Archive of Our Own

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With white knuckles, she clutched the scarf between her fingers. Although she didn’t notice, passersby certainly might have seen the way her thumbnails neurotically dug in between the knitted loops of yellow wool. The air around her swirled in grey wisps of smoke. Women cried, machines whirred, and metal clanked in the station. She craned her neck, her eyes weaving around people linked arm-in-arm as they waltzed nonchalantly past her. One particularly lovely couple breezed by. She dropped her head and averted her eyes. Her heart panged with grief. It was a familiar pain by now, that dull aching in her chest.

The loud, long call of a train whistle snapped her to attention. The conductor’s shrill yell of “all aboard!” moved her to action. With a sharp intake of breath, she shook her head frantically. Something was wrong. Her eyes wildly searched the station for someone, anyone who looked like they could help her. In a stroke of luck, she saw one: a man dressed in a faded khaki uniform, similar to her husband's. He was a lance corporal if she was reading his uniform correctly. Without thinking, she allowed her feet to propel her forward, and she descended upon the man.

“Sir! Excuse me, sir!” she shouted, wading through the crowd.

Although she was traveling in the opposite direction of traffic, she persisted. The man finally turned, approaching her directly. She offered a terse smile as he grew nearer.

“Oh, sir, I was hoping you co-”

Her request was cut short when his shoulder bumped hers. He pushed past without a moment’s pause to consider what she had to say. She clenched her jaw as she watched him hurry on his way. In a moment of anger, her fingers curled back into themselves. But she allowed herself only a quick second before turning back around. Her gaze immediately locked onto the train's conductor as he checked something off in a book. She could not catch his eyes but, before he could rush past, she stepped directly into his path. With a waving hand, she finally captured his attention.

“Excuse me, sir!”

The conductor, a tall and elderly man, paused in front of her. His thick, dark grey eyebrows knitted in concern.

“May I be of service, miss?” he asked, tipping his cap.

“Yes, I hope so. You see, my husband was supposed to return on this train today, only I haven’t seen him, and I-”

“I’m sorry, madam. I’m afraid every passenger has already gotten off the train. You must be confused. If you don’t see your husband, I suggest double-checking your information. Perhaps you have the wrong train. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really have to be off. Good day,” he responded, tipping his cap once more.

She huffed as the conductor hurried away. She hugged the yellow scarf closer to her chest. Another blow of the train’s whistle and the mechanic sound of churning gears triggered her panic. In a frenzied whirl, she resumed her search. She was running out of time. As her heart began to slam against her chest, she caught sight of an officer positioned by the ticket counter. She gasped. He was her last chance.

“Officer!” she shouted.

She held up an arm in the hopes that he’d notice her. But he paid her no mind, continuing to scribble on a notepad in his hand. He didn’t even care to lift his head until her soil-stained fingertips latched around the coarse wool fabric of his uniform. Foolishly, she tugged at the cloth until his head turned in her direction. He wore a stern expression. She had acted out of turn and she knew it.

“Excuse me…er,” she stuttered breathlessly.

She quickly realized that she was unsure of how to address him. Considering the number of decorations splattered across his uniform, she assumed he was in a position of authority. However, soldiers' ranks were not her area of expertise. She found them all quite confusing, to be honest. It took her a good week to remember that her husband held the rank of a lance corporal.

“Major John Sallow, madam,” the officer answered, his voice strong and confident.

He was older, perhaps in his 50s. His dark brown hair was greying at the edges, streaks of silver bursting through the strands. He had crow’s feet by his eyes and lines by the corners of his mouth, deeply indented. Signs of a joyful life, she thought. His khaki uniform was still bright and undisturbed. It looked neatly pressed and lacked any scrapes or stains. He probably only served there in London; he had probably never even seen the front line at all. She hated him. His family, his children, his wife. They got to live knowing their son, their father, her husband was safe.

“Major, yes, could you help me, please? I’m so very sorry to bother you but-”

As she spoke, her fingers fished around inside her small handbag, searching for the documents she needed. Her knuckles closed around two small pieces of paper folded in half. She began to unfold them as she continued.

“Ah, there they are. I’m sorry to bother you, but my husband should have returned on this train today. Only, I can’t seem to find him and was wondering if yo-”

“I’m sorry, madam, but I’m afraid I can’t help you,” he replied, turning back to his notepad.

“Oh, but sir I just wonder if you’ve happened to see him? I…I have a photograph here and-”

“Madam, I’m sorry, but I am unable to assist you. I’m afraid you’ll just have to wait and see like everyone else,” he replied.

She followed the dismissive flick of his hand to see a group of young women on the right. She took in their drawn, dirty faces. Many of these women held photographs, letters, or packages wrapped with bows. While she understood their pain, more than anyone, she grimaced at their pathetic appearance. She didn’t want to be associated with them. Fear began to set in, tingling the tips of her fingers, as she imagined herself alongside them. She could not wait any longer.

“Major, I have done that and I do not see him.”

“Perhaps, then, you are confused, Mrs…?”

“Schofield. My name is Lillian Schofield.”

“Mrs. Schofield, many trains come through this station. Your hus-”

“No, sir, I assure you. He wrote to me last week, telling me he’d be back on this particular train,” she responded with a raised voice, pointing at the retreating engine with an outstretched finger. “Here.”

Lillie pushed one of the strips of paper against the Major’s knuckles. The page crumpled lifelessly. Her heart panged with hopelessness. This paper on which her entire happiness, her entire life, depended was being crushed under itself and treated like rubbish. The Major sighed heavily and shook his head. But he took the paper. She felt herself perk up.

“As you can see here, sir,” Lillie pointed on the page to where her diligent husband had clearly written out the date and train number, “he’s spelled it all out for me. So I would know when to be here. See, that’s today, August 16, 1917. And that’s this station, Victoria. And this is the train, see…”

“Your husband probably got confused, madam. He must have written down the wrong number. Or he could have received outdated information.”

“No, but I’m sure-”

“Not all of our boys returning home these days are in their right mind, I’m afraid. Even the ones who’ve made off quite well. If your husband was, in fact, discharged, then he’ll be returning home. I wouldn’t worry.”

The Major handed the note back. Lillie took it but quickly swapped it with the other document in her hand. As he turned to leave, Lillie shoved the page directly under his nose. Her heart was slamming against her chest, so loudly that she heard it echo in her ears. She blinked away tears that were starting to blur her vision. She ignored the aching in her fingertips.

“But did you see him? With the crowd, I could have missed him. Please, sir. Just have a moment’s glance at the photograph?”

Lillie could practically feel him, her husband, slipping from her grasp. So, she clutched only harder onto the photograph in her fingers. The Major sighed again and opened his mouth to speak. Although fully aware of the impropriety of her actions, Lillie interrupted him.

“Please,” she pleaded.

The Major lifted his gaze, his eyebrows raised curiously. He clenched his jaw and sighed once again. Lillie gulped under his scrutinizing expression and prayed that he could somehow feel her desperation, her authenticity. With a shake of his head, the Major took the photograph from Lillie’s fingers. His eyebrows furrowed as he focused on it. He glanced up momentarily, scanning the station. She followed his gaze. But a few seconds later, he shook his head and handed the photo back.

“No, madam, I’m afraid I haven’t seen him. I don’t recognize him. But as I said, please don’t worry. If he’s been discharged, then he will be home.”

“No, please, please. There must be something you can do. Anything.”

“Madam, I have work to do that’s very important. There is nothing more I can offer y-”

“Major,” Lillie said, curling her fingers around his forearm to hold him in place. “I am begging for your help. I don’t know what else to do. My husband…he’s everything to me. I need him. I would gladly take anything you can tell me. Please.”

By the end of her plea, she was powerless to stop the tears that streaked down her cheeks. As she reached up to wipe one away, the Major’s blue eyes softened. Lillie sniffed, dropping her head in embarrassment. She knew this display of emotion was horribly awkward for the both of them. The Major cleared his throat.

“His name?” he asked.

Lillie’s head rose, her eyebrows shooting up in hope. Fumbling for the photograph again, she pushed it into his hands with a shaky grasp.

“Oh, thank you, Major. Will Scho—em, William Schofield. S-c-h…yes, that’s right,” she said, watching like a hawk as he scratched the name onto the notepad. “He…he was with the, eh, Eighth Battalion, East Surrey Regiment, I believe.”

She bit her lip nervously, hoping that she had relayed her husband's position properly. The officer wrote down the information and Lillie squeezed her eyes in relief when he underlined it twice with his pencil. Before he could close the notepad, she spoke again.

“And you can find me at 313 Cherrywood Lane. It’s just a small cottage, all by itself in the country. We’ve got a big front garden, you won’t miss it.”

He scratched down her address before flipping the book closed.

