Thoughts Into Words


18 May 1919

Paris

Dear Kit,

You know that I am not much of a one for words, but there is so much I would say to you.

I wish I did not have to. I wish I were home right now and we could just sit next to one another in our old spot by the water and not be required to put thoughts into words. Sometimes I think everything would be alright if only we could sit together like that again.

But then I think of coming home, of seeing you every day and knowing that we can never, ever have what our siblings have. Do you think I want to sit next to you at wedding after wedding after wedding? I do not.

It is too hard. I can't come home knowing that you can never really be mine. Would you, if such a thing were possible? After what you said to me the last time I saw you, I thought you would. But what could that ever mean for us? Paris was everything to me, but a few wonderful days are not a lifetime.

It's likely I'll be demobilized in a few weeks. And then what? Home to the Glen? To see you every day — so near and still so hopeless? To have every busybody drooling over my medals and wanting to hear about each and every one of my "kills"? To have Susan pushing every unmarried girl in the Glen into my lap? To stand up beside you someday and hold my peace while you marry someone else? I can't even bear the thought, let alone the reality.

Things will be better for both of us if I don't come home at all. You can stay in the Glen with your family and lead a normal life. Get married. Have a family of your own. You'll be good at all that. But I don't want to watch you do it. This way, no one will ever find out and you'll never have to worry about prison or Hell or any of it ever again. You can just rest and be safe and I won't put you in any more danger. I know what you said. I won't ever forget it. But things will be better for you if just let me go.

There was a moment in October when I knew I was going to die. Not someday; in a minute. My plane was going down, but I wasn't scared at all. Really. I was just relieved. It would have solved everything, if only I had let it. That's how it was supposed to be, neat and tidy. But at the last moment I panicked and fought to pull out of the dive and ruined everything. I woke up in the hospital to find it was all still an unresolvable mess, and wishing I had just died as I should have.

I'm sorry. I never spent much time imagining the future. It hardly seemed worthwhile. Now I must, and if this is the new world, there isn't much in it for us, is there? If we can't be together, I don't want to be anywhere near you. For both our sakes.

All my love forever,

Shirley


2 June 1919

Very, Very Far from Paris

Dear Shirley,

I remember very well what I said to you. Do you remember what you said to me? I won't forget it, not ever. The very idea is ridiculous. Go live a normal life? I have seen Paris as well.

Let me assure you of my love. I am astonished beyond words that you could possibly doubt it. A few wonderful days may not be a lifetime, but I have lived in those days since the moment we parted. And how can you say that we have had only a few wonderful days? I can count hundreds: days of quiet study and comradeship and the sweet and bewildering realization that you could possibly love me as I love you.

Or at least you did, once. Didn't you? It's true enough that we cannot have what others have. But I do not want what they have. I want you and nothing else. Is that plain enough for you? I do not know precisely what that means, but I know that it does not start with keeping an ocean between us.

Valid as your worries may be, I do not accept your reasoning. What does it matter if we have to endure a hundred weddings? Can't we laugh over them together?

Even if the Glen is too hard, we can still have Kingsport. Surely there is somewhere in the old city where we might elude our siblings. I know one who would shelter us.

You gave me your wings; did you mean all that or not? I did. And I always planned on the long run. You can't possibly think that anyone would be even the slightest bit better off without you, least of all me. Safe? If this is safety, I don't want it.

Of course it will not be easy. I never thought it would be. But when was there ever a danger you wouldn't face? Whatever happened to The Count of Monte Cristo? Perhaps you will remember that you once told me that the only true happiness is the one we must win.

Understand this: I am wholly in sympathy with your wish to be together somewhere that does not require me to articulate my feelings. Give me half a chance and you will not doubt me long. Come home, Shirley. Please.

Love,

Kit