Briony - In The Quiet Hours

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 3 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 5Nick’s question and piercing blue stare bring me back to reality. “Um, let me gather those thoughts.” When he doesn’t drop his intense gaze, I shake my head to clear it. “I’m..not sure I can put it into words at the moment. Give me a moment to think about it. In the meantime,” I sit up to face him as I drumroll on the sofa. “Tell me about the series you’re here for. I’ve gotten bits and pieces from doing the scene readings, but let’s hear the whole story. It can be the short version since you have to be up early in the morning.” Nick smiles in response, his eyes searching mine. When he sits forward and begins in his ‘theater’ voice, I know it’s going to be good. “Alright. I play the adult version of a Royal Air Force Wing Commander named Rafe Brendan Edwards. It’s set in July 1943 during World War II, with flashbacks to other periods of the main character’s life. He’s just a young man who loves to fly, so despite being in a hurry to join the RAF, as a result of going out on so many bombing runs, Rafe has been suffering from a crisis of conscience. Sometimes their target is right on point, other times it isn’t, and civilians are killed.” “In the middle of this crisis, his squadron is called up to do a bombing in Italy. Due to bad weather and lack of radio contact, their crew gets lost over Switzerland, and they’re attacked by the Swiss Air Force.” “Rafe prays to God to do the right thing, so the least amount of people die if their plane crashes. Their bomber is hit, and as it’s on its way down, only Rafe and one other airman are able to safely eject.” “The plane crashes into the side of a mountain and detonates, killing those onboard and leaving a crater in the mountain, but the large town below it is largely spared. Rafe doesn’t find out until much later, but he’s the only survivor from that bombing run.” As I gasp, drawing both hands to my face in anxious suspense, Nick comfortingly pats my knee. With him telling the story, I should have known it would be dramatic. Now, I’m so invested, I barely notice his hand as he continues in his mesmerizing English accent. “As the weather is poor, Rafe isn’t able to make anything out from his parachute, but he can tell he’s headed for the forest on the mountain below. So, he prays again. He no longer wants to kill people, and if dying is the way to make that happen, so be it. He’s leaving everything in God’s hands. At that point he slams into a tree and blacks out.” “When he wakes up three days later, he’s badly injured. He was recovered by a Swiss sheep farmer named Annika, who runs the farm on her own after her father died in a bombing incident a few months before. She trusts no one, especially him. Due to being cut off from imports, the Swiss government relies heavily on all the farmers to produce as usual, and in addition, to plant as many potatoes as possible for the welfare of the nation.” “At first, Annika isn’t interested in helping him. Yet, when Rafe admits that he was a soldier, but he no longer wants to fight because he doesn’t want more people to die, Annika hires Rafe as a potato farmer. As he heals, he becomes stronger, and he’s able to help her with the farm.” “They overcome other challenges, eventually falling in love. But when Rafe finds out where and when Annika’s father died, he has to make a decision. Whether he’s going to stay on that mountain living as a coward, or if he’ll sacrifice everything to go home and tell people that fighting, killing, it wasn’t God’s way, and that’s why it just led to more bloodshed.” Nick eyes me with a little smile, “You look sleepy, Bri. Are you sure you don’t want to wait to see what happens?” I reach over, pick up my spoon, and hold it up to his face. “Don’t make me cut you! Tell the story!” Nick’s deep laughter fills the room as he swats my hand. “Alright, alright! When Rafe makes his decision to go back, Annika realizes she loves him, and she’s come to rely on him. She knows the war could drag on for several more years, and she doesn’t want him to rot in prison, or die trying to return to England. They fight, but ultimately he chooses to leave, to be the man God wants him to be, but also the man she needs him to be.” Nick’s eyes crinkle as he smiles. “You already know the end.” I scowl at him. “If you cheat me out of this ending, I’ll turn all of your pajama bottoms into shorts.” Smirking, he