Field of Poppies

June 1915

            Two more months went by. Amelia heard often from Tommy. Every week or two she received a letter and replied immediately. She told him about everything she could think of. Anything that might bring a smile to his face, to ease his burden. Whatever she could do to remind him of home and give him hope for the future. She told him the funny things Max did, the little quirks in his blossoming personality.

He refuses to go to bed unless I've checked under his bed for monsters. I think Finn might have been telling him some stories.

He's fascinated by baby Wilbur. I don't think he believes me when I tell him he was a baby once. His reasoning is, if he can't remember it, it never happened. I showed him the photograph of when he was a baby, only six months old. He couldn't be convinced that it was him.

It's strange. It feels so long ago, yet, it only feels like it was yesterday. I often wonder where all that time went.

~~~~~~~

"Breakfast, Mel?" Martha was in the kitchen when Amelia and Max came into Six Watery.

She went to answer that, no she wasn't feeling very well so she didn't have much of an appetite. But instead, she was immediately hit with a strong smell. Her stomach turned and she dropped Max's hand so she could rush upstairs to the bathroom.

Polly heard retching from down the hall, so went to investigate. "Oh, heavens." She found Amelia at the toilet. "Easy." She soothed and pulled the young woman's hair back away from her face. Dread came over the woman as she realized her earlier intuitions were confirmed. "Dear, I think you and I need to have a talk."

~~~~~~~~~

"Letter, Tom."

Tommy took the letter from the passing soldier and felt relief wash over him. The same relief he got every time Amelia's letters arrived. Despite being in the middle of trench warfare, he had her letters to keep him sane.

Tommy,

I must admit it hasn't gotten much easier these last few weeks. I still miss you more than I can ever describe. Everything reminds me of you. Max always asks for you. It's hard to bear sometimes. But I manage to get through every day.

I have news. I want so desperately to be happy but I'm so heartbroken that you aren't here so I can tell you in person. But Polly believes I'm pregnant. It may be too early to know, but I don't want to question her either. The signs seem to match up with the timing.

I don't know how to feel any more if I'm being honest. I need to hear back from you as soon as possible. I hope you and everyone else is safe. I miss you all. I will write you a longer letter when I've gathered my thoughts. But for now, I needed you to hear the news.

Love, Amelia

Tommy wasn't sure what to say as he stared blankly at his wife's handwriting. The urgency he felt to return home was only heightened. He carefully folded up the letter and put it in his rucksack.

"Tom?" Arthur was sitting nearby, his back up against the wall of the trench.

"Mel's pregnant." He replied before his brother even needed to ask what was wrong.

He frowned and passed his brother a cigarette. "You think she's going behind your back while you're away?"

"No." Tommy shook his head adamantly. He took the cigarette and lit it with a match. "She'd never do that. Never. It makes sense, I suppose." He mumbled to himself. "She'd be about three months along."