F O U R
Y E A R S
L A T E R
— smoke —
February 18th, 2024
"I LOVE YOU, Mama."
"I love you too, sweet boy. Have a good day at school!"
"I will, Mama. Bye-bye!"
"Bye-bye!"
Giselle watched from the entrance of the school building as her almost four year-old joined the group of children filtering into the school. He stood a head taller than the others, and walked with an air of authority that reminded Giselle of Will.
A lot of Liam reminded her of Will, and she couldn't be more delighted by that fact. He had dark hair like his father, and shared the same wide grin and grumpy scowl, and could be fiercely stubborn when he felt like it.
Giselle loved him more and more each day, but even as her love grew, it still couldn't replace the gaping Will-sized hole in her heart.
In the four years since she had last seen him, it felt like that hole had only deepened. She didn't feel like herself most of the time, like she was a lifeless shell with only half of a heart.
"Stop thinking about it, Giselle," she whispered to herself as she turned around and headed towards the car park. "Try to be in a happy mood, you have all those letters Selene had picked up to read, after all."
Besides being with her son, one of the other bright spots in her life was the letters Will sent her. He tried to write one every day, sending them in bulk. They usually got to her after a month of floating around in the post, but when they did get to her, she didn't feel so empty inside.
He was a bombardier in the Royal Air Force, though he spoke nothing about the war or what he did in his letters. Giselle didn't know if he did that for her sake, or for his own.
He also sent letters to his son, Liam usually thrilled when his mother would read them aloud. Liam had even commissioned Giselle to write some for him, breaking Giselle's heart when he would ask her to write, "When will I get to see you, Papa?"
"Stop thinking about it," Giselle said to herself again. She was at her car now, opening the door and slipping inside. "The war ends next year. Everything will be fine."
She repeated that in her head until she got home. Selene and Hester were the first things she saw when she entered the house. They were sitting on the couch, laughing with each other.
The sight would've confused Giselle a few years ago, but now, it was normal.
Hester and Selene rarely got into fights anymore. Hester had completely shed her cold exterior when Liam was born. Giselle figured that seeing Giselle with Liam had reminded Hester of when Selene was a baby, and had possibly made her feel bad about her behavior towards her daughter.
They were a lot closer now, and Selene had even taken Hester through the tree to visit the kids. Hester had cried when she met them, overjoyed to meet her "grandkids."
She tried to hitch a ride with Selene each time her daughter was called, even while the German air raids were going on.
Giselle and Liam usually went with them, as the tree hadn't called her back in almost five years, but they had decided not to go with Selene this time because the air raids were starting back up again.
"Oh, Ellie," Selene said, her eyes on Giselle. "I left the letters in your room if you'd like to read them."
Giselle nodded and started up the stairs, nearly taking the steps two at a time in her excitement. As soon as she spotted a bundle of letters on her bed, she snatched them up and started ripping into the envelope.
She fumbled to get the first letter out, her smile so big it stretched out to her ears.
27th December 1943
My Dearest Elle,
As always, I can't stop thinking of you. More specifically, I can't get the memory of the third time we met out of my head. I'm not sure why the memory is so prevalent in my mind, but it is. I remember your hair was left natural like I like it, and you wore that white dress that showed off your legs. And your lips were shiny and pink. I'd never been so attracted to a single person than I was in that moment, and then you had to go and smile at me. Darling, I believe that was the exact moment I knew you'd be trouble for me, and trouble you were. But it was all good trouble, because now we have a wonderful son and I have you as my beautiful wife. Please send more pictures of the two of you. I know I have more pictures than I know what to do with, but I miss you terribly, though I know that you know that already. I'm well aware of how often I say that in these letters, but I can't help—
Giselle stopped when she felt the tree beckon her to it, the feeling immediately flaring up her anxiety. "No!" she screeched.
"Ellie, are you okay?" Selene called out from downstairs.
Giselle sunk to the ground, her arms wrapped around her midsection as she stared down at the floorboards. "No no no no no no—this can't be happening."
She vaguely heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and her door opening.
"What's wrong?" Selene asked, rushing to her side almost immediately. "Did he say something?"
