Page 15

Elena shook her head. “I need to know you are on a boat to England.”

“And I need to know you are safe with relatives before I leave.”

“I will be fine.”

“I will not leave until I know you are safe.”

“I am not injured.” She put her hands on her hips.

“I am not a woman.” He did the same.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you not think I am capable of looking after myself, Tomas?”

“I have no doubt you are capable, Elena but that is not the point.”

She sipped her tea. “What is your point? I have been looking after myself and others for the last two years.”

“Living in a village is one thing; a woman traveling on her own is asking for trouble.”

“We will talk about this later.”

“Elena,” he said in exasperation.

She stood, wrapping the blanket tightly around her. “The storm is over. I will put the rest of the soup back over the fire.”

“I will not change my mind on the matter,” he said.

“Neither will I.” She disappeared through the doorway, tea in hand.

*

Thomas had never felt frustration and admiration at the same time. It seemed to take over his body like a fire in his blood. How could he want to strangle her and kiss her at the same time? His hands balled into fists, which hurt, so instead he tore up some straw. It was not nearly as satisfying. Why would she not listen to sense? He exhaled loudly. A storm like today could hit them while traveling. What then? If on her own, would she react the same as today? It was a deep-seated fear in her, an entrenched trauma from childhood during the war. As was the fact that her mother left her. Yes, she had developed some coping skills, but on her own, as was evident from today, they did not always work.

He had time to talk her into seeing his point of view. The fact they would be traveling in the same direction was an advantage. Thomas would ensure she made it to La Barossa, and he would leave her there.

Chapter Six

Elena should have known the storm would cause her to panic. They always did, but why had she decided to try to pretend at first that thunder and lightning didn’t cause her heart to crawl up her throat and strangle her? Tomas had let her cling to him like a child while he comforted her. If that wasn’t embarrassing enough, the fact that she had been half naked at the time was only something she was now realizing.

His arms offered comfort, and after seeing the room where the French had relentlessly tortured him, knowing he had endured it and was recovering, eased her troubled mind. She could not unsee that room, but she would not make him relive what happened there either by telling him what she had seen. For now, she just needed to concentrate on preparing for their travels.

As she heated the soup, she noted that her supply of food was getting dangerously low. She might have to venture into the village. It was a risk; the French might be waiting for them to show up. However, they had to eat. She could get away with skipping meals, but a man recovering from injury needed sustenance, and she feared Tomas was losing even more weight, even more condition. How would he make a journey if he was half-starved?

There was no way around it. She had to go.

Elena rose early the next morning, before the captain awoke. She wrote him a note, but she was not sure if he could read Spanish. Elena decided simple was the best. She had only scraps of paper and one short blunt pencil. So, she wrote: Village. Food. Return. And left them on her bench.

Staying in the shadows at the side of the road and looking for any type of movement, she made her way down the winding road to her home. A rooster crowed in the dawn as the village came into view. She slowed her pace, studying the vista before her. The French had not burned the whole village to the ground after all. The whitewashed buildings shone in the early morning light. It looked like the same sleepy village she had always known. Of course it did, for why would it change for her having left it? The closer she got, the faster her heart beat wildly in her chest. Should she go straight to her house to see if it still stood? Would they expect her to go there? Should she go to the tavern for food or wait until the market opened? No, that would take too long. Indecision plagued her, but finally, she stood outside the ruined remains of her home.

It no longer stood tall and proud as it once had, with only the wall with the chimney left standing. This was one promise the French had kept. A sadness swept through her like a winter chill, but no tears fell. The place where she had been born was no more. At least now leaving would be a lot easier, as she had nothing to return for. All that remained of her life here was nothing but ash.

Elena took a deep breath and moved silently around the back. Did her garden remain at least? Some garden beds close to the house were dead. But her trees remained, and some of her root vegetables. No time now to worry over them as she crept up to Christina’s back door. Her neighbor was an early riser, as she liked to get her bread ready for the day. She was standing in her kitchen when Elena walked in.

“Ay! Mi corazón.” Christina held her hand over her heart for a moment before pulling Elena into a hug. “Are you all right? I feared the worst when they burned the house.”

“Have they left the village?” Elena asked as she returned her friend’s hug.

“Si, a week or so ago. Not before they terrorized the village first. Bastardos. What will you do now?”