Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended. I want to thank my betas, U2Shay and Adt216, for helping me through this process. Special thanks to Kalimando and radar1230 for helping me with the details of Jasper's horses referenced in this chapter. The banner for this story and this chapter can be found through my profile or at: http:/firstblushes(dot)livejournal(dot)com/

The prologue gives you an idea of where we're going but this chapter begins one year ago, in November of 1944. We're giving Jasper and Alice a chance to tell you not only how their love story ends but how it began.


Dear Alice: November, One Year Ago

The loud clump of Jasper's army boots sounded like the flop of a flat tire hitting the pavement. His eyes, half lidded with sleep, barely recognized the building that loomed before him. He wondered briefly if he'd have the strength necessary to manage the barracks door. With a creak and a groan, he shoved his weight against the frame until it gave way. The cedar wood smell that hit him was an empty but welcomed homecoming. Once inside, he leaned with his back against the opposite side of the door and exhaled in relief. He'd never felt more exhausted at any other moment in his life. All the training in the world could not have prepared him for the battle he'd waged today. In a matter of seconds, he'd gone from feeling fear, to betrayal, to numbing shock. But at the end of it all, it was the enemy who lay broken and bleeding around him.

Thank God, he thought.

Jasper carried a mix of emotions over the threshold of his room. Satisfaction and self-hatred were his new companions. He had taken a life, justifiably so, but nonetheless it had been by his own hand.

The moles and the threats that they'd imposed had been successfully extinguished. Jasper shook his head and licked the barely clotted wounds on his knuckles before tossing his bag unceremoniously into the corner of the small room. It landed with a satisfying thud and awoke a cloud of dust motes from their entombed slumber. As the drifting cloud permeated the room, Jasper's unseeing eyes followed the floating dust over toward the tiny but inviting bed. His feet would dangle over the edge, as always, and freeze for lack of covering, but that hardly mattered. At the very least it was soft and dry. All other thoughts left him except for the physical bliss he was certain that sleep would generously provide. Not hunger, not loneliness, not even worry could stop his feet from dragging him forward until he flopped on his bed like a side of beef. The last thing that registered in his mind was the sound of the key to his footlocker being dropped like a dart onto the wooden floor beneath him.

j~JJJ~j

Jasper sucked in a deep breath and groaned. Every muscle in his body felt like it had cramped up with the few hours rest he'd granted himself. His eyes remained closed in a stubborn attempt to steal a few more hours of shuteye. Unfortunately, his mind wouldn't release him back to the peace of exhaustion driven unconsciousness. The alarm clock by his bed clicked in an angry tone, banging like a hoof beat against the side of his head. Jasper sighed. To him, hoof beats were like a lullaby playing in his head, but the static click of the alarm clock was nothing close to the beauty of a well trained animal. His mind automatically drifted to memories of his horse, Ria. She was a beautiful animal, sleek, powerful, smart, and goddamned fast. He loved riding her, feeling the power of her strides as they tended the cattle and playfully chased down the day. The stark walls that currently surrounded him were a far cry from the beautiful rolling plains of his home in west Texas. Jasper sighed once more and resigned himself to the end of his slumber.

He slowly pried one eye open; it was dark, of course. He had fallen asleep somewhere around seven in the evening, just as the sun's afternoon rays had kissed the horizon. By his best guess, lacking the light necessary to read the alarm clock, it was roughly four am. No, he didn't need a clock to figure that out. Fifteen months of exactly seven hours of sleep has an effect on a man. Jasper curled into a ball, pulling his toes back underneath the green woolen blanket.

Damn, they were cold.

He reached down between the layers of warmth to try to rub some circulation and heat back into the tips of his frozen limbs. He gave up after a short while and rose to a sitting position, figuring that adding shoes might help at least a little bit. It didn't. In fact, he felt dramatically colder the moment his socked feet touched the wooden floor. He groaned and tapped the radiator behind his bed frame with his mess kit. The radiator's response was a coughing hiss that seemed to bring it back to life. Jasper was mildly pleased that the mess kit had served a greater purpose this morning. It certainly wasn't fulfilling the function of providing culinary delights. Army food provided sustenance, no more, no less.

Jasper pressed his palms into his eye sockets, trying hard to pull himself from the stupor of sleep. As his eyes opened a second time, he saw it. Across the small aisle from him was the empty bunk of his young partner, Seth Winterbothem.

Seth was a good kid but very green. He was younger than Jasper by a year or so. He was smart, kind and had a wicked sense of British humor. Jasper had liked him from the start. Now he could only pray that his friend was still alive and that he would see him soon. A few days ago, Seth had been attacked at knifepoint by the worst kind of traitor, a double agent. Jasper shook his head in disgust.

It should have been me on the watch at that hour. It should have been me who'd been attacked.

