Chapter 32

Crawford returned to their tent unnoticed, under the cover of darkness. As he climbed between the sheets of their pallet and rolled onto his side, his back to her, he felt her stir.

“Will?” she whispered still sounding slightly groggy from the sedative that Ahmed had given her.

“Yes, luv,” he said as he quickly turned to face her.

And there it was. An awkward silence fell between them.

“What do you need?” he asked a moment later.

“I…I…” she started, then drifted off.

“Tell me,” he said, softly.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice tremulous as she tried not to cry. If he hadn’t been hovering directly above her he would never have even caught her words.

“For what?” asked Crawford, his heart breaking as he listened to her quietly begin to sob.

“I should have listened to you. I-” started Elizabeth.

Crawford reached out into the darkness and with the pads of his thumbs brushed away her tears. “Angellah told me what he saw. What he thought happened.”

Elizabeth nodded and filled with shame she tried to turn her head away.

“I have three questions and I want honest answers. Can you do that for me?” asked Crawford as he placed his hand under her chin and turned her head back towards him.

“Y-y-yes,” she said, voice still quivering.

“Did you want to have sex with Parker?” he asked.

“What? Of course not!” she said, angry that he could even ask such a question.

“Did you try in any way to discourage his advances?” he asked.

“How do you think I got this big knot on the back of my head, and the bruises and scrapes? ‘Don’t touch me!’ I said. ‘I’ll scream,’ I said. Only I couldn’t. He covered my mouth and he-he-” choked out Elizabeth, sobs now wracking her slight form.

Silent tears spilled over Crawford’s eyes and coursed down his cheeks. He sniffed as he reached for her hand and brought it up to that she could feel the dampness on his face. “How could you possibly think this is your fault? You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing!”

“I don’t know what to think! I don’t know what to feel! I’m not sure I feel anything. Will, shouldn’t I…shouldn’t I feel something?” asked Elizabeth.

“You’re probably still in shock, and you’re hurt, and then there’s the tea they gave you. It has a sedative of sorts in it,” he explained.

“Oh,” she said, her voice sounding hollow.

“Elizabeth? I-I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” started Crawford. “But, can- can I hold you? It’s killing me, listening to you cry and not being able to hold you in my arms.”

“What’s stopping you?” she asked.

“I-I don’t want-” he paused and wiped stubbornly at the tears that were rolling down his cheeks. “Christ, I can’t believe what an awful bloody day this had been!”

“Stay with me here, Will. What don’t you want?” asked Elizabeth her heart hammering in her chest. This was it, the moment she feared worse than anything, the moment where it would end.

“I don’t want you to push me away,” he whispered, embarrassed as he revealed to her that simple truth. “I’m not him. I could never…I could never hurt you like that.”

“I know that,” she said as she sat up and faced him. “I’m not going to push you away.”

Crawford reached out tentatively and lightly swept his hand over her hair. He released a heavy sigh as he leaned in towards her, touching his forehead to hers.

“I should have taken you with me,” he said. “It wouldn’t have happened if I had taken you with me.”

“Don’t do that,” said Elizabeth.

Crawford swallowed and said, “I’m so bloody sorry, sorry that you had to go through that.”

“Enough about me for now,” said Elizabeth as she turned around and laid down, pulling Crawford down with her. As he spooned up behind her and wrapped his arm around her waist she said, “Tell me what you did today.”

“Me?” asked Crawford, “Nothing much.”

“Come on, It’ll cheer me up. It had to be better than my day,” whispered Elizabeth.

“Let’s see. I rode all night so that I could blow up a train. It was quite the explosion by the way. But, people got hurt and killed. Not soldiers, just casualties of war. Then I watched a friend die at my hands. And finally after riding all day through the scorchingly hot desert I had to exact vengeance on my wife’s would-be rapist,” he finished.

Elizabeth rolled over and responded. “Remind me not to play this game with you again.”

“Wish it was just a game,” said Crawford. “I’ve got so much blood on my hands I-”

“What happened?” asked Elizabeth as she reached up to caress his cheek. “You lost one of the men?”

“Harrhas,” said Crawford.

“No!” groaned Elizabeth. “How, Will? What happened?”

