CHAPTER SONG: "Ring of Fire" by Johnny Cash, June Carter, Various...
Emmanuelle found herself backing away from Lt. Joseph Blake as he said those profound words to her. The young woman's mind was reeling trying to decipher what this man was conveying to her the reason for making an unwelcome advance on her.
She balanced herself against the bed, her hands gripping onto the edge, her fingers curling into the coarse threaded sheets she had just awakened in.
"Emmanuelle, please don't be afraid of me. You've been through hell and back with Corp. Schofield and I had no right to do what I just did." He dared to take a step toward the skittish woman as she pulled herself up to perch on the bed, easing the pressure on her freshly bandaged leg. "I behaved like a complete cad."
"You're damn right about that, Lieutenant Joseph Blake! Just because you volunteered to protect me long enough to get me here doesn't mean I'm the prize you win at the end." She seethed, her voice hissing in a low pitch to avoid drawing attention from the various bustling of nurses and patients in the background. "Keeping William out of the equation, Tom would be ashamed of you. So much for being a man of honor."
Immediately, Emmy felt the agonizing squeeze of guilt enfold around her conscience. This was such a miniscule moment that she was escalating into something even bigger than her own life. Joseph Blake had not just hours ago risked his well-being to keep her safe from a sniper who had also killed their comrade Pvt. Seymour.
A look of offense crossed the lieutenant's face, now darkened into an expression of practiced stoicism, his previous gaze of longing vanished from his pacific blue eyes.
"You're right, Ms. Hunterson. My brother wouldn't approve of my behavior here, neither would your Schofield. Whatever tempted me to do what I just did, it's not your fault. I tried to convince myself that you were just a mission, a distraction to keep my mind off of losing Tom... It...it'd been so long since I felt the touch of a woman...when you embraced me back in the camp..."
Lt. Blake choked up with his words, gulping as he looked away from her, turning away from her so she wouldn't see the tears forming in his eyes.
Emmy looked as the black-haired soldier turned his back to her, his shoulders slightly shaking as he took deep breaths to calm himself. She sighed and hung her head, placing her bare feet back onto the cold tile floor, making her body move to the man who she felt disappointment, yet gratitude towards.
She slowly approached him, being careful to not startle the lieutenant as she placed a hand on his trembling shoulder-blade.
"Joe...I cannot imagine what you've been through the past three years. This is hell, we're in the middle a never-ending battle where either of us could die any minute." Her voice was a gentle whisper, hoping she could convince him to meet her face-to-face. "Life is too short to part ways in anger."
Lt. Blake at last wound his head around to meet her pleading gaze. The unshed tears in the ocean depth of his eyes made her want to embrace him again, but she remained cautious as his whole body turned again to meet this woman's stare. Her hands reached to grasp his own, her thumbs grazing his calloused knuckles.
His heart beat a marathon at the too rare feeling of such compassion and warmth radiating from the courageous lady standing before him despite her near disabling injury. And his veins were burning with a pulsating beat as he felt near feverish with emotion of forbidden affection.
It was no mystery to him why Corporal Schofield loved her...and she was right.
A good soldier possessed honor and there was none in the notion of caring about a woman who was loved by a combatant ranked beneath him...
"I want us to be friends, Joseph. I'm fond of you very much, even though I haven't known you long." Emmy continued to hold his much larger hands in her dainty grasp, and the lieutenant relished in the strength of them as though she was passing it from her own body to him for his benefit. "What just happened here doesn't make you a bad person. I...I just need to know that I can trust you."
"I was a man before I was a soldier, Miss Hunterson. As a soldier, you can trust me to hold your very life in my hands. What I might be feeling for you as a man... I'm not sure if being a friend would be enough for me." He pulled one of his hands away from her tender grip, noticing that her leg was shaking with the task of keeping her standing upright.
Before she could protest, he had bent down with his free arm to lift her off the floor, a surprised yelp emanating from her lips.
