Star Crossed Lovers

Chapter 3

Mark stared at the half-eaten plate of eggs, his appetite vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. The weight of Hazel's absence crushed him, making even the simplest tasks feel insurmountable. He pushed the plate away and stood up, his movements sluggish and heavy.

"I need to do something," he muttered, more to himself than to James. "I can't sit here anymore."

James perked up, hope flickering in his eyes. "That's good, Mark. What do you have in mind?"

Mark ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "Work. I need more of it. Anything to keep my hands busy and my mind... occupied."

He strode to the door, his posture straightening with newfound purpose. James scrambled to follow, nearly knocking over his chair in the process.

"Hold on, I'll check with the warden. See what we can arrange."

Mark nodded, barely registering James's words as he stepped out of the tent. The familiar barbed wire fences of the prison seemed to close in on him, but for once, he welcomed the feeling. Anything was better than the vast emptiness of his grief.

Hours later, Mark found himself elbow-deep in sudsy water, scrubbing pots and pans in the prison kitchen. The scalding temperature barely registered as he attacked each piece of cookware with single-minded focus.

"Slow down there, mate. You'll wear right through the metal at that rate."

Mark glanced up to see a fellow inmate, a burly man with graying temples, watching him with a mixture of amusement and concern.

"I'm fine," Mark grunted, returning to his task with renewed vigor.

The man shrugged and continued drying dishes. "Suit yourself. But there's only so many pots to scrub before you're left alone with your thoughts again."

Mark's hands stilled for a moment, the man's words cutting through his determined haze. He was right, of course. No amount of menial labor could truly keep the pain at bay. But it was all he had.

"Then I'll find more work," Mark said, his jaw set in determination. "I'll clean every inch of this place if I have to."

The other inmate raised an eyebrow but said nothing more. Mark plunged his hands back into the water, ignoring the sting of soap in his raw, reddened skin. He'd keep working, keep moving, keep fighting against the tide of memories threatening to drown him.

Because the alternative – facing a world without Hazel – was simply too much to bear.

Mark scrubbed at a particularly stubborn spot on a pot, his muscles aching from the repetitive motion. The kitchen had emptied out, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the endless pile of dishes. He barely noticed the passage of time until a hand landed on his shoulder, startling him from his trance-like state.

"Mark, I've got some news for you," James said, his voice cutting through the silence.

Mark set down the pot and turned to face his friend, wiping his hands on his already soaked trousers. "What is it?"

James's face broke into a grin. "I've spoken with the warden, and we've arranged something more permanent for you. Mr. Blair has agreed to take you on full-time."

Mark blinked, processing the information. "Mr. Blair? The farmer?"

"That's right. He's been impressed with your work ethic and could use the extra help." James paused, his expression turning thoughtful. "There's more to it, though. He's looking for someone to act as a translator for the other German workers when he's away from the farm."

"A translator?" Mark furrowed his brow. "I thought his daughter handled that."

James nodded. "Rebecca does, but Mr. Blair would rather have someone else take on that role. He's not comfortable with his daughter spending so much time around the prisoners, even if they are working for him."

Mark felt a twinge of something he couldn't quite name. Relief at the prospect of more consistent work? Apprehension about taking on new responsibilities? Or perhaps it was the mention of Rebecca, whose kind eyes and warm smile had been a rare bright spot in his dreary existence.

"When do I start?" Mark asked, pushing aside his conflicting emotions.

"Tomorrow morning. I'll come by to escort you to the farm." James squeezed Mark's shoulder. "This is good, Mark. It'll give you purpose, something to focus on."

Mark nodded, turning back to the sink full of dishes. "Thank you, James. I appreciate everything you've done for me."

*****

Mark woke before dawn, his mind already racing with thoughts of the day ahead. The prospect of a new routine, a chance to lose himself in work, both excited and terrified him. He dressed quickly, his movements mechanical, trying not to dwell on the empty space beside him where Hazel should have been.

James arrived just as the first rays of sunlight began to peek over the horizon. They walked in companionable silence towards Mr. Blair's farm, the cool morning air nipping at their faces.

As they approached the farmhouse, Mark spotted Rebecca standing on the porch, her red hair catching the early morning light like a flame. She waved, a warm smile spreading across her face.

"Guten Morgen, Mark," she called out, her German accent flawless. "Willkommen auf unserer Farm."

Mark felt a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth, the first genuine one in what felt like ages. "Guten Morgen, Rebecca. Danke für die Gelegenheit."

Mr. Blair emerged from the barn, wiping his hands on a rag. He nodded curtly at Mark. "Glad you could make it. Rebecca will show you around and get you started."

As James departed with a reassuring pat on Mark's shoulder, Rebecca descended the porch steps. "Come on, I'll introduce you to the others and show you what needs doing."

Mark followed her, drinking in the sights and sounds of the bustling farm. The familiar scents of hay and livestock transported him back to his childhood in Germany, before the war had twisted everything.

"Are you alright?" Rebecca's voice cut through his reverie. She was watching him with concern, her green eyes searching his face.

Mark cleared his throat. "I'm fine. Just... remembering."

Rebecca nodded, understanding flickering across her features. "Sometimes memories are all we have left. But they don't have to be a burden. They can also be a source of strength."

Her words struck a chord within Mark, and he found himself nodding. As they continued their tour of the farm, he allowed himself to embrace the memories of Hazel, of their love, instead of pushing them away. Perhaps this new chapter in his life could be a way to honor her memory, rather than escape it.