*AN: The poem is courtesy of the website Messages.365greetings.com
CHAPTER SONG: "A Thousand Years" by Christina Perri
April 8th 1917
Dear William,
I'm finally in a clear state of mind to write to you myself. Joseph told me that he'd already sent a letter assuring you of our safe arrival at the hospital. Lt. Blake will need to return to the Second Devons after tonight once Captain Smith comes back to retrieve him. I thank God that he arrived in time to get us out of that field after that sniper shot at our ambulance and left us stranded.
My leg is still very sore and hard to walk on and my ribs are wrapped, but they're only cracked instead of broken. My nurse, her name is Tallis. She's stern, but still kind, looking after my needs for food and bathing.
Lt. Blake has remained by my side the whole day like you did back at the camp. He reminds me so much of Tom it leaves a huge hole of guilt in my chest that I feel responsible for what happened to him. In the twenty four hours since we met, he and I have become friends. Joseph has that same twinkle in his eye that Tom had whenever he would look at me back at that farmhouse, like he hadn't laid eyes on a woman in such a long time...
But he knows that my heart is only pulled towards you. Before I sleep tonight, I'll pray and beg to God to keep you safe. I've never been very spiritual back where I'm from, but I've come to that point where I've made true connections with people that I care about. For every bomb I hear in the distance, I need to keep myself from going insane with anxiety.
I feel like a complete cliché that I used to hate, the worried woman who constantly cries about her man's wellbeing while he's away risking his life. But being that I never really had anyone to care about back in 2020, I guess it's justified for me to feel this way now. In my nearly 30 years of being alive, I'd never felt safer than when your arms were around me under that tree back at the Devons' camp. The sound of your voice makes me calm, like nothing bad will ever happen to me. Every embrace and kiss you gave me will be imprinted upon my body forever.
Even when we were in that basement back in Ecoust, I wanted you to make love to me, knowing that I'd fallen for you, and you felt the same way, however impossible it sounded. Even with all the death, bloodshed and ash surrounding us, we had that small shelter of sanctuary. From the moment you recited that Chaucer poem to me, I knew that you were the most genuine and truly good man I will ever meet in this era or mine. In this lifetime while my heart beats still because of you...
My noble knight in uniform, you're better than any man of my dreams because you're real. I love you more than anything, William Christopher Schofield.
Before I run out of room on my paper, here's my gift to you in return for your poem:
"Even though you are far from me, my heart feels you near
I find comfort in your arms; you take away all my fear
My one and only, I love you dearly and with all my heart
I pray that we remain together forever, may we never part
When I count the stars that are up in the sky
For as much as they are, is the much my love is
Look into my eyes and you see, love I can't deny
You are the reason for my joy, the only one I miss
You are the love of my life, sweet and true
With you I am safe; my happiness is only in you
I am the luckiest woman in the world, this I can say
Knowing you are mine brightens my every day"*
Past, present or future,
I'm forever yours,
Love, Emmanuelle
XXX
April 10th 1917
Lance Corporal Schofield read the poem over verse by verse multiple times, blinking back tears of disbelief, his heart pumping pure euphoric bliss throughout his veins. A rare genuine smile graced his lips as he leaned his head back against the tree, careful not to place too much pressure on the back of his cranium.
Any bodily injury he'd received in the last few days only became numb each time he would think of her, safe and miles away in a hospital. His soul and sanity, withered and frayed from the last three years was slowly coming back together, as though his love for this woman was healing him.
Handling the letters carefully so the paper wouldn't be wrinkled, he folded them into thirds, pulling out his tobacco tin with his belongings. He hadn't looked at the picture of his Emmy since a couple days ago when the black and white image of her in a wedding gown left him stunned and confused, worrying him that some unknown fate would befall her.
His scarred, yet mending hand removed the lid of the tin to place the letters inside as an addition to his letter stack from Molly and her daughters.
How his heart ached with missing them, their innocent smiles and laughter, and Molly's sense of humor while still keeping a ladylike dignity to her. What he would've given in that moment to confide everything he was feeling to her, about the war, about missing home and about the girl miles away from him who stole his heart and he hers.
As he was placing Emmy's letter with delicate care into the tin, his eyes landed on the picture of the American brunette beauty who herself denied that she possessed such a quality that drew men to her.
How he yearned to spend the remainder of his days proving how wrong she was...
The photograph of his Emmanuelle was back to how it'd originally been before, in glorious color and with her clothed in a strange tunic and pants similar to the borrowed clothes she had worn when the ambulance took her away from the 2nd Devons' camp. Her gorgeous green eyes that he could look into for days were framed in spectacles, which made him curious knowing that she had needed them before.
He made a mental note to ask her about that once they were settled in back in Surrey.
Her luscious flowing brown hair was twirled in a bun behind her head, straying strands framing her angelic face as she smiled brightly at the camera.
A single image of her beaming with delight left him speechless and bewitched...
He needed to write to her now while the inspiration spurned his mind forward and encouraged him to romance her all over again with words that would make Romeo Montague's sonnets to Juliet Capulet sound like a naïve schoolboy talking tongue-tied to a girl he fancied.