“He tripped with a blasting cap. It blew a- a hole in his belly,” said Crawford as the image of the wound replayed vividly through his mind.

“So he died instantly?” asked Elizabeth.

“No, not exactly. He couldn’t be helped. He wasn’t going to make the trip back. I tried to make it as quick and as painless as I could. I tried-” Crawford drifted off.

“It’s okay, Will. You did the right thing,” said Elizabeth as she ran her hands through his hair.

“I killed him,” responded Crawford. “I killed him.”

“It was an act of mercy,” soothed Elizabeth. “You didn’t want him to suffer.”

Crawford reached up and stilled her hand. “Don’t kid yourself. I’m not a saint. I’m just a man, luv. I can tell myself that killing Harrhas was about mercy. But, Parker, that was about revenge plain and simple.”

“Are you telling me that you…you killed Parker?” asked Elizabeth her stomach churning and her heart racing.

“Yes,” said Crawford.

“How?” asked Elizabeth as she choked back a sob. “Why?”

“Why? I can believe you would ask that. I made it quick. It’s done, he’s gone, buried in the desert,” said Crawford. “I want you to know, I’m not proud of what I did. I’d do it again though, Elizabeth. I’d do it again in an instant. He never should have touched you.”

Elizabeth didn’t quite know what to think. She felt suddenly trapped. Crawford reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and she flinched.

“You pulled away,” he said, his voice cracking from emotion.

“I didn’t mean to,” she said, trembling almost uncontrollably. “Its, its just too much. I don’t- I can’t- I need air!”

Elizabeth scooted away from him, out of reach. Mindless of her condition, she climbed to her feet and stumbled towards the tents entrance.

“Let me get you a robe, luv. You’re not dressed. I’ll take you out for some air,” offered Crawford said, resisting the impulse to stop her.

Elizabeth looked down, unable to see herself in the darkness of the tent. Suddenly it felt as if the earth was shifting beneath her feet and she was falling.

Crawford jumped to his feet and as soon as she started to sway he was there, to catch her. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around his neck. He carried her back over to the pallet and dropped to his knees before moving into a sitting position. “I’ve got you, luv,” said Crawford as he held her in his lap and rocked her back and forth.

“It could have been you that was killed today, Will,” said Elizabeth, holding on to him tightly as she started to cry again.

“I know, but it wasn’t. I’m right here,” he said his eyes again brimming with tears.

“Please don’t die on me, Will! Please! Was it only a couple days ago you were saying you had never been so happy? How did everything change so fast?” whispered Elizabeth. “I want that other life back! How did everything go so wrong so fast?”

“Oh, sweetheart! Fact of the matter is…most times, life isn't bliss. Life is just this. It's living,” said Crawford. “One thing I know for certain, is that I want to spend my life with you. I’m going to insist that you go back to America, luv. There’s going to continue to be danger here. Death and destruction is all a part of war. There’ll be no avoiding it,” said Crawford.

“You don’t want me anymore? Because of what happened you don’t want me anymore?” she asked.

“No! It’s not that. It’s just the opposite, Elizabeth,” said Crawford as he kissed her on the head. “I just need to know you’re safe, out of danger. That you’re there to come home to.”

Crawford leaned forward and captured her lips in a tender kiss. He then lowered her back onto the pallet and carefully molded his body to hers in a protective embrace.

“I love you,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ll love you forever.”

“I love you too, Will,” she responded. “But, I’m not leaving you. You’re stuck with me.”

Crawford kissed her forehead, “Stubborn chit, always giving me a hard time.”

Elizabeth smiled as she snuggled closer to him. Within seconds she had drifted off to sleep, secure in her lovers arms.

Crawford continued to stare into the darkness long after. He listened to the sounds of her steady breathing and tried to memorize the feel of her body, as it felt pressed up against his. “You have to go on living,” he whispered to her in the darkness, hoping that one day she would understand and forgive him. “You have to so one of us is living. If we’re lucky we’ll both make it. But, if it’s going to be just one of us that does, I want that to be you.”

Chapter 33

Elizabeth poured herself a steaming cup of coffee and tightened the sash of her robe. There was a distinct chill in her brownstone this morning. Although it was always cold in Boston by this time of year, on this particular morning it seemed more pronounced. She took a sip of coffee and peered outside. In the light of the early morning she could see that the snow was coming down heavy again. She was glad that she wouldn’t have to make her way to campus.

