“Happy to help, sir,” Roman was saying, securing the crate. As Iris approached, she could see his jumpsuit was dampened with sweat. She reflexively looked at his right leg, worried she would find blood seeping through the fabric again.
“Kitt,” she said, and he turned. She watched the tension in his posture ease at the sight of her, and he reached for her hand, pulling her closer.
“Is everything all right?” he asked.
“Yes.” But the words seemed to crumble, and she quietly handed Roman the letter.
He frowned, confused until he began to read. When he looked at Iris again, his eyes glistened with tears.
“Iris.”
“I know,” she said, smiling. “Forest is alive, and he’s with another company.” Iris swallowed. She couldn’t believe she was about to say these words. She couldn’t believe that she was standing in such a moment, one that could seal her fate. “I was planning to evacuate with you. But after this letter, I need to stay here. The whole reason why I became a correspondent was for Forest. He is the last of my family, and I traveled west in the hopes that my path would cross with his. And now that I know he could be heading this way, preparing to defend Avalon Bluff against Dacre … I have to stay and help.”
Roman’s arm tightened around her as he listened. His eyes were so blue they pierced her to the bone, and she wondered what sort of expression was on her face. She wondered what he saw in her, if she looked determined or frightened or worried or brave.
“I won’t ask you to remain here with me,” Iris continued, her voice wavering. “In fact, I know it’s best if you go, because you’re still recovering, and most of all, I want you to be safe.”
“I came here for you, Iris,” Roman said. “If you stay behind, then so will I. I’m not leaving you.”
She sighed, surprised by the relief she felt to hear his decision—he wasn’t going to abandon her, no matter what the next day brought—and she wrapped her arms around his waist. And yet she couldn’t help but glance down at his leg again.
“Can I give you two a lift?” Peter asked. “My wife will be in the cab, but if you want to sit in the back, there’s room.”
“No, but thank you, Mr. Peter,” Roman replied. “We’re staying put to help.”
Iris watched as Peter and his wife drove away with a cloud of exhaust. She felt a pit in her stomach, and she wondered if she was making a huge mistake, if she would come to regret this decision to stay. To resist flying to the east with Roman when she still had the chance.
The street fell quiet and still, save for a few soldiers marching by. A newspaper fluttered over the cobblestones. A bird trilled from the hedges.
Iris began to walk back to Marisol’s, her hand in Roman’s. She thought about the wedding they had been so close to having. How they had been mere hours from weaving their lives together. How everything had just changed, as if the world had turned inside out.
But Forest is alive.
She clung to the hope of seeing him, of their paths crossing. Even if it seemed improbable in the chaos that was bound to unfold.
Quietly, Iris and Roman returned to the kitchen. Their typewriters sat on the table, and the twin doors leading to the terrace remained open just as they had left them. A breeze had stolen into the room and blown a few loose papers onto the floor.
Iris, uncertain what else she should be doing while she waited for Keegan and Marisol and Attie, knelt and began to clean up the mess. Roman was saying something, but her attention was snared by one of the papers on the floor. There was a muddy boot print on it.
She held the paper up to the light, studying the mark.
“What’s wrong, Winnow?” Roman asked.
“Did you walk over these papers with dirty boots, Kitt?”
“No. The papers were on the table when I left to help Peter. Here, let me see that.”
She handed the page to him and realized there was another sheet on the floor with a boot mark. Iris stood, her eyes straying to the open doors. She followed the light to the terrace and stood on the threshold, studying the backyard.
The gate was open, creaking in the wind. The tree boughs groaned. The chimes sang. And there were boot marks, marring the garden. Someone had tromped directly through it, over the carefully tended rows and sprouting plants.
Iris clenched her jaw, staring at the path. All that hard work and devotion and toil. Someone had stridden through it without a second thought.
She felt Roman’s warmth as he stood close behind her. She felt his breath stir her hair as he saw the trail.
“Someone came into the house,” he murmured.
She didn’t know what to say, what to think. It had been tumultuous when the infantry arrived in the lorries. Residents had been given only a handful of minutes to evacuate. It could have been anyone in the backyard.
Iris knelt and quickly began to smooth over the tracks, fixing the garden before Keegan returned. She wanted it to be perfect for her. She wanted to make Marisol proud.
The siren at Clover Hill finally fell silent.
{38}
The Eve of Enva’s Day
“Where are the other dash-packs?” Marisol asked. They were the first thing she looked for when she returned to the B and B with Attie and Keegan. She picked up the two burlap bags that were sitting on the kitchen counter, eventually glancing to where Iris and Roman were cleaning off the table.
Roman paused. “They should all be there, Marisol. I laid out four of them.”
“That’s odd,” Marisol said with a frown. “Because there are only two.”
Iris watched as Marisol searched the rest of the kitchen, her pulse dropping. “Marisol? I think someone must have stolen them.”
“Stolen them?” Marisol echoed, as if the thought of stealing in Avalon Bluff was unheard of. “What makes you think that, Iris?”
“Because there were footprints in the garden, leading into the house.”
“Garden?” Keegan said, glancing at her wife. “Did you actually plant one, Mari?”
“Of course I did! I told you I would. But it wouldn’t have happened with quite a bit of help.”
“Show me.”
Attie was closest to the doors; she led the way into the afternoon light. It was strange, how quiet the world felt now. Even the wind had abated, Iris noticed as she followed the others out onto the terrace.
Keegan let out a low whistle. “It looks nice. You remembered to water it this time, Marisol.”
Marisol playfully nudged Keegan’s arm. “Yes, well, it wouldn’t have happened without Iris and Attie.”
“Indeed. And I see what you were talking about, Iris.” Keegan walked to one of the rows, crouching down to trace the lump in the soil. “You covered up their trail?”
“Yes, because I wanted the garden to look nice for you,” Iris explained in a rush. “But I have a perfect imprint of the boot.” She brought the dirt-marked paper to Keegan.
Keegan studied it with a frown. “A soldier’s boot, then. They must have come into the house during the evacuation and taken two of the dash-packs. I’m surprised. My company knows better. They never steal from civilians.”