Lt. Blake fought the urge to grin at her as she looked up at him in irritation, one of her arms folding in instinct around his neck. His other arm supported her shoulders in the same fashion as he had carried her to the ambulance back at the camp.
He deliberately stepped around to the other side of her hospital bed in a slow gait as he anticipated her either struggling to escape his arms or even issue a painful slap to his face...but none came.
"Do you feel trust for me now, Emmanuelle?" He used her formal name now, a challenging look in his eyes that awaited her answer. "Or are you afraid that I'll break my promise and let you fall?"
Their faces were inches away from each other as he stopped just as he reached the edge of her bed whilst still holding her like she weighed no more than a rag doll. It also pained him to see the hospital gown that hung off her body like a dress that was many sizes too large for her slight frame.
"Joseph..." She closed her eyes as she dared to touch his structured cheekbone at the risk of him possibly trying to kiss her again. "I know that you may feel something for me and I understand why, but falling in love with me won't bring Tom back."
His jawline stiffened with a silent realization dawning upon his Byronic featured face. A tear trickled down his face and her fingers wiped it away before he even felt it soaking his skin. Almost as though on autopilot, he placed her back on the bed, reminding himself to be gentle with her injuries and quickly covered her with the sheets and blankets before the nurse could come upon them in their somewhat complicated situation.
"You think I don't know that, Ms. Hunterson? You don't think I don't know from the minute your Schofield told me?" His arms folded to his chest, as though to keep from reaching out for her again.
What on God's green earth was coming over him?
"I know that you're a good man, Joseph, and that you know what you just tried to do was a mistake." She sat up on the bed, running her shaking fingers through her unruly tresses of brown hair. "I need to know that I can trust you as a friend of mine and the man Thomas Blake calls his big brother who would play and run with him and pick cherry blossoms from their orchard and has a dog named Myrtle..."
"THAT'S ENOUGH!" He growled to her, causing Emmy to widen her evergreen eyes in shock, but not fear.
They stared one another down, neither of them looking away from the other, the awkward silence enough to hear a pin drop despite the ambience of people milling around them behind the sheets giving them some improvised privacy.
In spite of her lack in being afraid of the post traumatic stress stricken soldier before her, Emmy pulled the covers closer to her chest out of self defensive instinct. And she spoke again to him.
"I know you haven't had proper time to grieve him...and maybe you trying to kiss me is part of that. I...I just need to know that...if you genuinely care for me, then you'll understand that I love William, and he'll be here as soon as he's free on leave to take me out of France. He risked his life to get to you and let you know of what happened to Tom, and it would be an insult to both of us if you tried something on me without my say-so."
Joseph saw how she clutched the covers around her bosom, and the anger ebbed away into a self-loathing and a concern that he longed to express toward her.
He heard the tremble in her voice, a waver in her cadence that told him there was something deeper underneath her words. The lieutenant could sense an apprehension within her that was more foreboding and implying something more menacing she had experienced than him merely leaning down to kiss her lips.
"Emmanuelle." His voice lowered into a tender whisper. "Whatever you may think, please know that I'd never hurt you. I'm not speaking as a soldier to you now, but as a man. Please, believe me. I would never want to see you in harm's way."
She sniffled and hung her head, slowly shaking her head as she looked down at the blandly white hospital sheets, her own tears streaming down her cheeks. The lieutenant's fingertips lifted up her chin so she would look into his eyes shining with sincerity and a sadness that made her think of and miss her Will even more.
"You've a spirit I've never seen any other woman inhabit within her, Ms. Hunterson. But I see that you've been broken...and something inside me wants to take that pain away." His own fingers wiped away a tear from her face. "If you can find it in your heart to forgive my transgression...even if you don't give me your trust."
"Joseph...I do want to be your friend...and I know that you wouldn't hurt me. Just understand that I may not feel what you might be feeling for me." She struggled to smile amidst the tears as he took her hand within his as she had done with him moments before.