Elizabeth opened the front door and leaned down to pick up her morning paper. Since returning from Arabia she had begun to take the paper both in the morning and at night. This morning’s headline read: Kaiser Wilhelm II Abdicates

She stared at the date, November 9, 1918. She had been back for over a year. It had been over a year since she had seen him. Oh, there had been news along the way, bits and pieces here and there. But not even his superiors knew exactly where he was most of the time.

Elizabeth placed the newspaper on top of the others that she had saved. Any day now, the war would be over. Any day now, she prayed he would be at last safe. She flipped through the stack of papers, glancing at the headlines:

September 29, 1918: Bulgaria Concludes Armistice Negotiations

November 3, 1918: Austria-Hungary Concludes Armistice

She walked back into the kitchen to refill her coffee. As she stirred in the cream her mind wandered, searching for a comforting memory. She was doing that more and more these days. Spending stretches of time in the past. There was a part of her that was afraid that if she didn’t continue, that soon she would forget, forget what he smelled like, looked like, felt like. And she didn’t want to forget. She reached for the bottle of scotch that sat on her kitchen counter. She uncorked it, lifted the bottle to her nose and inhaled.

She closed her eyes and conjured up the image of the night they spent together before the capture of Acaba. The journey there had been long and arduous. The element of complete surprise was on their side and that night they knew without a doubt that the following morning Acaba would be theirs.

After the incident with Parker and prior to that night, their lovemaking had been strained, perhaps for a variety of reasons. As they traveled sleep was minimal as was privacy. But more than that, William had been unusually restrained, his touch tentative and uncertain. The change in his behavior had made her feel more and more undesirable, more and more uncertain, more and more unloved.

As she tried to fall asleep that night she found that she just couldn’t. They would be moving into battle in the morning and there was a chance that one of them, or both of them wouldn’t make it. Too much had been left unsaid over the past few weeks. In those early days of their relationship they had been so open with one another, the connection passionate and immediate. But now it seemed that they were separated by a chasm and she didn’t know how to breech it. How to reach out to him and recapture the intimacy, the fire that she so desperately missed.

She left their bed that night, searched through his saddlebag until she found his bottle of scotch, and walked out into the desert. That’s how he found her. Alone, sitting in the sand, sipping on his scotch.

“You’re drinking?” he asked.

That night they had set things right. They had recaptured the passion that had initially drawn them together. But more importantly their union had created….Hope.

“Hi, honey! I’m home!” he called as he closed the front door.

Startled, Elizabeth let the bottle slip from her hands. She bent down to begin to pick up the broken pieces and inadvertently cut her palm on a section of broken glass.

“Are you alright?” asked Ahmed as he brushed the snow from the shoulders of his overcoat. “I heard a crash.”

“You startled me,” said Elizabeth from her position on the floor.

Ahmed crouched down, took her hand in his, and examined the cut. “You’re cut. Were you drinking?” he asked as he looked at the shattered bottle on the floor.

“No,” she said quietly. “Well, yes, coffee,” she said nodding to the coffee cup that was on the counter. “I just knocked over the bottle. You know I don’t drink.”

“I’ll get the first aid kit from the bathroom and bandage that up. Just…sit. Stay away from the glass,” said Ahmed. “They say that the storm’s going to get worse as the day goes on. I’m going to run to the grocery store. Anything you’d like me to pick up?”

“No,” answered Elizabeth as she stared at the spilt contents on the floor. “Thanks.”

Chapter 34

Crawford sat at the bar at the officers club in Cairo. He had arrived just last night, summoned by Travers. He tilted the crystal tumbler and studied the amber liquid there before raising the glass slowly to his lips and taking a sip.

He closed his eyes and remembered his last meeting with Travers. It had occurred here, in this very bar over a year ago.

He and Elizabeth had arrived in Cairo after weeks of traveling by camel through the desert. He walked with her into the bar and ordered two glasses of lemonade. Heads turned and eyebrows were raised from the mere presence of a woman in the club. Initially the barkeep refused to serve her. After one look from him he smartly changed his mind. The news of their arrival reached Travers quickly and he managed to make his way to the bar before they finished their second glass.

