so as to prevent it from getting wet. “Looks like I’ve got you cornered pet,” he said as he stalked towards his prey.

She was winded and flushed from the running. “You cheated!” she yelled, nodding in the direction of his accomplices. “And your what? Shocked and disappointed? I’m evil!” teased Crawford as he continued to walk towards her. “You knew that when your married me, pet. Do you give?”

“No!” she shouted, defiantly.

“Stubborn!” he accused as he reached down, scooped up a handful of the cold ocean water and splashed her.

Elizabeth spontaneously shrieked as the cold water began to hit her face. Without thought she dropped her skirt and brought her hands up to shield herself from the continued onslaught. The fabric fell into the water immediately becoming heavier. As she took another step back she could feel it as her skirt began to twist around her legs. She looked down and began to gather it up again. Just then, a medium size wave approached and pushed her unsteadily forward, into Crawford’s waiting arms.

“And, I am victorious!” shouted Crawford pumping one arm in the air, jumping up and down. His other arm firmly encircled Elizabeth’s waist as he turned to face Hope, Sasha, and Joy who were jumping up and down, clapping with glee.

“Were you born this big a pain in the ass?” asked Elizabeth quietly.

Crawford turned to her and scowled. He narrowed his eyes as he leaned down, tossed her over his shoulder, and carried her from the water. “What can I tell you, baby? I’ve always been bad,” he said with a smirk as sat her down on the edge of the shore. He plucked one of the daisies from her hair and began to twirl it around in his fingers, looking suddenly pensive

Ahmed shook his head, and laughed at his friend’s antics as he walked up to his wife and whispered, “They’re good together.”

“And they make beautiful babies,” said Janna with a tinge of envy looking down at 8 month old Noel.

“There’s no reason to give up hope, Janna-” began Ahmed.

“As a matter of fact, I feel really optimistic this time. I just have a feeling…” she drifted off.

Ahmed leaned over and kissed his wife tenderly on the lips. “Me, too.”

As Ahmed pulled away from the kiss he felt the tug of a tiny hand on his trousers. He bent down and scooped Joy up onto his shoulders. “Hope! Sasha!” he yelled. “Let’s get packed!”

Crawford looked up from the flower, a serious and yet slightly confused expression on his face. He looked back at his children as they made their way towards the beach cottage, then he looked out towards the ocean and down the long expanse of sand. Finally he looked at the woman before him, her golden hair reflecting the early morning rays of the sun. Crawford smiled slightly, looked down once again at the daisy, and slightly shuddered.

“Something wrong?” asked Elizabeth, noticing at once his change in mood.

Crawford looked up at her, smiled, and then tossed the flower into the ocean. “Just the opposite,” he whispered as he watched the tide carry the flower further out to sea. After it disappeared in a shower of white foam he turned towards his wife and pulled her towards him, enveloping her in a familiar embrace. He kissed the top of her head and quietly revealed, “I sometimes have a hard time believing how happy I am. There are days I look at you and the children and wonder if this is all some elaborate dream. This life, with you…it sometimes reads like a fantasy, a fairytale, don’t you think?”

“I don’t want it to ever end,” she whispered as she pulled back slightly and brought her lips up to brush softly against his.

“All good stories must come to an end, luv,” responded Crawford as he pulled her in a bit closer so that her body was molded flush to his.

“And, how will this one end?” she asked, as she leaned her head back a bit, exposing her neck to him.

“This one?” he murmured, his breath warm and moist against her skin.

“Mmmm,” she moaned as she felt her arousal build, her heart rate quickening as he began to kiss her neck.

Crawford took his time, savoring the moment as he trailed open-mouthed kisses up the long column of her neck. When he reached her ear, he bit down on her lobe, tugging on it gently before pulling it into his mouth. When he heard his wife’s moan of pleasure he smiled and stepped back. He looked steadily into her eyes, his gaze revealing at once the depth of his emotions. He took her face in his hands and softly said, “How does this one end? Happily. Ever. After.” Then, he leaned in slowly and kissed her. It was a kiss full of promise. He kissed her like it was the first time, like it was the last time, like he did every time, once again sealing their love and stealing her heart.




THE END