CHAPTER SONG: "Set the Fire to the Third Bar" by Snow Patrol
"You look so beautiful this morning, my beloved." Will murmured in Emmy's ear, his eyes softening as he gazed down at the girl in his arms. He was rewarded with the sight of her scarlet blush painting her cheeks and she nuzzled his warm neck to conceal her reddened face.
Joseph ran ahead up to the front door of his house with William carrying Emmy up the porch steps. The lieutenant opened the door to allow the both of them inside. As Will reached the final stair, Emmy spoke up before her corporal could step over the threshold.
"Will, stop!" She placed her hand on his cheek as he paused in his stride toward the door, glancing worriedly at the woman he held so preciously.
"Emmy, what's wrong? Are you in pain?" William's voice quickly asked as her fingertips stroked his jaw-line in a soothing manner.
"No...I mostly feel fine." She answered quickly, feeling both soldiers' eyes locked on her. "It's just...will you please put me down? I wanna walk into the house on my own. It's just a sprained ankle; I've had worse injuries. I don't want to be some needy burden being carried everywhere."
Will opened his mouth to argue with her, concerned about her placing weight upon her dainty foot, but he knew only Emmy sensed her limits when it came to her mobility and physical well-being. The lance corporal looked from the evergreen eyes of the woman he loved and into the vigilant blue-eyed gaze of Joe, who had listened intently to their dialogue. The raven haired man nodded to Will in silent agreement as he held onto the door to keep it open, as though the two men were having their own silent conversation.
Will and Joe broke their stare toward each other and looked again to Emmy, who had her arms around the corporal's neck. Sighing deeply in resignation, Will unwound his arm from underneath her knees, gently setting her back onto her feet as he kept his other arm in a firm grasp around her waist. Once he made sure she was balanced on the wooden surface of the porch, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her scarred fingers in a wordless gesture of agreement.
"Emmy, the sooner your ankle is on the mend, the sooner you'll be back on your feet, driving everyone mad." Joe playfully teased the spirited brunette girl, earning him an irritated smack from her on his forearm. "But if you show any further signs of pain, I'm carrying you all the way to the surgery myself if I have to, Emmanuelle Hunterson."
She rolled her eyes in mock annoyance. "Joseph Blake, when will you figure out that I'm not gonna do anything you tell me to?"
Will found himself chuckling at her words and the tone of stubborn fire in which she dictated her refusal to listen. He held her around the waist as she hobbled through the front door, keeping as much balance on her good foot as possible, leaning some of her weight on her corporal as he led her to the chaise in the parlor and Joseph carefully shut the door behind them.
He heard the sound of his mother bustling in the kitchen as Myrtle trotted into the living room, her curious whine alerting the two men and young woman of her presence. Joe patted Myrtle on the head as he went into the kitchen to see his mother and let her know of their new visitor.
As Will aided Emmy in settling down on the chaise, he looked up and saw the female canine, her chocolate brown fur shining and the ever growing roundness of her abdomen catching his immediate attention. A lump formed in his throat as Tom's words from an eternity ago echoed through his memory.
The both of them walking through their camp side by side as the younger soldier opened his letter from home, presumably from his mother and he had seen the smile brightening his face at the news written on the parchment.
"Myrtle's having puppies..."
He watched as the brown Labrador's dark eyes met his own, her ears perking up as she cautiously went up to him and grunted in greeting the stranger in her territory. He kneeled before Emmy as he placed her foot upon the stool as he felt the dog's calming influence as though the animal sensed his sadness at remembering his late comrade.
Myrtle sat by the couch, her eyes glued to the newcomer in her home as she watched Emmy reach over and place her hands on Will's face, holding his chin up so she could look into his ocean blue eyes.
Emmy stroked his freshly trimmed brown hair, now at a similar length to when they had first met; her fingers ran through his soft boyish waves, petting over the top of his head to the back of his cranium as she placed as little pressure as she could where he had received a concussion from his fall on the staircase in Ecoust.
"William Christopher Schofield... you're truly the most handsome, beautiful man I've ever known in my life." Emmy's voice whispered to him, her fingers playing ever lovingly with the velvet patch of sheared hair behind his head and down to his nape. "Inside and out."
