Page 157 of Severed Heart
“I know,” she nods. “I will throw them away, Soldier. Maybe tomorrow.”
“Doyou know?” I ask. The temptation to cup her face is strong, but I resist it. I don’t want her to mistake it as intimate, and for me, it would be. My renewed attraction for her is stifled daily, as I purposely refuse to pick apart or decipher any return looks she grants me for my own wants. The eighteen-year-old me standing firmly with me in that stance.
“I believe you,” she whispers, tugging at my hand. Before I get a chance to poke further into her worry, she leads me to the end of the table. On it sits a thick book, twice the size of a bible—its cover a light, thick blue plastic with no title. It looks to be filled with laminated pages which are bound together with plastic rings. A book that looks fit for a presentation and was put together at a place like Kinko’s or Office Depot.
“Are we having some sort of orientation tonight, General?” I joke.
“What?” she asks, her accompanying smile making me feel like an asshole for making one.
“Nothing,” I say, noting she’s nervous even as she speaks up, revealing as much.
“Okay, sit down,” she orders, “or you can stand,” she says, shaking her head. “No, sit down, Tyler,” she says, fondly rolling her gaze over me. “Yes, sit down.”
“All right, now I’m intrigued.” I take a seat at the end of the table.
“Okay.” She splays her hands excitedly. “Open it.”
Grinning, I flip open the plastic top to see ... maps. Not one or two, but what looks like ... hundreds of detailed maps of Triple Falls. As I continue to flip, utter shock filters through me.
“Holy ... fucking shit, General,” I rasp out as I go through every page, my mind fucking blown at the amount of detail she put into every single one.
“There is a table of contents,” she spills excitedly as she points out the ins and outs of the book while I stare down at it in astonishment. Shaken by the amount of work I’m positive she must have done.
“The woman who made it,” Delphine explains, “well, helped me put it together, made sure it was perfect because my writing is still not so good. She helped me label the streets correctly and spell them.” She widens her eyes. “So you weren’t on Elmbs Street, instead of Elm.” She laughs before turning to me, her eyes misted with clear emotion. “She did a good job, non?”
“Shedid a good job?” I gape up at her to see proud tears multiplying in her eyes as she reads my answering expression. I keep a tight hold of her with my free hand as I flip through, the ball lodged in my throat swelling rapidly. “General ... howlong.” I swallow and swallow again, the need to know the answer to my question more than the need for my next breath. “How long did it take you to draw these?” I hear the guttural ache in my voice while lifting my eyes to hers.
“Oh, Tyler, no.” She shakes her head adamantly as the emotion I can’t tame fills my expression. “Please do not be sad.” She lifts my palm and softly kisses it. “It was no trouble at all. I wasso very happyto do it for my soldier,” she insists.
I tug our clasped hands to pull her closer to me.
“That’s not what I asked,” I rasp out, rubbing my thumb over the back of her hand as she stares down at the bulging book, tears shimmering in her eyes.
“How long, Delphine?” I manage to get past the rapidly swelling lump. A long silence passes as I start to grow impatient before she answers.
“Six years,” she finally admits, as I watch twin tears slowly glide down her cheeks, her eyes purposefully fixed on a laminated page as she speaks again. “For six long years, I prayed my soldier would come back for his maps,” she relays shakily, her voice filled with mourning, which mirrors the ache I feel.
“Six years,” I repeat as she nods, tears flowing as she holds a shaky smile. “Why six, Delphine?” I ask, anger and a dozen other emotions filtering through me as I stare between her and the book.
She shrugs, which only fuels my upset and stokes my suspicion of exactly what day she gave up.
“I got ... was very sick then.”
“Delphine—”
“Soldier, can Ipleasetell you another time?” she pleads, “I am happy and don’twant to wanta drink,” she rambles nervously.
“Okay.” I blow out a breath before inhaling some patience.
“Do you like it?”
“Like it?” I utter, stupefied as I twist my lips around the fucking boulder lodged in my throat and the seizing in my chest. “Likeis far tooweakof a word.” I stare down at the book. “It’s fucking incredible.”
“I realize why you did it, why you asked me for these maps.” She slowly kneels at my boots, pulling my hand to her face before staring up at me earnestly. “You told me to trust you onwhy, but I realize why. It’s because you knew.” She shakes her head in embarrassment. “You knew about my brain injury and that it would be good to help with my rehabilitation, non?”
Biting my lip, I nod.
“My soldier,” she whispers, her tears lining the hand palming her cheek, “still trying to save me, even in his absence,” she relays. “I will find a way to deserve you.”