“I will do what I can. In the meantime, Mrs. Schofield, I feel that I must, once again, advise you not to worry. If your husband was officially released from service, he is on his way. Any blunder could have caused his tardiness. The military chain of communication is not infallible, unfortunately. It could take some time, but I will do my best.”

“Oh thank you, sir,” Lillie responded, holding a hand to her chest in a plea for her pounding heart to calm itself. “Thank you.”

The officer stepped to attention and bowed his head. He spun on his heel and took a few steps away from her. Lillie deflated, her shoulders curling in on themselves. She still grasped the scarf. She glanced down at it, running her fingertips over the loops again.

“Madam?”

Lillie’s head snapped up expectantly at the sound of the Major’s voice. He opened his mouth to speak but then closed it. Lillie stiffened in the silence as he stepped closer. Her fingers grasped tightly around the scarf. Once in front of her, the officer held out the photograph of Will. Lillie glanced down at it and lifted it from the Major’s hand.

“If I may offer some advice,” he said, “I’d hold on tightly to this photograph if I were you.”

“What do you mean, Major? Why?” Lillie asked with a gulp.

“He might not look quite as you remember. He’ll likely be a different man than he was when he left. Just…be patient with him. I’m afraid this war is still far from over. And if he was discharged, that may mean…well, just remain patient while I gather what information I can. Good day, Mrs. Schofield.”

As Lillie watched him walk away, she gripped the yellow scarf. She traced the Major’s retreating figure as far as she could until he ducked around a corner and disappeared. Once gone, she turned toward the empty train station. It was eerily quiet now, the mechanical sounds of the train lost in the distance. As Lillie stepped forward, one foot at a time, she begged for Will to be there. She prayed that she had somehow missed him, that he’d pop out from behind a column or be sitting on a bench. That he would tease her for how daft she’d been not to notice him waiting right there for her.

“Excuse me, miss?”

Lillie turned her attention toward an unfamiliar female voice, colored with an unexpected Irish accent. Her eyes fell upon a young woman, draped in ripped and worn clothes. The woman was approaching her. Despite her best intentions, Lillie tensed. She held protectively onto her belongings.

“Yes?” Lillie asked.

“I don’t mean to be forward, but I overheard a bit of your conversation with the Major just now. You’re not alone, miss. We,” she gestured behind her at the group of women the Major had pointed out, "understand what you’re going through.”

Lillie’s eyes traced the group. Their tear-stained cheeks glistened in the grey light. She, again, felt a shameful disgust toward them. She didn’t want to be one of them; she couldn’t be one of them. But when she recentered her gaze on the young lady before her, Lillie realized that she already was, whether she admitted it or not.

“All of you are…waiting for your husbands, as well?” Lillie asked.

“Yes. Some of us longer than others. It gets easier, the waiting. We’ve all been assured, more than once, that our husbands are on their way to us. We’ve been told not to worry, but we know better the burden. I only wanted you to know that you were not alone.”

Lillie couldn’t help but smile at such kindness from a stranger. The lady before her was young, younger than Lillie. She could not have been more than eighteen. Her skin was clear and creamy, her complexion beautiful. She had large round green eyes and her copper-colored hair peeked out from underneath an inexpensive hat. Despite her ragged clothing, the woman was dressed suitably. She looked clean and proper, though her wild hair could not be contained under the hat's brim. Lillie smiled at that; she understood the difficulty.

Lillie’s disgust for the women was gone in an instant. She sighed, ashamed she could ever have judged them so harshly. She reached out and took the woman’s hands in her own. The girl’s fingers were coarse, dry, and cold. But Lillie held her grasp tightly and squeezed reassuringly.

“Thank you,” Lillie replied. “You’ve no idea how much your kind gesture is appreciated.”

“Ní neart go cur le chéile.”

Lillie’s eyebrows knitted together but the woman only smiled sweetly back at her.

“There is no strength without unity," the woman explained. "Have courage, miss. He will be home soon enough. While you wait, you are most welcome to join us. We get up to some amusing gossip. It makes the waiting less tedious.”

When the girl chuckled, Lillie couldn’t help but join her. She thanked the lady again and followed her toward the group.

Lillie passed the next several hours with the women. She mostly listened, too exhausted to offer any meaningful contributions to the conversation. One of the ladies was particularly boisterous. She told stories that were so ridiculous, they were almost believable. Lillie thoroughly enjoyed herself. She waited until, one by one, they were gone. Only Lillie remained; she was the last.

With a fallen heart and aching head, she trudged away from the station and caught a taxicab. When it dropped her off that evening at the little cottage on Cherrywood Lane, Lillie walked into an empty house. The heavy sound of the front door closing echoed with a resounding certainty that ricocheted through the walls. She placed her belongings down and fell into a chair beside the window, lifeless and alone. She wished she had her baby girls with her. Then, perhaps, she wouldn’t have felt so absolutely wretched. 

Over the next few days, Lillie found herself busy with chores. She was preoccupied with trying to make the little home so clean that it sparkled. With the flowers in the front garden in full bloom, she had so much work to do. She intended to keep them as healthy and beautiful as she could.

One afternoon, she found herself buried elbows-deep in the dirt as she dug through the soil to replant her roses. As she gently touched the petals, she smiled to herself. She remembered a time when everyone she loved was right there with her. She remembered when she first told Will she was pregnant with their third child, Rose. Her sweet, sweet Rose. As Lillie kneeled alone in the garden, she thought perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to have sent the girls away, after all.

So deeply lost in thought, Lillie barely even heard when someone called her name.

“Mrs. Schofield, madam?”

She peered over her shoulder to see Major Sallow, from the station. Her eyes widened in hope and she dropped the plant from her fingers. She had distracted herself so thoroughly with work that she'd all but forgotten the Major’s promise to gather information about Will. She stood and frantically wiped her hands on her apron, cleaning them the best she could. Then, she stuck her palm into the Major's outstretched hand. She shook it, perhaps too aggressively for a lady of her station.

“Oh, Major Sallow! Pardon my appearance. How do you do? I’m happy to see you again.”

“I’m pleased to find you here, Mrs. Schofield,” he replied. “I’m sorry to have been absent for several days, but I’m happy to report that I’ve gathered some information regarding your husband’s whereabouts.”

“You have? Oh, thank god.”

“It looks like your husband’s letter was correct, after all. According to my information, Lance Corporal William Schofield has been recuperating at an army hospital in France. There are many reasons why he might not have arrived as scheduled: a mistake in processing, a change in orders, or just a downed tree blocking the rail line. While it’s not much, I can assure you that he has been discharged and is on his way home.”

Lillie released a sigh of relief and dropped her head.

“Thank you, Major. I can’t express how grateful I am to hear that. Might you have any idea when he’ll be arriving? I’d like to be there to meet him if I can.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have any guess, madam,” he replied. “Even if I were to give you an answer, it would likely be incorrect. I’m afraid your best course of action is to wait for word of his arrival. I suppose you could spend your days wasting away at the station but-”

“If that is what I must do,” Lillie interrupted him.

She hadn’t actually meant to cut him off. She was really talking to herself, but sometimes her mouth moved more quickly than her mind. The officer raised an eyebrow, furrowed it, and then shook his head vehemently.

“No, Mrs. Schofield, I would not recommend th-”

“With all due respect, Major,” Lillie continued firmly, “I will wait for every train until there are no more trains to be seen if I must. I will get my husband back, whatever it takes. Thank you for your help, sir.”

The Major’s lips snapped closed. Mrs. Schofield had made herself quite clear. He stepped to attention, offering a respectful dip of his head. He also extended a small smile.

“I am glad I could be of service, madam. I hope you are reunited with your husband soon. Good day, Mrs. Schofield.”

So Lillie went, each and every day, to wait for her husband at the station. And each and every day, she coddled the yellow scarf in her arms. Lillie hated knitting, she always had. She was never very good at it, either. But she had sat by the fire and labored over this yellow scarf for her Will. She meant to have it finished when he returned for leave over Christmas, but her inept fingers weren’t skilled enough. Yellow was Will’s favorite color. He always said it reminded him of flowers, of sunshine, of Lillie’s beautiful honey-colored hair. Absentmindedly, she reached up to touch her golden locks. They were twisted up into her usual bun, as neatly as her curls would allow. She wondered if he’d be disappointed to find it darkened, browned and greyed from stress. But, then again, perhaps she would be disappointed by what she saw, too. She often thought about the Major’s words: 

I’d hold on tightly to this photograph if I were you. He might not…look quite as you

remember. He’ll likely be a different man than he was when he left. Just…be patient 

with him. The war is still far from over and if he was discharged that probably means…

Means what? What did it mean?