"No, it's the tree."
Selene tensed, her eyes growing wide. "Oh, goodness."
"I don't wanna go, Selene. I can't leave Liam like this!"
"He'll understand. I'll talk to him."
"No, I can't just do this to him. He'll be so sad—and what happens when I leave? Where will I end up? What if it takes me to wherever Will is? What if I end up in the middle of war?"
"That won't happen," Selene said. "The tree doesn't want to kill you, Giselle. Don't think the worst will happen."
"But what if it does?" Giselle countered.
"Stop thinking like that. And even if it does, you'll adapt. You'll figure out a way, and you'll probably have Will with you."
Giselle felt so torn, the tree begging her to flee the room and run to the woods while her heart battled with itself. Part of her wanted nothing more than to give into the trees call and let it take her to Will, but another part couldn't bear to leave her son.
But she knew what she had to do.
"Alright," she said, standing up, "you tell Liam that Mama is so sorry she had to leave, but that she'll take him out for ice cream when she gets back." She begrudgingly turned towards her closet, digging out the suitcase that always acted as her travel companion.
"I will," Selene promised. "And be careful, okay? There's another air raid tonight. If you end up at the house, make sure everyone stays inside. I couldn't figure out where exactly they hit, but I know it's close to us."
"You think Dare Manor will be okay?"
Selene waved a hand. "Oh, it'll be fine. I read up on the history of the house in the paperwork that Dorothy gave us. Don't worry about any of that. And don't think the worst of every situation. Try to think positively."
• — • — •
The worst happened.
Before she even opened her eyes, she knew she wasn't in the familiar forest she always ended up in.
Smoke hung in the air. Not cigarette smoke, or campfire smoke, but a type of smoke that smelled of chemicals and burnt rubber. She opened her eyes to stare up at a cloudy sky, a plume of dark smoke billowing up into the air in the distance. Planes soared overhead, cutting through the sky like bullets, the loud noise drowning out some of the explosions Giselle could hear from miles away.
"Oh my gosh," she breathed out, sitting upright as fast as she could. She was in a small clearing completely surrounded by trees, sprawled out on the ground like a sitting duck without any cover.
She quickly stood up, her heart in her throat as she snatched up her suitcase and headed for cover in the trees. She hadn't a clue where she was, but she could easily determine that it wasn't anywhere that was safe, and that she must've been brought there because of Will. Because he must've been near.
She felt her body light up at the notion, and fear slithered into her chest cavity. What if he was hurt? She looked up through the gaps in the tree canopy at the planes flying overhead. Was he in one of those planes? The smell of smoke suddenly caught the wind and blew into her direction, inciting a new thought. Maybe he's where the smoke is coming from.
A guttural groan pulled her attention away from the smoke, her muscles tensing as she strained to listen.
It sounded as if someone was groaning in pain. Maybe that's Will, she thought, her heart jumping in her chest at the thought.
Before rationality could stop her, she was striding towards the voice, noticing that the sounds of pain were beginning to become more frequent.
She halted in her spot when she caught sight of something in the distance. It was white cloth tangled up in a tree, something hanging below it.
The closer she got, the more she was able to make of the sight. It was a man hanging in the tree like a puppet by the cords of his parachute, his feet swaying nearly five feet from the ground. His back was to her and she could see that blood soaked the sleeve of his right arm.
Giselle was easily able to deduce that the plume of smoke must have been from the plane he had jumped out of.
She could also tell immediately that he wasn't Will, causing her to release a breath in relief.
She stopped herself from approaching, unsure of whether the man was friend or foe. He wore a jacket and trousers that resembled the same dusky blue that Giselle had seen on Will's uniform, a padded, canvas vest overtop. She kept herself from getting any closer, until . . .
"Bloody hell," the man breathed out, his uninjured arm coming up to his chest to try and undo the clasp to his parachute. "Stupid, bloody thing," he cursed. "Stupid stupid, stupid."
Giselle froze, the man's voice swimming around in her head, as if searching for the memory it belonged in.
Suddenly, the parachutes clasp came undone, and the man dropped to the ground in a heap.
