EPILOGUE. IN THE FLESH
1919
SHE STARES DOWN AT THE LETTER GIDDILY. A wide smile refuses to drop from her lips. Her fingers grip the pen with an intensity. The messy handwriting on the parchment stares up at her, repeating itself in her mind. Dropping her pen on the desk, she rests her chin against her palm. A knock at her bedroom door grabs her attention. Glancing back, she watches her older brother peek into the room. "'Nother letter from your boyfriend." He hands her the envelope with a playful smirk.
"He's not my boyfriend, idiot." She snags the envelope from him. "Now, get out of my room."
"Yes, Mum." He laughs as he leaves the room, closing the door behind him.
The moment the door is closed, she begins opening the letter. Yet another one to add to her collection. As soon as her letter is free, the envelope falls to the floor, forgotten. Her eyes scan over the messy handwriting like it's the best news she's gotten in years - and it is. A giddy smile overcomes her features as she reads over each sentence with precise care. 'I can hardly wait to see you again.' She can almost hear his voice.
Clutching the letter to her chest, she almost squeals in excitement. For the first time in forever, she has a date. A date with a man who knows her true self. A date with a man who wouldn't stand her up or forget about her. She pushes herself away from the desk, collapsing onto the bed with a dreamy sigh.
Her eyes stared up at the smooth beige ceiling. Her pale green room felt more homey than her childhood bedroom ever had. There was an air of happiness about it. Picture frames and paintings littered the walls; but only one photo remained on her nightstand. The photo of the German woman and child stared at her every morning and every night. It was a stark reminder of what she had seen and what she had been through. She refused to let herself forget.
The door opened up again. "You want any dinner? I'm making spaghetti." Alex smiled down at his sister. He loved her more than anything, and it was clear in his eyes. His heart had always held a special place for the girl. Though he didn't want to admit favorites, Mags had always been the one he found himself favoring. Eliza was her mother's daughter, picking up nearly every trait their mother had. And that was why she refused to speak to them anymore.
"No, thank you." Mags smiled, pushing herself in a sitting position on her bed. "I have a date tomorrow." Her wide and toothy smile was contagious to the older boy. "What should I even wear? I haven't even thought of that! Oh, God!" She pushes herself off of the bed. Her feet carry her over to the closet as she begins rooting through her gowns and outfits. "What if I wear something he hates? Or what if I look stupid in it? Maybe I should wear trousers. Or is that too casual?"
"Maggie," Alex chuckles, approaching his sister with an air of gentleness, "he's going to be completely blown across the pond when he sees you. You could show up in a fucking potato sack and I think he'd propose on the spot."
"I think you're being a bit dramatic there."
Rolling his eyes, Alex let out a laugh. His hand clasped on her shoulder for a fleeting moment before leaving her room without another word. He was more than happy for his sister; in fact, he was over the moon at the idea that someone could finally show her the love and appreciation he knew she deserved. But the underlying protective brother in him wanted her to stay home, never speak to any man that could hurt her. But she was an adult. She was a woman who could make her own life and her own decisions. He refused to be like their father.
The two went to sleep that night on empty stomachs. Mags was too nervous to stomach any food, and Alex was too tired to make anything for just himself. Their nights were sleepless, filled with nightmares. While each day became easier, the nights were the loneliest. She would wake up in a sweat, tears streaming from her face and a dull ache in her left temple. Blake's face still haunted her every time she began to drift into sleep. The German pilot and soldier she had stabbed still haunted her. If she thought long and hard enough, she could still feel their blood leaking from their necks and onto her hands. The young French girl's eyes still bore into her when she had a passing thought of children.
Alex still had nightmares of his friends. The bombs that would explode near him or the artillery shells that took out handfuls of men at once. He saw the men he held until their dying breaths, the tears they let out and the prayers they spoke. Everyone was a saint when they were thrust upon Death's door. He would wake up, gasping for breath, clutching at his neck for the imaginary hands that held him down. Neither would speak of their nightmares; it was a mutual understanding.
