1953
She watched him as he tossed pebbles into the lake. When they were little he had spent an afternoon teaching her how to make the large, flat stones bounce across the water, but these were too small. They sank where they landed and left behind ripples in the water.
"I'm getting married, you know."
"To the prince, I know, everyone is talking about it."
He had changed, the scrawny boy who had once evaded her so successfully in the field behind the old pear orchard was gone. In his place sat a young man in worn blue denim jeans and a torn shirt, muscled from hard work and tanned brown as a nut. His voice had broken. It was rough and low now, but it was still kind. His Adam's apple moved up and down as he swallowed hard before he spoke again.
"I'm joining the army. The papers came last week, I have to go."
He didn't look at her, concentrating on the pebbles instead. Somewhere behind them a horse snorted.
"I don't want to get married."
"I don't want to join the army."