Will's hands reached up to hold her wrists, turning his head so he could kiss the pulse beating underneath her fair skin as she bent down to lean her forehead to his own. He silently thanked God that she was safe and hadn't been stolen away in the dead of night in his absence.
Feeling bold, he leaned up slightly and pressed his lips to her rosy pink mouth, finding no words in response to her declaration. A growling sigh rumbled in his chest as her arms wrapped around his neck as his own hands moved from cradling her delicate wrists to her shoulders, his fingers tangling into her silken ribbons of dark chocolate hair.
The mewling sound of Myrtle interrupted the couple's romantic moment of quiet reunion and Will couldn't help but laugh in apology toward the well-meaning creature, wanting to know about the stranger in her terrritory.
"Hello, sweet Myrtle." The younger man reached over, still kneeling by Emmy's feet as she sat on the chaise, and he soothingly patted the dog's head, scratching behind her ears. The brown furred Labrador immediately leaned into Will's gesture of comfort to her and she laid down on the floor as he removed his fingers from her head and turned to focus back on the injured love of his life.
Emmy had the skirt of her ivory nightgown pulled halfway up her leg, below her knee and Will fought back a blush of violating his propriety as a gentleman as he tried to avert his eyes away from her fair skin and focused on her bandage wrapped foot. His fingertips began to peel away the strips of gauze off her skin, feeling her hand stroke his cheek as though she sensed his anxiety and yearned to make him feel at ease.
"Let me know if you feel any discomfort, my darling." Will instructed her, his voice low with the tenacity of a lover concerned for the sake of his significant other. His blue eyes focused on her foot and her hand pulled away from his cheek as she spoke in response.
"It's not as bad as it was yesterday. This morning I was able to wobble down the stairs without any help." Emmy explained to him in a nonchalant way as she watched his ever English brow wrinkle with growing alarm and she talked even more as all her bandages were no longer covering her foot. "It looks worse than it actually is."
"Oh, Emmanuelle..." His voice sighed her full name in a worried tone as he looked at her now naked foot. His fingers caressed the base of her toes where the dark purple bruising spotting the flesh of the joint that allowed her to walk, his eyes scanning the markings of broken blood vessels splotched along her foot's length and down to her ankle that was still healing. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I know it'll heal in a short time, but seeing you injured pierces me with guilt that I wasn't here to keep it from happening."
"It's alright, William." She leaned over and took his face in her petite hands, her thumbs stroking his sculpted cheekbones, her forehead once more leaning on his as their eyes locked together. "Baby, you can't protect me from everything. People get hurt and bad things happen; but you can't always save everyone. You can't beat yourself up every time I get a scratch or a bruise."
"Emmy..." He started to argue, but her fingertips pressed on his lips to silence him.
"You can forgive yourself for Tom...and for me. I never believed I could ever truly be loved until you found me in that farmhouse. I always preferred being alone rather than having someone...because nobody could hurt me." Her voice was a low whisper as Erik came to the forefront of her mind, a reminder that he was still awaiting with intentions she didn't even want to think about.
She recoiled back as she leaned away from Will, fighting back tears. Immediately, he sensed her fear and took her hands in both of his. "My Emmanuelle...my love... I would never, ever hurt you. Nor would I allow anybody else to hurt you, as long as there is life in my breast. You needn't be afraid; I'll protect you, I promise."
His declaration flowed effortlessly off his tongue, his voice strong with the noble conviction of his words. Emmy blinked back tears as she looked down at her lap. The lance corporal brought her hands to his lips and he kissed both sets of her fingers and knuckles.
After he placed a final kiss on her scarred ring finger and pinky, Will reached up to wipe away an escaped tear off her pale blossom colored cheek.
"And whatever thoughts are going through your mind, I beg you to believe my words. I worry so for your safety because I love you. It's as simple an answer a man can give to a woman." His deepened voice had lowered to a comforting croon as a small smile of rarity brightened his face at speaking of his true feelings.
Before Emmy could think of a response that wouldn't end with her blubbering like love-struck teenager, the motherly voice of Catherine Blake interrupted the pair.