"As a man, I desire nothing but your forgiveness...and a possible friendship. I only want you to know...that I've come to care for you..." He trailed off before he could expel any other words.
And Emmy wasn't sure if she wanted to know the full extent of what he was feeling toward her.
Her heart belonged to William Schofield, Lance Corporal of the 8th Battalion of the Devonshire Regiment...
"Lieutenant Joseph Daniel Blake, it would be a pleasure to accept your friendship." Despite her tears, the smile on her lips widened as he placed a quick peck upon her knuckles, one of a more platonic fashion. She could still view the glint of something else in his eyes, a slight adoration that reminded her of how William would look at her...
If the phrase "eyes are windows to the soul" was true...
And how part of her wanted to soothe that yearning look illuminating his gaze...
"And it's an honor to receive such a gift from you, Emmanuelle Hunterson. Tom would be no doubt be pleased...I'm sure he's looking over us right now." His voice was gruff again as he held back a sob and Emmy's heart went to him in his grief.
"I know he loved you very much. And he still does. Never lose faith in that, Joseph." Her hand reached out and touched his cheek again.
They looked into each other's eyes in silence, just feeling comforted in the presence of each other, kindred spirits trying to be there for one another in this bubble of chaos. In spite of the hectic setting of this hospital, people around her shouting and some groaning in pain, Emmy knew she was one step closer to finding what all of this meant.
Lt. Blake gently removed her hand from his cheek and held it within both of his; her other hand reached and felt for the cool metal of William's St. Christopher medallion around her neck...
She had crossed a bridge with two different men and knew not of when she could diverge off the path taken.
After a moment of reveling in the hurdle they had both just jumped over together, Joseph released his hand from hers at the sound of Nurse Tallis' footsteps, her heels clacking on the tiled floor. The older bespectacled nurse carried with her a tray of hot soup, a small side of chicken leg and a shiny red apple.
"Here you are, dearie. I know it doesn't seem like much to eat, but there is a food shortage with everything being sent to the front." She came over to Emmy's bedside as Joseph stepped away to give them room, laying the tray on the younger woman's lap. "Later tonight, you can use a metal tin to bathe and we'll be by to change the dressing on your leg."
Emmy's eyes went immediately to the bright crimson apple, her taste buds aflame and her stomach growling with hunger. As her hands grasped onto the fruit, she looked up at the uniformed nurse, as her emotions gravitated toward another fellow female, gratitude flowing through her. "Thank you so much! You've no idea what I've been through to get here."
"There's no need to thank me, Miss Hunterson. We've all got a part to play in this war. Once you're back on your feet, you'll be on the way to play yours." A maternal pitch influenced Tallis' voice that calmed Emmy down, as she leaned back against the pillows.
"Do you think Lt. Blake could get something to eat too? He's one of the reasons I made it here in one piece." Emmanuelle gestured toward the soldier who stood guard against the stark white hospital wall, questioning her request to the nurse silently with his eyes. "He'll need to eat up for the journey back to his camp."
Nurse Tallis raised her eyebrows in an inquisitive expression as she turned to look at Lt. Blake, meeting his eyes. The soldier approached Emmy's bedside again as she held out the apple to him.
"Certainly, your lieutenant will need sustenance for tonight." She walked toward the entrance to the makeshift room set up for the patient beds. "This may be a hospital, but this is still a respectable establishment. May I remind you this is not a cathouse, sir. The lady deserves to heal in dignity as well as safety."
Both Emmanuelle and Joseph understood the implication of Tallis' words, and a chuckle escaped from her mouth as the nurse walked away, her heels clicking away down the hall.
Lt. Blake held the red apple in his hands, glancing toward the wondrous woman smiling at him from her bed. His own smile graced his lips as he placed the apple back into her hands.
Handing over to her complete control over where they would go from here and defying any further temptations being dangled in front of him as he watched her peel away at the apple's skin with her teeth.
