A/N: Part three. More to come soon! Reviews are appreciated. Thank you guys for your kind words!
All color meanings are taken from: www dot color- wheel - pro dotcom slash color-meaning dot html.
This is done purely for fun; I mean absolutely no offense by any of it! I hope no one is offended. I have nothing but the utmost respect for these men.
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"Yellow is the color of sunshine. It's associated with joy, happiness, intellect, and energy. Yellow produces a warming effect, arouses cheerfulness, stimulates mental activity, and generates muscle energy. Yellow is often associated with food. In heraldry, yellow indicates honor and loyalty. Use yellow to evoke pleasant, cheerful feelings." – Color Meanings
His mother tried to get him to wear a suit.
Eugene had stubbornly refused, choosing instead a plain white shirt and some brown pants with a belt. He had to fend off his mother's fussing the entire morning; once she'd discovered where he was going Sunday afternoon, she hadn't quit pestering him since. His brother Edwin had ribbed him good naturedly, and his father had smiled indulgently. Eugene knew they were all glad he seemed to be easing back into being 'normal' again, but despite what he was doing, he didn't feel quite normal.
Ten minutes to noon found him leaning against the wall that bordered his parent's property, a long stem of grass held between his fingers and his eyes shut. His arms were folded behind his head, one ankle crossed over the other, and if he hadn't been standing, he might've appeared to be asleep.
When he heard the tell-tale crunch of dirt under bike tires, he opened his eyes to see Nina headed towards him on her little cruiser. She lifted a hand to wave in greeting, and he dropped the grass and pushed off of the wall to meet her just as she pulled up beside him.
"Afternoon," he greeted, the beginning of a smile worming its way onto his face.
"And to you too, Mr. Sledge." She indicated the basket hanging from her handlebars, and he took it quickly, draping it over his arm with a curious look. "I figured I'd bring lunch. It's easier than going all the way into town for food, or bothering anyone at your house to cook anything. This way, we can enjoy the outdoors and eat our meal. Does that sound good?"
Eugene glanced up into the sky; there were clouds just on the horizon, but there hadn't been any rain forecast, so he supposed a picnic outside would be an all right idea. It was better than being cooped up in some stuffy restaurant or his home with his mother and father buzzing around them and being a bother.
"Sure," he agreed, allowing her a moment to lean her bike against the wall of his property, before she returned to his side. "I know a pretty nice spot. Let's go."
He led her down the road and to one of the trails that branched off into the forest surrounding his home, knowing each twist and turn of the curving paths by heart. They soon reached a small clearing, surrounded by trees, where tall green grass and wildflowers swayed. "This okay?" he asked, gesturing to the glade.
Nina took a long, slow breath, eyes closed as she nodded. "It's wonderful, Eugene. We don't have anything quite this pretty back home; mostly, it's all fields and farms. Not a lot of nature left for anyone to enjoy unless you go out of your way to find it."
"Where is home for you exactly?" he asked as Nina opened the basket and pulled out a small blanket she'd stuffed into the top. He watched her spread it out on the ground, before she plopped down unceremoniously and patted the spot next to her. He eased down beside her, setting the basket between them.
"I used to live in California," she explained. "Just a small town, nothing special. When I joined the Nurse Corp, I ended up in Georgia, and from there…" She shrugged. "I spent a while in England before they shipped up to France, and then Holland and Belgium, and Germany." Her fingers slowed and then stilled as they reached for things in the basket, and Eugene watched her hesitantly. "After the war I…I didn't really…want to go back home," she admitted softly. "I don't know why; I felt like I was different, changed, and maybe…I thought people would see that. I was afraid, I guess…Afraid of who I'd become, afraid of trying to be normal again."
Her hands quickly resumed their busy motion, pulling out food wrapped in cloths and napkins and setting it on the blanket. She didn't offer any more explanation, and Eugene didn't ask her for one; he understood what she was saying. Maybe if he'd been a different person, he would've left home too. But there was too much here for him to give up, too much to leave behind.
"It's not much," Nina told him, motioning to the sandwiches she'd made as she unwrapped them. "I'm not a five-star chef or anything. I figured we should keep it light and simple."
They did just that, and Eugene was glad of it. They didn't talk about the war, or about their feelings or thoughts. They spoke of friends, family, aspirations or lack thereof, and interests. He discovered that she thoroughly enjoyed her job as a front desk clerk at the post office, and that Mr. Grayson, the head post man, was the father of one of the women she'd served with in the corps, and had offered her a job when she'd come to visit and get away from it all. She'd taken it, and was glad of it. She spent her free time sewing her own dresses, and liked vibrant, bright colors. Black and browns, she'd said, were far too dull for anyone to wear.
Eugene told her of his love of nature, of plants and birds and other animals. He'd told her what the difference between a Bullock's Oriole and a Baltimore Oriole was, and had even pointed out a red-winged blackbird that landed on a tree nearby. He'd picked one of the flowers that grew wild in the field, held it up to her with a smile, and told her it was a woodland sunflower, a common plant found all over Alabama. He'd placed it in her hair, over her ear, and she'd smiled at him in a way that made his heart swell.
They were folding the blanket and smoothing the grass they'd trampled when the first raindrops hit. Eugene straightened, blinking in surprise and looking up into the sky as the clouds from earlier all but blotted out the sun. Dropping his gaze, he locked eyes with Nina, who had been as startled as he was, and nearly dropped the blanket in her arms.
"Shit," he muttered, taking the blanket from her hands and unfolding it to use to keep the rain off of her. "Here, get under this."
Her hands on his stopped him, and he looked down at her curiously as she shook her head. "It's just a little rain, Eugene. It's fine." She took the blanket from him, refolding it and placing it back in the basket while he stood under the rain as it started getting heavier.
"But what about your clothes? Your hair?" he asked, wondering what kind of woman wouldn't care about those sorts of things; certainly none he knew.
"They'll dry." She draped the basket across her arm, before reaching out and tentatively taking his hand in hers. "Let's walk back. The rain doesn't bother me; does it bother you, Eugene?"
Yes. It did. It reminded him of mud, and death, and digging a foxhole until his shovel hit bone and decay and the stench…
He realized he must have been staring blindly, because when he blinked back into realization, Nina had placed one hand on his cheek and was gazing up at him worriedly. The rain had plastered her hair to her head, soaking through her dress. "Eugene," she whispered. "Come back to me. You're here, you're home. Nothing can hurt you here. You're okay."
Eugene felt himself reaching up, placing a hand over hers where it rested against the cool curve of his cheek.
"Come on," she informed him, lips quirking in a hesitant smile. "I bet I can beat you back to your house." She didn't even give him a chance to respond before she turned on her heel and took off, feet splashing in the muddy puddles and clearly enjoying herself; she didn't seem to care that she was being soaked, or that she looked like a mess. Her dress was splattered with mud, flowing around her calves like the petals of a hanging flower.
Eugene felt something inside of him shift, some sort of dark, coiled part of him slowly start to free itself as he started after her. A laugh wound its way from his lips as he squelched through mud and water and tried to forget the way it had mixed with the blood of the fallen on a lonely island in the Pacific. She raced ahead of him, looking over her shoulder to be sure he was following, and she seemed to glow like a beacon in the night.
Her dress was the color of sunshine.
