Adrienne watched the plumes of black smoke rise against the horizon. The green fields and dark forests that lay between the war and her were deserted, and she hoped they would stay that way.
Not quite deserted, she realized with a sting of fear in her chest. A dark speck moved over the cows' grazing pasture, in the direction of her house. A soldier.
She swallowed and walked into the barn. Did this mean the war had finally come to her home?
Adrienne pursed her lips together and tightened her grip around a rake. If the soldiers wanted to take her cows, she would let them. But they wouldn't take her home or her dignity without a fight. It was bad luck that her parents were away the entire week, but Adrienne knew how to defend herself if she had to.
She returned to the sunlight and watched the soldier come closer. He was alone, she realized with a sigh of relief. And he was wounded. After he had climbed the last fence surrounding the farm, he collapsed with a moan.
Biting her lip, Adrienne let the rake fall to her side. The safest thing would be to let him lie there until her parents came back. On the other hand, what kind of person would she be if she did?
She walked up to him with slow, measured steps. He was breathing, clutching a shallow wound in his shoulder. Blood had soaked half of his uniform, which was that of a private in the British Army.
"Sir?" she said in her halting English.
The soldier's eyes opened, and an expression of panic spread across his face. He was handsome, with pale blue eyes and dark, tangled hair. For a moment, she hoped she would get to see a smile on his full, red lips.
"Please, help me," he said.
Adrienne opened and closed her mouth, uncertain what to say. Deciding that silence would do for now, she grabbed his good arm and helped him up. He leaned against her as she led him into the farmhouse, up the stairs and into her bedroom. There, he collapsed on the bed with a pained groan.
"I'd better clean that wound," she said. Forcing her hands steady, she removed the soldier's shirt.
"Thank you," he mumbled and closed his eyes.
"I think the bullet just missed you," she said and pressed a wet cloth against the wound. "This will heal in no time, as long as it's kept clean."
A red blush spread across the soldier's face. "It felt a lot worse than that. I thought I was going to die."
Adrienne couldn't help but smile. "I can imagine."
"I got separated from the others. Then this bullet came out of nowhere and I couldn't think properly. I just ran and ran until I couldn't run anymore. That's when I saw your house."
She nodded and went to collect something to dress the wound with. When she returned to her bedroom, the soldier swallowed and stared at the ceiling.
"You think I'm a coward," he said. "For running away like that."
Adrienne touched his shoulder lightly, felt the warmth of his skin against her fingertips. He was so different to the other men in her village. Where they had rough, sun burnt skin, he was soft. There was a slight tremble to his voice that she found intoxicating. The image of his body against hers flashed past her mind, and she felt a tingle of excitement.
"I think I would've run away like that, too," she said.
The soldier smiled, but winced as she pressed the bandage against his wound. "You speak very good English," he said.
"My mother taught me. She travelled a lot when she was younger, mostly to England."
He nodded and lifted his hand. "I'm Private Johnson."
"Adrienne," she said. "How long have you been in France, Private?"
"Call me Ron. That's what my friends used to call me. I guess I've been here about a month now, but I can't tell for sure. The days just seem to blend together."
"And you like it here?"
Ron smiled, and Adrienne felt a sting to her chest at the sight. He seemed so innocent, so kind.
"I love it here," he said. "The fields, the forests. Nothing like London."
"I wish I could see London, though," she said. "My mother used to tell me stories about it and I always wanted to go."
"Perhaps, after the war, you can come visit me." A blush spread across Ron's cheeks again. "I mean... Well, you could, if you wanted to."
Adrienne lowered her eyes, conscious of the heat in her cheeks. Her stomach tingled with anticipation. For the second time she failed to hold back an image of his body pressed against hers.
"Perhaps," she mumbled and finished with the bandage. "You should rest now."
Ron brushed a finger along her arm. "Thank you for your kindness, Adrienne. I appreciate it more than you can imagine. Just to get away from this awful war for a moment and see a kind, pretty face. It makes me think I can actually stand all the fighting and the dying. Reminds me of why I do what I do."
A warm sensation spread through Adrienne's body, emanating from where Ron had touched her. She smiled and swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. "It was my pleasure," she said.
Ron let his arm fall to his side, and she left him. The animals on the small farm where she had grown up and spent her entire life needed her attention. While working to feed the chickens and clean out the cows' stalls, she found that her thoughts kept drifting back to the soldier asleep in her bed.
A coward who ran away from the enemy. The thought brought a giggle to her lips. If there was one thing she didn't like about men, it was their incessant wish to be brave heroes. But here was one who dared admit he was frightened, one who brought tingles to her stomach with just one look.
She blushed and was glad her parents weren't here to see her. They would be gone for a few more days, at least. Plenty of time for Adrienne to get to know Ron.
No, I shouldn't think like that! She was a farmer's girl from the French countryside, he a soldier from London. The only thing that could come out of a relationship between them was heartache.
And a few good moments that I could cherish forever.
