Fateful Lightning: A New History of the Civil War & Reconstruction by Allen Guelzo (self help books to read TXT) 📕

He reached for her hands and pulled them gently down, rotating them so he held them lovingly.

She turned away and looked down at their interlinked hands.

“I love you,” she said. “Madly. Like I have never loved anybody before.”

She pulled their clasped hands to her breast, over her heart.

“I have a few regrets from that time, for sure,” she said. “Quite a lot of regret actually,” she smiled wistfully to herself. “We all have them I’m sure. Like you joining the army?”

“No, Nia” he said. “Sorry, I loved the army. I don’t regret that.” Why was she back to this conversation, he thought?

“But the whole reason for it, the violence, the killing on all sides?” Nia continued.

“I saw it as service to the country, protecting people like you.”

“But its whole bloody purpose is to ultimately fight, right?”

Tom was ready to respond, but Nia continued.

“That job made you kill people, didn’t it?”

Ah, there it was. He stopped; time slowed as he looked across the canal to the meadow that lay beyond. Tom noticed a pheasant strutting amongst stubble crop, while a small tractor was engaged in tilling the hard soil. His breath condensed.

He looked at her and saw the earnestness etched on her face. Normally, he would ignore the question, or deflect it, laugh, or walk away but he knew that he needed to open this part of himself for Nia.

“Yes,” he sighed. “I did, but you know what was worse? Having men and women killed around me. Knowing it was my sworn duty to try to protect them as much as I could, with my own life if it came to that.”

She waited for him to continue, but he didn’t.

“And you don’t regret it?” she asked.

“Why are you asking?”

“I don’t really know,” she answered. “But I need to grasp a sense of who you were, to understand who you are. Does that make sense?”

“Not really,” Tom said. They stood looking at each other. Tom felt constrained by the silence, then said, “I regret the loss, the lives taken too soon, but not the whole experience.”

“Even though it broke you?” Nia asked.

He was shocked for a moment. So, that’s why she was pushing this line of conversation, he thought, and then with a dismayed realisation, was he broken?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Nia began, and Tom noticed the fear in her eyes. “Oh God, Tom. That just came out. I don’t think you’re broken.”

“No, you’re right. I was a bit broken,” he said quietly. He was worried that Nia would be scared off, but he determined to be open with this woman he had fallen irretrievably in love with. “Yeah, you’re right,” he continued. “I was deeply changed by my experiences. It all eventually got too much. It made me retreat into myself. You see, I was subsumed by all the pain and sadness that surrounded me. I couldn’t shake it, it consumed me. It was too much. But you ask about regret, I don’t regret it, because, you know, in a strange, rather fucked-up way, it has brought me to you. So, you see, I can’t regret any part of that journey.” He held her hand and pulled her in front of him, he smiled. “I was broken but you’ve made me whole again.”

Nia smiled and her eyes were wet. Tears ran down her cheeks. She pulled him close and lay her head into his chest. She found his combination of strength and vulnerability authentic and, importantly, rather sexy. She smiled as she looked up at him and kissed him.

“You big sweet, sensitive lug,” she said. “Let’s find the pub and grab a drink.” She released him from the hug and, still holding his hand, they made their way off the towpath, over a brick, humpbacked bridge that crossed the canal, up a slight rise and into the local pub.

Nia was sitting by a log fire when Tom returned from the bar with their drinks; wine for her, cider for him. Her cheeks were still damp and chapped red from cold wind and emotion. Jack stretched out in front of the pub’s fireplace. She smiled up at Tom as he approached. He thought she looked so beautiful at that moment.

“I love you,” Tom said. “I want to spend the rest of my time with you.”

Nia smiled as her eyes floated in tears again.

“I so love you too. You, know, I was broken too,” she said after taking a first sip of wine. “Broken for a long time. I just didn’t realise it until I met you. You made me aware of how lonely I was,” she said. “I felt like I was on some kind of autopilot. I was going through my life trying to avoid the mistakes of my past. You made me feel again, Tom.”

She wanted to tell him why she felt robbed of her happiness, but it still felt too raw and what she felt for Tom was too new.

***

The next morning was another cold one. Tom’s breath condensed as he went through the routine of checking and starting the engine. A low winter sun was bright while a thin layer of mist clung to the surface of the canal. It was quiet on the cut as the Periwinkle meandered through the soft countryside. A few cows dotted a field, a few sheep in another. Nia joined Tom at the tiller with two steaming mugs of coffee in hand. Tom pointed out some heavy ewes grazing their way towards spring lambing. They saw no other boat through the morning hours and were only kept company by the occasional duck couple or, as Nia pointed out, a ducky threesome, a thruple, she called it. Such an

arrangement was not uncommon in the acting world, she noted to Tom,