"James!" A shrill woman's voice cried in despair. "Don't go!" The woman was pleading, begging, trying to be strong and failing.
The tall thin captain, in full uniform and ready to do the exact opposite as she was asking, crossed the room to her. He tried to take her into his arms, where her small frame fit so perfectly, where she had previously felt safety and warmth.
"Emma," he cooed "You know I have to…" the hurt shown clearly like a mirror through his blue eyes. This was hurting him as much as it was hurting her.
The woman pushed him away, against her every instinct and every ounce of her being. More than anything she wanted him to hold her now, and never let go of her.
"But why?" She demanded "You're going to DIE out there James! I KNOW it. I just know!" Emma's voice was angry now because he was giving her that look. That look that said you're being foolish and I don't know what to do.
But she wasn't crying. James thought he might have preferred tears to this… this defiant strength.
"Youdon'tknow that. Plenty of men don't die in wars, darling. Besides… I've already been given orders."
The small woman before him crossed her arms over her chest, lifting one hand to press against her lips as if she were silencing an ocean of words.
"I'm going to lose you" she whispered finally. "You're going to leave me here all alone. I can't do this without you." Emma looked up at him now, no more anger in her eyes; only sadness. It broke James's heart more than any yelling, or rage, or hateful words could have done. It was the eerie calmness she suddenly had as if she simply looked into the future and knew what was going to happen. He stared at her, his mouth half open as if there were possibly something he could say to that.
"You don't have any faith that I'll survive?" he asked finally with a forced smile. A joke, to try and relieve some tension.
"I have plenty of faith in you, love. What I don't have faith in is war, and battles, and countries using soldiers like a child's game to do the work for them. This is bigger than before, James… Oh James…" Finally she went to him, hugging him fiercely to her. In that moment she took in his familiar scent, his warmth, the sound of his heart keeping precious time. "James." she whispered again, tears finally making their way to well up in her eyes but she fought them bag. "Please."
"My dear," James murmured, frowning and holding her as tightly as he could. He kissed the top of her head, stroking her soft brown hair. She smelled of vanilla and pomegranates, love, familiarity. Her unwavering fear and concern was beginning to shed light on some things he had previously been trying to supress.
A woman. Each man he would meet and each man he would steal life from, each man who would die in this war, would have a woman like this. A magnificent creature of deceiving strength. Perhaps they would be mothers, sisters, daughters even. Or simply lovers.
He imagined thousands of these women, angry and scared, crying, begging their men to stay, not go away to fight. As if all of them could simply reach into the future with their minds and see the end. Those men would not listen. And many of those men would never return to those wonderful women again.
He imagined thousands of women, crying, screaming, grieving. He imagined Emma among them. All weeping for their thousands of foolish soldiers who ran off to serve another woman - their countries.
If we all just listen to our women and stay home, maybe we wouldnt even have a war to fight in the first place, James thought as he clung to Emma.
He would be the reason many of those women would be robbed of beloved family and dear ones. And maybe he would be one of those men. Leaving his love to pick up the pieces and live without him, eventually finding a new man to care for her, maybe one that would listen.
"I'm so sorry" James gasped, swallowing the lump in his throat.
When she pulled away to look up into his face, he expected anger or more lectures. All he saw was her raw terror, and her sadness - so much sadness, that he reflected right back in his own eyes - but he also saw her unfailing love. And together their hearts broke as one.
"I know" she replied softly, brushing away the tear that had escaped to drift down his handsome face. She straightened his jacket lapels, patting them down, taking all of him in as fast as she could as she knew their time together was fleeting.
"I know you have to go. I just pray you will return to me." she gave him a sad smile as she reached up to hold his face between her hands.
"I love you James Nicholls" Emma went on, her voice trembling now. "Come back to me."
"I love you more than anything... And I will come back to you Emma, I wll." James replied, taking her hands gently in his own and kissing them before pulling her to him again to kiss her fiercely on the mouth.
Emma was done with her resistance. It was obviously of no use. So she surrendered and clung to the last beautiful moments with him. She would not ruin their goodbyes with resentment and anger.
When their lips separated at last, James rested his forehead against hers and sighed, closing his eyes and breathing her in. He was scared. Scared to lose her, scared she was right, scared of all the lives he would end, scared of what would happen to her if he died.
After he left the house, Emma stared after him in the doorway long after he was out of sight. Only then did her tears fall, viciously without mercy. She was prepared for the worst, but would be praying with all her might for a safe return.
Everything James did after that point he did as if he wasnt really sure what was real anymore. He purchased a fine horse and broke a boys heart - in turn a mother's heart as well. Did it ever end? And he hadn't even been to battle yet.
He kept himself busy, distracting himself from all his fears and his homesickness. Emma was constantly on his mind. He saw her all around him, in the wildflowers, in the swallows, in the laughing creeks.
But all too soon the first plan of attack was upon him. His first battle of this new war.
It was a surprise attack, on six hundred men. They wouldn't be prepared, or even see them coming. Why couldn't they just have honest and valiant battle? Face to face? But alas, this was war. There were no rules here.
As they charged the camp, James imagined all the men currently alive and breathing, who would soon be dead at his hand. Their faces burned in his mind as he struck down one after the other from the back of his strong horse. Then as they drove the frightened Germans into the forest, he saw the guns hidden in the brush, taking down everyone in their path with a deafening roar.
This was it.
The realization hit him so strongly he nearly fell from his mount without any aid from the enemy.
It was a trap. There would be no escape. Emma was right. Emma.
He was reduced from a war hero to a mere boy in that instant.
NO.He thought,not yet. I promised her.
He wanted to turn back time, or simply to flee, to crawl back to her and beg forgiveness, hold her and never let her go.
It was too late.