Una looked around in a daze. Things would never be the same. It had been
a beautiful night, but to be marred by war. How life and death had a way of
mixing was unbelievable to her. She felt Shirley's arm on her shoulder; it
was comforting to have him near. She heard Walter, his voice sad and drawn.
She heard him not hearing the words. She felt herself being guided outside.
She could hear Faith's voice. Her sister was crying. Her sister never
cried. She wondered what Jem was planning to do. She wondered what Walter
was planning to do. He was not well enough yet, she thought. He could not
fight. They could not let him fight.
Una sat on the rocks, the night air, chilling her to the bone. But she did not feel the cold air nip at her skin. Instead she felt as though she were burning up. She felt agitated and scared. Scared for her brothers, her father, her family and friends. Scared for the beginning of this new chapter in her life -- this new unknown chapter in her life. Never had she thought she would see something like this. "Una", she had felt Walter's eyes on her before he spoke, "we have been looking for you all over. Faith and Jem have already left. Shirley and Jerry are trying to find Nan. She ran off." He sounded tired, tired and old. Una turned around to face him. Her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Let's go home." He held his hand out to her.
Una took the offered hand. It was amazing to think that only a few hours ago the night had seemed so romantic, so full of possibilities. The moon had brightened up the night sky lending a soft glow to the evening. But now it seemed to be smiling maliciously down at her. She could see the face in the moon taunting her. She swore she could. There was after all a man on the moon, she thought, shivering.
"Una, here take my jacket. You are shaking like a leaf." Walter laughed at himself for using such a clichéd phrase. And here he had always considered himself to be a poet. Una looked up at him steadily, "Oh, I am not so cold," her voice trailed off. Walter squeezed her hand. What a comforting gesture she thought. She wondered how many times he had made such a gesture to other girls - to Faith, to that Irene?
"This talk of war, must be rather hard for you. It is abdominably hard for me as well. I cannot understand how war can ever be right. How can we ever justify the killing of others, other humans -- the suffering and the pain. Perhaps I really am a coward for not wanting to fight. But it is far to ugly, like a nightmare. I wish we could just wake up tomorrow, and find that there never was a Kaiser." Walter could feel Una's eyes burning into him as he spoke. He wondered if any other girl of his acquaintance had eyes like hers -- penetrating. "I had not meant to go on in such a manner," he said turning to Una, "Come let us talk of something else - fluff and fun. The night was beautiful, maybe we can make it so again." He took Una's tremulous smile as a sign of acquiescence.
"You know it is a shame you do not dance. They were many who would have liked to take you for a twirl," Walter said good-naturedly. More likely Una thought piteously, you wanted to take Faith out for a twirl. Una's voice was tinged with a bitterness Walter had never heard before. "You are far too kind to me Walter. But do not worry over me. There is no need to pay me compliments meant for others." Walter looked up sharply; this was not the Una he knew. Granted he rarely saw her when she was truly happy or carefree, though she did often seem that way in Shirley's company. They were both so alike, Una and Shirley, quiet and unassuming. But he had never heard her sound so resigned and tragic and sad. And in the moonlight, with the news of war hanging over them, and her big blue eyes full of tears, she really did look tragic, he thought. The lines of a sonnet formed in his mind - for the first time in months he was inspired by someone other than Rosemund.
He had to run to catch up with her. She heard him behind her, and when she turned he saw the tears. She wiped at her eyes furiously, angered at being caught in such an unguarded display of emotion. She could not believe she had let him see her this way. Or that she had spoken to him so rudely. She should have just accepted his compliment, idle though it was. "Shirley will not have to go yet. He is far too young, and it is not as though Susan would allow it, let alone mother." Una looked at him blankly, "Go where?" She paused. "Walter Blythe, what on earth are you talking about?"
Walter was sure he had never been so confused in his life. Here he was trying to sympathize with Una Meredith, and she was not having it. Instead she was looking at him as though he had two heads. Una, sweet, simple, kind Una - she was far from simple. He would attest to that. "I meant Shirley won't go to war." Una's eyes got even bigger. "I know that!" she said confused. "But even then, what does it matter," she caught herself, "I mean of course it matters. But why would you bring up such a thing. I mean why Shirley why not Jem, or Jerry, or," she added much more softly, "you." Walter strained to catch the end of her sentence, the glimmer in her eye, the tremor in her voice. The moon must be playing tricks on all of them tonight. He could have sworn, no it couldn't be. Una couldn't care for him like that. Could she?