August 26, 1917

She waited, once again, at the station. She begged and prayed, her mind spinning. She strained her neck to peer around the rush of people coming off the train, just as she had done each day before. She hadn’t seen the Major since he visited her at the cottage almost a week ago. She hadn’t heard anything from Will, either. The group of women she had been waiting with dwindled each day until Lillie was the only one left. Not everyone in the group had returned home with her husband, but many simply could not afford to spend any more time waiting at the station.

Lillie pulled at her fingers, scratching her skin with her fingernails. Her knuckles curled tightly around the yellow scarf. Although she could barely string two pieces of yarn together, she’d spent hours on this scarf. She worked on it when the girls were away or while they were asleep. She found great comfort in the monotonous labor after a while. It distracted her, took her mind off of him all those nights she sat in the parlor alone. She thought he might like to have it the moment he stepped off the train. She knew he’d want something from home upon his arrival, something that smelled clean, something not covered in dirt or blood or God knows what else. When Will returned for leave in December, he smelled horrid. Lillie could barely stand the ride home. At Will’s request, Lillie had helped him bathe before he saw the girls.

A shrill scream pulled her attention to the side and Lillie gasped in fright. Heaving a relieved breath, she watched over the scene of a young woman enveloping a man in uniform. The soldier dropped to his knees with the woman in his arms, burying his head in her neck as she sobbed into his shoulder. Any other time, Lillie would have smiled fondly and wished well upon the beautiful couple. But not that day. That day she was filled with grief, regret, jealousy, even hatred.

Lillie shook her head and shifted her vision back to the train. The conductor shouted something indiscernible and Lillie’s head dropped at the harsh sound of the train doors snapping closed. Again. She raised her head with confidence and took one last survey of the area. It was no use since the steam from the train blinded her in nearly every direction. She would return home, once again alone. After that day, she was doubtful that she'd ever return. Each day without progress was starting to take its toll on her heart and mind. At least the girls would be arriving from Scotland soon. Then, she wouldn’t feel so terribly isolated.

Lillie’s heels clicked on the pavement in a slow rhythm as she meandered on her way. She felt the weight of the scarf in her fingers. For a moment, her clutch wavered as she considered dropping the cloth onto the ground and abandoning it. But the fear that overtook her when she felt the fabric teetering on the edge of her fingertip moved her to grasp it harder. Sniffing back a few threatening tears, Lillie tucked the scarf loosely into her handbag and shuffled away faster.

“Lillian!”

The call of her name was so jarring that it pulled her head backward. Lillie skidded to a stop and the heavy scuff of her heel echoed against the stone walkway. She knew that voice. She would know that voice anywhere. Always. Her heart began to pound. She held the strap of her handbag tightly against her breastbone. For reasons she could not explain, Lillie was filled with dread. She didn’t want to turn around. She didn’t want to know. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as her head fought against her heart.

“Lillian?” the voice repeated, this time with the upward inflection of a question.

Lillie clenched her jaw and gulped. With the slightest tilt of her head, she glanced over her shoulder. From the corner of her eye, a shadow of his figure revealed itself. Unable to resist now, she began to steadily turn toward him. Her fingers grasped still tighter onto the strap of the bag. When her eyes locked onto his feet, she felt the breath sucked from her lungs. Too afraid to face him, she began at his shoes and worked her way up, building courage as she went.

He stood before her, dressed in a clean khaki uniform. It was neatly pressed with no scratches, no bullet holes, no blood or mud stains. Nothing. It was as if he had never left at all. As her eyes traced up his legs and onto his torso, she realized he was thin, leaner than she recalled. Even with the bagginess of his coat, she could tell that he’d lost quite a bit of weight. He stood perfectly still, as if aware that she was inspecting him. His fingers were curled into fists by his sides, his arms hanging straight down from his shoulders. Lillie’s eyebrows furrowed for a moment as she noticed his left hand concealed in a dark brown glove. His neck was covered by the collar of his dress uniform. Lillie’s eyes came to an abrupt pause the moment they landed on the exposed skin of his jaw. It was the first glimpse of his creamy white complexion that she’d gotten. Although she could see his face from her peripherals, she was afraid to look at it clearly. What would she see?

“Lillie…” he muttered, so softly that she could barely hear him.

His desperate whisper sounded like a shout in the terrible silence. It was enough to inspire Lillie’s courage; she inhaled sharply and forced her eyes up to his face. His eyebrows were furrowed as he stared down at her. His head tilted affectionately. Her eyes traced the structure of his face. She remembered the delicate line of his nose, the curve of his lip, the indented wrinkles between his eyebrows. Lillie joined her husband’s frozen state when she finally met his eyes. Even in the dreary light of a sunny London rain, she found that his blue eyes sparkled. They were both statues in this strange mirage.

It had only been eight months. That was the longest they’d ever been apart and other couples had been separated for far longer even than that. After a while, Lillie had begun to convince herself that he was gone. Distance had made her heart grow fonder, but it had also prepared her for a life led alone. In many ways, she had felt that her husband ceased to exist. She learned how to live without depending on him. Some days, she felt that he was lost to her completely. Lillie had found a deranged sense of comfort in not knowing whether he was truly alive or dead. She could hope without having to confront reality, whatever it was.

But something about his return this time felt different. Perhaps it was the fact that he could finally stay, that he wouldn’t slip through her grasp ever again. There he was, right in front of her. She knew it was real, but he was a ghost of himself. He was a dreamlike hallucination and yet he was all too real. He was a different man and yet he was all too similar. Lillie’s heart pounded with fear at the thought of approaching him. It was as if her touch would test the very waters of reality; as if disturbing him would make him disappear, like a reflection in stagnant water. He wasn’t truly there and every step closer she took would force her to confront that fact.

With a gulp, she compelled herself to move forward. She lifted her feet and placed them down, one after the other. Her breath wavered more and more with each advance. He mirrored her. She faltered, stuck to the ground beneath her. Her body leaned forward although her feet were unable to indulge her desire. But he continued, stopping only inches away from his wife. Her gaze remained fixed on his. She didn’t miss the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat nor the harsh clench of his jaw.

She took a deep breath as a familiar sting of tears gathered near her eyelids. She gazed up at her husband and her hand followed the path of her eyes. Her fingertips tingled and ached as they slowly raised to touch his skin. His eyebrows fell. His expression softened. She curled her fingers back, her hand wavering in the space between. She tucked her head onto her chest bashfully. She willed her shaking hand to stop, but her entire body was quivering with emotion. When he leaned forward, encouraging her, she finally stretched her fingers out. His chest rose and fell heavily, his nostrils flaring with expectant breath.

She bit her bottom lip and allowed her fingertips to ghost over his cheek. As soon as her touch landed on his skin, she released a sigh. In turn, he inhaled. His eyes fluttered closed. Now intoxicated by his warmth, she flattened her palm greedily on his face. He yielded as well, dissolving into her touch. He nestled his face into her small hand. She could do nothing to stop the tears that streaked down her cheeks. She bent her head, begging his eyes to meet hers, but he only buried his face deeper into her hand. She stroked his cheekbone with her thumb and he pushed, still harder, against her palm.

Will’s hand wrapped around his wife’s wrist. He squeezed it firmly and then drug her fingers onto his lips. He didn’t kiss her, just rested his mouth there. The heat from his breath felt soothing on her palm. Neither person dared to speak. His eyes flashed open, they were glassy. Once again caught in one another’s gaze, they froze. Lillie sniffled as the tears continued to drip down her face. Under his soft, affectionate gaze, her shoulders shook with joy. She felt her knees going weak. They buckled under her weight and she crashed forward into his chest. Will immediately released her hand and wound his arms around her waist, catching her. He fell onto his knees and her legs tucked neatly between his thighs. They melted onto the ground, intertwined right there in the station.

“Oh Lillie…my Lillie…my darling, my flower…my Lillie,” he repeated in mutters against her hair.

After pulling her body taut against his, Will’s hands slid up her neck. He held her hostage against his shoulder, his hand firmly planted on the back of Lillie’s head. She draped her useless arms around his neck, limp in his grasp. Now it was her turn to bury her face in his skin. She sobbed. His biceps fully flexed, pressing the air from her lungs. Once she could regain some of her strength, Lillie grasped desperately at the fabric of his coat. The spectrum of human emotion was overwhelming her nervous system. She had to hold onto him tightly. She panted in his arms. Will stroked his wife’s hair, holding her little frame as she shook violently in his arms. He tucked his head into her neck. His hot breath tickled her skin and she broke into goosebumps.

“No, Lillie…my darling girl, don’t cry. Please don’t…don’t,” he whispered against her skin.

With a hard sniff, Lillie pulled back. She shuddered breaths as she tried to gain control over herself. She felt the wind chill the stain of her tears. Will’s hands slid onto Lillie’s cheek, his palms pressed flat against her face. He swiped away the drops as quickly as they came.