“Lieutenant Crawford,” said Travers in greeting as he approached their table.

“General Travers,” responded Crawford with a curt not before bringing the glass once again to his lips.

“It’s customary to report in at headquarters before retiring to the bar,” admonished the General as he pulled out a chair and sat down. “I see that you and Miss Giles found one another. Any success?”

“It’s Mrs. Crawford. And, yes. Acaba is ours. We crossed the desert and took it by land in a surprise attack. It’s under the control of the Bedu and Hassimi. I had to make some promises to get it done. I’ll go over those with you later. It’s been a long journey. Right now we’d like to retire,” said Crawford as he reached for Elizabeth’s hand.

The General’s eyes widened as he scooted back his chair. He looked at Crawford with concern and then slightly alarmed cleared his throat, leaned towards Elizabeth and began to say, “My dear, how long-”

“Not long, we’re still newlywed,” she said interrupting him.

“You mean it’s true?” gasped Travers.

“What part didn’t you believe?” asked Crawford.

“Acaba?” asked Travers.

“It is what you sent us to do, isn’t it?” asked Elizabeth, puzzled.

“Well, yes!” answered Travers.

“We’d like a room. The nicest you can find,” said Crawford. “One with a big bed and a hot bath. Oh, and if you’d be so kind as to arrange for dinner?”

“Anything else you’d like at the moment, Lieutenant?” asked Travers, clearly stunned.

“Yes, I’ll take a bottle of single malt scotch. Point us in the direction of our room and we’ll be out of your hair for a bit. I’ll report in officially tomorrow. But, meanwhile, I’d start mobilizing,” said Crawford as he rose to his feet.

Crawford waved the barkeep over and requested a refill. After getting his second drink he made his way over to the quiet table in the back corner where he had held his last late-night meeting with Travers.

“Do you mind telling me what I’m doing here in the middle of the night? I thought you and the Mrs. were taking the night off,” said Travers as he walked up to the table and sat down.

“Elizabeth is fast asleep. She’s what I want to discuss, actually,” said Crawford staring into his glass. He looked up at the General and said, “Now, you know, and I know, that I’m already married.”

“But she doesn’t,” said Travers. “You really are a scoundrel, William. You have no idea the problems this is going to cause.”

Crawford stared into his glass and smiled. “I’m your bloody hero. You’ll find a way to forgive me. I’ve gotten you Acaba, haven’t I? And I’ll do more. I need munitions and money, a lot of money. I’ll go back out there. I agreed to help lead the sabotage efforts. The people trust me and respect me. They’ll follow me.”

“What about Elizabeth?” asked Travers, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“She’s completed her mission. She’s served her purpose,” said Crawford as he chewed on a piece of ice.

“You’re done with her? Tired of her? Is that it?” asked Travers as he waved down a waiter and ordered himself a drink.

Crawford set his drink down on the table and leaned back in his chair. For several moments he said nothing. The waiter appeared and served the General his drink. Crawford pulled two letters from his pocket and slid the first one slowly across the table.

“Here is a list of what I need, what I’ve promised in exchange for Acaba. There are instructions as to where to deliver the items and the money,” he said.

Travers accepted the letter and put it in his pocket.

“This one is for Elizabeth,” he said, as he handed the letter to Travers. “You are to give it to her in the morning.”

“No,” said Travers as he laid the letter on the table and slid it back towards him. “This isn’t like when you were a boy and convinced me to tell you father that you broke the dining room window with that ball. You’re a man, William. You need to clean up your own mistakes.”

Crawford smiled, placed his hand over the envelope, and slid it back towards the General, “Godfather, she wasn’t a mistake. And, neither is the child that she’s carrying. I didn’t trick her. She knew about Drusilla. She knew about the risks of pregnancy and she chose to take them. I need to know that Elizabeth and the child are safe and that they are taken care of. There are instructions for my solicitor in there. Make sure that she gets them. Don’t say anything to her about the child. She’s not much more than a child herself and I’m not certain she knows yet.”

“How?” asked Travers.

Crawford raised his eyebrow and smirked.

“Well, of course I know how-” blustered Travers.

