Our History

August 10, 1914
England

It has not even been a week but the impact of the war is already quite evident. Soldiers parade the streets at least once a day, and some troops even remain in town, shacking up in whatever inn or home are willing enough to take them in.

John has limited himself in visiting the factory only once a week, in fear of being drafted. Not to mention, the war is wrecking havoc on the business itself. Britian is spending so much money on military supplies the economy is slowly beginning to falter.

From what I've heard on the streets from girlfriends and eavesdropping on some of the soldier's conversations, America hasn't entered the war yet -- President Wilson set on keeping his country neutral. He doesn't, however, have a problem loaning money to Great Britian and other 'Allied' (I think that's what they're calling them) countries in order to have them give the money right back into their hands to buy guns and whatnot.

I brought the bread and milk in my hands to the front of the small market and dropped it on the counter.

"Hello, Elizabeth, how are you today?" The sweet old lady behind the cash register greeted me and I wished I could remember her name.

"I'm doing fine, as is John." I smile and take the money from the small satchel in my dress.

"And your mother?"

I pause for a minute and the lady seems to notice, "She's doing...fine as well. Hasn't gotten any worse, at least."

The sweet lady lays a hand over mine as a couple of soldiers walk in. "Things will get better, darling. She's bound to remember at some point."

A weak smile crosses my face, "I hope you're right."

She goes to hand me my bags of groceries and they slip from my hands, my fingers not completely grasping the bag. It crashes to the floor and I curse under my breath.

"Oh, don't worry about it, honey," the lady says, "I have a broom right here."

I shake my head and pick begin to pick up the glass chards from the milk bottles. "I'm sorry...Oh, there's milk everywhere!"

There are some footsteps to the side of me and another pair of hands begin to help pick up the soggy bread and other items sprawled across the floor. I look up and smile gratefully at the soldier, taking notice of his crisp uniform and perfection stature, but the easy-going, relaxed expression on his face. "I guess we should be glad you haven't joined the military yet, miss."

I would have come back at him with a snippy remark but the brilliant smile on his face told me he was just joking. "I guess so," I respond, a light laugh falling from my lips flawlessly.

The older lady behind the counter hands me a broom and rag, and I clean the rest of the mess up as quickly as I can. The soldier continues to stand there and follows me when I head back into the aisles, grabbing a non-soggy package of bread and an unbroken case of milk.

"William Smith," the soldier says after I bring the food back up to the counter again.

"Elizabeth Reading," I respond, half-paying attention to what I was saying and counting the correct amount of change out again.

"Oh, don't worry about paying for it again, honey. I've got it covered," the lady smiled and suddenly her name came back to me -- Mrs. Brown. She was a good friend of my mother's before her memory loss set in and would come over at least once a week with a plateful of freshly-baked brownies.

I screw my lips to the side, "Are you sure? I mean, I caused quite a hassle."

Mrs. Brown waves a delicate, wrinkly hand at me. "Go, Liz, don't lose sleep over spilled milk."

"Literally," William says next to me and I can't help the smile that comes to my face.

I sigh and pretend to drop a nickel, bending down and slipping the correct amount of money for the second pair of groceries under the counter. "What is it with me today? I'm a mess, dropping this and that..."

I grab the groceries this time with a sturdy grip only to see William's out-stretched hands. "Let me."

A blush heats my cheeks and I try to hide it by looking away, "No, Mr. Smith, I've got them. And my house is a good ten minutes down the road, anyway."

"Please, call me William...or Will. And it would be my pleasure, Elizabeth."

I sighed, just loving the way my name sounded when he said it. In defeat, I handed the goods to him and a smile lit up his face as he easily held the packages in his arms. On the way out, I paused and turned around, "Oh, and Mrs. Brown? Something fell off your counter."

She smiled sweetly at me and walked around and bent down to examine the worn hardwood floors, only to stand back upright with the money I left her. "Elizabeth --."

"I'll see you soon!" I called over my shoulder, smiling brightly and walking into the warm summer sun. William started to walk left, toward the center of town but I shook my head and nudged him with my elbow. "This way, Will."

"Oh, right, I know."

