“They took Olympian, you know,” Willie said.
Oh, not Olympian. Willie loved that racehorse, and I did too. We bought the chestnut stallion on the very same day I learned I was pregnant with Ashley all those years ago. We were so happy then that the two occasions were now linked forever in my sentiments. “I’d heard the French were impressing horses,” I murmured. “It hadn’t occurred to me they’d take Thoroughbreds for the cavalry.”
My husband stared at the trail of smoke from his neglected cigar. “Cavalry is proving to be damned useless against artillery fire. They need horses to pull ambulances and mounted guns.”
There seemed something tragic about a pampered horse like Olympian being seized by strangers, yoked to a wagon, and forced to slog through mud amidst gunfire. Not that beautiful young men who were born for better things weren’t dying in those muddy trenches too. My God, the horrifying waste of it all!
“Willie, your sister is beside herself with worry. Take her to dinner and say something soothing.”
“What could I possibly say?”
“At least help arrange a visit with Victor. They’ve come all this way to see him. Isn’t there someone you can—”
“I’ve already called in all the favors I can. Besides, this unexpected visit of yours is damnable timing, because I’m leaving for Switzerland in the morning.”
I stared, confused, as the waiter poured champagne into my flute. “Why are you going to Switzerland?” The rich and famous extolled the amusements of Swiss resorts in peacetime, but this was war. “Now’s not the time to enjoy an Alpine spa!”
Willie dug into his soup. “I’m going to get back in fighting trim. The operation on my leg last year took a toll. There’s a clinic in Switzerland where I can get my strength back. Roman soldiers used to take the sun cure there and soak in sulfur baths.”
“Willie. You’re almost fifty years old.”
“Forty-eight. There are men my age in the fight.”
Men desperate to defend their own homes, I thought. Not aging adventurers. “At least see your family before you go!”
His voice was flat, his expression pugnacious. “The trip can’t be postponed. The doctor at the clinic is a specialist and in demand.”
There was no sense in trying to talk him out of it. When, five years before, he’d insisted on riding off into the desert to fight alongside burnoose-clad tribesmen in Africa, I’d asked that he consider his obligations. His response had been to sign over most of his assets to me and the boys in trust. In the end, Willie always did what Willie wanted to do. And it was about time I started following his example, so now I lifted my champagne glass as if in toast. “I’m happy you’re on the road to recovery. Among other things, it means we’re both now prepared to talk of serious matters.”
“You need more money?”
“No . . .” I screwed up my courage. “Willie, last time I was in Paris, you found every possible way to show your intense dissatisfaction at having me and the boys near. You don’t seem any happier to see me now. One wearies of disciplines, even if they’re the best medicine. I decided last winter that when a man didn’t need his family in sickness, he most certainly didn’t need them in days of health and—”
“You have it wrong.”
I had it exactly right. If he couldn’t make time to see his nephew—a boy facing death in the trenches—he’d never find time for his wife and sons. If he couldn’t commit, here and now, to making a go of this marriage, then it couldn’t be saved. “Please. Let’s be true to ourselves. We’re both old and wise.”
He drained his glass and set it back down again with a peevish thump. “Then don’t make assumptions like a child.”
“All of this I say without rancor! You know I’m devoted to you. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, now or ever. And I’ve never judged you harshly—be sure of that. I’ve always hoped you were happy in your easily attained freedom. I want you to be happy, but as our marital ties make my presence in the same country or city disagreeable—perhaps it would be better to sever them.”
I hadn’t intended to put it that baldly. In fact, I hadn’t been entirely sure I’d say it at all, and now I half dreaded he’d agree. For months now, I’d been swatting down every rising notion of what it would be like to live a life without being married to Willie—what divorce might mean for the boys, for my work, for my heart. Telling myself that with millions of families being shattered in the midst of a war, I dared not consider breaking mine. But now, pushed to the edge, my thoughts had become words spoken aloud, and it was almost gratifying when Willie blanched as if I’d stuck him with a hot poker.