These useless thoughts continued to plague Jasper's mind as he recounted the attack. He'd been asleep on a cot inside Bella's room when a loud crashing noise had him running in the direction of the scuffle. Just outside Bella's door lay his partner, Seth, gasping for air while Edward struggled to fend off the attacker. Jasper didn't think; he only reacted by propelling himself toward the assailant. Now the only peace that Jasper had to hold on to was the satisfying sound of the attacker's head being slammed onto the linoleum. In his mind, he hadn't saved Edward or Seth from the attack, but he'd at least he earned a small serving of retribution for them.

Despite Jasper's self flagellation, the truth was that he had saved his friend and his partner. He had also saved Bella, Edward's wife, who was lying incapacitated not thirty feet from the attacker. Jasper wouldn't allow himself any comfort in their safety; he only felt the weight of responsibility for Seth's injuries. After all, it was his strategy they followed when planning out the watch schedule. It was his plan that had allowed him enough sleep to manage the drive to Gourock the following morning. It was his plan that had put his partner, the least experienced of the three of them, on that fateful watch at three am.

Jasper felt that it was his responsibility to look out for Seth. Edward was the lead, but he was also sick with worry over Bella who, despite the strength of her character, had at best, a tenuous hold on her physical health.

No, Edward had other things on his mind, and rightfully so, Jasper thought. It should have been me taking care of Seth.

At that very moment, Jasper made up his mind to request some leave so he could check on his partner's health.

Surely they would agree to that, wouldn't they?

Jasper rubbed his eyes once more in worry. Another chill hit him, and he moved his hands to his thighs and tried to make enough friction to create at least the illusion of warmth. The movements resulted in a crinkling sound as his hand moved swiftly over the left pocket of his trousers.

Alice.

He'd carried her address ever since Edward gave it to him on the shores of Gourock. Jasper stood up from his bed, ensured the blackout shade was pulled taut, and then stuffed the corners with a few pairs of socks. He then took two of his woolen undershirts from his footlocker and rolled them to fit snugly up against the crack beneath the door. Standing back, he surveyed his work, then nodded to himself, satisfied that this was the best he could do. His uncoordinated fingers fumbled around in the dark to find the small desk lamp. With a simple click, light flooded the tiny space. Jasper winced against the bright light only to find the bare cot across from his bed a stark reminder of how alone he truly was. He dropped his head and placed his hand on the back of the room's solitary chair.

What am I thinking? This woman doesn't know me from Adam. He shook his head again to clear his thoughts.

Well, she's not going to find out by you standing here all alone either.

With that, he pulled out the chair and set himself to work.

November 17th, 1944

Dear Miss Alice,

I apologize to you in advance, Miss Alice, for sending you this letter before we are formally introduced. My name is Jasper Allan Whitlock. And although the name may not mean much to you right now, I am hoping that by reading this letter you will allow me to change that.

A mutual friend, Mr. Edward Masen, passed your address to me. As Edward puts it, his beautiful, charming, ever intelligent Bella believes that you might be interested in the dribbling of a young fool such as myself. I hope this letter gives me the chance to prove her right. I've had the opportunity to get to know Bella and Edward over the last three months and in that time I have grown most fond of them. Edward is an extremely lucky man, and as for Bella, well, let's just say that she sticks to her decisions well.

All kidding aside—and yes, of course I am kidding—they are quite lucky to have one another. Despite the loneliness that their departure leaves me feeling, I pray that this letter arrives after they have been safely returned to you.

As you may have gathered by now, I am a soldier in the United States Army. Due to the type of assignments I'm involved in, there isn't a whole lot I can tell you about it. The days are long. The nights are cold and sometimes lonely, but I pray that the service we are all providing keeps our families safe back home. I'm stationed in London. It's a beautiful city, or at least it once was. The crumbled buildings from the air raids leave much of the architecture and infrastructure damaged, though hopefully not beyond repair. Don't get me wrong, Miss Alice, not all of the sites to be seen here are horrors of war. There are still reasons to smile. I've found art, literature, music and even the occasional USO dance to lighten my spirits. Seeing some of my fellow flatfooted soldiers attempt the jitterbug is enough to make anyone smile, at least for a few hours.

I know from your address that you hail from Maryland. I've never been there but would love to see it one day. In fact, there isn't much of the good 'ol US of A that I don't plan on visiting or appreciating once I return home. As for me, I'm a country boy from Nickel Creek Station in west Texas. Probably one of the best ways for me to introduce myself to you is to describe a little piece of my corner of the world.