Una sat on the rocks, the night air, chilling her to the bone. But she did not feel the cold air nip at her skin. Instead she felt as though she were burning up. She felt agitated and scared. Scared for her brothers, her father, her family and friends. Scared for the beginning of this new chapter in her life -- this new unknown chapter in her life. Never had she thought she would see something like this. "Una", she had felt Walter's eyes on her before he spoke, "we have been looking for you all over. Faith and Jem have already left. Shirley and Jerry are trying to find Nan. She ran off." He sounded tired, tired and old. Una turned around to face him. Her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Let's go home." He held his hand out to her.
Una took the offered hand. It was amazing to think that only a few hours ago the night had seemed so romantic, so full of possibilities. The moon had brightened up the night sky lending a soft glow to the evening. But now it seemed to be smiling maliciously down at her. She could see the face in the moon taunting her. She swore she could. There was after all a man on the moon, she thought, shivering.
"Una, here take my jacket. You are shaking like a leaf." Walter laughed at himself for using such a clichéd phrase. And here he had always considered himself to be a poet. Una looked up at him steadily, "Oh, I am not so cold," her voice trailed off. Walter squeezed her hand. What a comforting gesture she thought. She wondered how many times he had made such a gesture to other girls - to Faith, to that Irene?
"This talk of war, must be rather hard for you. It is abdominably hard for me as well. I cannot understand how war can ever be right. How can we ever justify the killing of others, other humans -- the suffering and the pain. Perhaps I really am a coward for not wanting to fight. But it is far to ugly, like a nightmare. I wish we could just wake up tomorrow, and find that there never was a Kaiser." Walter could feel Una's eyes burning into him as he spoke. He wondered if any other girl of his acquaintance had eyes like hers -- penetrating. "I had not meant to go on in such a manner," he said turning to Una, "Come let us talk of something else - fluff and fun. The night was beautiful, maybe we can make it so again." He took Una's tremulous smile as a sign of acquiescence.
"You know it is a shame you do not dance. They were many who would have liked to take you for a twirl," Walter said good-naturedly. More likely Una thought piteously, you wanted to take Faith out for a twirl. Una's voice was tinged with a bitterness Walter had never heard before. "You are far too kind to me Walter. But do not worry over me. There is no need to pay me compliments meant for others." Walter looked up sharply; this was not the Una he knew. Granted he rarely saw her when she was truly happy or carefree, though she did often seem that way in Shirley's company. They were both so alike, Una and Shirley, quiet and unassuming. But he had never heard her sound so resigned and tragic and sad. And in the moonlight, with the news of war hanging over them, and her big blue eyes full of tears, she really did look tragic, he thought. The lines of a sonnet formed in his mind - for the first time in months he was inspired by someone other than Rosemund.
He had to run to catch up with her. She heard him behind her, and when she turned he saw the tears. She wiped at her eyes furiously, angered at being caught in such an unguarded display of emotion. She could not believe she had let him see her this way. Or that she had spoken to him so rudely. She should have just accepted his compliment, idle though it was. "Shirley will not have to go yet. He is far too young, and it is not as though Susan would allow it, let alone mother." Una looked at him blankly, "Go where?" She paused. "Walter Blythe, what on earth are you talking about?"
Walter was sure he had never been so confused in his life. Here he was trying to sympathize with Una Meredith, and she was not having it. Instead she was looking at him as though he had two heads. Una, sweet, simple, kind Una - she was far from simple. He would attest to that. "I meant Shirley won't go to war." Una's eyes got even bigger. "I know that!" she said confused. "But even then, what does it matter," she caught herself, "I mean of course it matters. But why would you bring up such a thing. I mean why Shirley why not Jem, or Jerry, or," she added much more softly, "you." Walter strained to catch the end of her sentence, the glimmer in her eye, the tremor in her voice. The moon must be playing tricks on all of them tonight. He could have sworn, no it couldn't be. Una couldn't care for him like that. Could she?