At once, Iris knew her. She had been kneeling in this woman’s garden, preparing it for her return. “Keegan?”
“Yes. Where’s my wife?” Keegan demanded. She hardly gave Iris the chance to respond before she turned on her heel, disappearing down the hallway. “Mari? Marisol!”
Iris slipped from Roman’s arms, hurrying after her. “She’s not here.”
Keegan pivoted in the foyer. “Where is she?”
“At the infirmary. What’s happening? Do we need to evacuate?”
“Yes.” Keegan’s gaze flickered beyond her, to where Roman had limped into the hallway, following them. “One of you needs to get the dash-packs ready. The other, come with me.” She stepped back into the brightness of the front yard, and Iris turned to Roman.
“Marisol has the dash-packs in the pantry,” she explained. “There should be four of them, one for each of us. If you’ll gather them together, I’ll meet you back here in a few minutes.”
“Iris, Iris, wait.” He snagged her sleeve and drew her to him, and she thought he was about to argue until his mouth crashed against hers.
She was still breathless from his kiss a full minute later, when she was chasing Keegan through the chaotic streets. There were lorries parked everywhere, and soldiers were spilling out of them, preparing for battle.
“Keegan?” Iris called, hurrying to keep pace with Marisol’s wife. “What’s happened?”
“Dacre is about to assault Clover Hill,” Keegan replied, stepping around a man who was running home with three goats on a leash and a basket full of produce in his arms. “That’s a small town only a few kilometers from here. I don’t think we’ll be able to hold it for long, so we expect Dacre will strike the Bluff next, within a day or so.”
The words went through Iris like bullets. She felt a flash of pain in her chest, but then she went numb with shock. This can’t be happening, she thought, even as she saw how the residents of Avalon Bluff were rushing out of their homes with suitcases and dash-packs, heeding the orders of soldiers who were telling them to load up into the lorries and evacuate.
There was one family who had dragged a huge framed portrait out of the house and into their yard. A soldier was shaking his head, saying, “No, only the essentials. Leave everything else behind.”
“The residents are being evacuated by lorry?” Iris asked.
“Yes,” Keegan replied, her eyes set dead ahead of them as they continued to wind through the crowded street. “They’ll be driven to the next town east of here. But I’m asking for any residents who want to fight and defend the town to stay behind and assist. Hopefully, there’ll be a few who volunteer.”
Iris swallowed. Her mouth felt dry, and her pulse was beating hard in her throat. She wanted to stay and help, but she knew in that moment that she and Roman should evacuate.
“I never got your name,” Keegan said, glancing at her.
“Iris Winnow.”
Keegan’s eyes widened. She tripped over a loose cobblestone, but her reaction to Iris’s name was quickly stifled, which made Iris wonder if she had merely imagined it. Although she was haunted by an unspoken question …
Has Keegan heard of me before?
The infirmary at last came into view. Iris noticed how Keegan’s strides lengthened until she was almost running. The yard was teeming with nurses and doctors assisting wounded patients into the trucks.
What should I do? Should I stay or go? Iris’s thoughts helplessly rolled, just like the siren that continued to wail.
Keegan fought the flow of traffic into the infirmary hall, Iris in her shadow. Most of the cots were empty by now. Footsteps rang hollow off the high ceilings. Sunlight continued to faithfully pour into the windows, illuminating the scuffs on the floor.
The air smelled like salt and iodine and spilled onion soup. Keegan came to an abrupt halt, as if she had stepped into a wall. Iris looked beyond her to behold Marisol, a few paces away. The sun gilded her as she bent down to lift a basket of blankets, Attie at her side.
Iris held her breath, waiting. Because Keegan was like a statue, frozen to the spot, watching her wife.
At last, Marisol glanced up. Her mouth went slack, the basket tumbling from her hands. She ran to Keegan with a shriek, weeping and laughing, leaping into her arms.
Iris felt her vision blur as she watched them reunite. She dashed her tears away, but not before she met Attie’s gaze.
Keegan? Attie mouthed with a grin.
Iris smiled and nodded.
And she thought, Even when the world seems to stop, threatening to crumble, and the hour feels dark as the siren rings … it isn’t a crime to feel joy.
* * *
“I want you to evacuate, Mari. You’ll go with one of my sergeants, and they’ll take good care of you.”
“No. No, absolutely not!”
“Marisol, darling, listen to me—”
“No, Keegan. You listen to me. I’m not leaving you. I’m not leaving our home.”
Iris and Attie stood in the infirmary yard, awkwardly listening as Marisol and Keegan argued between kisses.
Keegan glanced at Iris and Attie, waving a hand toward them. “And what of your girls, Mari? Your correspondents?”
Marisol paused. A stricken expression overcame her face when she looked at Iris and Attie.
“I want to stay,” Attie said. “I can help in any way I’m needed.”
Iris hesitated. “I also want to stay, but with Kitt’s injury…”
“You should evacuate with him,” Marisol said gently. “Keep him safe.”
Iris nodded, torn. She didn’t want to leave Attie and Marisol. She wanted to stay and help them fight, defending the place that had become a beloved home to her. But she couldn’t bear to leave Roman.
Keegan broke the tense moment by drawling to her wife, “So you can want Iris and her Kitt to be safe, but the same can’t be said for me over you?”
“I’m old, Keegan,” Marisol argued. “They’re still young.”
“Marisol!” Attie cried. “You’re only thirty-three!”
Marisol sighed. She stared up at Keegan and said firmly, “I’m not leaving. My girls can do whatever they feel is best.”
“Very well,” Keegan conceded, rubbing her brow. “I know better than to argue with you.”
Marisol only smiled.
“I suppose Kitt and I should catch a ride on one of the lorries?” Iris said, the words thick in her mouth. Her guilt flared as she glanced down at her hands, lined with garden dirt and smudged by ink ribbons.
“Yes,” Keegan said, her tone grave. “But before you go, I have something for you.”
Iris watched, spellbound, as the captain reached into her pocket, withdrawing what looked to be a letter. Keegan extended the envelope to her, and for a moment, all Iris could do was stare at it. A letter, addressed to her, wrinkled from war.
“What is this?” Iris faintly asked. But her heart knew, and it pounded in dread. This was the answer she had been waiting for. An update on her brother.
“It got sorted with my post,” Keegan explained. “I think because your address is Avalon Bluff. I was going to mail it along with my letter to Marisol, but then we were on the move and I’m sorry I wasn’t able to send it to you sooner.”