"Breakfast is just about ready. Emmanuelle, I've laid your clothes back out on Thomas' bed in the boys' room if you want to get dressed." As she finished her sentence to Emmy, the redhead woman's blue eyes met those of William Schofield. Left stunned into silence, she found herself leaning on the wall of the parlor to keep herself upright.
Will stood up in politeness, his back arched straight as an arrow as he cleared his throat, meeting the eyes of the woman he had written that letter to all those weeks ago about her youngest son's death. Joseph also had come into the room from behind his mother, his hands holding her up to support her. His voice held a pitch of concern as he moved to hold her hands.
"Mother, it's alright. Just take a breath." He enfolded an arm around her waist as she began to breathe slowly trying to keep herself from hyperventilating.
The Blake matriarch shrugged off her eldest son's hold as she worked to calm herself. She had known Corporal Schofield was here...but seeing him in the flesh brought everything back... She exhaled a deep breath as Joseph hovered nearby as though he was preparing himself to catch her should she start to collapse... but she held steady, ever the stubborn iron-willed lady she was.
"I apologize everyone." Catherine smoothed her auburn red hair, making sure the bun coiled at the back of her head remained intact. "I didn't mean to appear startled. Corporal Schofield... would you mind giving me a moment to aid Miss Hunterson in dressing?"
"Thank you, Mrs. Blake. But I'm not sure if I can make it upstairs to the bedroom." Emmy spoke up, reaching out for Will to help her stand up and she balanced herself on his arm. "Will, would you mind if Joe carried me upstairs so I can get dressed? He has medical training and can make sure I'll be okay to walk."
Will looked to meet Joe's eyes...and a second of a beat later, the younger man nodded in approval, allowing the lieutenant to have his trust where the woman he loved was concerned.
The woman they both loved...
Without further words, Will watched diligently as Joseph reluctantly left his mother's side and went to assist Emmanuelle. The American girl placed her arm around the ebony haired man's shoulders and he easily lifted her up into his arms bridal-fashion.
"And it's up she goes." Joe chuckled to Emmy as she gave him a grateful nod, feeling completely safe while in the arms of her dearest friend as well.
Catherine watched her son carry the young woman to the staircase and listened to their banter of teasing and his laughing at a joke she was telling although she heard not the words being said. The Blake matriarch reached out and squeezed William's hands in hers, her eyes softening as she looked up at the soldier towering over her.
"Wait here, Corporal Schofield. My son will be back down in a moment and I'll help your sweet lady get herself situated upstairs. I've much to tell you about how gratified I am to the both of you." She smiled up at Will, tears shining in her eyes, so similar to both of her sons, and she walked to the staircase and ascended upwards, the sound of the wood creaking under her feet echoing through the living parlor.
Myrtle watched both her owners go upstairs as she stayed by Will's side to keep him company. She whined as her black eyes looked up at him as though she sensed the tension amongst all the humans. He sat upon the chaise and he stroked the top of the female canine's head, enjoying the feel of her fur under his fingers.
"I wonder when your puppies are due, sweet girl. I'll have to ask your mum about maybe taking one for my little nieces." He softly conversed with her as though the dog could verbally speak aloud to him.
She only whined in response, laying her muzzle on his thigh, releasing a deep groan as she relaxed in the presence of Will's gentle disposition.
.
.
Awhile later in the morning, Emmy was properly dressed in her attire from the day before, most of the mud had been scraped off the purple skirt hem from her lengthy walk to the Blakes' house courtesy of Catherine washing her clothes after the storm had ended the previous night.
And if the Blake matriarch was to be honest with herself, she a lot of similar personality traits in this mysterious young woman whom she could see both Corporal Schofield and her only remaining son were deeply in love with. Whatever apprehension she had experienced when this stranger had arrived yesterday in a state like she had walked through many woods from the condition of her shoes and skirt, her hair wild from the wind and cheeks flushed with exhaustion.
Mrs. Blake watched with silent vigilance from the kitchen window, looking into the backyard where her cherry orchard welcomed her vision along with Joseph and Emmanuelle walking along the ground, her son's arm gallantly around her shoulders to help keep her steady as she limped at his side. She finished washing the final glass leftover from the dishes of the breakfast she had served their company, having had assistance from Emmy who had helped out to thank her for allowing her to stay overnight so unexpectedly. Catherine had only just a few minutes prior insisted that she could finish up and sent both Joe and the American girl outside so she could have some privacy with Corporal Will Schofield.
