paled, her eyes widening.
“About ninety percent.” Give or take.
“You have to be a hundred, and then you have to tell her.”
I cursed. “That’s what I figured.” Getting Georgia back just became a lot more complicated.
Chapter Thirty-Two
June 1942
Ipswich, England
“What are you doing?” Scarlett asked as she walked into the living room.
“Packing your things,” Constance answered without looking up. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
Every muscle in Scarlett’s body locked at the sight. Constance had one trunk and two cases open between the sofa and the window.
“Stop,” Scarlett ordered, her tone shrill enough that William startled from where he sat on the floor.
Constance paused for a moment but finished folding a piece of William’s clothing, placing it in one of the cases. “You have to go,” she said softly, turning to face her sister.
Scarlett’s eyes burned, but she blinked back tears, just as she had for the last two days. “I’m not leaving him.”
“Of course you’re not. You’re taking him with you.” Constance looked pointedly at William.
“You know damn well I mean Jameson.”
Constance lifted her chin, and in that moment, resembled Scarlett far more than Scarlett resembled herself. “They have searched twice—”
“Twice is nothing!” Scarlett crossed her arms in front of her chest, fighting to hold herself together. “Just because they’ve searched that stretch of coastline doesn’t mean he didn’t land somewhere else. It takes weeks for the first confirmations to arrive if he’s been taken prisoner. Maybe even longer if he’s hiding.” Tomorrow. One more search. Two more weeks. Her heart pushed the deadline back every day, fanning the embers of hope that logic denied.
Constance’s wedding ring flashed in the sunlight that streamed through the living room window as she rubbed her temples.
“You don’t have to stay,” Scarlett reminded her. “You have a life.”
“As if I would leave.”
“You have a new husband. A husband who, I’m sure, is angry to know you’re using up all your leave to be here.”
“It’s compassion leave. It doesn’t count. And he’ll survive. Besides, he’s only my husband. You’re my sister.” Constance held her gaze, making sure Scarlett saw her resolve. “I’m staying. I’m packing your things. And tomorrow, I will drive you and William to the airfield to meet Jameson’s uncle.”
“I’m not leaving.” How could she possibly abandon Jameson when he would need her the most?
Constance took Scarlett’s hands in her own. “You have to.”
Scarlett ripped her hands away. “No, I don’t.”
“I’ve seen your visa. I know how close you are to the Americans’ quota, and I’ve seen the expiration date. If you don’t take this chance, it might not come again.”
Scarlett shook her head. “He’ll need me.”
Constance’s expression softened, filling with compassion.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Scarlett whispered, retreating a step. “He could still be out there. He still is out there.”
Constance’s gaze flickered toward William, who chewed on the edge of the blanket Jameson’s mother had made. “He wanted you to go. He arranged all of this so you and William could be safe.”
Scarlett’s chest tightened. “That was before.”
“Can you honestly tell me he wouldn’t want you to go?”
Scarlett looked anywhere but at her sister, trying and failing to pin down one emotion, one certainty. Of course Jameson would want her to go, but that didn’t mean it was the right thing to do.
“Don’t take it away,” Scarlett whispered, her throat aching with all the words she wouldn’t let herself say.
“What?”
“My hope.” Her voice broke as her vision blurred. “It’s all I have left. If I pack those bags, if I get on the plane, I’m abandoning him. You can’t ask me to do that. I won’t.” It was one thing to take William to the States, knowing that Jameson would join them when the war ended. But the thought of not being here when they found him, of leaving him to heal on his own, no matter what condition he was in, was more than she could take. And if she so much as gave in for the tiniest second to the possibility that he wouldn’t come home, she would shatter.
“You can wait for Jameson in the States just as easily as you can wait here. Where you are doesn’t change wherever he is,” Constance argued.
“If there was a chance Edward had survived, would you have left?” Scarlett challenged.
“That’s not fair.” Constance flinched, and the first tear broke free, sliding down Scarlett’s face.
“Would you?”
“If I had William to worry about, then yes, I would have left.” Constance looked away, her throat working as she swallowed. “Jameson knows you love him.