“I can count, you know. I’m not a complete git. It’s not the first time, I’ve managed to impregnate a woman, I remember the signs,” said Crawford, feeling only slightly guilty from the deception. The truth was he knew nothing of the sort. Elizabeth had had her last menstrual period during their journey from Cairo. He had no idea whether she was pregnant. What he did know was that with that knowledge, his godfather would ensure her return to the States.

Travers picked up the letter and turned it over in his hands. “When will you be leaving?”

“Now,” said Crawford as he finished his drink and placed the glass on the table. “I’ve got to go now.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being a complete bastard or if you actually love her,” said Travers as he stood up.

“You can’t?” asked Crawford as he patted the General on the back. “Good! Seems I’ve managed to recapture my edge,” he said with a wink as he picked up the General’s glass and drained it, “the ability to always keep them guessing. That and my superior intellect, rakish good looks and devastating charm…gets them every time.”

Crawford sat the empty glass down on the table, rotated his neck and shoulders in an attempt to release some tension and then turned towards the exit and walked silently away, a bit astounded at how easily he had slipped back into his well-worn persona.

Travers watched as his godson walked out of the Officers’ Club and into the night. As he turned the letter over in his hands he said a silent prayer, a prayer for the woman upstairs in the guest quarters and a prayer for the man that was leaving her, and a part of himself behind.

As Travers stared at his godson’s back he breathed a sigh of relief. At least he was physically safe. He took a deep breath to ready himself and then approached him.

“Major Crawford,” he said.

Crawford looked up and stood to acknowledge the General.

“Please, sit. This is a personal meeting,” he said as he pulled out a chair.

“I’m afraid I have news, about your wife-” began Travers.

“Elizabeth? Is she alright?” asked Crawford obviously shaken and concerned.

“No,” said Travers patiently. “Drusilla. Remember Drusilla?”

“Of course I bloody well remember Drusilla. I haven’t gone daft,” said Crawford.

“Well, you could fool me. I don’t know what kind of pagan ceremony you went through to convince Elizabeth to…but it’s not going to fly. You can’t have two wives, William. It’s simply not done. Although I suppose that’s all being sorted now-” said Travers.

“What do you mean?” asked William as he leaned forward in his chair, trying to contain the sense of alarm that he was feeling.

Chapter 35

It was Wednesday, November 27^th. Crawford stood up as the train pulled into the station. He was filled with a nervous excitement as he realized that he was on the last leg of this long trip. As the train came to a stop he quickly reached for his bag and disembarked. He still wore his uniform and overcoat. Officially he was on leave, but soon he would be a civilian again.

As the British soldier stepped off the train that had carried him from New York to Boston he took a moment to take in his surroundings. The sky was gray and there were patches of snow and ice all about the well-worn area. As he exhaled he could see his breath. He pulled the collar up on his overcoat and made his way diagonally across the tracks of Boston’s famous South Station. As he entered the Headhouse he noticed immediately the grandeur of the gothic architecture. The five-story building with its huge archways and glass-canopied trainshed was a modern architectural marvel. Crawford spotted a shoeshine stand over in one corner that was manned by a gentleman and three young boys.

“Excuse me, mate. I need to get over to Birch Street. Can you tell me where I can find a taxi?” he asked.

“Oh, you don’t have to take a taxi. The EL is right through those doors there,” said the man pointing straight ahead. “It’s much cheaper and it’ll get you there faster. Get off at Tremont, Birch is only three blocks east of that stop.”

“The EL?” asked Crawford.

“The Elevated Railway. Runs on electric,” answered the man. “Right through there,” he said again, pointing.

Crawford walked out of the station and looked skeptically at the railway tracks that were suspended in the air above and in front of him. “Come on mate, you can find your way from Acaba to Cairo with nothing but a compass, surely you can get yourself to Birch Street,” he said as he crossed the street and made his way towards the train.

About an hour and several wrong turns later Crawford had managed to make his way through the busy winding streets and to find the one he was searching for. As he saw the street sign he smiled. He turned left and immediately began searching for the house numbers…2022, 2024...2026. His smile broadened as he confirmed he was heading in the right direction. It was late mid afternoon and the overcast sky made it seem even later than it was. He looked up the street, lined on both sides by old birch trees. He pictured them in summer, imagining how they would look and then in fall, when they would be filled with vibrant color and wondered which house was hers…theirs…their home.