Upon the morning, Mags was up with a nervous smile. Her stomach rumbled with unease. As she stared into her closet, her right foot tapped rapidly. The green gown or the white button up with the beige trousers? Decisions, decisions. The green gown might seem a bit too formal and noticeable but the trousers might be a bit too casual and not as inviting. Letting out a soft sigh, she let her body collapse back onto the bed. Why should she care about what she's dressed in? He's seen her in far worse states than he would see her today. Her fingers reached up to graze against the ridged scar on her temple.
"Mags, you want any breakfast before your date?" Alex called from their kitchen.
"No, thank you!" She shouted back. Standing up, she grabbed the button up and trousers and began undressing. After pulling on the ensemble, she looked over herself in the vanity mirror. She flattened out her shirt as she continued nitpicking every detail she wasn't quite content with. Taking a seat at her vanity, she pulled out her baby pink lipstick and gently applied it, not wanting it to be too striking. She applies a soft wash of blush before pushing a piece of honey hair out of her face. Pulling her hair out of its loose bun, she began to work on her loose braid.
Before she moves from the desk, she opens the top right drawer. The cork necklace stares up at her, as does the small tin of cigarettes that Sepoy Jondalar had given her. Fond memories fill her mind. 'If we had a world full of soldiers, there'd be no love.' Those words had stuck with her. Her fingertips gently grazed against the tin case. She hadn't opened it since he had given it to her; it had nearly been five months since she had touched a cigarette and she hadn't any plans on losing that.
Shaking her head, she shoved the cork necklace into the purse she had tied around the chair. Mags slings the purse over her shoulder. It almost gives her a flashback to her times spent slinging her medical pack over her shoulder; though this purse is much lighter on her.
She leaves her bedroom and quickly makes her way into the kitchen of their small flat. Her brother stands at the gas stove, cooking some eggs. His smile widens as he turns to his sister. "Well, don't you look classy today." He crosses his arms over his chest as he takes a bit from his toast. "You sure you don't want any? I put pepper on them this time."
With a giggle, Mags shakes her head. "As tempting as the offer, I have a date to attend to." Jogging up to Alex, she presses a goodbye kiss to his cheek before making her way out of the flat. Her black flats click against the pavement. The Worthing air is warm; sun radiates down on her like a beam from Heaven itself. She rolls up the sleeves of her button up and adjusts the strap of her purse. Nothing can wear down the smile that graces her lips.
Men and women trade smiles with her as she passes. There's an extra skip in her step. As her gaze catches the cafe they had decided on, her heart almost stopped. Her feet slowed as she neared the entrance. From the glass door, she can see him sitting there, in a booth. A bouquet of lavenders sits on the table to his right. He's staring down at his hands as they flex and ball into tight fists.
One of her hands reaches up to grip the strap of her purse while the other reaches for the door handle. Pulling the door open, she takes a step inside. No one makes any move to pay any attention to her. Only a handful of steps and she'll be with him again. What would she even say? Should she be sincere? Or should she make a joke? Taking a deep breath, her feet carry her to the booth. "Well, you look better than I remembered."
His eyes snap up to meet hers. His breath catches in his throat. "Maggie..." He whispers before pushing himself out of the booth. In an instant, his arms are around her. His embrace is tight and warm and inviting. It's everything she had hoped it would be. Pulling back, the two gaze at each other with nostalgic smiles. For a moment, they're back in France, saying their goodbyes to each other. "It's good to see you, y'know, not bleeding."
Mags lets out a giggle. The two take their seats across from each other in the booth. Her eyes dart between him and the flowers. "You pick those just for me? Or are they for your other date?"
With a chuckle, he hands her the bouquet. "I couldn't get another date, that's why I picked you."
She lets out a playful gasp as she slaps his bicep. "Still a fucking arsehole, I see."
A waiter approaches, setting two beers down on the table. "I'll let you two look at the menu for a moment."
