Les Chats du Guerre

9: New Options

The grand love story of Joan and her soldier George only made you painfully aware of your own failings when it came to romance.

Clarke was kind enough not to ask how things had gone with Sam, though you could see in his eyes that he desperately wanted to ask.

You had thought you would feel freer after you broke off contact with Sam, but instead all you felt was...well, hollow. Like someone had scraped you out and left the husk.

The thought of painful scrapes only seemed to make your cramps worse, and you let out a low groan as you lay in a hotel room in a town bordering France, Adam and Clarke off exploring while you recuperated.

The long nights of researching and exploring were starting to take their toll on you. You were exhausted, and the fact you felt a painful tug in your stomach every time Adam mentioned Joan or George wasn't helping anything.

You still caught yourself wondering how Sam was doing before you stopped yourself.

You had promised yourself you would move on, and that was what needed to happen.

But it was like the damn bastard had a firm grasp on you and just wouldn't let go, your thoughts constantly going to your last meeting. Specifically what he had not said.

You didn't know if you had expected him to drop on his hands and knees and beg for you to forgive him, but you were still disappointed in him for his almost blasé reaction.

He seemed to be disappointing you a lot recently.

You curled up in bed, trying to read through the journal Adam had given you concerning his grandfather.

You were thankful for the neat handwriting, though the clear adoration in his words for Joan was none too pleasant for you. He spoke of their escapades with such affection it felt almost awful knowing how it would end.

Adam had explained to you some of his family history over dinner one night, of how his grandfather had gone into the First World War to work off a prison sentence (something Adam seemed quite proud to mention) with such cockiness that it could likely stop a bullet. But when he returned, like so many others he was broken.

Adam had always thought it was just the war, but the discovery of the man's journal a few months ago changed that as he learned how Adam had left France without the woman he affectionately called "his magpie". He never gave his reasons, but it was apparent it had not been by choice.

George had come back to Scotland, finished his sentence and eventually eloped with a local girl with a sizeable dowry. Contrary to the time, her parents had taken him into their home at the news and allowed him to use the dowry how he wished.

He opened a whisky distillery.

You were learning all sorts of things about Joan, but you still had nothing on the Lark and the Dove. If Joan was explicit in her actions according to George, then the two of them were as clandestine as humanly possible.

You closed your eyes and rubbed them with one hand, setting down the journal as you did so.

Your cell phone buzzed and you picked it up, cracking open an eye as you glanced at the screen.

"I know we aren't talking, but trust me on this. Get a train out of Belgium and meet me in Paris. Might have found something. - Sam"

"Har har har, nice try Samuel Drake," you murmured as you shut off the screen, the twist in your stomach at the sudden message blending into the pain in your abdomen.

You set the phone by your side and picked up the journal again, skimming through it more than reading it.

You should have just blocked him from your phone, but you just couldn't seem to do it. Perhaps you were being pathetic and clinging to a tiny shred of hope he would use that last form of communication to...what? Confess love he didn't have?