Chapter Seventy-Eight

Katie was afraid. Afraid to face Mac. Afraid her face would betray her the first moment he looked at her. And then what would he think of her? To tell him no so many times… and then to realize she loved him… he would think she was crazy.

Sooner or later she knew she would have to face him. Maybe she'd have to tell him then… but she really and truly didn't know how. And so she avoided him. It wasn't hard to do now and that frightened her. He was staying away too. Perhaps he had taken her seriously and was trying to move on.

She promised herself that she would distance from him. But when she reached her lunch break on the very next day, she went to watch the courtyard from the window, to see if he was there, waiting for her. He wasn't. 

She was there the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that. He never showed up. On the fifth day, she didn't check through the window. She simply crossed the courtyard instead, feeling horribly lonely.

And there he was… just standing there… watching her. He was leaning against a tall oak tree, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, seeming to have no intention of moving. He was grinning at her and when he realized she had seen him, he grinned wider. She shook her head in disbelief. She would never understand him. But then, she hadn't seen the heartbreak in his eyes. Lifting her hand, she waved at him, intending to pass on by. In another moment he was at her side.

"Hello," he spoke first, still grinning.

"Hi." She swallowed hard, staring straight ahead. "Haven't seen you… in a while…" 

"Been busy. Trying to..." his voice trailed off. He wanted to tell her he was leaving, going home at last... but he couldn't find the words. And anyway, he hadn't really made up his mind yet. Something was still holding him back, keeping him here, where she was.

"Guess so." She spoke vaguely, racking her brain for a way of escape. She wasn't ready to talk to him yet. She quickened her pace, pretending to be in a hurry.

"Have to go…" she stammered. "Shorter break today." 

He nodded and fell back without comment. She glanced over her shoulder as she hurried into one of the hospital buildings. He was just standing there… still watching her… 

She moved on through the doorway, rushing down the hallway to take the shortcut back to her ward and return to her shift. She couldn't lie to him… her break would have to be shorter today.

✯✯✯

They had marched for days. Weeks. Months. They didn’t know. Time had ceased to exist… all that was left was the cold and the hunger and the pain. Right, left, right, left, one foot in front of the other, over and over and over. Just one step at a time. One more step. And then one more again. It was the only way they could survive, this trying to live one moment at a time. If they dropped in exhaustion or pain, they were shot. They knew this… and yet men collapsed every day. Some of them didn't even care anymore if they lived or died. Home and family seemed dim and far away and long ago. Prayers were hard to pray. Nothing seemed to exist anymore but the endless marching.

They had no way of knowing how far they had come or where they were now. Neither did they know where they were going or what would happen to them when they got there. They had traveled hundreds of miles on foot, starving, freezing to death as the fierce winter winds whipped wildly around them. Many gave in to the cold, lying down on the road to die. The frostbite took countless lives and the hunger countless more. Sometimes they marched through villages, the citizens lining along the pathway to jeer at them and throw whatever they could get their hands on. In other towns, the civilians would be sympathetic, offering food and spare clothing. 

Ronnie knew by now that his leg would never heal completely. It still ached unbearably and he couldn't walk without a limp. Can't go any lower, can I? he thought wryly. The past couple years had been the worst of his life. Broiling in the desert and bleeding on the beaches, watching friends closer than brothers die at his feet, being hungry and tired and sad and broken-hearted and lonely… but he had always been able to fight before. Now he dragged himself through the snow somewhere in the middle of the German wilderness at the gunpoint of enemy soldiers, not knowing where he was going or what would happen to him and powerless to stop it. Freezing, starving, exhausted, racked with pain and only half-conscious, he almost wanted to pray for death.

Some days were worse than others. He never knew how he managed to survive those long, endless days of misery. Somehow he kept himself alive. Or maybe it was the prayers that followed him. On the darkest days, he wondered if they had forgotten him, given him up for dead… but at times, he could feel the prayers of those he loved. He could almost hear their words. It gave him strength to live.

He had hung on thus far, clinging to the memories of his family at home… of his mother’s smiling eyes and his father’s quiet strength. He thought of Rachel often, holding a picture of her in his heart. He remembered those black eyes of hers staring up at him with trust and gratitude and it gave him strength to push on. It seemed that he dreamed of her every night and even sometimes in the day, when he was awake. Sometimes she would just hold his hand, other times she raised her fingers to his face… it was comforting even if it was only a dream. And always she promised that she was praying for him. He knew she truly was… he could feel it. And there he made her a silent promise… that if he made it out alive, he would find her and Benjie and take them somewhere far away from this war. Somewhere safe and peaceful and happy. He would take care of them, always and forever. That thought, that purpose, kept him going. Somewhere deep inside of him, he knew what he refused to admit…

…That he loved her.

But as the long weary days dragged slowly and painfully past, the promise dulled. Home dimmed with each step. As the icy winter days rolled into a soggy and freezing spring, even memories lay obscured in dark shadows. And one miserable morning, where snow lay on the ground as thick as always, Ronnie let himself fall. He just couldn't go on… couldn’t take another step. He lay motionless in the snow, heard the click of a rifle above him, and knew he was going to die.