"What's this?" She asks with furrowed eyebrows.
"It's that drink I owe you." His smile is warm and wide.
"As long as it isn't that cow piss you were drinking at the farm, I'll take it." The two share a laugh. Mags takes a sip of her beer, letting out a hum or enjoyment. "So, William, tell me about your life after the war."
"Well, Margaret," they giggle like children, "life has been... life." He shrugs his shoulders. "It's been... an adjustment." She gives him an understanding nod. Of course she would understand, she was there with him. He knew he could confide in her. "It's been lonely, though. I think you're the only one I've spoken to outside of my sister and my nieces."
Nodding once again, she takes another sip of beer. "I hear you. The nights are the worst."
"Nightmares?"
She nods. "Alex is the same. I hear him sometimes, crying late at night. At first, I'd go to him, wake him up and help him through it. But he would get so angry at me. I'd never seen him so... angry. He looked just like our father. I stopped waking him up after he punched a mirror."
Will watches her eyes. They refuse to meet his. Her shoulders are tense. "Has he...?" He trails off.
"Hit me?" Mags smiles before shaking her head. "God, no. I think he'll throw himself from the roof before doing that."
"Good, good." Will reaches out to grab her right hand in his. It almost feels unreal to be holding her hand. It's rough but gentle. If he thought hard enough, he could feel her wrapping his wounds and holding his hand as they ran through the battlefield. "What about the rest of your family? How are they?"
"Well," Mags chuckles, using her free hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, "Eliza very quickly got married to some rich bloke up in the hills. She already has three kids! Can you believe that? They've been married four years! That's almost a kid a year. I swear, my stomach hurts thinking of it." The two share a hearty laugh. "Mum, she's... Apparently she died of a heart attack the year the war ended. Eliza never told me directly, she told Alex. Eliza refuses to speak to us any further because she thinks we abandoned her and Mum." With a humorless chuckle, Mags shakes her head. "Mum always did say I was going to give her a heart attack."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"Don't be." She waves him off, squeezing his hand. "I have something for you, actually." Pulling her hand away, she begins digging through her purse. As her fingers make contact with the necklace, a soft smile grows on her rosy lips. "Here. I finally finished it." Mags presents the necklace proudly.
His face drops. "Is that...?" Will trails off. He's unable to finish his question. He already knows the answer. It's Blake's.
"Yeah, I figured I owed it to him to at least finish the dumb cork necklace." She chuckled, setting it on the table in front of them. "Still have no idea why he did that, but who knows why he did the things he did. I still don't understand his hatred for peaches-" She's cut off when she notices Will wipe a tear away. His fingers hold the string so gently, as if it will break from the slightest breeze. "Will?"
"Maggie," his voice is hoarse, "thank you. This... It really means the world to me."
A newfound sense of guilt invades her. She hadn't meant to make him cry. She had thought it would make him happy to have something to keep of his best friend. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her fingers twiddling together, "I didn't meant to upset you."
"No, you didn't-" Will stopped short when the waiter returned to their table. The two quickly glanced over the menus, finding the first thing they found appetizing and ordering it.
1920
A SOFT SIGH ESCAPED HER LIPS. Her eyes hold a deep sadness as she stares at the patch of tall grass. Between her fingers, she twirls a cherry blossom. Had they buried him? Had they moved the body? Or had he simply been covered by the elements? It broke her heart to think of him, still lying there as maggots ate away at him. A tear slipped down her cheek as she shook away those thoughts. No point in dwelling on it, she thought to herself.
A presence moved to her left. "Well, he wasn't joking about those trees." His soft chuckle grabbed her attention. Her eyes glanced back to take in all of the trees that littered the field behind them. It was almost unrecognizable. It was difficult to imagine that merely three years ago, nearly every tree had been chopped down and they had held their dying friend in their arms. "It's weird being here."
