Surreal

Chapter 7 | At War With Germany

"How about that one? I think you would look glamorous in it," James points through the window, smiling at his choice of gowns.

I turn my head, out of his sight, and roll my eyes. I can't see myself in that dress, particularly.

"It's far too sophisticated for me," I remark matter-of-factly.

He laughs, "No, really, Katherine. You would look stunning."

His gaze meets mine, those big, puppy eyes that plead me to merely try the gown on.

"Oh, darn it, James. Fine." I shove past him, into the emporium, and politely ask for the dress.

James had so kindly asked me to come into town with him after our visit two days before. He had seen the sadness in my eyes, the disbelief of such a disturbing thought, and he thought maybe getting out of the house would take away the damper of those feelings. In less words, it does seem bury the thoughts and snatch my mind away from it.

My eyes loom down the length of the mirror, disregarding the perfect fit of the dress and wanting only to pull my body out of it. James mustn't see it, it's obvious that he'll love it, damn him. But strangely, I have a distant longing to keep the gown on. It looks so foreign on my small body, but adds emphasis to my small curves and I honestly quite like it.

Finally deciding James should, in fact, see the gown, I clumsily unlock the changing-room door and stride grumpily out to find him. He must be under the impression that I do not want the dress. He stands awkwardly at the base of the store, staring observantly out the window, not knowing what else to do with himself in a dress shoppe.

I cough purposely, and he spins around, a large grin spreading from cheek to cheek when he sees me.

"You look absolutely marvelous, Katherine darling," he grins ecstatically.

"I thought you might say that," I dryly state, clarifying my discomfort in the gown.

"You look quite unhappy," he remarks innocently, mischief toying with the edges of his smile.

"Would you look happy if you had dozens of yards of fabric tugging at your skin as if playing a game of tug-of-war?"

"Not particularly, but I'm sure it's worth it, darling. Besides," he informs, eyes sparkling at he approaches me, "Think of all the men you'll get looks from."

"That's why I'm alive, correct? To get looks from men," I exclaim, wide-eyed, "Besides, I don't want men looking at me."

"Oh, live a little, Katherine darling. Let my buy you the dress."

"I don't want the dress."

"What if I wanted you to have the dress?"

"No."

"Fine."

"Fine! You can buy me the dress!" I exclaim, defeated. The idea of leaving the store without the dress does disturb me, oddly.

"You know you want it," he smirks quietly as he approaches the counter.

"Rouge!" I hiss teasingly, trying desperately to hide the smile toying the edges of my lips. But, he is right.

In moments, we leave the store, the new dress slung over his arm as we lock each other's, and he smiles gratefully at me.

"Thank you," he whispers softly. I stifle a smile.

Still wet and full of puddles from the normally endless rain, the village square is unusually empty. The ever-darkened sky sends eerie shadows looming across the cobblestone, and the town is perfectly fit for unwelcome news. Which I hope never comes.

"Are we done shopping for the day? Or is there more you would like to look at?" James asks curiously, breaking me out of my wondering trance.

"I am completely shopped out," I chuckle, "If you're done, we can most certainly leave."

"Alright, off we go, then," he smiles down at me and leads me off towards home.

We had decided to walk to the square today, as it was rainy and hated to make our horses uncomfortable, and it's not as if we hated the smell of the fresh air after rain. Yes, I have muddied the skirts of my dress, and yes, my hair is now ruffled from the wind and rain, but it is lovely to walk hand-in-hand with James and just...talk.
Peacefully.

And peaceful it has been, until suddenly a loud motor sounds through the air, echoing deeply off the stone streets, and James' hand flies protectively to my sides. He pulls me off the road, safely onto the sidewalk, and tightens his grip on my waist.

"Are you alright?" he asks, worriedly.

"I'm alright, James," I reassure him, placing my hands over his.

We both look to the owner of the loud engine, and moments later a small motorcycle speeds into the village, halting abruptly once centered in the square.

A man in a black, uniformity leather jacket, with a cap and head goggles rides the vehicle, and his face is quite expressionless. It almost looks as if he is holding news that was much expected, and not surprising.

He clamps his foot down to sturdy the motorcycle, and, gripping the handle bars, he rises from the seat and shouts,

"We are at war with Germany! At eleven o'clock the bells will ring, and they will not sound again until the war is over! We are at war!"

I gasp, and clutch James' jacket in desperation. He pulls me close, wrapping his arms around my body as I bury my head in his chest. Disbelief floods my body and snatches away most needed air.
England at war. With Germany.

Does this mean James will have to go? To leave me for war?

"Come on," James grabs my hand and pulls me away from the scene, his brow furrowing with confusion and
bewilderment.

My mouth stays shut, not daring to speak for fear of breaking this last quiet moment.
He leads me away, his sweaty palm grasping mine, and my gaze freezes on the back of his head. I imagine an officers cap on that head, covering the beautiful mass of smooth, golden hair. How handsome he would look. I could almost smile at the picture if there wasn't so much fear of that cap. Fear of losing him to that little hat, losing him forever in a void of battle.

The annoying sound of an engine brings me back to earth, and my gaze is caught by the motorcycle speeding away down the dirt road, a billow of smoke the only witness of its passing.

That and the lingering warning.

Once we've exited the village; the small town lost from our sight completely, James snaps around and pulls me into his arms.
Before he had me buried in his chest, I could have sworn I'd seen tears in his eyes.

"Promise me, Katherine, that whatever might happen during the war, do not let it break you," he commands, his voice quivering with sorrow, "You're strong. And if this is to end, whenever that may be, you can't let it leave you in pieces. And if it does, pick them up and move on."

Tears well up in my own eyes, and it takes strength to stifle my sobs. "James, I-"

"Promise me, Katherine, please," he pleads, tears now trailing his cheeks.

And I break. Never has he looked so helpless and frightened, and it's as if my answer will solidify him with sanity. A cry escapes my lips as I force my head back into his embrace.

"I...I promise."

--

So...shiit...ake mushrooms.

If they could have said it, they would have. England is at war with Germany, and that could mean bad things for Katherine's perfect fairytale.

Right now, I would love to take the time to thank those who have stayed with me this long. I appreciate it like nothing else, and if you don't know how much it means to me, IT REALLY MEANS A LOT! So thank you all from the bottom of my heart.

- 〽️️️️iddleAsgard, at your service.