They drove into the night to the small camp where her father had stationed her. By the light of a wavering moon, Edith caved. With trembling fingers, her chin clenching back the tears, she opened her New Testament.
The binding cracked. She turned to the story in the Gospels about the woman accused of adultery. Shamed and condemned to death, she didn’t have to explain herself to the man from Nazareth. Jesus had knelt to the ground and written words in the sand. Then He'd demanded only sinless ones present cast their stones. He had saved her life without needing anything from her in return.
He saved her the way Edith knew she'd been saved during the artillery attack. Despite the fact that her own actions had put her in that danger.
Running a hand over her face, she snapped the book closed. It couldn’t be that easy. Years of attending her local Episcopal church told her so but it didn’t make sense to her. How she could feel at peace with God without punishment for her countless mistakes. She needed to earn her grace.
She held onto the book as the rocking of the vehicle lulled her to sleep. An hour later they pulled into the small camp. The transport squealed to a stop and she jolted awake with a gasp.
“Lieutenant?” The driver of the transport crooked his eyebrows, “Are you alright?”
Edith sniffed with a pained smile, “I’ll be okay.”
In her dreams, the screeching brakes had played out like artillery fire in the sky. That was the first of her nightmares. And they only got worse.
For a couple months, Edith would snap awake from a deep sleep at least once a night. Her eyelids tearing open as her pulse galloped away. It would be an hour or so till she drifted back into an uneasy doze. Sometimes she would stay awake, waiting for the yellowed curtains to brighten with dawn. It was a mercy that she was quartered with Samantha. The girl's even breathing in the trundle bed by the door kept Edith from going mad on those nights.
The same image always brought her back to consciousness. The snow soaking up blood like a piece of bread in soup. The thick, warm liquid bit burning trails along the white expanse of her mind till she could almost taste it.
Then there were the nights she could still feel his arms around her.
Turning to catch a glimpse of his face, the grey image blurred. Though she'd never admit it, she couldn't tell if it was McKay or Porter holding her. Strange enough, it was as if they both were at the same time. Whoever it was that kept her in their embrace, those were the nights she slept through the terror.
Always in the morning, she would take out her New Testament and stare at it beyond her coffee cup. She hadn’t opened it since that night on the transport. But she almost always had it on her person. Her fingers had worn grooves in the leather cover.
One March morning, Edith was staring at the bulleted supply list on the truck bed. Samantha took one of her bare hands and wrapped her fingers around a fresh cup of coffee.
"So what's the word?" The younger woman asked.
"Sturzelberg."
"Gesundheit."
Edith shook her head, arching an eyebrow at Samantha who grinned. She didn't know if she could have made it the past two months without the girl. Edith hadn't realized how dependent she had become upon her until recently. They were overseeing another shipment into German territory. One of them was going to have to go with the convoy and the other would stay behind.
"You sure you are up for this?" Samantha asked, reading over her shoulder.
Edith swallowed hard, "Of course."
"You know, I have no problem going-"
"Samantha, I'll be fine going into Germany." Edith repeated, meeting her concerned gaze.
Edith hadn't needed to explain her experience in the Ardennes to Samantha. The girl knew that something had happened to her superior officer. The sleepless mess of a woman that cried that into her pillow was enough for Samantha to guess the worst.
As the weather grew warmer and spring seemed close as victory, Edith was feeling whole again. Until the day earlier, when the order to venture deep into enemy territory arrived.
Her dreams that night had been particularly brutal.
"You know, there is no enemy activity on the route you are taking."
"Samantha, please. I'll be fine." Edith sipped her coffee, burning her tongue.
"Lieutenant Dixon?" A familiar voice chirped behind them.
Edith and Samantha turned. A young man, thin but well-built with divorced front teeth, grinned at them. The weariness melted from her face as she smiled in return.
"Private Grable." She held out her hand.
He grasped her fingers, "It's actually Sergeant now, Lieutenant. It's good to see you. How have you been?"
"Good." Edith's smile felt painted on, "What are you doing here?"
"I'm accompanying the supply convoy to Sturzelberg." His gaze drifted towards Samantha and lingered.
"Then we will be travel companions for the time."
"I'm looking forward to it." He glanced back at Samantha.
"This is Sergeant Samantha Quincey." Edith motioned to the girl, sensing he was itching for an introduction.
The young man nodded, "Henry Grable, Miss Quincey. But my friends call me Hank."
"I'm sure they do." Samantha smirked, "I'll be fetching those folders. Do you need anything else, Lieutenant?"
Edith shook her head. As Samantha walked away, Grable followed her with his grey eyed gaze.
"I hate to break it to you, Sergeant Grable, but she has a sweetheart."
Grable glanced back and gave a breathy chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck, "Of course she does."
"I will see you at 10:00 hours?"
"Yes ma’am. I'm glad to be working with you again."
"As am I. And Sergeant, please call me Edith."
"Only if you'll call me Hank." He winked, "See you in a couple hours."
After securing the last few items for Germany, Edith made her way through the quiet village. They weren't far from the border, though remote from any hint of action. Edith knew that had been on her father's part. She hadn't argued.
She trudged up the stairs to her temporary office space. Samantha faced the open window, her arms wrapped around her middle. A piece of stationary fluttered in her hand.
"There is a telegram for you on the desk,” Samantha stated without turning around.
Edith walked over and picked up the typed square. Skimming it, she sighed. She tried not to feel relieved.
"I am being called over to Regiment. There have been some discrepancies with shipments lately. The boys on the line are barely receiving D-Rations. The supplies are just so stripped by the time they get to them." Edith snorted, shaking her head, "They need me over there by this afternoon. I hate to ask you this, but can you go to Sturzelberg in my stead?"
"I already said I was willing."
Samantha's voice was soggy. Edith paused, setting down the telegram. On the desk corner, there was a torn envelope postmarked from England. She took a tentative step forward.
"Samantha?"
The young woman sniffed, cupping the arc of her neck with her palm as she held up the letter. She glanced back at Edith. Her cheeks were damp and fair skin blotchy. She tried to smile.
"I had a feeling it was coming." She folded the letter.
"Oh no," Edith's heart sunk, "Is Smooch… is he-"
"He's alive. Don't worry. Still encased like a mummy in that cast with holes bored into his head and such." She shrugged, "He has regained some movement but it looks like a long road till he is healed. And he doesn't want me to travel it with him anymore."
Edith bit her lip. Since hearing news of the Corporal's serious wounds at Bastogne, Samantha had been optimistic. Their letters were few and far between. Yet it had seemed like he was going to make it and they would be reunited.
"What reason did he give?"
"He doesn't feel its right to expect me to take care of him if he doesn’t get better."
"He has pride."
Samantha snorted, wiping her nose with her sleeve, "He's got something alright."
"Are you sure you can make this trip? I can contact my father and tell him I'm unable to make it."
"No, of course not." She gave a shaky breath. "Anyway, wasn't it you who said personal feelings and professional atmosphere don't mix? You were so right. I should never have gone down this road. You were smart to stay unattached, Edith."
Edith's eyes shot to her feet as a pang of guilt hit her in the gut. Alex's muted shock as her palm had connected with his face flashed into her mind. She still couldn't explain why she had reacted that way. It had been stupid and impulsive. And had most likely cost her so much more than she could fathom. Edith could only hope she never saw him again.
"My ride for Regiment leaves in an hour," Edith murmured, "You sure you are up for Sturzelberg?"
"Positive."
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