She gently nods. There are no words she can form that could add to their conversation. Next to her, he holds his own cherry blossom between his fingers. "I remember, when we first met, I couldn't stand him." He chuckles, shaking his head. "Anyone could tell he was new, hadn't seen a second of action on the field. They made him and I run some supplies up the line one day. God, he wouldn't shut up the entire time." Both of them shared a laugh. "All he talked about was his dog back home and that nurse, Amelia. After the first hour, I snapped on him. I was a proper prick about it, too; surprised he stuck with me after the yelling I gave him."
Mags wipes away another stray tear. "I remember he'd brought in a soldier who had accidentally shot his foot. The entire time, the lad's crying about how much his foot hurts and Tom wouldn't lay off him. He starts calling the kid an idiot, but he never said it with anger or anything like that. Hell, I don't think Tom could be angry about anything."
"Crowe, right?"
"Yeah, that idiot should've been a fucking chef or something." The two shared another laugh. "He had no business carrying a fucking rifle around. God, Tom did not let up on him. And he was so smitten with Amelia that I didn't have the heart to tell him she was married."
"She was married?"
"Oh, yeah. She's like eight years older than me."
"Really? I couldn't tell."
"I'm electing to ignore that, Mr. Schofield." Her playful smile erupted a flutter of butterflies in his stomach. Crossing her legs, she rests her head against his shoulder.
His eyes glance down to see her hands resting against her legs. His left hand flexes before curling into a fist. He wants nothing more than to hold her hand, but he's hesitant. Before he can think anymore, her cold hand grabs his warm one. With a small smile, he presses a kiss to the top of her head. "I think Blake would've made fun of us for sitting here, missing him."
With a chuckle, she nods. "No doubt, he'd probably tell us we were being too boring or he'd try to tell us more about those cherry blossoms." The two shared another laugh. "Speaking of," she pulled her hand off of his and pushed herself off of the ground, "I think I'm going to go look at them. Maybe I can channel some of Blake's expertise while I'm there."
Pushing himself off of the ground, Will followed closely behind her. Walking across the field almost felt wrong to him. He felt like any moment, a German plane could come from beyond the hill and gun them down. His eyes dart around, looking for any sign of enemies. His hands grasp for his nonexistent rifle. Glancing back towards him, Mags slows her pace. "War's over. I know you can't shake it, but please try to remember you're safe." Her hand intertwines with his, giving him a sense of comfort.
His hand tightens around hers as they make their way towards the cherry blossoms. A blissful peace washes over them as a soft breeze blows a few blossoms off of the trees and to the ground. A gentle smile grows on Mags' lips as they make their way to the middle of the small field of trees. Just three years prior, they had all been chopped down. What she would give for Blake to see them. His hand squeezes hers, grabbing her attention. Turning, her eyes catch a small blossom in his hand. "For you, dear nurse."
With a giggle, she rolls her eyes. Her hands gently take the blossom before placing it behind her ear. "Do I look like a princess?"
A smile grows on his lips as he watches her twirl in front of him. If she had been wearing a dress, he'd be sure it'd twirl along with her. "Maybe get that nose fixed and we'll see." She lets out a quick gasp before punching his arm. The two shared a hearty laugh. "Y'know," Will began, looking out over the field, "we could walk to Écoust."
Mags laughs, nodding along. "That we could." The two fall into a comfortable silence. Mags grabs a blossom from the tree to her right and places it behind Will's ear. "Now we match." As her fingers fix the small blossom behind his ear, his hand slowly slides up to gently grab her wrist. If she dwelt on it too long, she would begin to remember the way he grabbed her wrist when she first poured whiskey on his cut. Her movements froze as their eyes met. "What's wrong?" Her voice was quiet and soft.
"Call me stupid if you want-"
"Don't tempt me."
"But I think I want to kiss you."
