“I was in a bad way when I returned to Brighton. I wanted nothing to do with anyone, not even my own family. The moment I saw you, I was in that tent again, the detonation exploding in my ears, in my chest, in my mind. Your brother . . .”
“You didn’t kill him, Stephen.”
“Not directly, no, but when I see you, I see him. I can’t be with you, Corina.”
“Don’t I get a say in our relationship? You married me because I said ‘Yes.’ How is it you get to leave without my ‘Yes’ ”?
“I brought you here so you would understand. When you see me, you’ll know I live because your brother died.”
“You cannot decide my feelings for me. What I see, how I’ll respond.”
“Nor can you decide for me. When I see you, I see him.” He gazed down at her, brushing her hair away from her face. She nearly melted into him. “I can’t forget if I’m married to a reminder. I’m right and you know it.”
“But I don’t know it, Stephen. You say one thing but behave completely different when we’re alone. Monday night, when you kissed me . . . are you saying it meant nothing?” She must remind him of who he was before the war. Kind, funny, sincere, wholehearted, wonderfully romantic.
“What does it matter? At the end of it all, when life takes hold and the romance of it all is gone, you will wake up every day next to a man stained with your brother’s blood. Please don’t make me say it again.”
“I’m not making you say anything. You’re choosing to say it.”
From his pocket, Stephen’s mobile rang. “It’s Nathaniel.” When he answered, she walked off, collecting her thoughts, sorting a blend of relief and revived sorrow. She felt as if he wanted her to be angry at him. Hate him.
“He wondered if we wanted to be back for late tea and a movie.”
“I don’t know. I suppose.” Corina returned to the bench, scanning the other graves. “What of these others? Do their families know?”
“No one knows outside the Joint Coalition leadership except Nathaniel and top personnel in the Defense Ministry. Now you.”
“I think the other families would like to come here.”
“Nathaniel wants to proceed with my coronation as Prince of Brighton, and in doing so I’ll be patron of the War Memorial, but . . .” He shook his head. “I don’t want to wear the uniform.”
“Think of what you could do for these men’s families.”
“I don’t have to be patron of a War Memorial to do something for them.”
“Have you done anything for them?”
“Not yet.” He stood, but she remained seated. “Shall we go in?”
“I’m not sure I can watch a movie right now. I think I’ll just sit out here.”
He exhaled and joined her again on the bench, tucked his phone in his pocket, and turned off the flashlight.
From the trees, an owl hooted and the wind rustled a response. In the dark, Corina let her tears fall without restraint. She caught the drops slipping from her chin with the back of her hand.
Next to her, Stephen stared off toward the surrounding woods, his right leg gently swaying side to side, his left stretched long, resting his ankle. In what remained of the light, Corina found his hand and slipped hers beneath his warm palm. He flinched at first, then relaxed and entwined his fingers with hers.
They sat there for a long time saying nothing. Saying everything.
TWENTY-FOUR
Back at the Manor Friday morning, Corina sat at the small curved desk tucked under the dormer walls and pulled out the annulment papers.
Unfoldingthe pages, she skimmed the small print, a sick feeling forming in the pit of her stomach when she read the definition of what she and Stephen were about to do.
“An annulment means no valid marriage ever existed.”
But that was a lie. They had a valid marriage. At least in her heart.
