The Undaunted

May the Best Man Win

Later, as Jack left Ashton's room, head pounding, wanting to lie down in the dark and...if he was honest with himself...cry, he knew that in trying to fix things, something had shattered after all. His soul.

For all that she was his wife, sex with Ashton had been empty and meaningless. It hadn't even meant anything to her, and she had been the one who wanted it. At first.

"Damn you, Jenny," he muttered for the millionth time since Germany. He poured himself a scotch, threw it back, then set the glass down and balled his fist up, punching the hard wood paneling of the wall of his bedroom.

He braced his forehead against the wall, his lips a thin, tight line as he held back the scream that was bubbling up in his throat. He blew out a long, deep sigh. He would have to pretend, for Natalia's sake, that he was happy. But he didn't know if he could ever do again what he had just done with Ashton.

"Papa!"

The cry made him swivel and immediately rush into Natalia's room. Her face was wet with tears and he held her and shushed her until she stopped sobbing.

"Did you have a nightmare?" he asked softly. He cradled her head to his chest, his fingers stroking down her long hair as they had done earlier.

And, not for the first time, she nodded and said, "The man was there again."

"What man? What did he do?"

But Natalia just shook her head as she always did, eyes shut tight, unable or unwilling to articulate anything more about the man and why he had frightened her so. Jack slid her back down onto her pillow and straightened her sheets, frowning at a noise like wrestled paper.

"What do you have in there?" he asked in a soft whisper, a small, bewildered smile on his face.

He reached into her pillowcase, expecting to see one of her many war souvenirs: the ribbons and peg dolls and scraps of khaki that she had collected from nurses and soldiers alike but what he found were sheets of newspaper instead. The front page of the New York Courier in fact.

He couldn't help smiling at her peculiar and endearing ways and he lay down on the bed beside her, wanting to keep her safe from dreams. He fell asleep himself, only to be plagued by dreams of his own, dreams about Jenny.

***
Jack was at the breakfast table early as usual, having slunk out without waking Natalia, or so he had thought until she appeared not ten minutes later, clutching the newspaper he had found in her bed last night, the newspaper with the pictures from his new correspondent on the front cover.

Natalia's eyes were round and serious as she turned them on Jack. "You saw Mama," she said inexplicably, her tone almost accusing.

Edward stared at Jack over the top of his newspaper.

Jack ignored his grandfather and spoke to Natalia. "I haven't seen Jenny, sweetheart," he said, picking up his hat even though he hadn't eaten anything.

"But she took these." Natalia pointed to the photographs in the newspaper.

"No, a man named Monsieur de Rêve took them," Jack said.

Natalia frowned at Jack as if she was disappointed in him. She pushed her plate away. "I'm not hungry," she said quietly, sleeping out of the room.

"She sure is a funny kid," Edward said, studying Jack, who set his face into the most inscrutable expression he could muster. "But do you know what I think?"

Jack didn't respond, which didn't prevent Edward from continuing. "I think that whoever this Jenny is, it'd be best if Natalia stopped mentioning her. A child can only have one mother." Edward wiped his mouth on his napkin and threw it onto the table.