Her eyes widen at the statement. That had been the last thing she ever thought he'd say to her. Maybe something more along the lines of 'get off of me' or 'can you back up' was closer to her train of thought. Her gaze darts between his eyes and his lips. "I can't tell if you're joking here or not, but it's quite cruel if-"
Before she could finish her sentence, he presses his lips against hers. For a moment, her entire body freezes before relaxing against his. His arms slid around her, pulling her closer against him. All of the feelings she had felt after April 6th, 1917 came rushing back to her. For a few fleeting moments, she felt truly happy. If she could, she'd spend the rest of her days in his embrace. Pulling back, her eyes slowly flutter open. Her face flushes a crimson red. His swollen lips form a large smile. "Is Margaret Winters embarrassed?"
"Oh, shut it!" Her fingers pinch his side, giggling along with him.
"I'm serious, though," Will stops, sliding his hand into hers, "it would be my honor to court you, Miss Winters."
With a giggle, she rolled her eyes. "Do people still even say that?" Her hand squeezed his before Mags pushed herself on her tip toes to press a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. "It would be an honor to be courted by the one Mister Schofield."
1922
HER ARMS WRAPPED TIGHTLY AROUND THE INFANT GIRL. A groan escaped her lips as she lifted the toddler with her other arm. "You're getting much too big for me, Tom." The young boy's giggles were enough to keep her smile growing each day. His small arms wrap tightly around her neck, nearly choking her, but she didn't quite mind. What a way to go, choked to death by your own son. She pressed a quick kiss to the boy's head before setting him down on the floor next to his toy blocks. Carrying the infant on her arms, she entered the kitchen. "Hello, dear." She smiles as she presses a kiss to her husband's cheek. "Think you can take Lauri while I get her bottle ready?"
With a large smile, he sets his pencil down on the table and takes the infant in his arms. "How was work?"
A soft sigh escapes her lips as she grabs the baby bottle. "Same old, same old. Jane has had quite a temper this week so we're all forced to endure her tantrums. Sometimes I'd like to stick a thermometer right up her arse."
He lets out a chuckle, covering the infant's ears at the curse word. "You're going to teach them bad habits if you keep talking like that in front of 'em."
"They're going to learn 'em sooner or later." She turns the sink on to warm up the bottle of milk. "Might as well be from their own mother."
"Now, Margaret," he laughs as he gently rocks the infant in his arms, "is that any attitude to have towards our future generation?"
"Well, William," she turns the sink off and places the nipple cap onto the bottle, "I think they're in the best of hands." Her hand holds the bottle out towards Will. "Your turn to feed her, anyway." Love fills the entire room as he takes the bottle from her and begins to feed the infant.
The patter of small feet grabs their attention from the doorway of the kitchen. The small boy smiles up at his parents, holding out his wooden block. His arms reach out towards Mags in desperate need to be picked up. With a chuckle, she concedes and picks the boy up in her arms. "Aren't you getting a wee bit old to be picked up?" The boy shakes his head before burying his face against the crook of her neck.
As Mags held their son and William held their daughter, the two shared a small smile of their own. This was the happiest they had been and, most likely, the happiest they would ever be. She neared her husband and the two stretched out to meet lips. Within an instant, the young boy's hands pushed his father away. "Get away from my mummy!" He shouted, his arms clinging to Mags' neck.
With a giggle, Mags flashed a cocky smile at Will. "Yeah, get away, you creep."
"Don't feed into that."
"Oh, don't act like she won't be a total daddy's girl." She rolled her eyes as she began swaying with Tom in her arms. "Would you like to dance, you handsome devil?" Tom giggled as he profusely nodded. Mags continued swaying around the kitchen as the boy dug his face into the crook of her neck.
As Lauri finished her bottle, Will pushed himself out of his chair. "I think she's had enough excitement for one day."
"She's only been up an hour." Mags laughed.
"Exactly," Will chuckled as he made his way out of the kitchen, "she's already had a bottle. I think that's plenty excitement for us all." He rocked the infant in his arms as he made his way up the stairs towards her room.
