Timeless

Chapter 47

And when Gale wept—she did not react to that either. How was she supposed to? How was she supposed to express that she hated herself so beyond belief that she'd rather be dead than dealing with this achingly hollow feeling in her body? How was she supposed to tell him that she knew it was fate, it was God, it was Hausmann—wreaking revenge on her for what she had done in Germany to save his life.

When Kathryn got up one morning and got dressed for work, Gale had no idea what was going through her head. But she had to keep moving, had to keep crawling as if she were in the damn trenches herself. Because if she stopped—like the men on those beach had—then she would just lay there and die.

And unfortunately for Gale Cleven, he was entirely certain that Kathryn hated him. For getting her pregnant—she must be blaming him for nearly bleeding out. Why else would she be so entirely shut down? So entirely ghostlike. She was just a shell and it was eerie, walking around the house and seeing her go through the motions of living and eating and breathing—but this was not living. He knew that.

It all came to a head one day three weeks after it had happened. The tension that was growing in their marriage wasn't anyone's fault—it was just circumstantial. They hadn't touched each other since he had carried her into the hospital, covered in her own blood. And they barely spoke—despite all of his efforts to try and elicit some sort of response from her. She just didn't want to be there.

Dinner was damningly silent and lonely. And Gale missed the days when he'd come home from work and hug her—she'd laugh and it was his favorite sound in the world. He missed the days where Kathryn was clingy and wanted to cuddle with him, even while eating meals. He missed her sitting on his lap and talking in soft tones and smiling at him. He just missed his wife .

Still, he had gotten her flowers— daisies . Anything to try and soften the situation or try to make the edges less sharp. They sat in the middle of the table, just another barrier between the two of them as they silently ate.

And then for the first time in weeks, Kathryn spoke a sentence. "Thank you for the flowers."

Gale's gaze flickered in surprise as he glanced up at her. "I—I thought you were angry."

All at once, he knew that it was the wrong thing to say. Kathryn's gaze sharpened on him and she frowned. "You have no idea how I feel."

And he couldn't help what slipped out of his mouth next. "That's because you won't talk! You're a damn ghost!" Kathryn's jaw clamped shut, fork clanging against the plate as she abruptly got to her feet. He regretted the words as soon as they had left his mouth. "Kath—"

She didn't say a thing as she walked outside—slamming the door behind her. And she left Gale Cleven just sitting there in silence and dimmed light.

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Kathryn was sitting on the curb when she heard footsteps behind her. She just felt like she was a rain cloud being weighed down by the pressure of what it was carrying. "Gale, I am not in the damn mood—"

"Not Gale."

She glanced up, finding her brother standing there, hands in his pockets and a frown on his face. She supposed that one of the disadvantages, or advantages, of living next to your brother, was that he could probably see when you were just sitting on the curb.

"Oh," Kathryn mumbled.

Bucky just let out a deep sigh, glancing at the peaceful neighborhood—dusk was falling and down the street, kids were playing in the yard—clearly trying to make the most of the fading summer heat. It was just so mundane and he knew that it was overwhelming at times. He slowly took a seat next to his sister and for a moment, neither sibling spoke.