As he walked, the snow crunching under his feet, he noticed a small church and adjacent to it a cemetery across the street. He was drawn to it and paused to look at the old headstones through the iron gate. He remembered back a couple weeks, when he stood in a similar cemetery adjacent to his family home.

He stared at the words on the headstone. Under the year of her birth and death he had simply written: Drusilla Crawford. Beloved. For so many years she had suffered, and those that she loved along with her. It had been so long since she had been a sister, or a daughter, or a wife. But they loved her nonetheless. He loved the memory of her. The way she used to be…before.

When Travers told him of the fire at Bedlam that had taken her life he had felt…relief. It was over. For years she had been trying to take her own life, as if martyring herself would make everything right again. He pulled the rumpled sheet of paper from his pocket that she had sent to his apartment just a week before her death and once again read her words.

      My Dearest William,

      I dreamt of you. You were on a beach. There was a woman with you. You were happy. I’d almost forgotten how you look when you’re       happy. She was beautiful, golden like the sun. She had daisies in her hair. I plant them here, but they always die. Everything I plant in the       ground withers and dies.

      William? I’m cold. I’ve spent so many years in this room, looking out at iron gates. But now, as I look outside at the morning sun coming up       over the horizon I feel for the first time in ages the warm glow of hope. The angels spoke to me when I woke and promised me that this       suffering will be over soon. I have served my penance for my sins and will at last be released into the Kingdom of Heaven. I am sorry that       so much of your life has been stolen from you. Stolen by me. Stolen because of your sense of duty.

      Once upon a time I chose the wisest and bravest knight in all the land – and I made him mine forever with a kiss. But the fairytale became a       tragedy, forever didn’t last and you were never really meant to be mine. Find happiness my sweet. And, plant daisies for me. I long for       daisies.

      Drusilla.

Crawford leaned over and placed the bouquet of Daisies on top of her headstone. They had been hard to come by this time of year, but he had managed. He took out a box of matches and struck one. The flame flickered in the breeze as he held it up to the letter. The parchment caught quickly, however, and he stared at it as the fire spread, devouring her words and turning them to ash. He placed the flaming letter atop of the headstone next to the Daisies and waited until there was nothing left, nothing but a few cinders, which he watched, blow away and catch on the breeze. As they floated up towards the sky past the branches of the dormant trees, he prayed that there was a heaven and that Drusilla had found it.

“Would you like a paper, sir?” asked the small boy in front of him.

Crawford blinked and looking down said, “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked if you’d like a copy of the evening paper, Sir?” repeated the young lad.

“No, thanks. I believe my wife already takes the paper. I’m looking for number 2032, son. Can you tell me where that it?” he asked.

The boy looked mildly confused and repeated, “2032?”

“That’s right,” answered Crawford.

“That’d be that one, right there, but-” said the boy pointing across the street and two houses down.

“Thanks!” shouted Crawford as he raced across the street and up the steps of 2032.

As he lifted his hand to knock on the door the memory of their last night together raced through his mind. First he saw the image of her as she stepped into the bath. Then it was the shape of her arm as she lifted it up out of the water. The way that the candlelight made her golden skin gleam even more. He remembered the way that her hair looked fanned out on the pillow of the bed as he hovered over her, sliding in an out of her body, making love to her, worshiping her. He remembered how full and sweet her lips tasted and how her breath had smelled like the chocolate cake they had had for dessert. But most of all he remembered her last words before falling asleep and the promise he had made her in that letter.

 “I don’t want this…us… to end. I love you, Will. I’ll see you in the morning,” she whispered.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said as he extinguished the light. “I love you too.”