Mags set Tom back down on the ground, patting him on the back and telling him to go play with his toys. Her steps were quiet as she followed behind her husband. She could faintly hear him humming to the infant in his arms. A soft smile grew on her lips as she neared the baby's room. Upon the sight of him humming to their daughter, her heart swelled nearly three times its size. Leaning against the doorframe, Mags watched with a loving smile.
After a few moments, the infant had finally fallen to sleep. Will gently set her down in her crib before turning to face his wife. "I deserve a medal." He mouthed to her, too afraid to wake the infant with any sounds. With quick but silent movements, he made his way over to Mags, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her into the air.
She was quick to cover her mouth as a gasp of surprise escaped her lips. Her hand quickly hit his arm. "You arsehole." She whispered faintly as he set her back down on the ground, his arms still tightly around her waist. "You're tempting the fates now, William."
"When I know there's hardly any repercussions." His smirk sent butterflies through her stomach.
"Diaper duty for a month."
"Whoa, let's not be hasty." He chuckled, pulling her out of the baby's room. "Y'know," he mumbled, pressing a kiss to the crook of Mags' neck, "we could try for number three."
Mags let out a laugh, shaking her head. "Are you planning on pushing it out? Because, I'm afraid this one can take no more." Her arms wrapped loosely around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. "Though it's a pretty thought." Pulling herself out of his grip, she began making her way down the stairs. "I'm going to change before starting supper. How does spaghetti sound tonight?"
"Sounds perfect, love." He spoke as he followed her down the stairs.
"Tom," Mags called out to their son, "Mummy's going to change and then start supper. You want to help me cook some spaghetti?"
"Yes, please!" The boy shot up from his toys and jogged into the kitchen. The two adults shared a laugh before Will entered the kitchen to wrangle their son while Mags entered the large bedroom across the hall from the living room. Closing the door, she began stripping off her white nurse's uniform. The muscles in her back ached wildly as she attempted to stretch. Approaching their dresser, she opened the top drawer. At the lack of underwear, she let out a sigh. Grabbing one of the last clean pieces of underwear, she slid the skirt-like garment on.
After pulling on the undergarment, as she went to close the drawer, her eyes caught sight of a familiar blue tobacco tin. Her fingers wrapped around the cold tin as she pulled it out of the drawer. It looked so familiar, but, for the life of her, Mags couldn't quite place it. Popping it open, her mind flooded with memories. A ripped photograph of her younger self was the only item in the tin. Tears pricked at her eyes as her fingers gently ran along the photo.
To her right, the bedroom door opened. "Love," Will's voice grabbed her attention, "we got everything ready. Just waiting on your command- What do you have there?" His eyes dart to the small tin in her hands. Gentle tears slipped down her cheeks. "Maggie," he approached her, looking in at the contents of the tin, "what's wrong, love?"
"I can't believe you kept this." She chuckled, wiping away any stray tears.
"Of course, I kept it." Will laughed, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. "You did say that if you were going to be a picture on some poor bastard's bed, it might as well be me." He pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. "Y'know, I had it taped to my bedpost back home. First thing I saw when I woke up, last thing I saw when I went to bed."
"I can't tell whether to be creeped out or not." Mags laughed as she leaned her head against his. A loud clatter from the kitchen startled the two. "You didn't leave Tom alone in the kitchen, right?" Before her question could be answered, a wail could be heard from the upstairs bedroom. "Go get Tom and I'll check on Lauri." Mags quickly stuffed the tin back into the drawer before closing it and opening one of Will's drawers. She pulled on one of his older, beige button-ups before leaving the bedroom and jogging up the stairs to comfort the crying infant.
1939
HER SHAKY HANDS TIGHTLY GRIPPED THE LETTER. Tears splotched onto the paper in her grasp. Not again. Anything but this again. She wanted to sob as loudly as she could, but her body wouldn't let her. Not in front of the kids, she thought to herself. "FUCK!" She shouted, pushing herself off of the corner of the bed. The boy flinched back, shocked at her sudden outburst. In his nineteen years of life, he had never once heard his mother shout so harshly - even when he had broken things.
