flailing arm knocked her to the floor. "Wake up!" she shouted, grabbing hold of his leg as it kicked out, nearly hitting her in the face. "Wake up! Wake up!"
His eyes snapped open, wide with horror, larger than she'd ever seen them.
"It's okay! You're safe," she soothed him.
She saw he still wasn't sure where he was. His teeth chattered as a tremble ran through him. She settled on the arm of the chair and rubbed his shoulder. After a moment, he came fully awake and buried his face in his hands.
"Do you want to talk about it," she offered cautiously, "or would you rather not?"
He looked up at her, opened his mouth to speak, but then hesitated.
"It's all right. You don't have to protect me. I can take it," she assured him softly, though she was not entirely sure this was true.
"I dreamed I was back at the gas attack," he began. "When the gas hit, there was a kid in the trench next to me, just fifteen years old. He lied about his age to enlist. I lost sight of him durin' the attack. He was callin' to me in the haze, but I couldn't find him."
"It must have been horrible," Emma murmured.
"It was. I hope that kid made it out. If I hadn't been able to hold my breath for so long, I don't know if I would have made it out of there."
"You came a long way," she commented.
He nodded. "I just kept tryin' to find trees and water to shield me from the gas."
"Did you really sign up simply to get the uniform?" she asked.
"Naw," he said with a grim laugh. "I was just messin' with ya when I told ya that. I got swept up in the excitement of the whole thing. And I didn't think it was right that America was stayin' out of it. England is our ally, right? So you got to stick up for your friends. That's the way I saw it, anyhow."
"Awfully idealistic," she observed.
"Could be," he allowed. "Might just be awfully dumb."
"No," she disagreed, "not dumb."
"I really thought you were going to make a run for it today," he confided.
"Why did you think that?"
"I have feelin's sometimes, premonitions, I suppose. My mam had 'em too. People came to her to have her predict things. She taught me to trust those feelin's, but this time I was wrong, it appears."
"You were nearly right," she confessed. "I was about a quarter mile into the woods, but I came back."
"I guess I'm not the only idealist," he remarked seriously.
The comment made her smile wistfully. "We're some pair, eh?"
"Yeah, you right about that," he agreed, "a coupla real dopes."
Emma startled to waking. She'd fallen asleep still on the chair arm, her head resting against its back.
A strip of brilliant hall light shone in from the door. Rough orders were barked in German as three soldiers were pushed into the room.
Emma hurried to the dresser and turned on the lamp. Three soldiers stood before her. From their uniforms she saw one was French, one was Canadian, and the third, the youngest, was English.
Jack had awakened and risen from the chair. "Hey, Kid," he said cheerfully. "Nice of you to drop by. I was just talkin' about you."
A look of happy amazement appeared on the young soldier's thin, pale face. A bloody gash ran across his forehead. As he went to speak, he staggered backward, tumbling to the floor.
Jack rushed to his side. "I'll get a wet cloth from the bathroom," Emma said, hurrying off to get it.
"He just got out of the hospital where he's been since after the gas attack," the French soldier said in French. "We were sent to find out who was up here and we were caught. He fell over and hit his head on a rock when they fired at us. Luckily the bullet missed him."
Jack lifted the boy's jacket to reveal that his shirt was soaked in blood. "It didn't miss him entirely," he replied in French.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Louisiana Magic
Emma awoke the next morning, curled in the chair. After washing the boy's wounds as best they could, they'd laid him in the bed. The two other soldiers stretched out on blankets to sleep on the rug.
Jack had also slept on the floor,
His eyes snapped open, wide with horror, larger than she'd ever seen them.
"It's okay! You're safe," she soothed him.
She saw he still wasn't sure where he was. His teeth chattered as a tremble ran through him. She settled on the arm of the chair and rubbed his shoulder. After a moment, he came fully awake and buried his face in his hands.
"Do you want to talk about it," she offered cautiously, "or would you rather not?"
He looked up at her, opened his mouth to speak, but then hesitated.
"It's all right. You don't have to protect me. I can take it," she assured him softly, though she was not entirely sure this was true.
"I dreamed I was back at the gas attack," he began. "When the gas hit, there was a kid in the trench next to me, just fifteen years old. He lied about his age to enlist. I lost sight of him durin' the attack. He was callin' to me in the haze, but I couldn't find him."
"It must have been horrible," Emma murmured.
"It was. I hope that kid made it out. If I hadn't been able to hold my breath for so long, I don't know if I would have made it out of there."
"You came a long way," she commented.
He nodded. "I just kept tryin' to find trees and water to shield me from the gas."
"Did you really sign up simply to get the uniform?" she asked.
"Naw," he said with a grim laugh. "I was just messin' with ya when I told ya that. I got swept up in the excitement of the whole thing. And I didn't think it was right that America was stayin' out of it. England is our ally, right? So you got to stick up for your friends. That's the way I saw it, anyhow."
"Awfully idealistic," she observed.
"Could be," he allowed. "Might just be awfully dumb."
"No," she disagreed, "not dumb."
"I really thought you were going to make a run for it today," he confided.
"Why did you think that?"
"I have feelin's sometimes, premonitions, I suppose. My mam had 'em too. People came to her to have her predict things. She taught me to trust those feelin's, but this time I was wrong, it appears."
"You were nearly right," she confessed. "I was about a quarter mile into the woods, but I came back."
"I guess I'm not the only idealist," he remarked seriously.
The comment made her smile wistfully. "We're some pair, eh?"
"Yeah, you right about that," he agreed, "a coupla real dopes."
Emma startled to waking. She'd fallen asleep still on the chair arm, her head resting against its back.
A strip of brilliant hall light shone in from the door. Rough orders were barked in German as three soldiers were pushed into the room.
Emma hurried to the dresser and turned on the lamp. Three soldiers stood before her. From their uniforms she saw one was French, one was Canadian, and the third, the youngest, was English.
Jack had awakened and risen from the chair. "Hey, Kid," he said cheerfully. "Nice of you to drop by. I was just talkin' about you."
A look of happy amazement appeared on the young soldier's thin, pale face. A bloody gash ran across his forehead. As he went to speak, he staggered backward, tumbling to the floor.
Jack rushed to his side. "I'll get a wet cloth from the bathroom," Emma said, hurrying off to get it.
"He just got out of the hospital where he's been since after the gas attack," the French soldier said in French. "We were sent to find out who was up here and we were caught. He fell over and hit his head on a rock when they fired at us. Luckily the bullet missed him."
Jack lifted the boy's jacket to reveal that his shirt was soaked in blood. "It didn't miss him entirely," he replied in French.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Louisiana Magic
Emma awoke the next morning, curled in the chair. After washing the boy's wounds as best they could, they'd laid him in the bed. The two other soldiers stretched out on blankets to sleep on the rug.
Jack had also slept on the floor,
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