“Will…” she said breathlessly. “My Will?”

Her hands found their way to his face again. She dragged her pointer finger across his cheekbones, swiped it along his bottom lip. Her head dropped to the side as if she was fascinated by him. Will couldn’t help but grin and chuckle quietly. His eyes brightened as her fingertips ghosted across the lines by the corners of his mouth. 

“Are you…you’re really here?” she continued. “You’re real? I…you’re real…Will?”

He took hold of her right hand and gently pressed it flat on his chest. He spread her fingers across his breastbone.

“Yes, Lil, I’m real. I’m here.”

Her expression turned up into a wide smile, her teeth glinting. Her fingers intertwined with his. She’d been so distracted by relief that she’d neglected to properly take him in. The Major’s words were suddenly rattling around in her brain. Her expression faltered for a mere moment. She allowed her eyes to drape across his figure. As far as she could see all was in order, everything in its proper place.

She giggled in complete contentment, jolting forward to throw her arms around his neck. She smiled harder than she thought possible. Will’s chest rumbled gently with a soft chuckle. His arms snaked around her waist, squeezing her tight. After a few moments, Lillie felt the pressure of his hands on her waist. He pushed her away.

“We should get off the ground,” he said, grinning like a fool. “I’ve spent enough time there to last me a good long while. Besides, it’s not proper for a lady.”

Lillie almost laughed; they both knew she cared little about what was ‘proper for a lady.’ But before she even had a chance to protest, Will’s hands were underneath her armpits. As he stood, he pulled her along with him. Once they were both standing, Lillie realized how breathless she was. She felt woozy, almost drunk. She couldn’t focus on the present moment. It was a like a dream, a beautiful, wonderful dream.

“What’s that?” Will asked abruptly, gesturing at the scarf tucked into her bag.

“Oh,” Lillie laughed. “It’s just something I knitted for you. I know I’m rubbish at it. I’m quite shocked to see that old green thing even made it this long, to be honest. But, I thought you might like to have something from home when you got here.”

Lillie reached up to touch the green scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. She ignored the fluttering in her stomach when her fingers tickled across his throat. She’d knitted that one for him soon after he'd left last March. Her fingers traveled across the worn fabric. Will smiled. He reached into her bag to pull out the new scarf.

“Yellow, my favorite,” he mused. “It’s wonderful, darling. Nearly as perfect as you, my flower. Thank you.”

Lillie felt a blush creeping into her cheeks, heating her ears. Despite all that time, her husband still knew precisely what to say to make her blush.

“Well, Lance Corporal Schofield,” Lillie said, sniffing up the last of her unrefined emotion. “Shall we?”

“Yes, we most certainly shall, madam.”

Will nodded, straightening to attention. He playfully saluted his wife before sticking out his elbow for her to take. Lillie giggled and gazed up at him affectionately. She wound her gloved hand around his arm. He grinned down at her and pulled her closer. His little wife. They were so enraptured in each other, that they nearly waltzed right past a taxi, waiting patiently for them.

“Oh, here,” Lillie said, yanking her husband to a sudden stop. She gestured toward the taxi and Will’s eyebrows raised in surprise.

“A taxi? Are you sure, Lil? Can we afford it?”

“Of course we can,” she replied with a chuckle. “Taxis are far more common now than when you left. The fare is still a bit steep, but it just wouldn’t do for us to walk all the way back to Cookham, now would it, darling? Besides, I’ve been working, you know, since you left.”

Will couldn’t deny the pang in his heart at hearing that his poor little wife had taken up a job while he was away. He couldn’t say he was surprised, though; Lillie had always been independent and self-sufficient. But Will still felt the responsibility to support his family. He should have been able to do so.

He took his wife’s hand and watched her sweet brown eyes as he helped her up and into the taxi cab. He climbed in after her, sliding over far enough so that their legs were touching. As the car clicked into motion, Will took advantage of the silence. He wanted to appreciate her. His wife, the love of his life. It was eight months since he’d beheld her. Too distracted by the fact that she was really there, Will hadn’t even noticed that she was wearing one of his favorite dresses. The soft blue shade of the garment made her honey-colored hair shine even brighter somehow. Her beautiful creamy skin was milky and soft. The collar of the dress was folded down by her collarbones, teasing him with a modest glimpse of the dimple at the bottom of her throat. Her gentle hands rested, folded, in her lap. He smiled at the dark brown muck under her nails. Soil. She’d been in the garden. Of course she had.

His eyes trailed up her figure, sliding over the shape of her. He took in the curve of her sweeping jaw, the pout of her pink lips, the rounded tip of her nose. Her hair was wound loosely into a bun at the bottom of her neck. The curls wildly sprung out in different places, although Will knew they had been neatly tucked this morning. Lillie never cared much for appearance. Will always thought it was because she didn’t have to. Not a soul alive could argue against Lillie’s beauty; she had a sort of heavenly magnificence that needed nothing to enhance it. Will had always been secretly glad that his love cared so little about propriety. Her disregard for societal standards made her something of a tease. She was unrestrained. And he fatally loved the look of her wild and free.

He was even more glad for her dismissal of appearance now. He was shamefully counting on it. His eyes dropped down to his gloved left hand, neatly tucked away from view. Hidden, as it should have been. He curled his fingers back into his palm and then released them. He hoped she would not mind.

“Will, are you alright, dear?”

Lillie’s gentle, sweet voice snapped Will’s attention up. Her big brown doe eyes were staring back at him, wide and round. Everything about her was tender, comforting, elegant. She was perfection, even more so now than ever before.

“I have never been better, my love,” he replied.

He took her gloved hand in his bare one and squeezed it tight.

Lillie was beaming when the taxi pulled up to the little cottage on Cherrywood Lane. When Will opened the door he caught sight of the little red-brick cottage, with its haphazard cobblestone walkway and the purple wisteria climbing up every facet of the building. During the brief journey from London to Cookham, the rain had dried up and the evening sun had started to peek its head out from behind the clouds. His eyes dropped down to the sizeable garden in front of the home. He smiled. The soil was dotted with pinks, peonies, and lilies. And of course violets, daisies, and roses in honor of the Schofield ladies. Violet, Daisy, and Rose — their precious girls.

After paying the driver, Lillie circled around the vehicle. She took her husband’s arm in her hands and grinned up at him.

“You’ve been working in the garden, have you, Lil?” Will asked.

“Can you really tell?” Lillie replied. “I tried to tidy it all up for you so it would be nice when you got back.”

“It’s beautiful. Better than I’ve ever seen it, my love.”

She brightened up at his words. He fleetingly considered grabbing hold of her fingers and showing her how he really knew she had been working in the gardens before they even arrived at the cottage. He’d love to tease her about it. But he didn’t. Instead, he just pulled her closer to his side. Lillie unlatched the gate. Their steps synced as they walked arm-in-arm up to the rounded brown door. Lillie pushed through it and stepped to the side so Will could enter first. As he passed through the doorway, he lifted off his hat and placed it on the wooden table tucked just inside.

“Please, sit, darling,” Lillie said. The door creaked closed behind her. “I’ll make you some tea with a bit of honey. Just the way you like.”

As Lillie rushed into the adjoining kitchen to get started, Will took a deep breath.

“That sounds lovely, angel, thank you.”

Will pulled out a chair at the dining table and plopped down into it. He let his eyes wander around the kitchen. It looked the same as he remembered, perhaps a bit tidier. The walls were a pale yellow and the flooring was solid wood, painted in the style of a white and green checkerboard. Paintings of flowers hung neatly on the walls. Will smiled at the three frames strung in a line, one slightly off-center. Each painting depicted a different flower: a violet, a daisy, and a rose. His eyes widened and he turned to glance at his little wife who was clanging around as she filled the tea kettle with water.

“Oh god! I can’t believe I nearly forgot,” Will said. “The girls! Where are they?”

Lillie’s spine immediately straightened. She dropped the lid to the kettle on the counter, taken aback by his question. She lowered her head and gulped. Too ashamed to face her husband, she got back to work on the tea.

“Oh, Will, I’m sorry I...forgot to tell you. They’re staying with my sister in Scotland. They’ve been there for a few weeks now. I wanted them somewhere safe, further away from all of this.”

Lillie took the risk to glance over her shoulder at Will. His head was tilted away from her, his eyebrows furrowed. His lips were flattened in a straight line. He nodded solemnly. His fingers were clutched in a fist on top of the table. Lillie gulped again. She should have known the news would upset him.

“But they’ll be back soon,” she added nervously. “On Thursday.”