The man yelled out upon impact, rolling over to his back and cradling his arm to his chest as he gritted his teeth in pain. That was when Giselle saw his face.
"Steven?" she breathed out. She didn't even stop to remember what had happened the last time she had been alone with him, and frankly, she didn't care much in the moment. She was just happy to see something familiar amongst the unfamiliar landscape she had been dumped in.
Steven Sandoval bristled like a cat at the sound of his name, sitting up fast and taking in his surroundings until his eyes landed on Giselle.
He went statuesque, blinking several times before he was able to speak. "Giselle?" He frowned, clearly confused. "What on earth are you doing here?"
She couldn't think of a good enough excuse to explain her presence, instead define to tell him the truth. "I'm looking for Will," she said. "Do you know where he is?"
He continued to stare at her, his forehead wrinkled in befuddlement. "How did you know that Will would be here? Our orders are classified."
"So he's here?" Giselle asked excitedly. "Is he in one of the planes?"
Steven shook his head. "No, he jumped out before I did."
Giselle felt her heart drop, picturing him hanging lifeless in a tree like Steven had.
"How did you get here?" Steven asked, coming to a stand, his injured arm pressed to his midsection. "You shouldn't be here. Neither one of us should be. They'll come looking for survivors."
"What direction do you think Will went?" she asked, ignoring his questions.
"Giselle, you shouldn't go searching for him," Steven hissed. "This is German-occupied France. Enemy territory. We need to find somewhere to hide before they find us!"
He grabbed onto her arm, trying to pull her away, but she fought back.
"No! I'm going to look for Will!" Giselle growled, punching him hard across the face.
He let go immediately reeling back and cupping a hand to his cheek. "Bloody hell, woman!"
Giselle shook off her hand, wincing in pain. "Don't manhandle me like that," she hissed.
"I'm trying to save your life!" Steven protested. "What good are you to Will if you're found by the enemy? Think about what will happen if they catch you."
She didn't think about herself then. Instead, she thought about her son. About the possibility of him being motherless. The image of his tear-stained face begging for her to come back kept her in place.
She felt torn all over again, wanting so desperately to find Will, but she knew that Will would want her safe.
She met Steven's eyes. "Okay, I'll stay, but what do we do? Where do we go?"
Steven looked around before digging around in the padded vest at his chest for a compass. "We go Southwest from here, to the free zone and then to neutral territory."
"Switzerland?" Giselle guessed.
Steven nodded, looking down at his compass and pointing in the direction Giselle's back was facing. "This way. Let's be quick about it, yeah?"
"Yeah," Giselle agreed, trotting along with him. His steps were fast and long, and she struggled to keep up with him.
They walked for a while in silence, Steven having dug out a tactical knife from his vest somewhere along the way. He kept it grasped in his left hand, his eyes constantly staking out the area for signs of danger.
Giselle did the same, her back tense and grip tight on her suitcase, in case she needed to use it as cover. No matter how many minutes passed, her heart still pounded like crazy, and her back still stood as straight as a rod. She was constantly on edge, and her body was beginning to protest thirty minutes later when the scenery around them started to shift. The trees began to thin out, providing less cover for the pair.
"Steven, what do we do for shelter? And food? What about food?" Giselle asked. Her nose crinkled at the thought of having to survive in the wilderness with a man she barely knew. Will, where are you?
"We'll figure something out for shelter, and I have a bit of food, but we'll need to find a town sometime soon." He looked down at her suitcase. "What do you have in there?"
"Clothes, mostly," Giselle answered. "Cosmetics, hair stuff, and some other things . . ." things that were not of this time. Electric toothbrush, hair straightener, some of Liam's toys. Nothing useful for survival.
"Anything of value? We need something to trade for food."
"I have a few pieces of jewelry I wouldn't mind giving away," Giselle said. She noticed that his eyes caught on the necklace at her throat, the one Will had given her the night of Edgar Kaufman's party. "Not this," she protested. "Definitely not this. Or anything I'm wearing. I have stuff in my suitcase."