He only had a certain amount of paper left to write on until more supplies were delivered, so he had to make each word count. Schofield placed the picture of Emmy so it was leaning against the tobacco tin and he used the lid for a hard enough surface as an improvised desk.
And the words came to his infatuated brain faster than his calloused fingers could write...
.
April 12th 1917
Emmy Julia Hunterson was still on the mend, now at the point of her leg healing enough to where she could hobble around her room on crutches.
It was a lovely Thursday afternoon, the sun shining in the front hospital courtyard, although her time out there was limited every day for precautions due to the occasional flying airplanes. She was grateful to absorb the sunlight in her skin as she made walking patterns in circles to get the blood flowing back in her legs.
She hoped against all odds that she'd be able to walk on her own again without aid by the time her Lance Corporal came to pick her up.
If she counted the day correctly on the calendar, she now had one more week until he was free on leave. Emmy was so lost in her thoughts that her body was on autopilot, and she suddenly found herself sitting on the edge of the fountain in the courtyard, her crutches leaning against the stones within her reach.
Another rumbling of airplanes vibrated throughout her entire body as her heart raced in slight panic before she looked up to see two of them flying in the sky and into the horizon. They were allies of the French, possibly British.
Her hand went to the medallion that hadn't left her neck since William had so carefully gifted his family heirloom to her. For her protection, he had claimed. Her fingertips burned as they stroked the engraved bronze face of Saint Christopher.
Please...come back to me, Will.
Please be safe, Joseph.
As the names of the two men, so different yet wonderful in differing ways, crossed her mind, she immediately felt a comforting, invisible presence next to her on the fountain...
Thomas Blake was here with her in spirit as he had been every day that went by as she healed and tried to keep herself sane...
"Scho misses you, as he has since that ambulance drove away with you. He oughta be sending word to you soon. He'll return for you, he swears by it every night, sweet Emmy."
She found herself smiling as she felt a cool peck on her cheek, as though somebody she couldn't see was kissing her like a brother would to comfort a sister.
"You don't know how I've needed to hear that today, Tom. What about Joseph? He said he'd write to me too, but I knew he seemed upset when we parted ways that night." A wave of remorse and confusion washed over her emotions.
"Whatever he was feeling, nothing negative was directed towards you, Emmy. He's a man who feels strongly toward those he cares about. Joseph holds you in high regard, higher than he's viewed any woman he's laid eyes on before." Tom's voice was solemn, so contrasting to the joking soldier still full of youth and promise.
Emmy felt a warm, soft pressure on her hand that kept her anchored to the earth, like another strong hand holding hers to signify another presence.
"He does make a dashing soldier. I figured he'd already snatched up a pretty girl before joining the army." She found herself smiling despite her worrying over another man who wasn't William Schofield. "Was he the Casanova of your hometown?"
"Not to that extent. He might've called on a few girls from time to time, but not of them lasted long enough to show anything beyond courtship. Our poor Mum was hoping he'd find a nice girl to settle down with before he finished studying medicine at Uni. Then, the war started and every able-bodied man enlisted for King and country." Tom squeezed her hand as though it were made of fragile glass.
"I'm glad we became friends after...everything that's happened." Emmy paused as she recalled that moment that almost caused a rift between them. "After he tried to kiss me...I had a feeling that things would become more complicated with me and him. He knows I love William, yet he doesn't want to lose me even though he can't have me. And he even told me himself that he doesn't deserve me."
The tears rolled down her reddened face and dripped to her lap.
A pair of phantom fingers tenderly wiped some tears away from one of her heated cheeks...
"We might be brothers of the same blood and bone, but I can't speak for what he's feeling in his heart." Tom released her hand as a ghostly sigh emanated from his silent lips and he felt himself not able to find any other words to say at the moment.
At last, Emmy spoke the words that should've been directed toward the Lieutenant in person rather than the apparition of his fallen brother.
"Lt. Joseph Blake is in love with me, isn't he?"
And she knew Thomas had disappeared from her side before the question exited her lips...and she would receive no answer.
Sighing to herself, Emmy pushed herself back up from the fountain's edge, hobbling on her good foot and settled herself against her crutches. She made her way in the direction of the hospital entrance to go back inside when a voice called out her name.
"Miss Hunterson! It seems you've received mail, dear." Nurse Tallis walked toward her, holding envelopes in her hand. "One of these is from your Lt. Blake."
Emmy felt her heart beating from its slowly calming pace into an adrenaline pumping marathon as she locked eyes with her nurse and held out her hands for the mail addressed to her. After nearly a week of maddening silence, she was finally being informed of where her men were.
She leaned back and sat back down onto the fountain edge, her crutches falling to the pebbled ground at her feet.
"Are both of those for me?" Emmy found herself asking in a hurried manner, almost speaking too fast for her mind to comprehend.