When he didn’t say anything, she snuck another glance at him. He hadn’t moved since she last looked and she was fearful that she’d completely ruined his homecoming. He must have felt her gaze on him because he lifted his head to stare at her. She felt the urge to recoil when she noticed the anger in his eyes. Goosebumps rose on her skin. Will sniffed and nodded.

“Oh, darling,” Lillie continued, hopeful she could make up for her mistake. “I’m so sorry they’re not here. I-”

“I told you when I was coming back,” Will interrupted her, his voice dry. “You couldn’t have brought them back early so they could see their father?”

“I…well, they’ve had it planned for months, dear. As I told you, they’ve been gone for some days now,” Lillie replied. She had dropped her task of tea-making, preoccupied with picking at her nails. She wasn’t being honest with him. She took a shaky breath. “I also worried that…well, that it might have been a bit overwhelming. I thought maybe you’d like a quiet, calm house to return to. I didn’t want the girls to bombard you wi-”f

“They could have pushed the trip back. They could have gone after I got home.”

“Yes, I suppose. But we didn’t know when you were coming home,” Lillie responded. She could feel her patience beginning to thin already.

“I told you exactly when I was bloody coming,” Will spat, sticking his pointer finger accusingly at his wife. “In my letter-”

“Your letter was wrong, Will,” Lillie interrupted. Her anger was starting to boil over. “If you hadn’t noticed, you didn’t come home on that train. I was there that day. I waited for you. You never came.”

“Don’t accuse me like it’s my fault.”

“I’m not!” Lillie responded through clenched teeth. “But it wasn’t easy for me. Do you have any idea how many days I wasted at that bloody station waiting for you? I’ve been there every day since your letter, waiting. I’ve spent a lifetime in that god-forsaken place, watching other women walk away with their husbands while I waited still.”

“Well, now I’m here. And while I’ve dreamt about seeing you every single night since I left, what I really want now is to hold my girls. For god’s sake, I’ve barely had any time with Rose! I’ve barely gotten to know her!”

Will was shouting now and Lillie’s blood boiled at his selfishness.

“We couldn’t just put our lives on hold for you, Will! Maybe you hadn’t realized, but we still had to live here at home. Without you! It was unbearable. They'd all been looking forward to the trip and I wasn't about to take that away from them, too. The girls deserved something happy after all this! They’ve been through hell right alongside the rest of us!”

“Don’t you dare talk to me of hell, Lillian,” Will hissed. “You haven’t the slightest idea about the kind of hell I’ve lived through the last two years.”

“And you couldn’t understand what we’ve gone through here at home! While you were away in France, we were still here. Waiting, suffering, stringing one day to the next without you. At first, it broke my heart not to be with you. But I didn’t have time to be upset, Will, because I had to find some way for us to live. I had to work to hold this goddamn family together! I was alone! I was by myself! I have been the housekeeper, the maid, the butler, the gardener, the governess, the cook, and the bloody moneymaker for the past two years! I did it all even though being without you made me want to rip my heart out! Made me want to bury my face in a pillow until I stopped breathing!”

“Do you honestly think I wanted that for you?” Will pleaded. “You make it sound like I chose this, Lillian. You know damn well that I didn’t fucking choose this! I was starving, bleeding, freezing to fucking death! Every day I woke up not knowing if I would make it to lunch and every night I went to sleep not knowing if I would live to see another sunrise.”

“I understand that, William! I saw those men. I saw them! I didn’t know…”

Lillie stopped, hesitating on her next words. She knew exactly what she wanted to say, but she wasn't certain it was right to voice her thoughts out loud. By this point in their argument, Will had risen from his chair. He was towering over Lillie, his eyebrows pushed together in fury.

“You didn’t know what?” Will hissed.

Lillie's patience was shamefully thin. He had challenged her and pushed her past her breaking point. All the compassion in Lillie’s heart dried up. Her eyebrows furrowed to match his expression and she jutted her chin out in defiance.

“I didn’t know what you were going to bloody look like!  I saw those soldiers without arms, legs, hands. Without sodding faces, some of them! I didn’t want the girls to see you like that!”

“Like what?” he screamed down at her. “Faceless? Did you really not want to girls to see me like that, Lillian.”

Will stepped closer to his wife. He reached forward for her wrists, his triggered brain telling him to restrain her. With his aggressive movement, Lillie jerked back and fell into the chair behind her. The thud of her bottom hitting the wood did little to throw Will off. He slammed his fist down on the table next to her and continued shouting.

“Or did you not want me like that? If I was so hideously deformed would you still love me? Of course not! Maybe I should have stayed there in France! Maybe I should have died and saved you all from this! At least let my death be worth something!”

Lillie’s watery eyes widened at his words. She shook her head vigorously.

As the gravity of what he’d said began to register with Will, his angry expression melted off his face. He began to see the scene for what it was. Lillie was leaning back in the chair, her head positioned away from him. Her fingers were curled tightly over the arms of the chair. Her shoulders were bent in on themselves and her head was bowed down. She looked like a dog that had been kicked one too many times. She was practically shaking as tears swam across her skin. Her breaths were shaky and uneven.

Lillie had never been afraid of her husband. How could she have? Will was the kindest, gentlest man she had ever met. He’d never shown any aggression toward anything, ever. She would never have believed him capable of harming any living, breathing thing. But at that moment, she was terrified. She wondered who the man in front of her was. The soft, caring man she married was nowhere to be seen. Lillie was too afraid to move.

Will’s eyes wildly flicked back and forth between Lillie’s. He uncurled his fist and straightened. He stretched his fingers in front of his eyes as if they were gloves that didn’t quite fit him. Wavering unsteadily, Will dropped onto his knees by her feet. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but it felt wrong after his outburst. His head fell and the tears came quickly.

“Oh god, Lil, I-I’m so sorry,” he choked out between his sobs. “I’m a fucking fool, I…I don’t know what came over me. I don’t…why I-I said that, I…”

Lillie allowed him a few moments to calm down, to cry alone, before she reached out. Her palm curved over his cheek.

“Will, stop,” she whispered softly. She lifted his head so she could meet his gaze. “You have no reason to apologize. I’m the fool. I wasn’t thinking. I have no right to shout at you, to accuse you. I know you didn’t choose this. I know that. And you’re right. You deserve to see your children; more than any father on earth, you deserve that. I should have sent for them the moment I got your letter. But I was a coward. I was afraid and I let that fear choose for me. I feel like such a cold witch, I-”

“Don’t,” he said, his voice gravelly. “Do not apologize. Do not talk yourself down. I don’t want you to do that. Besides, I never should have acted like that, especially not toward you. Did I hurt you, Lil? Please tell me I didn’t-”

Will couldn’t even finish the sentence. He couldn’t believe he’d almost laid a hand on his wife, the woman he loved most in that cruel world. Lillie clenched her jaw and gulped. She shook her head. He stared up at her for a few moments. Her brown doe eyes were just as soft and affectionate as ever. They were forgiving in a way that Will felt he didn’t deserve. He was still weary of touching her but couldn’t stop himself from reaching out. His calloused palm slid onto her cheek. To his delight, she leaned into his touch, closing her eyes with a content sigh. He caressed her cheekbone with his thumb, as gingerly as he could to show her that he meant no harm. They remained like that for several minutes in silence. Then Will understood why he had to confess what had been plaguing his mind the moment he saw the back of Lillie’s golden head.

“Lillie,” Will whispered. Her eyes flashed open, concern written across her delicate features. “I need you to understand something.”

“Tell me,” Lillie replied, matching her husband’s hushed tone.

Will’s eyebrows deepened, creasing his forehead. His eyes flicked between hers as he debated whether or not to open himself up to her. He had always been honest with Lillie but he was also raised to be strong, to be the rock of the family. He rarely admitted that anything was bothering him. And he refused to explain until his wife badgered him so relentlessly that he couldn't resist confessing to her. She always knew how to make him open up. At that moment, the way she gazed at him so earnestly gave him the strength he lacked. He heaved a deep breath before speaking.

“I…saw things, Lil. Things I can’t talk about now. Maybe I never will, I don’t know. Terrible, horrible, god-forsaken things that I would never want you to even imagine.”

“I don’t care about that. You know I don’t.”

“No, that’s not all. Because I’ve…I’ve done things. Damnable, unspeakable things. Things that would make you see me differently. Things that I couldn’t bear for you to know.”

“You can say anything to me."

“Not this, dove. I can’t…if I tell you what I’ve done then you won’t…you can’t love me. I just know it, I-”

“Will, there is nothing you could do or say that would make me stop loving you. Nothing .”

He shook his head and scoffed. He tossed his head backward dismissively, tearing his gaze away from hers.