The younger man folded up her white linen table cloth with fragile diligence, making sure no wrinkles were left on the fabric before placing it inside the wooden cabinet containing the other dishes, like he was back in his own encampment, insuring his bed was made to please his superiors for inspection.
Will acknowledged his generous hostess, clearing his throat to speak. "Mrs. Blake, please allow me to say that I'm grateful to you and Joseph in looking out for Emmy... er, Miss Hunterson."
Catherine turned away from the kitchen window and faced the quietly kind soldier, her hands removing her apron from around her waist as she met his eyes. "Please, I think we're past such formalities, William. You may call me Catherine. While we have a moment alone, I'd like to speak with you about the letter you wrote to me ... about my Tom."
Immediately, Will pulled out the kitchen chair from under the table nearest to her and gestured in a slow wave for her to sit down, sensing the vulnerability in her voice. He held out his hand for her to take and she placed her palm within his, allowing him to tug her toward the chair and she sat down. The lance corporal noticed how she held onto the table's edge to keep herself steady.
"Of course...Catherine." He said her name with soft politeness and he felt her hand shiver as he released her grip. "And thank you for the delicious breakfast, as well. I haven't eaten such good home-cooking in so long."
A smile emerged on his lips as she returned his grin, both of her hands holding onto his laying upon the wooden table's surface. "No need to thank me, young man. You looked as though you received not a wink of sleep last night, no doubt worrying about your lady. Emmanuelle is lovely; I can see why you adore her so."
Will's smile widened, his blue eyes bright with life at the mention of his amour. "I do, most ardently. I've loved her since possibly the first moment I laid eyes on her, however mad it sounds. And I do appreciate your hospitality with the both of us, ma'am."
Catherine noticed how Will's head perked up at the distant sound of Joe and Emmy conversing outside, like he could sense the presence of the girl he most cherished and his instinct had taken ahold of him briefly to make sure she was safe while she was not at his side. The fire-haired matriarch found it most chivalrous in his concern for her well-being while also not having her tethered to his side out of paranoia concerning they had met in war-torn France.
Will turned to lock eyes again with Mrs. Blake, glancing down briefly at the table's surface in slight guilt. "I apologize if I seem preoccupied. While I'm nearby, I want to make sure she's alright. Not that... I don't trust Joseph to look out for her, as well."
"No, I don't blame you, Will." Catherine placed one of her hands atop of William's as she watched him look again to the kitchen window in alertness. "It is quite noble of you to trust another man who's not a blood relative to form a connection with the woman you love...and I can see in my Joe's eyes that he loves your Emmy as well every time he looks at her."
Before the resolve left him to speak of such a subject, Will gulped down the lump in his throat as Mrs. Blake looked curiously into his eyes, awaiting his further words. "In that letter I wrote you, I chose my words with as much care as possible. I...I just hope... that you understand that I don't blame you if you hold any anger toward me for... for not protecting Tom. Not a day has gone by when I don't think about him...and being with him when he died."
Catherine's eyes stung with tears as she firmly held Will's hands in her soothing grip, trying to keep her emotions in check so has not to alarm the distraught man in front of her, confiding in her his worries and she allowed him to continue.
"I held him in my arms...when he died. And he asked me to pull out of his pocket a photograph of himself, you and Joseph so he could look at it one last time... and he held it to his chest...and he told me to tell you that he wasn't scared...and that he loves you." Before Will even noticed, the scorching tears were flowing from his own eyes and down his cheeks. "And...it's because of the woman outside in your orchard that I survived the journey to Joseph's camp and was able to tell him about Thomas' fate. She saved me from drowning in the river near where Joe's battalion was located... and I owe her everything I have, my own life included."
Mrs. Blake nodded in solemn response to his words as she gently pulled her hands out of his grasp and she stood up from her chair, keeping her blue eyes on the man silently pleading for mercy from her as the mother of his comrade and friend.
Both Joseph and Thomas definitely had their mother's eyes, Will noted as his heart enflamed with guilt.