shakes his head. “You are such a menace. Well, right. Rafe leaves after their fight, and manages to make it back to his squadron, where he finds out they lost 13 aircraft the night he disappeared. Many airmen died that night, but many more civilians died when they were accidentally bombed. This gives him the courage to tell his story in the court martial.” When Nick playfully pauses for dramatic effect, I poke him in the ribs, and discover something utterly delightful. “You’re ticklish!” I laugh in amazement, as he giggles and flops backwards. I poke him again, and when the same thing happens, but he more violently jumps away, I smile wickedly. I can’t help but laugh when he crosses his arms and shoots me a dirty look. “Don’t even think about it, or you’ll wake up covered in chicken feathers!” He squawks when I get closer. “Ha! Then finish the story!” I grin. Nick smilingly shakes his head, but continues. “Rafe goes to prison for three years, and serves his full term despite the war being over. When he’s dishonorably discharged, the series ends with him having made his way back to Annika in Switzerland.” “Wow,” I lean back to stare at the ceiling in awe. “What an amazing love story. Love for a woman, yeah, but also, love for people and love for God moving a man to stand up for what’s right. And, despite being just one cog in the machine…it’s so unlike any other role you’ve played.” Nick ducks his head, thoughtfully nodding. “When the time comes to retire, I don’t want to only be known as an action star, but as a serious actor.” I abruptly sit up. “Is that why you’ve been reading those World War II books? I thought you just found the history interesting. You’re trying to find the people! To find their stories..what made them tick.” Surprise registers in Nick’s eyes as he lightly flushes. “That’s right.” Nodding, I flop back against the throw cushions scattered on the deep seated leather cognac sofa. “Well, that’s an incredible story of love and faith. Is it based on a true story?” He shakes his head, his blond waves flopping to the side with the movement. “It’s fiction, but inspired by real events. Those bombing runs were real, and many civilians really died during that particular operation.” I sadly shake my head, but when Nick nods in my direction, I know the jig is up. It’s my turn. “So…” he sweetly cajoles, picking up my hand and giving it a little shake. “Why did you cry?” Exhaling heavily, I pull my knees up to my chin and wrap my arms around my legs. “Sure you don’t want a quesadilla? I can add a potato…” Nick’s ears turn a dull shade of red, but he doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he reaches down, pulling my feet onto his lap. “Hey!” I say, trying to snatch them back. But, he’s firmly got both ankles in one hand, a devilish glee dancing across his face that I really don’t want to test right now. “Behave, Bri. Or should I figure out if you’re ticklish this time?” I go completely still so fast, he starts laughing like a maniac. I try to snatch my feet back, but he’s quick and strong. “What did I say would happen?” He asks, holding up a long finger to the bottom of my foot. Now I’m laughing while still trying to scramble backwards, but he refuses to let go. “Didn’t I say behave?” He touches his finger to the bottom of my left foot sending a bolt of electricity so strong up my leg, I nearly fling myself off the couch trying to get away. “Wait! Wait! Please!” I beg through my laughter. “I’m sorry—look. Let’s just talk about this. Use your words, Nicky babe!” “Still trying to get away, darling?” He laughs. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, guess we have to go with the other foot!” “Nooo!” I gurgle. I’m crying in laughter, and when he touches the other foot, all I can do is launch myself straight up, to a sitting position. The surprise registers in his eyes, but before he can figure anything else out, I start tickling his sides until he laughs, finally releasing me. I collapse backwards on the couch in a heap. “You cheater,” he rasps through his laughter. “Punishment will be reserved for a later time.” Just when I think I’m safe, he grabs my ankles once again, but he holds his free hand up in the air. “Are we going to do this the easy way, or the hard way?” “What?” I laughingly exclaim as I try to scoot back as far as possible. One yank and I’m sliding back where I started. “Ok, sir! Ok! I’m listening. Don’t worry, I always negotiate with tickle terrorists. We can