“This would. You can’t even begin to imagine what I’ve done, Lil,” he replied, his eyes trained on the single ray of golden sunlight streaming in through the front window. “What these bloody fucking hands have done. Who they’ve ki-”

He stopped, emotion choking out his voice. He frustratedly blinked back his tears. Lillie’s hand slid onto his face once again. Will resisted the force of her fingers as they curled around his jaw. She fought to pull his gaze back to her.

“Will,” she whispered.

Her tone was so weighted with longing that he lost all strength. Unable to resist her, he let his face be tugged back toward her. And that time, it was Lillie’s turn to wipe away her husband’s tears. His eyes dropped down to her lips and he watched the way they trembled in empathy.

“It doesn’t matter,” she says and reached forward to press her hand on his heart. “Whatever you’ve done, you had no choice. I know that. And I know you, Will. You’re not a murderer. You’re a father, a husband, a good man. That’s who you are in your heart. That’s who you will always be in here.” She patted his chest reassuringly. “My Will. My sweet, compassionate, brave Will.”

“I’ll always be that for you,” he replied automatically. “You make me that. I just need you to understand that I’m used to living in fear, living like everything around me is trying to kill me. Everything in France was a threat. I just…have to remember what it’s like to be safe again, I suppose.”

“You’re always safe with me. I love you, Will.”

Lillie smiled, her thumb still brushing gently across her husband’s cheekbone. He breathed a sigh of relief and returned a smile. Then, he closed his eyes and dropped his head into her lap. She giggled happily. Her fingers slid onto the nape of his neck and she gently brushed her fingertips through his mousy hair.

“I love you, too, Lil,” he muttered against the fabric of her dress.

They slipped into a comfortable silence. The setting sun cast bright orange light through the windows, illuminating the room in a golden glow. Lillie’s fingers continued to stroke through Will’s hair, taking the same path each time. When she touched his neck, Lillie applied a bit of pressure to massage the muscles there. She was sure they ached. She got a definitive answer when Will sighed happily. She smiled down at him, how peaceful and soft he looked with his eyes closed.

“You’ve such a delightful touch, Mrs. Schofield,” he said quietly. “I missed that.”

“Oh, you have?” Lillie replied teasingly. Will’s left eye flashed open and he glanced up at Lillie. She couldn’t help the mischievous smirk that tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Pray tell, what exactly is so special about my touch, in particular?”

Will lifted his head. His fingers found his wife’s and he held her digits in his own. He dropped his vision down and moved her fingers between his as if he were thoroughly examining each joint and knuckle. When Will finally looked up at Lillie, his eyes were glazed over. Lillie’s stomach fluttered when she noticed the corner of Will’s lip caught between his teeth. She released a shaky breath. She knew that look, that very look that had already resulted in three children.

“William Thomas Schofield,” she scolded. “Behave yourself.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, dove.”

“That look. Don’t look at me like that. We already have three children and that’s plenty for me,” Lillie replied with a laugh.

Will’s handsome features broke into a wide smile. Lillie’s cheeks were most definitely flushed, she could feel the heat in them. She dropped her head, embarrassed. As she giggled, Lillie willed her lower stomach to stop pulsing. Even after all that time, Will still knew exactly how to get Lillie hot and bothered.

As their chuckles faded into silence, Lillie dared to lift her eyes. He was already staring at her, his head tilted sweetly, his bright eyes glimmering. The soft curve of his face was accented by the soft light in the kitchen. Without meaning to, Lillie glanced down at his parted lips. She gulped. Her body was falling forward, drawn closer to him. She moved slowly so that he had plenty of time to prevent it if he so wanted. But she grew nearer and nearer and he did nothing to stop her. His chin tilted upward and his palms slid fully over her thighs. She could feel the warmth of his hands through her dress. Her eyes fluttered closed and her breath caught in her throat. Her heart was beating out of her chest as she anticipated the feeling of his lips on hers. It was a feeling she had not experienced in eight months and something she now needed more than air.

Their lips touched, just a whisper at first, a teasing brush. And then harder. As Lillie leaned into the kiss, she felt her back arching. Will’s fingers curled firmly around her thighs, his fingertips pressing into her skin. Their lips parted and they both hovered in the space between, just for a moment until Will pushed forward again. This time, he was forceful. To steady herself, Lillie latched her hands on her husband’s face. She grasped his jaw with her fingers. She relished in the way the bone expertly moved in tandem with his mouth. As his lips slipped between hers, Will’s grip on her thighs pulled her closer, toward the edge of the chair. Her hands slid onto his chest, gripping the stiff wool of his uniform. Her fingers curled into the fabric as she tugged him closer to her.

Drunk from her touch, Will turned his head to kiss her more deeply. They melted into each other. And when Lillie moaned softly into the kiss, Will had to touch her. His left hand flew up toward her face. Just before he could graze her cheek, a shrill whistle rattled them both. Will jerked back, his fingers instinctually fitting around the trigger of a rifle that wasn’t there. He turned over his shoulder to see the tea kettle jumping on the stovetop. His chest heaved and he shook his head. The loud noise had shaken him. He glanced down at his gloved hand, wincing at the realization that he'd almost touched her with it.

“Oh god, the tea!” Lillie shouted breathlessly.

She chuckled nervously and jumped to a stand. Her hands were shaking as she lifted the kettle from the heat. She placed it on the counter and then pressed the cool back of her hand to her burning cheek. She couldn’t seem to catch hold of her breath. She reached for the teapot on the shelf above her and positioned it next to the kettle. Next, she fished out Will’s favorite tea blend and the measuring spoon. She couldn’t deny the disappointment that surged through her at their being interrupted. They hadn’t been together in over two years. There simply wasn’t enough time when Will was home on leave for Christmas and they wanted to make every moment with the girls count, especially since their little Rose was only two months old at the time. Lillie was just barely pregnant with Rosie when Will departed for France in March. That Christmas in 1916 was the first time Will had been able to touch, hold, and see his newborn girl.

As Will watched his wife work from his seat at the table, he already knew he wouldn't be able to resist her. The loud blast of the tea kettle had sent him right back to the front lines. The terror of his wounded hand being held up next to his wife's beauty had shamed him. He should be in no mood for this. But his heart pumped only faster as his eyes dropped down Lillie's frame. He desperately wanted to see her, just her, with nothing between them. He wanted to feel the softness of her skin. He wanted all of her. Will was usually in control of his emotions, his cravings, but he was powerless to stop his body from moving magnetically toward her. He needed her more than air and nothing could persuade him otherwise.

Just as Lillie popped the tea jar open, she froze at the feeling of Will’s hands as they wound around her waist. By instinct, she backed into his touch, taking a deep breath. She closed her eyes at the pleasure of being held so safely in his grasp. The ghost of a smile played at her beautiful pink lips as she rested. After a few moments, Will gently maneuvered his hands around Lillie’s waist to spin her. His open palms glided across her back until Lillie was facing him. He dropped his head down, balancing his forehead against hers. She opened her doe brown eyes to glance up at him. She nodded her face up, brushing her nose against his. His thumb rhythmically stroked her lower back as the lovely couple began to gently sway from side to side. Will took a deep breath, held it for a few moments, and then released it. It was a military exercise he’d learned. It helped him relax. Lillie let her hands slide onto her husband’s chest, resting on his lapel. When Will’s head nudged forward, Lillie’s face fell submissively to the side. She brushed her lips against his once more. He wasted no time, pressing down on her. Their mouths moved in sync, tangling into one another. Will deepened the kiss, pushing her back against the counter. Her fingers curled into his clothes.

Lillie shouldn't have been in the mood for this. She was exhausted and, frankly, still recovering from the fear of her husband's aggression. Seeing him at the station had shocked her into an awareness of her presence that was so real it scared her. Everything felt too real, too fast. But Will's lips were like the sweetest cake she'd ever tasted, like the most delicious wine. It had been two years and she hadn't thought of her needs once. She'd learned to ignore them and be content without intimacy in her life. That was over now; Will's touch had reignited her desire. She wanted him like she had the first time. In a way, it felt extremely similar to the first time. Her heart raced with uncertainty and excitement about what pleasure he could bring out of her.

When Will's lips popped open from hers, Lillie took the opportunity to gently push him away. His eyes flashed open, his eyebrows knitted in concern. Before he could ask her what was wrong, Lillie was already grabbing hold of his hands to drag him through the hall and into the bedroom. He stumbled after her, the corners of his mouth gently turning upward. Although the sun was preparing to set, Lillie turned up the lamp beside the bed. She planned for them to be in there a good, long while.

Once inside the familiar space, Lillie pulled her husband’s body taut against her. She shot him a mischievous smile. Neither said anything. Instead, they resumed their soft sway. Lillie’s hands tangled around Will’s neck and his rested on her lower back, holding them both steady. She stared up into his gentle eyes for a while until she let her fingers slide down his chest once more. This time, however, she carefully began to pop the buttons out from their latches. Once his worn tunic was unbuttoned, she pushed it from his shoulders. He assisted, yanking his arms out of the sleeves. Will’s tunic fell to the floor with a muted thud, the metal buttons clanking quietly.

