— hurting —
August 6th, 1938
GISELLE LISTENED TO Barbara and Albert play as she hung damp clothes onto the clothesline at the back of Dare Manor, her eyes glancing over to the two children climbing up the sycamore next to Will's wood-chopping block.
"Don't go too high," Giselle warned as she saw Albert reach to grab onto a higher branch. "Your brother will have my head if either of you gets hurt."
Albert seemed to heed her warning, letting go of the branch and moving to the one Barbara occupied, who was kicking her feet as she looked up at the sprawling branches above her.
Giselle turned back to her work, pinning one of Frank's shirts to the line before moving on to another article of clothing.
She picked up a white undershirt from the wicker basket at her feet, her heart jolting and cheeks warming when she remembered the feel of said shirt under her fingertips as Will kissed her like a man desperate for her touch.
There seemed to be an unspoken agreement between Giselle and Will that neither would bring up the events that occurred on Will's birthday, and that they would go back to normal and act as if nothing had happened.
Giselle had found that they couldn't quite go back to normal. Instead, they had to create a new normal, one with strained smiles and avoidant eyes and awkward conversations.
It turned out that maintaining a friendship after knowing the feel of each other's lips was a hard thing to do.
They mostly avoided each other, only speaking when the situation required it—a situation like someone getting injured.
A panicked scream ripped through the peaceful day, springing Giselle into action.
She immediately dropped the shirt she had started to hang on the clothesline and whirled around, spotting Albert hanging from a tall branch of the tree he had been climbing.
He seemed to have climbed up several more branches and slipped, his feet dangling nearly fifteen feet above the ground as he held onto the branch with all he had in him.
Barbara still sat the on the branch she was on earlier, looking up at her brother and crying in fear.
Giselle rushed over to them, tensing as she tried to rack her brain and come up with a solution to this very dangerous problem.
She quickly pulled Barbara down from the tree, setting her on the ground and nudging her towards the house. "Go get Will!" she told the girl. "And hurry!"
The little girl shot off towards the manor, a mess of sobs and tears.
Giselle turned back to the tree, grabbing onto a branch and pulling herself up. "Hold on, Albert!" she told the young boy. "I'm coming, okay?"
"I-I think I can try to get myself up!" Albert yelled out.
"No, don't move until I come get you!" Giselle yelled back.
"I can do it, Ellie!"
Giselle watched from several branches below him as he tried to swing a leg up onto the branch. His foot barely found a hold on the bark before it slipped, the momentum causing him to lose his grip and fall.
Giselle screamed out in panic as the boy's body bounced off the branch below him before continuing its descent.
She quickly shuffled to the right as he came down, her arms reaching out and snatching him right as he began to pass by her.
The sudden weight knocked Giselle from her branch, the two plummeting towards the ground.
Giselle took the brunt of the fall, her right side meeting harshly with the hard ground, knocking the breath from her lungs as she gripped Albert to her.
She clamped her eyes shut as pain radiated through her side. She could only breathe in shallow gasps as she tried to roll onto her back, Albert sobbing in her arms.
She felt before she heard feet thudding against the ground, heading in her direction. A callused hand fell upon her arm moments later as Will spoke.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, panting.
Giselle opened her eyes, nodding when she couldn't bring herself to speak.
"Albert, are you hurt?"
Albert lifted his head, his face wet with tears and snot. "M-my arm," he whimpered through labored breathing.
"Heavens! What happened?!" Marguerite yelled across the distance, her speed increasing the closer she got. Selene wasn't far behind her, nearly shoving Marguerite out of the way when she spotted Albert and Giselle on the ground.
"Marguerite, ring Doctor Norman!" Will commanded as he looked over Albert's arm—of which seemed oddly shaped at the shoulder.
Marguerite immediately nodded, spinning around and rushing back towards the house.
Selene knelt next to the two, gingerly taking Albert from Giselle's arms to look him over. "Oh, hon, it's okay," she said to the boy. "Does anything else hurt badly?"
Albert shook his head before sobbing into her chest.
"And you, love, are you alright?" Will asked Giselle, grabbing her hand in his as his eyes raked over her in concern.
"I'm okay," she told him. "I think I'm just bruised, is all."
Will nodded, blowing out a relieved breath. "Let's try to get you inside, yeah?"