But he didn’t sleep. He waited. He waited until she was fast asleep and it was well past midnight. Then he climbed out of bed, dressed, and made his way over to the desk, which was situated by the window. He pulled out a sheet of paper from the top drawer and wrote the last of the two letters that he needed. The one he didn’t know how to write. He looked at her sleeping peacefully, and a heavy sigh escaped his lips. He then focused on the paper before him and by the light of the moon wrote:

      My Darling Wife,

      It is early morning and you look beautiful. You are sleeping soundly, peacefully, bathed in moonlight. I will forever remember how you       looked before drifting off tonight. I have never seen you appear so sated. Perhaps it was the chocolate cake and the wine, but I prefer to       think it had something to do with me, and that at least I have left you well loved. I am certain that you will be quite cross when you waken       to find me gone. If you are reading this, then I managed to convince Travers and I have returned to the field knowing that you will soon be       back in the States and safe. Have no doubt, luv. I intend to keep up my end of the bargain. Believe in me, Elizabeth. I will fight my       damnedest to win the bloody war. I will live through this. And we will be together again. You are home to me now. I will come back to you.

      Faithfully yours,

      Now and forever…..William

Chapter 36

Special Agent Riley Finn stood at the back of the class and watched as Elizabeth stood and announced, “I’m afraid that is time! Please pass your papers to the left and then forward. I wish you all a very happy Thanksgiving.”

He watched the flurry of papers make their was across and then down the rows. He moved out of the way as students began to file through the doors, ready to escape for the Thanksgiving holiday. As soon as the aisle was clear he made his way down the steps of the large lecture hall and approached the petite blond.

“Good afternoon Mrs.-” he began.

“I thought I told you to call me Elizabeth,” she said with a bright smile.

“You’re only being nice to me because I agreed to do you a favor!” he admonished shaking a finger at her. “You know, my mother warned me about girls like you; fiery temper one minute sweet as-”

“Are you suggesting that I’m moody Agent Finn?” gasped Elizabeth her lips forming into a pout, her eyes wide and innocent.

“Does your husband know that you flirt to manipulate and get your way?” asked Finn.

“Oh! My, yes! And he finds it quite vexing, I assure you. You were much easier before you were married, by the way,” she said leaning back in her chair and tapping her chin with her pencil. “I’m not sure I could convince you to help me now. How is…Samantha is it?”

“She’s fine, thanks. And, I’ve managed to do as you’ve asked,” said Finn reaching into his pocket.

Elizabeth sat up straight in her chair and excitedly said, “You know where he is? Is he okay? Tell me!”

“I was actually talking about the other favor,” he said pulling a set of documents from his pocket and handing them to her. “But with the war over I should be able to get news soon.”

“The citizenship papers for Ahmed,” said Elizabeth as she looked them over. “Thank you. This means a lot…to both of us.”

“You’re welcome. How is Ahmed?” asked Finn.

“Good!” said Elizabeth. “Very good, in fact. He’s been working over at McLean Hospital.”

“I thought he was at Massachusetts General?” asked Finn.

“McLean is their psychiatric facility, it’s just outside of Boston,” said Elizabeth.

“I know about McLean, that’s where the rich people go to play tennis, ride horses and eat food the rest of us can’t afford,” said Finn with a fair measure of distain.

“You’re sounding like him!” said Elizabeth, laughing. “He’s afraid that the patients there are too comfortable and that they have little motivation to get well. But change is hard, and he has little influence there. In all honestly, he would prefer to be over at the Boston Psychopathic Hospital, working with the indigent. He’s doing some volunteer work over there, using psychoanalytic techniques. The medical school here is actually considering his proposal to fund a research project. He should hear any day now.”

“Wish him luck!” said Finn. “It was nice seeing you again.”

“Good to see you, too,” said Elizabeth. “And, I mean that. I really appreciate your help. You’ve been…great. Really, great.”

“Look, I know someone who knows someone, I’ll see what I can find out. I know that he’s out of Arabia. He spent some time back in England, maybe a few days, then left for France with sealed orders from Travers. I just don’t have the clearance to nose around any more. You’re still listed as his next of kin. He requested that change over a year ago and it stands. If he was injured or killed they’d contact you,” offered Finn.

“Thanks,” said Elizabeth, giving him a watery smile and wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “Let me know if you hear anything more?”

“Sure,” said Riley, leaning over and offering his hand. “Look, maybe I’ll be back with news soon.”

“For Christmas maybe? Put in a good word for me with Santa, will you?” asked Elizabeth as she walked around her desk and embraced him.

“Absolutely!” said Finn. “ Absolutely!”

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