Every morning on the farm started early. There were always chores to do, animals to tend, and inevitably, some fence to repair. Aside from the scorching heat in the summer time, it was a great place to grow up. The land is a beautiful sight to behold. The sunlight coming up over the hills each morning would rival any Farquharson painting. My family raises cattle, and there's no better tool for a cattle rancher than a trusted mare. One morning in particular I rose and went out to the barn to feed the horses. I had two that I called my own, Lucy and Ria. Ria had been passed down to me by my father. She was a little older than most working mares by the time I climbed her saddle, but she was a good horse and smart as all get out. By the time I turned fifteen, Ria had started to lose her sight. My dad wanted to put her down but I couldn't bear to do it. It just felt wrong. So every morning I got up extra early to do some work at the neighbors' farms. It didn't pay much, but it was enough to cover Ria's feed. Dad said I could keep her so long as she wasn't a burden on the farm. You see, Alice, by 1940 the effects of the depression had lessened its grip on a lot of the US, but it still held a firm grasp on the throats of folks in Nickel Creek. I respected my old man enough to earn my keep and that of my animals. At fifteen I was a man, and he trusted me to act as such. Sorry, I didn't mean to ramble quite so much, but earning my father's respect was important to me. Well, you see, on this one particular morning, I went to the stables to feed Lucy and Ria, only to see that Ria's stall was empty. I had a few choice words roll through my head for whichever one of my nephews had left her stall open. I saddled Lucy quickly and headed out to find Ria.

Despite her failing sight, Ria knew these lands well. I imagined she took the trail that would lead her to the stream at the far eastern corner of our pasture. The slope was flat for the most part, and if she kept her nose pointed in the direction of the morning sun, she'd eventually reach the water. I followed that same path, hoping to catch a glimpse of her in the glow of the rising dawn. A huge smile broke across my face and fear turned to relief once I spotted my trusted friend. I whistled her call from some thirty yards out, but it was enough for her sensitive ears. They pricked twice, and she quickly turned from her morning drink to find her way back to me.

I stopped Lucy and tied her to the nearest mandrone tree. In my pocket were a few bits of feed that I held out for her. Lucy, easily contented with food over the impending chores that awaited us, munched on the proffered snack. Ria, on the other hand, was a much smarter animal. I whistled again, calling her name to lead her in my direction. Feed alone would not be enough to bring her back to me. It was as if she knew her fading sight prevented her from taking the long rides we once had and feeling her legs stretch over the course of a hard day's work. I called out to her, telling her that I had chores to do and that she had a restful life of retirement waiting. Ria turned her head in my direction with her ears pricked at attention. It was as if she were a petulant child, not wanting to go take a nap. Before I could utter another word, Ria ran full tilt in my direction. With her limited vision, I feared she'd run right over me and break a few bones in the process. Instead, Ria reared up to her full height and started stomping around like she'd gone mad. I covered my face protectively and turned away from the onslaught.

We were at the far end of the pasture. If I was trampled it would be hours before my family would even realize I was missing, then even longer before they'd find me. I'd likely be unconscious, unable to ride Lucy home or even call out for help.

These thoughts swirled in my mind while Ria made her mad dance with the devil. She whinnied and snorted, stomped and kicked. I was frozen, unable to move for fear of inching in the wrong direction only to be trampled by her flying hooves. A minute had passed, maybe two, but it felt like an eternity. Ria's crazed movements slowed until a loud snort was followed by her trotting back toward the water. When the dust had finally settled I saw what Ria's sensitive ears had detected long before my own.

A cottonmouth snake lay trampled and lifeless not three feet from me. Laying among the rocks it could have easily struck me. I shuddered, thinking of the agonizing death that the venom could have caused. I'd never felt so grateful for a horse in all my life. Ria was flustered and sweating when I reached her at the water's edge. After a few moments of calming words, I thanked her and brushed the stray thrush from her mane and tail before leading her back to Lucy.

A lone lead rope tethered Ria to Lucy and me as we made our way back to the barn. By now it was probably about seven and the morning chores at the Wilson's farm would have to wait for another day. At that moment, I was just content to be alive. Edging slowly among the thicket, I noticed a recent path likely made by companions making their way across our land. I called out loudly, hoping the volume of my voice would carry more power than my stature and fifteen years could muster on their own. The brush wavered and two of the dirtiest looking boys I'd ever laid eyes on emerged to stand shamefully before me. They were not only covered with the dirt of their travels but also with the straw that had likely come from Ria's open stall. The larger of the two boys called out an apology. They told me that they we were just hungry and tired. They wanted to work for food but couldn't go back home without bringing something for the rest of the family. They apologized for letting Ria out of her stall, saying they were just looking for a soft place to bed down for the night. I looked into the pale blue eyes of the boys and shook my head. It had solely been by the grace of God that our cattle had survived the dry season with the meager feed we could offer. A twist of fate and I could have easily been in their shoes. They told me that there were eight in their family, and I took my new found gratitude for Ria and put it to good use.