discuss this calmly.” He’s trying to hold on through his laughter, but his grip loosens. This time, I’m taking absolutely no chances. I stay stock still until he pulls himself together. Sure enough, his grip tightens, and as I stare up at him, I hold my hands up in the air. “I surrender. How can I assist you sir?” Nick rubs an ankle, but it doesn’t tickle. “Why were you crying?” When I silently blink at him, he moves his hands to my feet, gently squeezing. It immediately calms me. “What is it, Bri? Tell me.” I exhale as he applies a bit more pressure. “Hm. I just had a small existential crisis. AKA a mini breakdown.” He doesn’t say anything as he continues to apply varying pressure to different parts of my foot. That feels amazing, but I clear my throat and press on. “I just realized I’m going to be 30 next year.” Nick freezes a moment, but carries on without a word. While I silently debate what to say, too embarrassed to spill everything to him of all people, he continues applying gentle pressure. “I think,” he murmurs, compassion lighting his gaze as he looks down at me. “We’re beyond second guessing ourselves at this point. I’m completely committed to supporting you, in what ever way you need. If you want to talk, then talk. If you don’t want to talk, then don’t.” My mouth twists in indecision as he continues. “Either way, I’ll understand. You’re very much more to me than my chef and nutritionist, Bri. And, I think, if you’re willing to admit it to yourself, you’ve also known this for some time. You’re as close to me as Evie is, and I hope, no matter what changes in the future, you’ll remember that.” I frown thoughtfully as I look away from his piercing gaze. Did I just get sister zoned? After the weird day we had, it makes sense that Nick wants to be clear on where we stand. Oddly, it’s comforting, and the tension eases out of me. Tomorrow, I’ll think about how I really feel about it. For now, being a ‘sister’ with no expectations to think about, in a weird way, takes the sting out of revealing my recent failure in life. I sigh as Nick increases the pressure on one foot. “Hmm. I don’t know, Nick. Evie and I were talking and I realized that somewhere in this grand scheme of things, I lost sight of the bigger picture. When Evie asked what’s next, after getting Day and Night launched, I mentioned settling down and having a few kids to start the next phase of life.” I frown. “In my mind, that’s two years down the road, when I turn 30. That’s when she kindly reminded me that I’ll be 30 next year…I feel like I’ve been sent back to GO, and I can’t collect $200.” When his eyes go blank, I chuckle while trying to maintain my composure in the face of this amazing foot massage. “That’s a Monopoly reference…anyway, the point is, it felt like a reset at a loss. I feel as if I don’t know where I am on the board anymore. If I’m still two years away from settling down and having kids, am I really thinking about having kids in my mid 30s? Because if not, and I’m going to be 29 in November, then doesn’t that mean I should have started dating by now? To weed out the crazies?”“Or worse,” I frown. “What if I’m the crazy that they’ll be trying to weed out? I’ve never dated before. I came out of high school and worked for three years to afford my tuition and expenses for Le Cordon Bleu—that feels really nice.” Nick is working something out of my left foot that is a problem. I blink. “Where was I? I spent a year getting the best degree I could afford, interned at that restaurant, got a job offer and what I thought was a genuine offer to help me put my skills to use…I think you’ll have to charge for foot massages. That way I won’t be tempted to ask. This is amazing.” He glances at me with a smirk, but silently continues working. “Right,” I exhale to get the tingles out. “Once I figured out the owner was only interested in one set of skills, and it had nothing to do with my knives, I was justifiably angry. Granted, I shouldn’t have set fire to his toque in the middle of the dining room. I admit that was in bad taste. But, sexual harassment is a problem in this industry.” I grimace at the memory. Nick’s hands still on my feet as his gaze swings to mine. “Where was this?” My brows snap down. “Savant d’Oblique. Even I don’t know what that means, but, it was on my resumé.” He has a strange glint in his eye, but with a curt nod, he falls silent. “Speaking of savants, did you go to school for this, ‘cause I’m not surre…” I press my lips together