Catherine leaned down and grabbed William's hands again, slowly helping him stand back onto his feet. A few tears dropped from the edge of her chin as she reached up to the younger man's cheek and wiped away his own tears from his heated face, the whites of his eyes vibrant with repressed sadness.
"Please, understand, Mrs. Blake. If I could trade my life for Tom's so he could be here with you and Joe, I would in a heartbeat...even if I could not be with my angel out there. You could scream blue murder and throw me out into the mud and forbid me to set foot on your property again." Will was near sobbing at the end of his final sentence as Catherine placed her hands on his shoulders.
Despite his taller height over the elder woman, Will felt like a little boy as he met her eyes and her gaze held him in place although he felt weak in the knees with dread. He struggled to catch his breath as he anticipated her next words.
"Listen to me, William Schofield. I may have lost my youngest son and there will be a gaping hole in my chest with his absence. But I am forever indebted to you for being there with him when he needed you and I still have a reason to keep alive with my Joseph making it home safe. You are a good man and I could not ask for a better friend for my Tom while he was so far from home and away from his only brother. Your letter written from you to me and your presence here now is validation enough to help me in accepting what happened. I will always miss my Thomas, but nothing can change what's past. There is nothing on your end to forgive." Catherine released a heavy weep of her own as she wiped away her tears from her agedly regal face.
A choked whimper threatened to escape from Will's lips as her hands lifted from his shoulders and then her arms wound around his neck as she embraced him in a maternal shield of comfort. Will cautiously laid his forehead on her shoulder as the last of his sobs were released from his body.
And the guilt had eased off of him, heavy as a boulder upon his chest but he could finally breathe again as he received solace and closure in confessing to Catherine Blake.
Both the grieving mother and traumatized soldier held each other in their embrace, each lungful of air a signal of more pain being weakness leaving the body and William felt a new sense of accomplishment.
Making amends with the Blake family was worth the agony of guilt of survival for the Lance Corporal. Even though he wouldn't always be at peace every day or every moment, he felt a sense of pride in taking the first steps toward healing and regaining the man he used to be.
Slowly, both of them pulled away from their locked arms around each other and looked to the window, witnessing the visual of Emmy sitting on the wooden swing hanging from one of the trees, Joseph standing behind her to hold the ropes in place so she wouldn't fall.
A sad smile came to Catherine's lips as she spoke to Will, reaching up to fix the collar of his shirt like she would her own son. "Joseph's love for her is plain as day on his face. But I raised him to be the utmost gentleman. You can trust him to be a friend to her, William. You should've seen him yesterday after she twisted her ankle. He carried her into the house and tended to her with no other intention than to make sure she was alright."
William chuckled in a wry manner, staring outside at the garden of pink and white floating down from the trees...like something out of a fairytale or fantasy novel. "Joe and I had a long talk on our walk over here about our feelings for Emmanuelle and we reached a compromise in regards to his relationship with her. I respect Joseph immensely ... and I know he's a good man like Tom was. I won't hold him at fault for loving her as I do... I'm honored to consider him a friend and hope this house will be a sanctuary for Emmy if she ever needs it."
"She's welcome here anytime. You need not to worry. I knew she was special when she returned Tom's rings back to me. And that's when I understood why both you and my dear Joseph love her so." Catherine revealed to him, her voice straining with emotion.
Will found no response to verbalize what he was feeling to the matriarch, focusing on the scene in the orchard, the woman who held his heart and a newly found friend together in a moment of platonic intimacy...
Was it possible to have an iota of peace after everything?
The question flowing through his mind and veins only intensified at the sound of Tom's soft voice in his ear.
Look how far you've all come, Scho! I can't thank you enough for giving Mum the closure she needed. And nobody knows Joe better than I did as his brother. For both you and Emmy, he'll keep his promise to remain her friend should she ever need him...
And Will answered back in his subconscious. I know, Tom. I'm choosing to place faith in Joseph as I did in you.
.
.
Outside amongst the shower of blossom petals, Emmanuelle watched Joseph braced against the tree that held the wooden swing she was perched on. She inhaled shaky breaths as she waited for the dark-haired man to speak...
She knew it was a great amount of information to absorb, what Erik had done to her...