"I sent a letter out to Schofield in the mail while you were sleeping earlier, to let him know you made it to the hospital safely. Hopefully, he'll be able to respond with his own letter soon. He told me back at the camp that the Bosche had cut out the 8th, telephone lines, so I'm not certain if he'll be able to call here."
Regret vibrated in his voice as Emmy set the apple back onto the tray and focused on the bowl of chicken soup. One hand held her spoon as she lifted it to her lips and kept her eyes on Joseph, sorrow filling his eyes as he reached and took her other hand within his to comfort her.
"Joseph...there's something I have to tell you. Something I'm not sure if you'll want to keep your promise to me once you hear it." Her sweet voice lowered into a whisper.
"What? What is it, Emmy?" Her nickname flowed through his lips with surprising ease and it left him feeling calmed for the first time in what seemed life forever.
"I...don't know how to explain it without sounding crazy. Even telling Will was nearly impossible to say and you've seen where our relationship is." Her spoon clanked down onto the tray with a loud clang as her hands began shaking.
Joseph reached out and clutched both her hands within his, although he desired to hold her in his arms and embrace her as she had held him back at the camp.
"There's not much that can scare me anymore, Emmy. Just say it." He calmly pushed her to continue, his gaze holding her own to keep her internally balanced. Not much can scare me  except maybe you...
"I...I don't know how the hell I got here to France. I'm not from this era. I...I'm from the future. One hundred years from now...from the year 2020."
Everything around them froze as her heartbeat increased and pulsated with vibration against her eardrums as she anticipated the lieutenant's response...
.
.
Lance Corporal Schofield leaned against the soaking brown mud of the trench hole he had sat down in to rest for the moment. His head pounding with the aftermath of his head injury as the afternoon hate had calmed with the conclusion of the day's strafe.
Taking a deep breath to himself, he removed his newly commissioned helmet after he'd lost his original in the river by Ecoust. He closed his eyes and basked in the cool silence and he was allowed to ground himself.
His hand reached inside his tunic and felt for the tobacco tin that kept the photographs of all the people he held the dearest to him. He knew who he wanted to look at the most in this moment, but the notion of that photo, with her in an Edwardian wedding dress instead of her unusually charming attire from her own era chilled him and made him even more anxious to be by her side again, to let her know of this photo's changing on him.
He was afraid of how she would react if they never found a way for her to return home. She had been through too much for somebody so kind and wonderful to endure. She had cried enough tears and been through enough mental and physical torment.
The darkness of his thoughts threatened to consume him until he forced his brain to think forward. To think of the future... just two weeks until his freedom was granted. He thought of holding Emmy in his arms back at the second Devons' camp and serenading her with Let Me Call You Sweetheart, sitting vigil with her in the medical tent as she slept...and reciting the Chaucer poem to her in the basement in the bowels of Ecoust...
Those small moments with her were the happiest he had felt in a long time, small portions of bliss in the middle of that hellish mission...and he wouldn't trade them for all the medals and benefits in the world.
He imagined himself back home...the voices of Emmy and his beloved sister Molly talking with one another and laughing. He had a feeling they would get along once they met.
His nieces Giselle and CiCi giggling as they climbed atop of him as though he were a carnival ride, climbing onto each of his shoulders as he hoisted them into the air...
It crossed his mind to write Molly again and request they coordinate to buy Emmy a present for her to make her feel at home. Something that would spark her interest, but not of the common variety such as flowers, candy sweets... she would need some clothes to wear. Maybe some books, being that she'd been a librarian in her own time...
His train of thought was interrupted as his eyes shot open at the sound of his name being called.
"Corporal Schofield? Is there a Corp. Schofield here?" An unfamiliar voice sounded through his ears and he stood up straight to attention.
"Sir! I'm Lance Corporal Schofield, sir." He saw a uniformed postman step carefully through the mud, a white envelope in his hand and saluted him.