to swallow the rest of the sound. “Noted. Do not ask Nicky about his status as a miracle worker.” Nick smiles, as he continues working, and I take a minute to fight through the contraction in my airways. “Anyway, one year there, then six months of job hunting, where McDonald’s didn’t even want me after said owner blacklisted me. If it weren’t for my best friend’s begging skills, I wouldn’t be here, getting…getting the best foot massage known to man..you know what? Change of perspective. I’m so glad I went through all of that, just so I can be right here, getting..wait…are we sure this is legal? Because I think I’m addicted.” Nick chuckles, as he switches to my other heel, and when I nearly throw myself off the couch, he grips my calf to pull me back, which…“I think I’ve passed on. I don’t think anything natural is supposed to feel this good without consequences. So, either, you should only be doing this for your spouse..or…that’s it! I’m going to make you garlic smashed potatoes with…” I can barely keep my eyes from crossing as Nick goes back to that one sore spot he hit on my left foot earlier…and yep! I embarrassed myself. Big time. I worked as a massage therapist for a few years after high school. Not one of the other students in my massage classes ever made my feet feel like this. When I finally get a hold of my senses, I only manage to stutter something about parmesan. To my chagrin, the evil man cackles. “I think I’ve proved you can’t threaten me with a good time, darling.” I nod in a haze, muttering, “I think this is the part where you’re supposed to say ‘never bring a knife to a gunfight.’” Nick’s rumble of laughter sounds somewhere above me, while I’m rendered perfectly mute. Apparently his hands are learning a new style of warfare I’m unequipped to repel…but I’m completely here for it. He’s being so attentive and caring, and this massage is just hitting on levels I don’t understand. It’s no wonder when I begin to fight a sudden onslaught of tears. The worst part is, I don’t even know why I’m crying. While I silently sob, Nick continues to diligently slay whatever is ailing my feet, ankles, and calves. How is this life right now? When the tears begin to subside, he hands me a few tissues, which is just the sweetest thing, and restarts the crying jag. As I blubber about how sorry I am, Nick looks like he’s in sheer agony as he sits there with a clenched jaw. The poor guy is probably wondering why he left his room tonight. It’s only when we lock eyes, and I see the pain reflected in his gaze, that I realize how deeply he’s affected by my tears. Before I know what’s happening, Nick’s lifting me against his chest, and cradling me in one of his gorilla hugs. A hug that I’m a tiny bit mad about…because I’m completely congested now, and Nick normally smells amazing; like a delicious, spicy lemon lavender cloud. I’ve spent five years trying not to smell him, and the one time I have total permission to do it, I physically can’t! “Is there a female version, of this cologne?” I ask as I snuggle closer. Out of nowhere, a huge yawn escapes me, but there’s no way I’m going to be the first one backing out of this fever dream. Even if I wanted to I couldn’t. With my limbs so relaxed, a bone drenching tiredness washes over me, and suddenly I’m fading. As my eyes drift closed, the sound of his rapidly beating heart thumps beneath my cheek. Well, that can’t be normal. “Do you rub Evie’s feet like that?” I slur sleepily. His chuckle reverberates through his chest. “Not quite like that, no.” “I bet,” I yawn again. “If you did, I was going straight to the Better Business Bureau to report that I’ve been ripped off. I got a sister when brothers are obviously better, and clearly a clerical error was made.” My eyes flutter shut as he chuckles again, not seeming to mind that he’s now my pillow. I feel him gently push my curls out of my face, as he whispers. “Your sister is identical right?” I think I’m smiling when I respond, “Yes, but not in the ways that matter to you, Nicky babe.” The last thing I remember are feather light touches on my eyebrows, then floating through the air, being bundled under blankets and a gentle kiss to my forehead. Well, blimey. I should have gotten a brother years ago. Only now..I’m not sure that I want one…← Previous Chapter: Chapter 3 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 5Subscribe for new posts every week! Get full access to I'm Just Here For BOOKS at everblueauthor.substack.com/subscribe