Did he ever wake from night terrors like she did?Ana was beginning to feel calmer during the day, but at night, fear enveloped her.She often found sleep so impossible to claim until the early hours of the night.Was it possible that memories burdened him just as much as they did her?And if they did, how sad to think that they should suffer, side by side, but still divided by a thick, wooden door.In moments like these, it felt they were farther apart than ever, a fact that Ana mourned.
Her gaze returned to Peter’s face, lit by the fading sun.The exhaustion evident in his face and the knitting of his brow testified that he was not faring as well as he insisted.
“Truly, I am well,” he repeated.
Ana huffed her disbelief, shaking her head and pursing her lips.
“No te creo.”I don’t believe you.
“I am trying to find order and peace here in this new way of living,” he said, at last meeting her eyes.
“Yo también.”Ana nodded, gesturing to herself.Didn’t he know she was working through many of the same issues?She moved her chair closer to him and left her hand clasping his.But what was he thinking about?“Piensas enSan Sebastián?”
“I find I am always thinking of...it.I find I almost cannot escape it all.”
She nodded.“I think of other things in the day, but the night...it is full ofterrores.”Unwilling, Ana pulled her hands from his grasp and twisted them about in her skirts, bunching them up terribly as her mind spun into darker memories.
“I don’t wish to carry on in this way.I wish to be a better father than my own, a better example for your child.And I fear I cannot do so in my current state.”
Ana nearly laughed.He was not alone in feeling so.She was entirely unprepared to be a parent.But if their marriage was going to be strong enough to endure the challenges that were coming, they needed to be able to speak plainly about such things.She knew such open communication was not customary for many Englishmen, and gentlemen soldiers even less.But speaking her mind was the way that Ana understood the world.And if he was to be half of her world, he would need to learn to speak his mind too.Perhaps he just needed a little assistance.
“Can I help you,Pedro, when you feelasí?”
“That is just the issue.”He pressed his hands together in a learned, methodical movement, popping his knuckles and stretching out the tension in his fingers.“I am seeking to discover how I need to be helped myself.For so many years, the army was a place of order.I could expect how things would be carried on.But now...I find I have lost all faith in them.”
“Quizás...it helps that you talk about these things.”
Ana managed to unlace her fingers from the fabric of her skirts long enough to reach for Peter.He took her hand and squeezed it.Ana’s breath caught in her throat, and she felt her heartbeat thud in her chest.
“I can certainly try.But would you mind if we walk as we talk?”
* * *
Peter’s eyes scoured the faded evening skies as if he would find a script written there.But instead of words, he only spotted a few last birds darting about, the dregs of a bloody sunset, and the faintest glimmer of stars.He sighed.Clearly Mother Nature would be no help to him tonight.But at least she serenaded them with the quiet song of the night singers.His own mother would have liked to pick out the different songs, identifying the nightingale, robin, and blackbird.She had always appreciated that sort of thing.Peter was just grateful there was something to break up the silence so Ana would not be so entirely bored at his lack of communication.
How did one talk about the most vulnerable parts of one’s life?Peter was accustomed to running from these types of conversations.He’d build fortifications as high as the sky and arm himself with a practiced, silent, uncaring air if only to convince himself that the war in his mind was simply that—in his mind.But something about being around Ana seemed to bring all these dangerous, conflicted feelings to the surface.He could not ignore them as he used to.And if Ana was to thrive in this marriage, he supposed he should probably share the defenses of his mind with her.
Peter started them on a slow march through the gardens, Ana’s arm laced through his.Years of drills and training had cemented into him a minimalistic routine that did not exactly translate well to life at home.However, the precision, discipline, and restraint he had gained would benefit him somewhat.Moving about always seemed to clear his mind.At the mere motion of walking, he found that the memories that he had fought to hold captive began to loosen their hold on his tongue.
“You said thearmadawas a place of order.You joined the army for this?”Ana asked.
“More or less.”The day Peter enlisted in the army flashed before his eyes.Oh, how his hand had trembled as he signed his name on the papers, just as it had trembled as he wrote a note to his mother that he had left behind on his bed.He had prayed so desperately that she would forgive him for enlisting without consulting her first.He had, essentially, run away.But he found he could not abide his father’s company any longer.If Mother would not leave, then he would.And he would return when he was strong enough to protect her from her husband.
But she had not allowed him to remain in that grueling role of foot soldier for long.Their position in society and her assistance had elevated him much more quickly than any of the men who surrounded him.
“Mother purchased my commission to be an officer after I spent a year in the army.Four years I have served as a captain since then.And I would not allow her to purchase a commission that was higher yet.I was content with my lot.But my peers were not.”
That having been acknowledged, his subsequent rise to the position of captain could only be attributed to his strict efforts, bravery, and ungrudging obedience.Such things had become a rarity, particularly during the siege.
“It gave my fellow soldiers great reason to treat me with contempt.They did not know I was the second son of an earl, but they did know I was a gentleman and, as a result, treated me with great disrespect.What an irony, I know.However, the officer position did provide me with additional safety, which was Mother’s intention.It is likely because of my position that I survived San Sebastián.Hundreds of our men were killed.And that was before the burnings.”
“I am mostagradecidayou are safe.I do not know what I would do without you there.”
“But only God knows how undeserving I am of such responsibility.What did it matter at all if I could not keep my men from performing such unspeakable things?”Peter pounded a fist against his leg, trying in some way to ease the agonizing regret that he could not shake from his mind.
“But you rescued me,Pedro.Andmi bebé.Is that not enough?”
No.“Yes, of course.I am immensely grateful for you.For you both.”
