The Way Back Home: A 1917 Fanfic

Chapter 45: If I Never Knew You

Time seemed to crawl by with excruciating slowness, each hour stretching into days and eventually weeks.

For both Lieutenant Joseph Blake and self-reliant Madeleine Schofield, the passage of time seemed to move at an accelerated and decelerated pace simultaneously.

It was uncertain when or if Joe's letter intended for Will would arrive promptly. Given the current state of the postal system, which has been significantly disrupted by the ongoing war, there is a possibility that the Lance Corporal may not even receive the letter.

Each moment was routine in their care for Amelia, who was trapped in the mental abyss of the Sleeping Death. She was kept in the previously occupied room of the late Catherine Blake.

Either Joe or Madeleine would provide her with warm broth three times daily, as she could easily ingest the nourishment while unconscious. Although he attempted to maintain his composure, he was reminded of his mother's final days when she became increasingly frail and relied on him to assist with feeding and bathing when she was unable to perform these tasks independently.

Despite the dire circumstances, Joseph maintained a strong will to live after returning home with his honor intact. He even received a posthumous medal after Will and his brother Tom embarked on a perilous mission to rescue his unit from a futile and deadly ambush on the enemy. However, all the accolades and recognition in the world paled in comparison to the anguish he felt knowing that the woman he loved was fighting for her life in an unknown and perilous state.

On the nightstand, he positioned a framed photograph of his late brother and his ribbon, with the intention that they would provide a source of strength for Amelia, at the very least.

Each day, Molly would bathe Amelia, either in the bathtub when Joe was available to assist carrying her into the washroom, or upon the bed with warm water and a soapy sponge. She would also detangle Amelia's voluminous hair with the hairbrush that Will had gifted to her. Amelia's hair had been restored to its trademark golden hue, a luxurious cascade of fairytale beauty that provided a small glimmer of hope for the distressed Englishwoman.

Joe would diligently replace the melted candle waxes, ensuring a continuous ambiance of lit incense sticks around Amelia throughout the evening and night. He strived to prevent her from being enveloped in complete darkness and shadows. He would thoughtfully select and cut fresh flowers from the garden, representing a diverse array of varieties. These flowers were then strategically placed against the wall adjacent to the bed, adding aesthetic beauty to her resting place.

As the transition from late summer to early autumn occurs and September gives way to October, Joe would modify the floral arrangement in the room, thereby infusing vibrancy and splendor for all her companions as she remained in a profound state of unconsciousness.

Regardless of the aesthetic qualities of the flowers he selected, they paled in comparison to her inherent beauty, despite the transient effects of sleep upon her face clouding her blushing pink cheeks and glistening crimson lips.

A vibrant arrangement of ruby chrysanthemums, magenta dahlias, golden pansies, periwinkle hydrangeas, and a single, meticulously de-thorned blood-red rose rests gracefully in her lap, its delicate petals cradled within her elegant fingers.

Every week, Eleanor and Edith would artfully weave a variety of flowers into her golden blonde hair, which grew at an exceptional rate, cascading past her chest and almost reaching her waist, elegantly adorning the pillows that supported her head.

To spare the flowers of Joseph's garden, the girls would use different varieties of flowers either from their own flower garden at home or from the village flower stand.