𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; band of brothers ✔

PART FOURTEEN

Word count; 2,458

Frances

— September 31st, 1944. Marietta, Ohio.

For the first time in two weeks, I could sleep without the memories of Holland. I could sleep without feeling a knife pierce my heart, hands ripping at my hair, soft fingers grabbing mine. I could wake up without sweat soaking my forehead, breathing like it was the last time I would. The world was becoming mine again.

I wrapped myself in a fleece before heading downstairs. Papa was sat in his rocking chair, sipping on a cup of coffee, a cup of tea steaming away on the table. For the entire time I had been back, he knew things were different; the vacant gaze I would have sometimes, the way I moved away from him sometimes, and - of course - my name. He used to call me Baby Frances when I was younger and therefore didn't mind the change, but somewhere deep down he wanted his Dianne back. He complimented whenever I smiled or laughed, which wasn't rare. Yes, things were different, but he was my safe place; I wasn't scared around him.

"Hiya baby," He put the newspaper he was reading down.

I sat down, sipping on my tea and softening at the taste; he always knew how to make it perfectly.

"Mrs Hughes brought by an invitation to her barbecue this afternoon."

My cheeks rosy from sleep, I smiled, "What should we bring?"

"Have anything in mind?"

"A lovely, creamy potato salad."

He nodded in agreement. "When is work?"

"Eleven. Finishing at three. I can buy some condensed milk on the way home."

"And eggs."

"Yes, and eggs." I beamed.

He drank some more coffee, looking out the patio doors as a blue bird landed on our feeder. His lips parted to speak when a burst of knocks came from the front door. I smiled at his exhale and stood up, meaning, I'll get it.

My hand twisted the doorknob and, as I pulled it open, a dread filled my centre. In front of me, a man in olive green uniform regarded me, his eyes crystal blue. Before my mind could fall back anymore, he cleared his throat.

"Lieutenant Kennedy?"

My eyelids flickered slightly, "Yes?"

He extended his arm, revealing an envelope. "From Colonel Erlander."

I pinched the card away, yet he still stood in the same place.

"Anything else?"

"Captain Holloway wanted me to pass on a message, if you don't mind."

I bobbed my head gently.

"He says to do what they say."

"What who say?"

"Them." He glanced at the envelope.

I eyed him cautiously, "Thank you."

He departed politely, climbing into a car exactly like the one Holloway owned. I shut the front door, returning to Papa and putting the letter on the table.

"And?" He queried.

"From Mr Erlander."

He realised the shift in my attitude, "Pass it here, baby."

I obliged. He tore it open. His right hand fingers rubbed together absent-mindedly; before he could ask for his glasses, I edged them along the surface. As he read, I pictured what Easy Company was occupied with, what part of the world they now belonged to. My heart grew cold at the fact that I was evacuated so quickly, without the chance to say goodbye to men I may never see again.