I laugh, "I'm sure you did." There's a silence and I glance at him from under my eyelashes, his boots clicking against the cobblestone. "You don't have an accent, you're not British, are you?"

Will smirks and slides his hazel eyes toward me, "You don't miss much, do you Miss Reading?"

"I'm afraid not." I reply, grinning.

"I'm American, actually. I'm studying, or more accurately, I was studying abroad, and they drafted me -- not caring I that wasn't actually from this country."

"Can't you get out of it? I mean, it obviously isn't very logical for you to actually fight for a country that isn't your's."

Will laughs and shifts the groceries from one arm to another, "I tried. Look how far the got me." He gestures toward his uniform and I sigh, "Hardly seems fair."

"Life isn't fair, miss -- wait, you are a miss, right? Not a misses?" There's this mischievous gleam in his eyes and a small dimple appeared in his left cheek.

I raise an eyebrow at Will, placing a hand on my hip, "Pfft, do I look old enough to be married?"

"Don't you Brits marry early?"

I roll my eyes, "I don't know. Usually the parents attempt to find a perfect guy, but my mother's sick and my father passed away years ago." I scuff my shoes across the pavement and watch friends from grammar school days pass by. We wave and I watch as they stare longingly at the soldier standing walking me. "I have girlfriends who are married, but they've found their true love." I pause and laugh, thinking about the day I'll fall in love, "Well, that's what they say."

*

- 2010 -

"They're gonna fall in love, aren't they?" Rebecca says, propping her head up with her hands and glancing at me through her light brown bangs.

I smile and shrug, "Possibly. If you stopped asking so many questions we might actually get there."

Bec rolls her eyes, "I've asked, like, two questions. Including this one. And according to my insane history teacher, we've still got another four years of war to go. This is gonna take forever."

"Oh, relax, it'll get better."

"I hope so, or I might end up actually sleeping through the good part."

*

- 1914 -

"So what about you? No particular guys catch your eye?"

I laugh, "Are you alluding to yourself Mr. Smith?"

Will smiles, "Hardly."

Smiling, my house comes into view then, just over the grassy hill and I point to it, "And there would be the Reading manor."

Will whistles, taking it all in, "That's quite a house you've got there."

"After my dad's death, he left it to us. And thus...we still have it. I love it, so much."

I must be beaming because soon after I finish talking, Will says, "I can tell."

I blush at my meaningless rambling but continue anyway, "There's this patio that looks over the hills, and you can see the sea just over that -- that's where I spend all my time, listening to records and painting and whatnot. My brother usually stays in the office doing whatever it is he does when he doesn't head into the city for the factory."

We walk up the walkway and I open the front door, seeing John sprawled out on the couch in the sitting room to our left, book in hand. "Took you long enough, Liz. I think you were gone for a half hour!"

I lead Will to the kitchen and he puts the groceries down on the counter, "There were some complications and I met someone, so we talked for a bit."

John appears in the doorway and notices Will standing there, smiling at me. "And you are?"

"William Smith, pleasure to meet you." He sticks out his hand and John takes it cautiously, "John Reading, protective older brother of Elizabeth, so, with that being said, I wish I could say it was a pleasure for me, as well. But I can't."

"Oh, John, shush," I say, putting the food away.

"I understand. I have two younger sisters as well back home in the States. I know how brothers and boys mix -- they're like water and veggie oil."

"Unfortunately," I mumble.

John and Will continue to talk about the war and how it'll pan out while I finish putting everything away. Will glances quickly to the grandfather clock in the corner of the room and curses, "Oh, I really must be going. I was supposed to be back with the troop five minutes ago. It was truly nice meeting you."

He takes my hand and brushes his lips across my knuckles gently and I fight how my heart wants to break free and fly out of my chest. His soft pink lips form a small smile and he shakes John's hand next, before I led him toward the front door.

"Don't get yourself killed, alright?" I say, "You've got a family to get back to, your own country to get back to."

Will laughs, "I'll try not to. If we stop by in the part of England again, I'll make sure to stop by for some lunch."

"While I would enjoy that, John might not," I laugh and lean against the open wooden door, the bright afternoon sun warming my skin.

William smiles and gives a small wave before uttering one last good-bye and disappearing down the road.