"Yes. One from Lt. Blake and another from a Corporal William Schofield." Nurse Tallis' eyebrows were raised in a way where Emmy couldn't tell whether she was being silently judged or impressed at the notion of her receiving a letter meant for her from two soldiers. "I'd be careful there on that side of the grass, dear young lady. Your heart might belong to one man, and your soul to another."
The nurse's eyes were somewhat sympathetic and knowing as though she could almost read her mind.
Emmanuelle grasped onto the letters, her fingers shaking as she read the inked letters on both envelopes.
One letter each from two different men who loved her...
"Thank you, nurse Tallis. I'll be back inside soon for lunch. And I thank you so much for everything you've done for me." The younger woman smiled at the bespectacled caretaker.
"No need to thank me, dear. Helping people here gives me a sense of purpose. I pray for each day you feel better so you can find yours. Just remember the women's suffrage slogan from the English papers, Deeds, Not Words." Tallis reached down and patted the top of her head, like a mother would stroke her daughter's hair in a wordless display of affection.
Emmanuelle found no words in response; she could only nod her head and hold back her tears.
"I'll leave you to your letters, miss. Come inside when you're ready." With one more glance at the letters in her hands, Tallis turned and walked away through the mostly empty courtyard.
Emmy found her fingers grasping onto the letters, her eyes locking onto the one addressed from Will Schofield. She knew without a doubt that she had to read this one first. Making sure to place Joseph's letter carefully in her lap so it wouldn't fall to the ground, she opened the envelope slowly so as not to tear it and risk ripping the letter inside.
It was folded into sections, the paper dyed a light brown color and inked with careful yet passionate scribing. Her eyes read every word as though this was the sole lifeline reconnecting the girl with her Lance Corporal. Two white lily-of-the-valleys bookmarked the creases where the letter was folded into the envelope. Emmy pulled them out, their petals and stems flattened from the letter and she held them to her nose, although she mostly smelled the paper rather than the flowers' fragrance.
She could almost hear his voice whispering in her ear with each word, every syllable and punctuation mark saturated with old-fashioned pining and gallant romance with an underlying tone of sensuality, possibly responding to the letter she had written him with her uncensored thoughts of feverish passion for him.
April 10th, 1917
Dearest, most beloved Emmanuelle,
My Emmy...it hasn't yet been a week since we parted, yet it's been an eternity since I last heard your voice gracing my ears with its sweet cadence. Although I can look upon your beautiful face in the picture I have of you, I count the hours, the minutes until you're standing before me again. And if you ever had any doubt about your looks in your era, I can honestly say that your natural splendor in 2020 outshines the many sunrises and sunsets I've witnessed these last few years in France's countryside.
Every opportunity I get to rest my eyes, I hope to dream about you, to see your smile and to hold you in my arms again. When we were in that basement in Ecoust, I wanted to throw away all my principles for that short time when we had one another to confide in about our feelings for each other. Had you spoken the words, I would've made love to you that night, all night. Had that bell not rung when it did, I would've done anything you asked of me, anything you desired. Every kiss and caress to your body while entwined with mine...
As a man who's seen the ugly side of humanity, I am forever grateful to have been shown your strength and your bravery when you express exactly what you're thinking. And your kindness and compassion to others after everything you've endured with your family and your wanting to return home. The moment I'm freed from duty in the next week, I'll come to the hospital and take you away on the nearest train to England.
And don't be nervous about meeting Molly or the girls, my nieces. I've written to her and explained that I will be returning back to Surrey with you. They will adore you the minute they lay eyes on you. As my lifeless heart was revived the instant I first saw you at the farmhouse, my darling.
I hope you don't mind the flowers. They might be overly romantic to your extraordinary mind, but I wanted to give you a sample of how I would've courted you if we'd met under less deadly circumstances. Though you deserve a whole meadow of your favorite blossoms than a couple measly petals that I found in the field...
And I hope you're not disappointed I ran out of room to write another poem for you. Perhaps in my next letter, if we're to keep up the contest between us. As sweet as your prose is, I could listen to your melodious voice read the entire Encyclopedia Britannica.
I will return to you. Guard you, guide you and see you free of your past miseries and help you move forward to the happiness you are more than worthy of. Rest well and don't lose faith, my angel.
No matter time or distance,
With all my everlasting love,
-Your William
Emmy clutched the letter pages and crumpled flowers to her bosom as a tear of joy escaped her eye as she read over the words written to her and only for her to read. She laughed to herself, feeling her love for Lance Corporal Will Schofield of the 8th Devonshire Regiment increase if that was even possible.
Yet, she couldn't ignore other letter from Lieutenant Joseph Blake that lay unopened and neglected in her lap...
Emmanuelle knew that whatever lay ahead, she had to heed Nurse Tallis' words and tread carefully through the minefield of two men's affections and she couldn't stand to have either of them regret risking their lives for one woman.
Taking a deep breath, she stood up using her crutches and clasped both letters to her chest, slowly making her way inside to eat and procrastinate reading Joe's letter to her until later that night.
If reading Wuthering Heights taught her anything, it was that Catherine Earnshaw wasn't the ideal example to follow as a woman loved by two men of different temperaments.