"Mum," his voice was quiet and soft, "I didn't know how to tell you."
Her shoulders shook as she cried into her hands. "Thomas, please tell me this is some stupid joke." She managed to choke through the tears.
"I'm afraid not." He swayed back and forth on his feet. His stomach flipped as he watched his mother wipe away the tears that spilled down her cheeks. "I'm sorry-"
"Don't." She spoke as she approached her son. In an instant, her arms were around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. "Thomas Schofield, I need you to know that your father and I love you more than anything on this Earth. You and Lauri are what keep us going every day."
Tears began building up in Tom's eyes as he hugged his mother tightly. His face nestled in the crook of her neck, finding a true sense of comfort and love in her embrace. All of his school mates had poked fun at him for being a mother's boy, but he wasn't quite ashamed of it. His mother had shown him true resilience and love all throughout his life and he could only thank her for the man he had turned out to be. "I love you, Mum." He mumbled as a sob broke through. "I don't want to go, Mum. I don't want to kill anyone."
"I love you so, so much, love." She whispered back as the two began swaying gently. Her hands rubbed small circles against his back in a small attempt to quell his sobs. The collar of her shirt began to grow damp from his tears. "When do you ship out?"
"Two weeks from now." He spoke, pulling himself out of her embrace to wipe his tears away.
"Well," she offered a small smile as she wiped her own tears away, "looks like we've got two weeks to keep you occupied."
The front door of the house opened and quickly closed. "I'm home!" The voice of Will called out. Tom's entire form stiffened.
"You haven't told him?" Mags asked her son. He shook his head in response. Her eyes glanced down at the letter. "Want me to handle it?" The boy quickly nodded. Mags slowly nodded, taking a deep breath. With a soft sigh, she forced a smile onto her lips. Her fingers folded up the letter and stuffed it into the back pocket of her trousers. "Hello, dear." She greeted Will in the kitchen. His wide smile almost broke her heart as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Can I speak to you in the bedroom?"
Tom watched his parents enter their bedroom as he took a seat on the couch in the living room. Lauri sat to his left, reading a novel. "What're they talking about?" She asked, furrowing her eyebrows. Tom shrugged, claiming he had no idea.
"What's all this about?" Will asked as he took a seat on the corner of the bed next to Mags. His hand reached out to grab hers, gently running his thumb along her rough and scarred knuckles. "Love, what's wrong?"
Without a word, Mags pulled the letter out of her back pocket and handed it to Will. "Tom got this in the mail a couple days ago. He didn't know how to tell us."
With furrowed eyebrows, Will began reading over the letter. His expression quickly dropped with each word he took in. His grip on the letter tightened, creasing the paper. "Fuck!" He shouted as tears began building in his eyes. He pushed himself off of the corner of the bed and began pacing around the bedroom. "Maggie, please tell me-"
"It's real, Will." She whispered, twiddling her thumbs.
"When-"
"In two weeks." She answered, already knowing his questions. They were the same as hers. With a soft sigh, she pushed herself off of the bed and approached him. "We've got two weeks to constantly remind him how much we love him."
"Maybe I could go in his place."
"You're over the drafting age, love. I'm not sure they'd take you."
"We have to fucking try!"
"You think I want this? You think I want my fucking son going off to fight the same fucking war we fought just two decades ago?" Mags huffed in frustration as tears built in her eyes. She took a seat on the bed again, rubbing her face with the palms of her hands. "Fuck." She hissed under her breath.
Will's sob grabbed her attention. "I don't want our son going out there." He managed to speak through his sobs. Taking a seat on the bed, he lied down and rested his head on Mags' lap.
