Page 77 of We'll Meet Again

“Of course, honey.”

“Sometimes, when I’m with Billie…” He paused and swallowed hard. “I see things.”

“See things?” she questioned, her brows knitting together over her eyes. “Like what?”

“I dunno, they’re kinda jumbled,” he said, and sighed. Now that he was saying it out loud, he realized how crazy it sounded. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Give me an example.”

“Well, once, while we were…” he cleared his throat. “Um. Together. I…for a second it was like I was somewhere else.”

“That good, is she?”

He shot her a serious look. “Grandma, please.”

She put her hands up innocently. “I’m just saying!”

“I mean, literally,” he went on. “I wasn’t in her living room anymore, I was in a barn. The clothes beside us weren’t our own, and yet, they belonged to us somehow. We were different people, but still ourselves. And it was only for a second, but…I dunno, it felt so real.”

“Any other times like that?” she asked.

“Yeah, actually,” he said. “We were making dinner at her place one night, and she played one of her roommate’s vinyls. Vera Lynn. And I swear, I’d heard the song before, though I’ve never been into stuff from that time. And when I held her in my arms to dance a little, the same thing happened. We were in like, a dance hall, and in my gut, I felt like I was saying goodbye.” He met her gaze. “And I keep having this dream where she and I are lying in a field of flowers. Yellow flowers, and I get that same feeling. Like it’s the last time I’m gonna see her.”

Betty looked away and out the window, toward Billie’s apartment, though the curtains were drawn, so they couldn’t see in. Her expression was difficult to read. Her brow was still drawn and her lips were turned down. He hoped he hadn’t revealed too much and she was about to have him committed.

“Y’know, honey, this reminds me of those dreams you had as a boy,” she said. “About being that snowy forest with all the explosions and such.”

“I remember.”

“Have you been having those as well?”

“Not since I met her, no.”

“Well, I’m no professional, but it sounds to me like…maybe Billie is healing something inside you. Life ain’t been easy for you, sweetheart, you’ve struggled and fought for so much. And now you’ve found something that brings you peace. Maybe it’s a sign from the universe that you’ve earned what they call a happily ever after.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You really believe all that?”

“Hell if I know,” she sighed. “But if you can think of a better explanation, I’d love to hear it.”

He shook his head, and chuckled. “Nah, I think I like that one.”

It was true, he did enjoy the idea of Billie being his happily ever after. Their story wasn’t a fairy tale - far from it - but perhaps it had a bit of magic about it. It certainly felt that way. After a beat, he looked at Betty again, the other thing plaguing him with worry coming to the surface.

“You talked to Coach Larry?”

“I went to see him, yes,” Betty said. “He’s under hospice care, but at home, so he’s comfortable.”

“I wish I had more time. I’ve been meaning to call him again, I just -”

“He understands, Ethan,” she assured him with a pat on his hand. “He’s happy just to get texts. And it’s less work for him too, even talking wears him out these days.”

He chewed his lip, unable to rid himself of the guilt. He wished he could make the trip to go see him, but with the matches coming up, there was no way. More than anything, he wanted to bring Billie to meet his role model since he was six years old. The person who made Ethan Knight not only the athlete, but the man he was today. For her.

“He’s so excited for you,” Betty went on. “I hardly got in a hello before he was asking how you like the Premier League and how he can’t wait for the FA Cup. So I told him, I said, ‘Larry, you are not allowed to die now until you see our boy lift that trophy.’ And he agreed, so you’ve got some time.”

He tried to smile but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Betty squeezed his hand.

“I know it’s still a shit sandwich,” she said, with all the sympathy such a phrase allowed. “I’m sorry, honey.”

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