Julie Berry

“When I trip and fall, then?” She hoped this would come across as a bit of a joke.

He pressed his hand a shade more firmly into her back. “I won’t let you fall.”

And so James went from stranger to patriot, hero, bravely shouldering his duty to God, King, and Country.

Hazel went from stranger and pianist to reason why the war mattered at all, symbol of all that was pure and beautiful and worth dying for in a broken world.

She smiled, the first time she’d smiled for this stranger. James’s poor heart might’ve stopped beating then and there if he weren’t young and healthy.

the fear that this something, which they hoped was something, was actually nothing, that they’d allowed their feelings to fizz and froth for absolutely, positively nothing.

But there he was, all brown eyes and kindness, waiting patiently, watching her face as if he could watch it forever.

But there he was, all brown eyes and kindness, waiting patiently, watching her face as if he could watch it forever.

Smile again. Just like that. Wish I had a photograph of that to keep in my wallet.

“You’re a brand-new piece of sheet music,” she said slowly, “for a song which, once played, I’d swear I’d always known.”

It would be nice, at a time like this, if she could cry. Get it all out in a big rain of tears and finally drift off to sleep. Tears were better by far than the tightness in her throat and the lead weight in her stomach.

Most of my childhood, when I wasn’t practicing scales, was spent curled up with a book. I always wished for siblings.