"Yeah." Giselle let Will gently ease her up, wincing slightly. When she was fully standing, she started to walk towards the house, but Will would have none of that.
He gently scooped her up, effortlessly heading to the manor with her in his arms, following right behind Albert and Selene.
Giselle didn't protest his hold. She rested her head against his shoulder and looped her arms around his neck, savoring the feel of him against her.
She was almost angry when he let go of her to set her onto the couch, but the flare of anger soon fizzled out when he kneeled in front of her, taking her hands in his.
"Where are you hurting?" he asked gently.
Giselle motioned to her side before pressing down on her sore spots a few times, concluding that nothing was broken. "I'm just bruised, nothing major." She looked over to Selene and Albert when Will's concerned eyes became too much. "Al, you okay, honey?"
Albert shook his head in his aunt's hold, sniffling and wiping at his tears.
"I think it's dislocated," Selene said over Albert's head of ash blond hair. "He says that's all that hurts." She eyed Giselle. "And you're sure you're alright? I saw that fall, Ellie. It looked painful."
"I'm fine," Giselle waved off her concern. "I don't think I even need the doctor to look at me—"
"Like I'll let that happen," Will scoffed. "The doctor will be checking you, Giselle."
Giselle bristled at his insistence, removing her hands from his and crossing her arms over her chest as she aimed a glare at him. "Did you fall out of a tree and hit your head? Because you must be absolutely stupid if you think you can tell me what to do!"
"Will, she can make her own decisions," Marguerite added as she waltzed into the room, coming to sit on the other side of Giselle. "You can't order her like that."
He ignored his cousin, staring at Giselle. "You need to let the doctor see you. You could be seriously injured, Giselle."
"But I'm not," Giselle told him. "It just feels like bruises."
The pair went back and forth with their bickering until the doorbell chimed through the house, their heads swiveling towards the foyer.
Marguerite was the one who got the door, a bright smile on her lips as she let the doctor in—a dark-eyed, dirty blonde-haired man that Giselle was familiar with.
It was Lawrence Polk, the man she and Selene had met the day they went shopping for clothes over a year ago.
He was also the man Will had nearly bitten Giselle's head off about when she had spoken to him at the grocery store.
Will hadn't seemed to have forgotten that tidbit either by the way he scowled at the man. "Why are you here?" he practically growled, his eyes sweeping to Marguerite. "I thought I said to ring Doctor Norman."
Lawrence strolled over to Albert first, setting his leather medical bag down as he spoke. "Unfortunately for you, Doctor Norman is with a patient. I'm the only doctor available at the moment."
Will didn't say anything more as Lawrence worked on Albert, deeming his shoulder dislocated and quickly setting it back into place.
Albert cried throughout the ordeal, but seemed to brighten up when Lawrence offered the boy a candy after tying a sling around his arm.
Once Albert had left the room with Selene, he moved to Giselle.
"Hey, Lawrence," Giselle greeted. "Long time, no see."
Lawrence grinned. "Yes, it has been a while hasn't it?"
That was when a brooding Will spoke up. "Are you going to check her, or not?"
Lawrence didn't pay him any attention, still looking to Giselle. "Where are you injured at?"
"Just my side. My hip hurts the most," she rubbed her hip. "But it feels like it's only bruised."
"Do you mind if I feel?"
Giselle shook her head. "No, go ahead." She winced as he pressed her hip, having her move it around and walk on it, Will watching them like a hawk.
"Well, it doesn't appear to be broken," Lawrence eventually announced. "I have a salve I could put on it for the pain if you would like."
"Sure."
"Alright, would you like to move somewhere more private so that—"
"Absolutely not!" Will interjected, practically spitting fire. "There is no need for that. She can put the salve on herself, or have Marguerite or Selene aid her."
"Um—why don't I just leave you some to apply for yourself?" Lawrence suggested.
Giselle nodded. "Sounds good to me."
"Yes, that's a great idea," Will agreed.
Lawrence shot an annoyed look towards the man before he pulled out a small tin and handed it to Giselle, giving her instructions on how to use it.
"Well," he said once he was done, standing up. "I suppose I'm finished with your examination."
"Great!" Will called out. "You should leave now."