Will clenched his jaw, trying to calm his racing heart. It had been so long, so incredibly long since he had the touch of a woman like this. The touch of his woman. When he was home on leave during Christmas, they just wanted to hold each other. Now that Will was home for good, they wanted more. They wanted to be closer than close. They wanted everything. Lillie smiled as her fingers took hold of the worn and faded forest green scarf wrapped around Will’s neck.

“I still can’t believe this made it through. Of all the things, this raggedy thing made it all the way through a war. God what a truly hideous thing it is. I was never very good at this,” Lillie said.

She unfastened it from around his neck and held it out to examine her shoddy handiwork. The scarf was torn and ripped almost to shreds with holes and pulls all over it. It looked an absolute mess. But Lillie was proud of it still being in one piece.

“It’s not hideous, darling,” Will replied. “It was with me every step of my journey. Even if it were the ugliest thing in the world — and I’m not saying it is — it would still be beautiful to me because it was the closest thing I had to you out there. Besides, you never know. Maybe it was a good luck charm that kept me safe all that time.”

Lillie raised an eyebrow at her husband and laughed.

“Somehow I seriously doubt that, but I’m glad you brought it back, just in case.”

Lillie bit her lip happily as Will’s ungloved hand gently cupped her cheek. She leaned over to set the scarf on the nightstand beside the bed. After which, she placed her hands back on Will’s chest and pressed her lips against him once more. His hand remained on her face, keeping her lips attached to his. As their mouths moved together, Lillie reached for the hem of his khaki sweater. She gathered it in her fingers and yanked it up over his head. It slid away with ease and fell to the ground below them.

Next, Lillie grabbed hold of the suspender braces holding his pants up. When she tugged them firmly to pull Will’s body harder against hers, he stumbled forward and his lips slipped from hers. Lillie’s stomach swam in circles when Will grunted deeply. Their foreheads pressed together. Lillie smirked and Will released a hot breath, which ghosted over her lips. She quickly slid the straps from Will’s shoulders. Her fingers danced over the lean muscles underneath his greyback. As she deftly unclipped the buttons, she nudged her nose upward against his. He pushed against her touch, the corners of his mouth creasing in a smile. They separated for a quick moment, just long enough for Lillie to pull the top off his figure.

As soon as he was free of the greyback, he attacked her mouth. He swiped his tongue teasingly across Lillie’s bottom lip. She opened her mouth for him and unfastened the buttons of his white cotton undershirt. She reached for the hem of the top and let her fingers linger there, tickling the warm skin of his lower stomach. His lips disconnected from hers and he released a shaky breath. She opened her eyes. Will’s were closed. The hint of a smile played on his lips. Lillie smirked. What she was doing was clearly working.

She placed her hand in the middle of his chest, where the buttons had opened to reveal his bare chest. She ran her palm down his skin, appreciating every dimple and freckle on his figure. She raised herself up to kiss his cheek while he shrugged the undershirt off. Once his top half was sufficiently undressed, Lillie flattened her hands on his chest. She wanted to absorb as much of his warmth as she could. When she kissed him again, she smiled into the embrace. She gasped when Will leaned forward, his hands gripping hard onto her waist. Her fingertips trailed down his shoulders and then his arms. She tried to ignore how much weight he’d lost. While still muscular, he felt so much thinner than she remembered. As her touch traced down the veins in his forearms, it fell onto his palms. She dragged her pointer finger down his ungloved hand before intertwining her fingers in his. Feeling blindly, Lillie slipped her finger underneath the edge of the glove nestled so tightly on his left hand. She began to pull it off…

Will’s lips left her and he stepped backward quickly. His grip on her hip pried her body away from his. She stumbled back from him. He released her, running his ungloved hand through his closely-cropped hair.

“Will?” Lillie asked breathlessly. “What’s wrong, darling?”

Her eyes were wide with anxiety. She gulped, wondering if she’d done something terribly wrong, something he didn’t like. It certainly hadn’t seemed that way when his tongue was dancing with hers. The Major’s advice to “be patient with him” suddenly inserted itself into her train of thought. Her eyebrows raised as she vowed to try and remember that. She should have remembered it earlier; perhaps it would have prevented their little tiff in the kitchen.

“Nothing…nothing," Will replied with a shake of his head. 

Lillie sighed.

“Will,” she repeated more firmly.

“I suppose it’s just too soon. I’m not…ready quite yet. I’m sorry.”

Will plopped on the side of the bed, the mattress dipping down with his weight. He heaved a deep sigh and dropped his head into his hands. He curled his knuckles around the roots of his mousy brown hair. He pulled on the roots as if to punish himself for his unchecked behavior.

Lillie dropped her gaze down to her husband’s pants. Unsurprisingly, she found what she was looking for. She thought she had felt it earlier but now there was no mistaking it. Not to mention that Will had initiated in the first place. She knew he was ready, that he was lying, and that something else was very wrong, indeed. Lillie sighed and dropped to her knees in front of him. She pushed her way into the space between his legs and then gently wrapped her hands around his forearms, maneuvering them away from his face. He didn’t fight her this time as he had in the kitchen.

“Will, you know that you can tell me anything. If you’re really not ready, then it’s alright. But judging by the look of things,” Lillie said, offering a cheeky joke to lighten the mood, “you’re sufficiently ready. What’s really wrong? You can tell me.”

“Not this, Lil. I can’t tell you this.”

“Oh don’t be daft, Scho,” Lillie scolded. "Why do you always think you have to do everything on your own?"

He squeezed his eyes shut at her use of that nickname. Only one other person in the world had ever called him that… Will's wife saved that name for when she was scolding him. He knew he was in trouble whenever she used it. Besides, he knew she was right, anyway. Sooner or later he'd have to tell her and, as much as Will did like to do things on his own, he couldn't do everything. He didn't even really want to do this without her.

Lillie slid her hand onto his cheek. She loved the way he leaned into her touch as she pulled his face up toward her. She sighed as his eyebrows rose in pain. When his blue eyes flashed open, she peered into them.

“Will, please,” she pleaded. "You're not alone."

“I don’t want you to…you can’t see me…I-I don’t want you to see me like this,” he replied, shaking his head.

“See you like what, dear? You look exactly the same, maybe a bit thinner but-”

“Not all of me,” he interrupted, shaking his head. He lifted his gloved hand, laying it flat, facing down. He shook it. “I’m not…worthy to touch you. I’m marked by what I’ve done, what I’ve lived through. I’m not worthy to touch something so beautiful now, not anymore.”

Will’s eyes were glassy. His voice was shaky and uneven. His eyes were staring back at Lillie, but his gaze was elsewhere. They sat in silence for a few minutes until she took his left hand in hers. He started to pull it away when she reached for the edge of the glove, but she quickly stole it back. She looked up at him but his eyes were trained on the glove, unwavering. His lips were pressed in a flat line. Lillie breathed deeply as she removed the glove from his hand. The sun had fully set now, leaving the couple at the mercy of the soft glow from the lamp by the bed.

She had to admit that she was afraid of what she would find under the glove. She was happy to discover nothing upon first examining it. The back of his hand was perfectly normal, not one scar that she could see. When she forced him to flip it over, his fingers curled back over his palm. He was guarding the meat of his hand, hiding whatever was underneath it. She reached for his fingers, sliding hers underneath his knuckles to pry them open. He resisted at first but quickly gave in. Lillie was unwaveringly stubborn. Will was no match, anyway. He was too soft for her. She always got what she wanted eventually.

When his fingers straightened, she finally understood what he had been so afraid to show her. On the palm of his hand was a large circular scar, scraping across the majority of his palm. The scar was raised and hard with small lines tracing out from the center. Her eyebrows furrowed. Her eyes grew watery as her mind ran through what terrors could have happened to cause this. Holding his hand in hers, she took the pointer finger of the other hand and gently traced the star-shaped pinkish skin of the scar.

“Now you see,” he whispered. “I wouldn’t blame you if you were repulsed by me now. I’ll understand if you don’t want me to touch you.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Lillie scolded him with a soft smile. “What would even possess you to say such a thing?”

“The thought of this scarred hand, this hideous mark, touching your beautiful face. It feels like a sin. The thought of you touching any of my wounds is like envisioning Venus touching...shit.”

Lillie chuckled, shaking her head.

