Redemption

‘Stay.’

That’s all she would have needed to say.

One word.

But she hadn’t.

‘Stay.’

So he hadn’t.

How much she wanted to tell Nick about it. How much she wanted him to understand there were some words — or lack thereof — that you could not recover from. How much it hurt. Still. Always. Debilitatingly so. For evermore.

But Nick... Nick had to learn for himself. She could have explained it to him, in many eloquent words. She was good with words. Some lessons though, you had to figure out and learn for yourself or they didn’t stick. Sometimes you had to lean over the cliff’s edge to see how far down it dropped; see how far you could fall, so you could take a shocked step back, a deep breath and turn around.

Amelia sat on the stone wall, legs dangling, absentmindedly chewing on a stalk of grass and watched as Nick made his way home. He looked so fragile, clambering up the steep path that led to that accursed house on the hill. As she watched, he stopped, standing straight, head tilted back, hands on hips, catching his breath. She imagined the sound of his wheezing breath. She could hear it catch at times, when he was close, even when he was resting. She hoped he had his inhaler with him. He was so desperate to appear strong in front of her, to impress her, pretending the conflict with his parents did not affect him. It was sad really. A shame he could not see that this was the only thing that she resented. He would learn. She would teach him. She would be there for him: he needed her. She would be his Catcher in the Rye — Nick had lent her the book, and she had not understood all of it, but this, this she had. And maybe, maybe it would help ease her pain. Maybe this could be her redemption. For her mistake, for her failing, for her silence.

‘Stay.’

Amelia dropped from the wall and landed hard on all fours. She could feel herself crumpling again.

‘Stay.’

A life hinging on one word.

A moan escaped her candy-coloured lips as she clutched her stomach and dug her fingernails in her flesh. Her mane of auburn curls tumbled down around her, hiding her from view and from the outside world. The world that had taken Tom away. It had been so long ago. How could it still hurt so?

She remembered him as they met as children, in the stables at his house, his dark hair falling over his dark eyes, his shyness, the smell of horse and straw on him. She had taken him by the hand and that had been it. They had both been lost to the other.

She remembered their endless games in the forest, how the seasons had seen them grow along with the trees.

She remembered the time she had been lost in that forest, and how her love for him had been like a spell that had made her find her way back to his house. That accursed house on the hill, where Nick lived now, as unhappy with his parents as Tom had ever been.

She remembered the secret visits after that: he had never been allowed to see her in the first place and then later she was supposed to be dead, so they had had to be careful. But once more, the forest had been their ally, their home, providing the no-man’s land they required and the shelter under which their feelings could grow. They had matured together, from joyful children, to hesitant teenagers, to passionate young adults. Yes, their love was of the kind they talk about in fairy tales. Strong, unwavering, indomitable, and the memory of it could be both uplifting and soul-crushing.

She remembered him coming home after such a long absence, after his parents had sent him away to an aunt in the south, for ‘his health.’ Unable to bear the thought of what they thought was his fragile mind — they had found his diary confessing his love for a dead girl. Well, if they had read more of the diary, they would have known she was not dead. But then again, she wasn’t sure what they might have read would have been better for their small, narrow minds. He was 21 by the time he finally came home to her — thankfully, there had been short visits every year, and letters — and she had been so happy. Finally, he would be free of his parents. Finally, they would be together forever.

She remembered the comfort of his arms, the fervour of his kiss, the solace they found as they lay together. But then he had told her. She would have to wait a little longer before they could be together for good. There was something he had to do first. Someplace he had to go. The year was 1914 and the place was France. He had explained to her his convictions. He had said ‘It’s the right thing to do’ (how she had hated these words afterwards, to this day she still could not hear them without getting angry). He had said he would be back before Christmas. He had promised he would come back. He had never broken a promise to her before; she had had no reasons to doubt him, so she hadn’t said the word.

‘Stay.’

She remembered how she had to watch her belly grow, alone, but patient and hopeful.

She remembered how she had spent hours looking at the one photograph she had of them together, he in his brand-new uniform, her in her usual shift. The maid that had helped them so often and kept their secret for so many years, had taken it the day before Tom left and come to the forest to give it to her.

She remembered how she had stroked the bump of her belly as the very same maid had come to her, tearful, to deliver the devastating, world-shattering news. He would not be coming back, he was now just another one of the boys of 1914. He had broken his promise. And it was her fault.

‘Stay.’

She did not remember the fog that followed.

She remembered waking up to the agony of child birth, the keening wail. She remembered placing the babe down gently, wrapped in warm blankets, on her own parents’ doorstep one spring morning.

She remembered watching the child grow from a distance and have a child of his own.

She remembered so much...

‘Amy?’

Nick.

Amelia lifted her young, tear-stricken face, an auburn curl sticking to her cheek, to look into the face of the boy who reminded her so much of Tom. He looked worried and confused.

‘I thought I heard you cry, so I came back. Are you hurt?’

He was kneeling by her side, checking her ankles for signs of injury, clearly thinking she’d fallen off the wall.

Her voice was strangled.

‘No.’

He wanted to ask her, it was obvious, questions passed over his face like cloud shadows over a hill, but he didn’t, and she loved him for that. Instead, he sat by her side against the wall, and after hesitating for a while, mustered the courage to wrap his arm around her. She leaned her head on his shoulder and they stayed there for a long time, watching another summer sunset together.

When they finally got up, brushing off the brittle dry grass that clung to their clothes and shivering slightly as the damp evening air made itself known to them, Nick looked at her and shook his head slightly, in the way he had when he was gearing himself up to say something, usually something personal.

‘Amelia...’ Another slight shake of the head.

‘Amy, you know you can talk to me, don’t you? It doesn’t always have to be about me. You know that, right?’

‘I know.’

Silence, and then two more little shakes of the head.

‘Well, I’d best get back or my dad will kill me this time, and I might not be able to convince him not to send me away for the rest of the summer a second time.’

She nodded and suddenly reached out for his arm and brushed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

‘Thanks, Nick.’

He swallowed and turned and for the second time, started walking home. She was still watching him, a small frown on her face. She needed to help him, the need — the pain — was visceral. She could not let Nick and his parents tear each other apart the way Tom and his parents had. In that very same house, nearly a century ago. The stories were working, she was sure of it. She just needed to tell him more. Make him see, make him stronger, make him forgive his parents’ weaknesses. She had to. Maybe, just maybe it could take away the pain. A bit of it. For a little while.

Redemption.

And then, then what? He was in love with her, or so he thought. She knew she would have to leave him before he learned the truth about her, she knew that this could not last. So, what would she do when the time came? When he got upset? What if he asked her to

‘Stay.’

Then she would leave him regardless, him and his family, because she would have saved them, in a way that she hadn’t saved Tom. It would hurt, but she would do it. It was the right thing to do.