Giselle stood up along with Lawrence. "Thanks for coming," she said to the doctor, "and for putting up with Mr. Dramatic over here." She hitched a thumb at Will.
Lawrence laughed. "Yes, well you're very welcome." He lifted her hand from her side, pressing a kiss to the back of it. "I hope the next time we see each other will be under better circumstances."
"Me too," Giselle blushed, more so from the way Will's eyes shot daggers at Lawrence's hand than from the kiss.
"Alright, you should really be leaving now," Will said icily. "Marguerite, would you show him out?"
Marguerite smiled, turning to Lawrence. "Absolutely," she looped her arm around his. "Right this way, Lawrence."
Will grumbled once they disappeared through the front door, chatting amongst each other. "Terrible doctor, he is."
Giselle rolled her eyes, beginning to leave the room. "Of course you think that."
Will rushed to her side, slipping a hand around her waist to support her. "Where are you trying to go? I'll help you."
"To the kitchen. I want to make me some tea, and I really don't need your help. I'm not broken, remember?"
Will ignored her, assisting her to the kitchen and motioning for her to sit down, she ignored him and went to stand at the counter. She was reaching for the box of matches to light the stove when Will gently moved her aside.
"I'll take care of it," he said to her. "Go sit down. You need rest."
"I—" she started to protest, but gave up, sighing and leaning against the counter as he stuffed the stove with fresh wood and pulled out a stack of old newspapers from the cabinet next to Giselle, setting them atop the counter.
He balled up a few papers and put them next to the wood before lighting a match. He added more paper until the wood caught fire and poked around until he was satisfied.
"You know, I'm sorry about the whole tree thing," Giselle murmured as he began filling a teakettle with water. "I should've kept a better eye on Albert."
Will shook his head. "Don't be sorry, Elle. Everyone is alive and relatively safe. And Albert would've hurt himself regardless, I'm sure." He looked over his shoulder at her. "I suppose I should be thanking you for catching him when you did. I think you saved his life."
"Don't thank me. It's my fault he was in that situation to begin with." Giselle shrugged, looking down sheepishly at the counter.
Her eyes drifted to the stack of old newspapers, perusing over the one that sat on top disinterestedly as she waited for him to reply, but her world tilted on its axis when her eyes got snagged on a string of words.
"Herr Hitler issued a proclamation . . ."
Her eyes stayed on the words as she unfolded the newspaper, reading the article over. It was an article from March of that year, and was something that a girl her age would probably gloss over in that era—something about Austria and Germany uniting—but Giselle knew better.
This was the beginning of World War II. And she was stuck smack-dab in the middle of it.
She quickly flitted through her brain as horror washed over her in icy waves, trying to pull up everything she was able to remember about the war. She realized fairly quickly how little she had paid attention back in high school—unable to pull up any dates or important events that should be coming up.
She felt incredibly stupid for not realizing it sooner. It hadn't been a thought in her mind since she left high school, yet now she was about to live it. And so will everyone else.
Her eyes shot to Will. He was of a good age. Strong, smart—a perfect leader. She could picture him donned in a British army uniform and off to war right then.
She felt woozy all of a sudden, dropping the newspaper unceremoniously and gripping onto the edge of the counter.
"Giselle?" Will moved from his position at the stove and rounded the counter. He placed his hand on her shoulder, dipping his head to look at her. "Are you well? What's wrong?"
She stared at the countertop in a daze.
Bombs.
The Germans fly over and drop bombs all over Great Britain.
Dorothy. Frank. Barbara. Albert. Marguerite.
Oh, she felt sick.
"Come here," Will said, gently pulling her away from the counter and guiding her to the small kitchen table.
She stopped halfway, gripping onto his arm and staring up at him. "What does the name Adolf Hitler mean to you?" she asked, wondering if Selene had already told him about what was to come.
He looked at her strangely, as if perturbed by her question. "He's the leader of Germany. Why?"
"Has Selene talked about him at all to you? About Germany?"
"No. She never talks about that sort of stuff." He frowned, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. "Darling, you look flushed. Do you need to lie down?"
Giselle pulled away, snatching up the newspaper. "No, I need to see Selene." She rushed out of the kitchen and scoured the house for her older cousin, finding her leaving Albert's room. "You didn't tell him?!" she shouted in a loud whisper.