Tears of her own began to spill as her husband sobbed into her lap. In the nineteen years they had been married and the twenty-two years they had known each other, she had never seen him like this. It broke her heart to pieces. Seeing both her son and her husband at their weakest moments shattered her heart and forced a few sobs out of her. Her hand gently rubbed circles against his back, letting him cry as she shed a few tears of her own. If there was something she could say or do to make everything better, she'd do it in a heartbeat. But sometimes silence was the best answer.
With a soft breath, she wiped away her tears. "Will," her voice was quiet, "I love you. We've got an incredible son out there who loves us and the smartest daughter that loves us. He's got two veterans as his parents, so if anyone's gonna make it through this war, it'll be him."
Despite her words, the man continued to cry. Hot tears spilled down his cheeks with no sign of stopping. Even as his wife's arms wrapped around him tightly, he couldn't help but remember the horrors they had seen. At the age of twenty-five, he had seen more than any man should see in a lifetime and now his nineteen year old son was about to witness the same horrors. Opening his blurry eyes, he couldn't help but stare at the cork necklace sitting on their dresser across from them.
1972
SHE APPROACHED THE GRAVES WITH A SAD SMILE. Pushing a piece of honey blonde hair out of her face, she knelt in front of the trio of graves. The girl was quick to brush a stray tear from her face. "Hey, Mum." She whispered as she set down a bouquet of lavenders in front of the middle grave. The tombstone read:
HERE LIES MARGARET AMELIA WINTERS-SCHOFIELD
BORN 19 - 10 - 1894 DIED 24 - 3 - 1963
REMAINED AT HER HUSBAND'S SIDE 'TIL HER DYING BREATH
LOVING MOTHER OF THOMAS ALEXANDER SCHOFIELD AND LAURI ELIZABETH SCHOFIELD
PROUD MEMBER OF THE QUEEN ALEXANDRA'S ROYAL ARMY NURSING CORPS
Opening her sketchbook and pulling out a pencil, Lauri began to sketch the cherry blossom tree that stood above the graves. She scooted in front of the grave to the far left. A tiny British flag was stuck into the ground next to the grave. "I wish I could see your stupid face. You'd probably be all wrinkled." She chuckled as she looked over the tombstone. It read:
HERE LIES THOMAS ALEXANDER SCHOFIELD
BORN 9 - 2 - 1920 DIED 7 - 6 - 1941
GAVE HIS LIFE TO FIGHT INJUSTICE AND EVIL
LOVING SON OF MARGARET AND WILLIAM SCHOFIELD, LOVING BROTHER OF LAURI ELIZABETH SCHOFIELD
Closing her sketchbook, she pushed herself off of the ground. Her feet carried her over to the cherry blossom tree that her parents had insisted on planting. She remembered her mother throwing a fit over watering it every day, even after it had grown quite a bit. A sad smile grew on her lips as she picked off one of the blossoms. Taking a seat in front of the grave to the far right, she twirled the blossom between her fingers. "Hey, Pops. I know they just put you down there, but you're probably already going stir crazy." She chuckled as she set the blossom in front of the tombstone. It read:
HERE LIES WILLIAM GEORGE SCHOFIELD
BORN 22 - 8 - 1892 DIED 17 - 5 - 1972
LOVING HUSBAND TO MARGARET WINTERS-SCHOFIELD, LOVING FATHER TO THOMAS ALEXANDER SCHOFIELD AND LAURI ELIZABETH SCHOFIELD
PROUD WWI VETERAN
With a deep sigh, she pushed herself off of the grassy ground. Quickly wiping away the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks, Lauri took a shaky breath. "Well," she started with a small smile, taking in the sight of her family's graves, "same time next week, yeah?" With that, she turned and made her way back to her car where her loving husband and two children waited patiently.
FIN.
kim speaks!
I just wanted to give a big thank you to you all!!!! thank you for reading this story and thank you for loving it and thank you for accepting and loving mags as much as i have!! this was so much fun to write and reading your all's comments always made my days!! so thank you, thank you, thank you!!! 🥰🥰🥰🥺🥺🥺💘💘💘