And she had told him all the specifics she had told Will before. Her being manipulated and threatened into an abusive relationship, her womanhood violated when Erik had shown the darkness within his soul, being incapacitated in her own apartment, fondled and touched against her consent after he had drugged her wine that horrible evening before her escape to Europe...
And although she knew Will was within hearing distance should things become heated and she had utmost belief that Joseph would never harm her... Emmy couldn't help but experience a nauseous terror enveloping her senses as she dreaded his response.
If her confession brought out the inner rage within her gentle Will, she feared what her best friend for all intents and purposes would unleash in her presence.
Joseph was breathing deeply and so loud, she could hear each inhale and exhale as he turned away from her to face the tree holding up the swing. Emmy eased herself off the wood plank carefully onto her feet, keeping most of her weight off her ankle, her eyes catching sight of the many holes that had been dug by Myrtle having been filled in by Joe earlier that morning.
She had woken up with the sunrise and looked out the bedroom window to see Joseph kneeling down in the ground to fill in all the holes the beloved canine had been digging...
Although she had known against her better judgment to ask, Emmy had the feeling that he had done that for her, to keep her from sustaining any further injuries.
She didn't have to ask to confirm what she knew for herself and he wouldn't say aloud.
Her musing was interrupted as she watched his broad shoulders shake and the heart-wrenching sobs seized his body similar to when they had reached an impasse in developing their friendship in the aftermath of that disastrous attempted kiss.
She wanted to wrap her arms around him in comfort, but she knew better than to get too close when he was most likely about to have a rageful outburst.
Her ever brooding, ebony-browed Heathcliff ...
Suddenly, he had raised his strong fist and began striking the tree trunk with his knuckles, grunting and growling sobs syncing with each point of contact. Emmy's hands went to her mouth so he wouldn't hear her startled gasps.
She watched her friend who had done so much for her release his anger at hearing what happened to her for several moments, seeing the muscles in his back and shoulders constrict with his rapid movements.
Several pieces of bark from the tree fell to the ground at Joseph's feet as he finally stopped beating on the trunk, panting out deep breaths to relax his lungs that dissolved into more repressed wails. Joseph still had his back to her as shame clouded over his Byronic features, not feeling worthy of even looking at her.
Before she could form any words to say, Joseph's growling voice flowed through her ears, thunderous and fuming. "I want to kill him, Emmy! I want to tear him limb from limb so he can never lay a hand on you again... Yet I feel death is too merciful for him... I can't see you die... I won't let you die."
Joseph finally turned to face the woman he loved with all his remaining sanity, guilt wracking his soul at her witnessing him in such a vulnerable state, half expecting her to back away in fright at his display of such a volatile temper and run to her Will for protection.
He wouldn't blame her if she did...
And yet she still reached out her hand to pull him back from the edge.
She wrapped the lieutenant in her arms, leaning her head on his shoulder as his bruised hands came up to hold her back. Emmy's voice was a whisper as she spoke next.
"But I might die, Joseph. I had a dream...of you holding my body in your arms a few nights ago...because the time travel will weaken me. Sooner or later, I'll be taken back to my own century, and I'll bring Erik down one way or another. And if he doesn't kill me...then the time travel will drain the life from me if I come back here from 2020 again."
Joseph pulled away from her embrace and placed his hands on her shoulder, his grip gentle and soothing, tears shining on his stubble roughened cheeks. "Emmy, you can't resign yourself to such a fate..."
"No, Joseph! God forbid, there are things happening that the men around me cannot control. What I do is not up to you or Will." She wiped away another tear from his chiseled face. "Don't let your world stop spinning if I die. There are larger things going on in this world more important than the life of some girl you met less than a month ago!"
"But those dreams we had of you...dead. They were so real...I cannot fathom such a thing happening to you, dearest one. I lost Tom and I can't lose you too." He took both of her small hands in his, the bruises on his knuckles throbbing with pain. "My own brother is gone forever and I can't even bury him properly."
"I know...and if I could change it to where I died instead of him than I would. But if I do come back here after returning to 2020... I probably won't be alive." She pulled one of her hands out of his grasp, reaching down into a pocket of her dress skirt. "After you carried me upstairs so I could get dressed, I saw this in your kit bag. I shouldn't have looked through it, but..."
