Because shewasn’t.
She was a widow.
She carefully lowered the tray onto the table and herself onto a chair, feeling as if her knees were going to give out on her.
Naomi had just barely begun to think of herself as a wife. She and Arthur had joked with one another, calling each other ‘husband’ and ‘wife’ in a sort of ironic way, neither of them quite yet adjusted to the truth of those titles.
Now, she was a wife no more. She was still Mrs. Gilcrest, but she had no husband.
“Mrs. Gilcrest?” The words spoken aloud echoed the name in her mind. She shook her head.
Major Cockfield stood just inside the door, sun streaming in behind him. His skin was slightly flushed with exertion, his shoulders rising and falling with breaths that were still somewhat labored but already starting to steady since she’d called him in to rest.
This man had returned so very alive. It wasn’t fair.
“Come in,” she managed. “Sit down.”
He did so and, without waiting for further permission, he poured lemonade into one of the glasses and lifted a sandwich to his mouth but then stopped. “Aren’t you eating?”
Had she eaten? For the life of her, she couldn’t remember. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to fall apart completely. But she deserved to fall apart, didn’t she? When her husband had gotten himself killed?
But there was not only herself to consider. She couldn’t afford to fall apart.
Major Cockfield narrowed his eyes. “You need to eat.”
Ester chose that moment to step out of the pantry. “I’ve been telling the missus that for two days now.”
Naomi hadn’t really eaten anything since she’d taken breakfast with the major yesterday morning. Had that been yesterday? Time was losing all meaning.
“I’m alright, thank you, Ester.” She didn’t want to enjoy the flavorful chicken and spices Ester had cooked the night before. She didn’t want to savor the texture of the freshly baked bread.
The major appeared not to have any such qualms. He’d eaten nearly half a sandwich already. “It’s delicious,” he said.
How could he take such enjoyment in it? Hadn’t he lost his friend as well?
“How can you eat at all? Knowing you’ve led men to their deaths?” Naomi spoke the words aloud without thinking through them first, and she instantly regretted them. It was an inordinately cruel thing to say, but there was some part of her that found it simply intolerable that he could sit there at her table, enjoying his lunch as if nothing had happened. Still, that did not make it right.
Ester froze across the room and the look on her face sent shame washing through Naomi.
The major stopped chewing but, after a moment, finished his bite and swallowed.
“Seventeen,” he said, his gaze locked on her as his frame suddenly stiffened with tension. “The first was three years, two months, and eight days ago. Lieutenant George Platt. He was not yet nineteen. Mourned by six sisters and his mother. Hit by a sniper in a routine march along the coast. He lived for an hour after he was injured. I had all but convinced myself he was going to make it. Left his side to write up my report and when I returned to the tent, he was gone.”
Naomi immediately felt horrible, but she didn’t know what she could say. An apology wasn’t going to erase her snapping cruelty.
“The second man, Second Lieutenant Bart Goulding. I hated that I’d lost even one man on this march but losing a second made me the worst sort of failure. Goulding was seven and twenty when debris from an explosion ripped him to shreds. He had a family awaiting him at home. The year before, he’d lost his crops to a flood. He only joined up so he could send money back to his wife.”
Naomi held up a hand. “I’m sorry.”
Cobalt eyes burned as they stared across at her, his shoulders set like steel, on alert, expecting another attack.
Naomi reached across the table and clasped the wrist of his hand that clutched the blasted sandwich. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Please… forgive me?”
How stupid and thoughtless could she be? How sorry he must be that he’d ever promised Arthur he would help her.
And then, with a deep exhale, he relaxed his jaw and nodded.
“The thing is, Mrs. Gilcrest…” He paused, taking the time to choose his words with care. “I am still alive. You are still alive. Your baby is still alive. We don’t know what the future holds so we are beholden to make the most of the days we have now.”