"There seems to be early mail for you today." The man grumbled as he held it out to him. "From a Lt. Blake in the Second Devons."
Schofield immediately reached out and grabbed the envelope in his hands, nearly ripping it from the other man's grasp.
"Sorry, I just wasn't expecting something so soon. I thank you greatly, sir." The lance corporal tried to keep the tremble out of his voice as he read the printing on the envelope.
"I understand, Corporal. You can't take anything for granted anymore." The postman left the conversation at that, leaving the soldier to his letter.
Schofield read the sender's name in a careful scribing inked on the envelope's left hand corner.
Lt. Joseph Blake
Hopital Temporaire
Château d'Arc-en-Barrois,
Haute-Marne, France
His fingers carefully opened the envelope, which was already smudged with fingerprints from being handled by different sets of hands.
He pulled the letter out and unfolded the paper, forcing himself to read each word carefully, his heart bursting with relief and inexpressive joy and the tears came to his eyes before he even realized their presence.
April 8th, 1917
Corp. Schofield,
William...I can't thank you enough for the risks you took to bring my battalion that message and to inform me about my brother. I can only hope I was able to return the favour. Your lovely lady Emmanuelle is safe and is resting in a warm bed as you promised her, under the gentle care of attentive doctors and nurses.
She is sleeping now at the moment of this letter being written, her leg healing with clean bandages and dressings, for now I've appointed myself to keep watch over her. I must admit to you, man to man, that I've become quite fond of her. She's not a woman you encounter every day in your average town or village.
Any man would be lucky to have her for himself, and I could see how you were with her back at the camp. You're not only a good soldier, but a good man, and I know my brother was lucky to have you as a friend. I pray for your safety not only for your sake but for that of the woman sleeping in the next room.
I know you love her with everything you possess...and I would be lying if I told you I might not be feeling something like it towards her. I hope this doesn't diminish your opinion of me, but my top priority for this mission was her safety. Private Seymour did not make it to the hospital thanks to a sniper...
We can only thank God that your Emmanuelle wasn't harmed and we made it to our destination thanks to a Captain Smith who you and she had met on your way to Ecoust and he gave us transport after our ambulance broke down.
I'll tell her that I wrote you and she'll be waiting for you to come fetch her away from here. I hope we can keep in touch, not only in remembrance of Tom, but for Miss Hunterson as I've come to care for her deeply in the short time I've known her. She's nothing short of amazing.
We both must survive, for Tom and for her.
I thank you again most sincerely, Will.
-Lieutenant Joseph Blake
2nd Battalion of the Devonshire Regiment
Schofield read over the words again on the parchment, his heart threatening to burst from his chest in long forgotten happiness and exhilaration with a dose of confusion and sorrow at the mention of Private Seymour's loss. They were both alive.
His Emmy was alive and safe and he had never felt more grateful to God in that moment.
Clasping the letter in one hand, he pulled out with the other his tobacco tin from his tunic front pocket. His shivering fingers opened the lid and pulled out the photograph of Emmanuelle, still the black and white image of her in an Edwardian wedding dress and blossom petal speckled veil.
She was safe and in good hands until he would come for her...
And he thought for the first time in a long time that life could be worth living again.
He pressed both the letter and photograph to his chest, inhaling deep breaths to calm himself. His eyes closed again and he sunk back down into the mud.
For the briefest of seconds, he felt the sun on his face again, sitting under that tree in the field at Lt. Blake's encampment, and instead of the photo of his Emmanuelle, he was holding the woman herself close in the security of his embrace and he was naught to let her out of his sight once they found each other again.
A small smile graced his lips as Tom's voice echoed with quiet reassurance in his ear.
"My brother came through for you, Scho. Who knows, maybe the both of you could become friends. Our missions are accomplished now. Joseph and Emmy are both alive and I'll be there to guide you through what's to come next."