I swung my leg over and dismounted before reaching over to unbuckle Lucy's saddle. Within minutes I'd had it transferred to Ria. The boys looked on, puzzled until I tied the lead rope around Lucy and handed it to the boys. I told them to head southwest for about four miles south until they reached Pine Springs. There they'd be able to fetch a decent price for Lucy. If they weren't cheated, it would probably be enough to feed a family, even a large one, for about two months.

My father soundly beat me when I got home. After all, what foolish boy gives up a perfectly good ranch horse for a tired mare who can't see very well? When the beating was over and my hind end was sore enough to keep me twisting in the saddle for days, my old man hugged me tight around the shoulders and ruffled the hair on top of my head. He couldn't acknowledge what I'd done was a good thing, after all it was foolish and stupid, but deep down there must have been a part of him that understood why I did it. Perhaps he might have even done the same if he'd been in my shoes. I knew I would work slower with Ria than I could have with Lucy, but I owed her my life and giving those boys a chance at feeding themselves and their kin seemed to be a small payment owed back for my own good fortune.

So that's me in a nutshell, Miss Alice, a little impetuous, a little foolish, a little softhearted and a lot loyal. I hope I haven't scared you off with my forwardness and that you'll consider writing me back in return.

Sincerely yours,

Jasper Allan Whitlock, PFC

United States Army

Jasper sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "Right now, I could use the company,"he said to no one in particular.

He sealed the envelope and wrote Alice's address on the front before tucking it into his shirt pocket. When he looked over at the clock, he was surprised to find that nearly two hours had passed. Before long the bugler's trumpet would be calling him out to stand in the freezing cold for morning fall-in and the day's instructions. What had surprised Jasper even more that morning, was being called out of the freezing cold lineup to join Master Sergeant Gray in the headquarters building. After a brief description of the situation, he surrendered his newly drafted letter so it could serve as a message for his recently departed friends.

Jasper had never written to a woman before, at least not to one who wasn't already a member of his family. He closed his hand, tightening his grasp over the envelope and whispered a silent wish that his words would be enough to convince the woman who'd receive them to write him back. He released the paper into the hands of Master Sergeant Gray and with a wistful expression plastered on his face, he thought, Well, here goes nothin'.


A/N: I was so thrilled with the response to the prologue that I want to say thank you with a preview of chapter 3:

Alice reached into the mailbox and dragged the thick packet of mail back out. Her fingers trembled as they combed through each piece of mail. All signs of her earlier blustering at Bella's "radio silence" were gone now. Her fears were enough to forestall any snarky remarks. It didn't take long before Alice could breathe again. There wasn't a trace of yellow parchment in the entire stack. A heavy exhale of relief escaped her as she re-combed the mail, more slowly this time. As she reached the last few items, she found a hand addressed letter and paused to look over the address.

London? Who the heck is Jasper Whitlock?

Thank you for reading and please let me know what you think.

-First Blush


The Long Way Home Historical Research and Reference Guide: Chapter 2 Dear Alice

Story reference: Jasper uses the contents of his footlocker to block out the light from his desk lamp.

Historical Significance: Army footlockers had a defined place for every item, including a shoeshine kit and a carton of cigarettes.

Source: http:/www(dot)serviceofsupply(dot)com/WWIIInfoPage(dot)htm (bottom of the page)


Story reference: Jasper describes going to USO dances with his fellow soldiers in London.

Historical Significance: Behind the lines and in larger cities like London, the USO would sponsor dances for soldiers on leave.

Source: http:/www(dot)swingdanceandlindyhop(dot)com/articles/world-war-ii-music(dot)shtml


Story reference: Jasper describes riding his favorite horse through his family pastures in Nickel Creek.

Historical Significance: Photographs demonstrating the beauty of Nickel Creek, TX

Source: http:/members(dot)tripod(dot)com/airfields_freeman/TX/Hartlee_TX_04Nov_hangars(dot)jpg


Story reference: Jasper describes the sunrise in Nickel Creek as one that would rival a Farquharson painting.

Historical Significance: Joseph Farquharson was a Scottish Laird born in 1846. His first exhibit was at age 13. He painted the people of Scotland going about their everyday labors in dramatic landscapes.

Source: http:/www(dot)ramshornstudio(dot)com/joseph_farquharson(dot)htm

Jasper likes Faraquharson because he can connect with the painter and the sheep herders he paints. He finds beauty/familiarity with his own family's cattle ranch.


Story reference: Jasper describes tying Lucy to a mandrone tree when he searches for Ria

Historical Significance: The Madrone Tree, is a native to Nickel Creek Texas.

Source: www(dot)flickr(dot)com/(dot)(dot)(dot)/in/set-72157600311770715/


Story reference: Jasper describes the cottonmouth snake that Ria tramples for him

Historical Significance: Cottonmouths are some of the most deadly snakes found as natural inhabitants of the Texas landscape.

Source: http:/www(dot)poisoncontrol(dot)org/docs/toxic_bites(dot)pdf