Selene whirled around, frowning in confusion. "Giselle, you look like you've seen a ghost. What are you talking about?" Her eyes dropped to the newspaper as Will came up behind Giselle.
"Giselle, what's going on?" he asked, setting a hand on her upper back.
"Will, can you go get her some water," Selene told him. "She needs water. And something to eat." He looked ready to protest, but she pinned him with a look that had him leaving seconds later.
She neared Giselle once he was gone, a look of understanding in her eyes. "I didn't tell him for a reason," she revealed, her voice in a low whisper. "If he knows about the war, he'll be stressing about it until it actually happens. I was planning to tell him a month in advance, so that he has time to prepare."
Giselle nodded. That sounded reasonable. "When exactly does it start?"
"Germany invades Poland on September 1st of next year. Britain declares war two days later," Selene replied.
Giselle sucked in breath. They had a little over a year to go before everything turned on it's head.
"Try not to stress about it," Selene suggested. "I'm sure everything will be fine."
"It won't be," Giselle told her, blood draining from her face. "He's going to be drafted, isn't he?"
"Most likely," Selene admitted sadly.
"Is there any way out of it? Maybe we can talk them into moving somewhere—like Switzerland. Wasn't Switzerland unaffected by everything?" There was desperation in her voice, and Giselle could tell Selene didn't want to kill any of her hope by the pitying look on her face.
"Giselle, you know he won't agree to that," Selene said softly. "He'll want to stand and fight. He's too noble to flee."
Giselle let out a ragged breath, knowing that she was right. "There has to be something—" she slammed her mouth shut when Will returned, a glass of water and a piece of bread in hand.
"Here," he said, taking the newspaper from her hand and giving her the water and bread. She took it greedily, chugging the water and then taking a bite of bread. He watched her as she ate. "Why were you asking about Adolf Hitler and Germany?"
Selene's eyes darted to her briefly, the blues of her irises darkening in silent admonishment. She looked back to Will as if it had never happened. "She was worried about Marguerite's extended family in France," she lied. "Hitler invades France in 1940."
Will's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "He does? Why?"
Selene waved her hand as if it's nothing to be concerned with, when, in fact, it was everything to be concerned with. "Nothing important. He gets a little greedy, that's all. But don't worry, he ends up dying and Germany loses in the end. And as long as Marguerite's family stays where they are in the south of France, they should be fine."
Giselle didn't even know that Marguerite had extended family in France, but Will seemed to accept the answer. Will turned to her. "That's what you got so worried about?"
She nodded, not trusting herself to lie directly to his face. "I think I need to go lie down," she said suddenly, feeling a headache coming on from all of the new stress pouring into her body. "My head is pounding."
"I'll assist you," Will said, slipping an arm around her waist and guiding her down the stairs. As soon as they were in her room, he turned her towards him. "Something bad is about to happen, isn't it?" he asked her.
She gaped up at him, not sure what to say. "I . . . um . . ."
"You don't have to tell me," he said, "but I know it's bad. You wouldn't have been so shaken up over Marguerite's family." He sighed. "Just . . . tell me before it happens, okay? At least let me be prepared."
"I promise." She reached up to press her palm against his cheek. "Don't worry, okay? It'll all be okay."
Will knew she was lying. She could see it in his eyes, but he didn't call her on it. Instead, he leaned into her palm, allowing himself a moment of her touch before remembering that he was Will and she was Giselle and that they couldn't do anything like this.
"I should go," he said suddenly, pulling away from her. "I'll be in my study. You should get some rest."
Soon enough, she was left by herself with a band of tension around her head. She settled atop her bed fully-clothed, letting sleep pull her into a peaceful nap.
Instead of peaceful, she was given dreams of war and death.
And a terrible image of Will lying on a battlefield in a pool of blood.
• • • • • • • • • • •
Words: 3,564.
Question: What is your favorite song right now? (Not of all time, just recently)
I actually don't have a favorite lyric song right now. I don't listen to music unless it's instrumental because I love to have instrumental music playing when I'm reading or writing or working.
I guess my favorite instrumental song at the moment would be "Waltz of the Snowflakes" (Act I, No. 9) by Tchaikovsky.
PLEASE VOTE AND COMMENT TO MAKE ME SMILE!!!