He saw in her fingers a folded piece of white parchment, his brow furrowed with understanding. "You could've looked in there if you wanted. I have nothing to hide from you... but that picture of you. I don't know how it ended up with my things, I swear. But I held onto it as a memento of you in case..."
Joseph paused before he could finish, watching as her fingers tightened on the paper and a bitter smile came to his lips and he laughed.
"Needless to say, dearest Emmy, whoever you'll be walking down the aisle to in that white gown will be the luckiest man in history." Another icy tear trickled down his face, dropping from his chin as her green eyes met his gaze as she didn't respond to his jest.
She unfolded the paper and looked at the image printed upon it, her face paling in pallor, the blush in her cheeks vanishing as a look of fear shone in her eyes. Joseph sensed her anxiety and braced himself to hold her should she faint in shock.
When she spoke next, her voice was barely audible. "This photo doesn't show me in a wedding dress, Joe."
And right on cue, William's quick footsteps sounded behind them. "Is everything alright? What's going on here?"
His voice held a mixture of curiosity and concern as he looked between Joseph and Emmy, a sense of worry flooding his veins. He glanced with trepidation at the Lieutenant's damaged knuckles.
Joseph also spoke to the girl stunned into silence. "Emmy, what's wrong? What is it?"
Will went straight to her side, placing his arm around her shoulders to pull her protectively close as Joseph gently took the paper from her hands, stepping over to flank her other side so that both men were on her left and right.
All three of them looked at the image confirming that it was indeed not an illustration but a genuine photograph giving another prediction of what was to come in the future for the girl shielded between the two soldiers.
Instead of the dark-haired woman in a heavenly bridal gown and cherry blossom veil, there was a different sort of occasion for her being displayed.
The vision alike from Joseph's dream in the church. There she lay on a platform, lying horizontal on a bier, surrounded and decorated with flowers and candles as her resting companions. Her eyes closed like she were only sleeping and hands resting on her stomach, clothed in a white nightgown of purest lace...as though she were prepared for a funeral and eventual burial, her legs covered by a thin sheet pulled to her abdomen.
"No..." Just one word slipped from Joe's lips, his voice cracking with a moan of disbelief at what he was seeing.
Will's arms enfolded around Emmy as he pulled her close to his chest; she could feel his heart racing with fear induced adrenaline.
Emmy battled the urge to vomit as dizziness began to overtake her vision and she closed her eyes, resting her head on Will's collarbone. Her knees buckled and she fought to keep herself upright.
Joseph turned over the paper and saw a few verses written on the back.
He read the words to Will and Emmy, struggling to bury the fury boiling inside him.
"Her breath will still, her blood congeal...
She'll pay the price with her life,
In a sleeping death from which she'll never wake
Interfering with time, her soul will be damned"
Emmy withdrew from William's arms around her, although he reached out in wanting to keep her close, he stayed in place as she took the paper from Joe's hands and read the words silently to herself. The paleness of her skin had turned into a sickly ashen gray as Will's heart rattled in his ribcage.
She looked closely at the face of the woman in the photograph, despite the dots spotting her sense of sight. It was an uncanny likeness to her features and figure; she had no doubt even though the photo was at an angle only to the side of her profile. But Emmy didn't need to be told twice.
The picture fell from her hands and Joe snatched it in the air before the photograph could hit the ground.
Both soldiers looked at the woman they loved, Will taking her shaking hands, hoping to soothe her.
Emmy was fading fast. She found the remaining strength to utter two words about the stone cold and lifeless woman in the photograph.
"It's me."
Her eyes rolled back and she slumped toward the ground, releasing a sigh of exhaustion like a dove cooing. She was numb all over...
Will gasped in a panic, catching her quickly with delicate care in his arms. He cradled her close as she turned limp as a ragdoll, sagging against his body. He barely noticed Joseph charging inside the house and shouting for his mother to bring water, focusing instead on her closed eyelids.
The shaken man knelt in the grass while rocking Emmanuelle, trying to keep his arms encircling her from trembling, his large hand cushioning her head on his pectoral above his heartbeat.
"Emmy..." He whispered her name in a mournful prayer, tears burning his eyes at the disturbing image of his love's colorless cheeks and lips. "No..."
William's voice was the last sound she heard before darkness pulled her completely under.