Steven nodded. "Alright." They continued on in silence until Steven suddenly spoke up. "I know I've already apologized, but I would like to apologize again. For what I did."
Giselle immediately knew what he was talking about, and looked over to meet his eyes. They were filled with regret, and, now that she was closer to him, she could see that he had crow's feet. She couldn't tell if those were natural or if they were from the stress of the war, but she didn't remember seeing them five years ago.
"I should've never done what I did to you, and I promise that I wasn't ever going to go further than I did. I stupidly wanted to kiss you to bother Will, and I shouldn't have used you like that, or tried to force you in any way. It was wrong and I am truly, very sorry."
Giselle had to look away from him. His eyes were incredibly remorseful and beseeching, and becoming intense to stare at.
"I forgive you," she told him. "I've forgiven you a long time ago, actually."
Steven smiled to himself. "I'm glad."
Not wanting the conversation to die, strangely enough, she continued it. "So, what have you been doing since I last saw you?"
The small smile on Steven's face grew. "I met a girl."
Giselle brightened. "You did? Who is she? What's she like?" It was odd how she had once seen him as an enemy, and now they were chatting like they were good friends. Giselle found that she liked that better than being at odds with him. And, talking to him kept her mind occupied.
"Her name is Beatrice Brown. She works as the secretary at Dare & Sandoval. I never really noticed her until a few months before the war. She told me that I had a piece of hair sticking up before I walked into work one day—I would've looked a complete fool if she hadn't stopped me. I thanked her and asked her to dinner and then actually enjoyed dinner with her." His broad grin softened, his eyes looking off as he got caught up in a memory. "She was so smart and witty, and blushed so easily. I think I was in love with her by the end of our date." He looked back over to Giselle.
"I get it now, why Will was so protective of you. I used to think he was being ridiculous because I couldn't fathom acting in such a way because of another person. But now I do. I would do anything for Bea, and just thinking about someone doing to her what I did to you makes my blood boil, and, again, I'm so sorry for doing that."
"Steven, really, it's fine. I totally forgive you."
Steven nodded. "I know, but it doesn't take away my guilt, though that might be because of Will."
Giselle raised a brow. "He hasn't forgiven you?"
Steven shrugged. "He won't even speak to me unless he has to," he said, breathing out a laugh. "Not that I blame him. I'd have murdered me already."
"I think he would've, if I hadn't gotten in the way," Giselle joked, but then she ceased all movement when her eyes started tracking something moving through the trees to Steven's left.
"Steven," she whispered, grabbing his arm and pointing.
He turned and looked, raising his knife. He pulled her behind a large tree, keeping her pressed to his side and out of sight as he peered around the trunk.
Giselle tried to keep her breathing quiet, though the loud pounding of her heart seemed to make up for her silence.
She gripped onto Steven's arm, pressing her lips together as she leaned her forehead on his bicep. It was strange how he was her source of comfort in such a dangerous moment. She strangely felt safe with him, like he had never tried to do anything to her in that car back in 1939.
"Giselle," Steven breathed out, turning his head towards her. The muscles under her grip had loosened, and the stress had melted from his face. "Take a look."
She stared at him for a moment before doing as he said. She slowly poked her head out from behind the trunk, her eyes catching onto several things before she found a tall figure in a uniform matching Steven's walking through the woods with a gash across his cheek and a knife in his hand.
The suitcase in her grasp thudded to the forest floor as the tension in her body drained from her. Seeing him was just that powerful.
"Will!" Steven whisper-yelled, alerting the man.
Will turned toward the sound of his name, knife raised for attack. He lowered it when he saw Steven, and dropped it when he saw Giselle.
As soon as his eyes met hers, she was running at him full-speed, crashing against him like a tidal wave. The impact was so rough that Giselle was sure she would have bruises, but she didn't care.
Because it was Will.
• • • • • • • • • • •
Words: 3,478.
Question: What is your favorite topic of history to learn about?
I really don't have a favorite. I kind of enjoy everything, but I'm a little burnt out on WWII right about now. Can you guess why lol?
PLEASE VOTE AND COMMENT TO MAKE ME SMILE!!!