“It’s one of many wounds, I’m afraid,” he continued. “I wish I could tell you everything Lil, but I…”

She tilted her head, her heart aching terribly for him. A thin trail of tears was trickling down the tip of his nose. Lillie pulled the sleeve of her dress over her palm and gingerly wiped his tears away. She dropped her gaze back down to the wound on his hand. She had absolutely no idea what could have caused it. She imagined he probably didn’t want to talk about it, but she had an idea.

“Let’s start slow then, yeah? One at a time,” she suggested.

“What?

“You don't have to tell me everything; you just have to start. Show me your wounds, one at a time. As slowly as you like, and we can stop whenever you want. We'll do this together, Will. ”

He scoffed, shaking his head dismissively.

“Lillie…I just can’t.”

“What you’ve done doesn’t change who you are, Will. You are not defined by your past but by what you learn from it.”

His head snapped back to her and he tilted his head, clearly interested in what she had to say. His little wife was so much wiser than she was credited for. He genuinely liked her suggestion. He wanted to tell her so badly; he wanted to tell her absolutely everything. He knew she would understand and yet he couldn't bring himself to begin.

Lillie cupped his cheek and tipped his head down toward her. She raised herself up the best she could and pressed her lips against his ear.

“Show me,” she whispered. “Show me where you hurt. Let me heal you.”

He remained frozen for a few more minutes, clearly contemplating her offer. He inhaled and then exhaled shakily before nodding, just once. Her presence was like the strongest alcohol he’d ever tasted. At the end of the day he knew that anything she could ask of him, he’d do it. He held out his hand and gulped. Lillie gladly took his palm in her fingers.

“How did this happen?” she asked.

He clenched his jaw before answering.

“Barbed wire. No man’s land.”

Lillie ran her finger over the scar once more before raising it to her lips. She pressed a sweet, chaste kiss to the wound. After she pulled back, she slid her palm into his. His droopy eyes were filled with sadness. They dropped down to her lips anyway, tracing over each part. She could see in his eyes how much her small gesture had meant to him. So she continued. She stood and held her hands out for him to take. He accepted her grasp and she pulled him up from the bed. She gazed up at him, her finger still tracing over the scar on his right hand.

“Show me,” she repeated in a hushed whisper.

His chest swelled as he inhaled again. He reached behind his head, his fingers gently touching the back of his skull, down by the nape of his neck.

“Here.”

She released his hands and placed her palms on his chest. She let them slide across his bare skin as she circled around behind him. He was still muscular despite losing so much weight. When she reached his back, she stretched her arm up and pressed her fingers against the spot on his head where he had indicated. She felt nothing there but assumed whatever injury had occurred must have already healed.

“How?” she asked.

“Shot in the helmet by a drunk German.

Her heart panged as his words settled. She quietly thanked god that Will was wearing his helmet. Without it, he would probably… She bit back her tears. Too short to reach him, she pressed her lips to her finger and then tapped her fingers onto his head. He released a contented sigh. She peered around his shoulders to see that his eyes were closed. As her gaze dropped down to eye level she focused on a wound on his back. She had seen this one before. He’d had a few wounds when he returned home in December. Her fingers trailed down his skin. She felt him shiver under her touch and she smiled. Her pointer finger followed the raised skin of a long injury.

“Those are from a bayonet during the Somme. They’re from different soldiers. Some that I…”

He was getting used to the idea. Lillie hadn’t even had to prompt him that time. She had recognized, too, that he was sharing more with each wound she addressed. Although she wanted to know everything, she wouldn’t dream of pushing him to finish his sentence. She noticed several similar cuts across his back and spread her fingers across his shoulders, hoping that her touch would steady him as she worked. She ran her touch over each one. And carefully, slowly, one by one, she pressed her lips to each hurt.

Once finished, she circled back around to the front of his body. His hands were balled into fists by his sides, his body still tense and his eyes squeezed tightly shut. She thought she remembered where another wound might be. She was correct and found it quickly. Her pointer finger followed the shape of a circular wound on his stomach, just underneath his ribs.

“That’s a bullet wound from the Somme. I was shot while retreating back into the trench.”

Lillie nodded, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to it. When her lips touched his sensitive skin, she felt his stomach contract. He inhaled sharply. She pulled back and glanced up at him with big, round eyes. He was staring down at her, his head tilted toward her. He clenched his jaw, gulped, and then lifted his fingers to his eyelids. He placed them on top of his eyes.

“Here,” he said without hesitation.

“Your eyes? What happened to them?”

“Dust from a tripwire. A rat set it off, the biggest rat I’ve ever seen, as big as a cat. It sent the roof of a mine shaft down on us,” he replied, his eyebrows furrowed. “I couldn't see. I couldn't breathe. I truly thought I was going to die then.”

Lillie’s face screwed up in grief and she was suddenly very glad that Will couldn’t see her. She said nothing in response; she resisted the urge to ask what he meant by “us.” Instead, she placed her hand on his chest and gently walked him back toward the bed. She lowered him down onto it so she could reach his eyes comfortably. She ran her fingers over his eyelids as softly as she could. His eyelashes tickled her skin as they fluttered under her touch. Lillie blinked away her tears. She leaned forward and pressed the tenderest of kisses onto his closed eyes.

She pulled back and his eyes fluttered open. He stared up at his wife, his devotion evident in the softness of his gaze. Lillie took a moment to look at him, the tear stains drying quickly on his cheeks. Suddenly, something caught her eye. Her eyes flicked to the side to see Will’s jacket on the floor. She remembered something she’d noticed when he was home over Christmas. A wound stripe. He’d been awarded just one after the Somme. He hadn’t told Lillie what it was for but, knowing her Will and finally seeing all of his wounds, she understood. She lowered her head toward his chest and pressed a firm kiss to the skin over his heart.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“The thing that needs healing most,” Lillie replied, replacing her lips with her hand on his chest. “The thing I really can help heal. Your heart.”

She offered a small smile, her eyes searching his. His lips curved up into a grin and he nodded. His hand found its way to her cheek once again. But this time, he was touching her with his left hand, the scarred one. It still took his every courage to do so, but he knew it was the first step to accepting his injury. He was almost shocked when she didn't flinch at the feeling of it on her skin. His face screwed up with emotion, his eyes watering. God bless her, he thought. Lillie closed her eyes as he touched her, a smile spreading across her beautiful features.

“I love you, Lillie,” he burst. “You’re the reason I’m here, the reason I came back. I love the girls, of course, but you got me through it all. In moments I thought I might never see another sunrise, when I thought I’d never feel the touch of your skin again, when I thought I was dead, you… you were right there with me. I thought of you and you saved me. I always imagined you scolding me to get up and keep going.”

Lillie laughed, tears slipping from her eyes. Will joined in her joy, his eyes shining in the soft glow of the lamplight.

“Of course you did. I warned you my nagging was for a reason. You came back because I told you to,” she agreed, giggling. “But I could never explain how glad I am that you did. Now, you are not allowed to ever leave us again, do you understand?”

Will laughed, tilting his head up so he could press his forehead against hers.

“Never.”

Lillie nudged her nose against Will’s once more. He loved the way her nose crinkled up like a bunny rabbit's when she did that. He heard her breath suck in when his fingers curled over her waist, pulling her down onto his lap. His hand expertly slid underneath the length of her skirt, his fingertips tickling the bare skin of her thigh. He kissed her gently, just once. But that wasn’t nearly good enough for her. Lillie’s hand swirled around his neck and she brought his lips back onto hers. His grip on her thigh tightened. She loved the warmth on her skin. Their kiss was heavy, deep, and slow. Their lips remained connected until neither of them could breathe. When Lillie finally managed to pull away, Will’s lips moved onto her neck. He played with the skin at the corner of her jaw. She tugged on his hair as her body was swept up in pleasure and warmth. It was just like the feeling of drinking hot te-

Lillie gasped suddenly and accidentally yanked Will’s head back. He winced and his eyes widened as he looked at his wife.

“Ah..." he hissed in pain. "What? Lillie, What’s wrong?”

“Oh…”

Lillie clamped a hand over her mouth to stop the embarrassed smile that was threatening to give her away. She couldn’t help but giggle at how silly it was.

“The tea…” she said quietly, blushing madly, “your tea is probably frozen by now.”

A beat of silence passed before Will laughed out loud, little crinkles forming by the corners of his eyes.

“That’s quite alright, Lil,” he replied, his gaze sparkling mischievously. “Anyway, I don’t think tea will satisfy this particular thirst.”

A smirk spread quickly across Lillie’s face. Will bit through his own teasing smile and then leaned forward to kiss his lovely little wife. Lillie’s arms wound around Will’s neck, holding him firmly on her. His hands slid around her back, his fingers tangling in the fabric of her blouse as he began to pull it from its tucked position. The next thing Lillie felt was her husband’s weight as he pulled her underneath him and they crashed back into the soft mattress of the bed. He was home now. Her Will was home.

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