Wait (Beloved Bloody Time) Read Online Free Page A

her only a few inches away from him. “I spent thirteen years in Georgia. Then I died and came here to New York. A couple of years later, the war broke out, so I joined the Red Cross.” A shadow touched her face briefly, then was gone.
    “It was a difficult service, I imagine,” Christian said carefully. He had seen first aid posts on the battlefield, and was grateful he had never needed to have an injury treated by the overworked, stressed doctors and nurses who had ministered the wounded. The amputations from mortars and the appalling wounds from machine gun fire and grenades…it made rifle wounds look like mere paper cuts.
    Natália gave him another effortful smile. “Not nearly as difficult as fighting at the front would have been like, I’m sure. You were in France?”
    “For most of it, yes.” He gave a small shrug. “I’m fairly fluent in French now.”
    “Your Spanish was very good, if I remember correctly,” Natália pointed out. “Did you learn Japanese while you were there?”
    “I did. Both hyōjungo and Osaka-ben, for I spent a good few years on Osaka.” He smiled. “I’ve also heard enough German over the last year that I can understand most of it. But I’m not going to tell anyone I know that one.”
    Natália gave a soft laugh. “I imagine it would be misunderstood, especially with your coloring.”
    He put the cup down, studying her. “Would you like to stroll the Avenue?” he asked.
    “Just like last time?” She leaned over and picked up her cap and the handbag that lay beneath it. “That sounds perfect.”
    * * * * *
    “Where in Georgia did you go to?” Christian asked, glancing at her. Her hand was tucked under his elbow, bringing back pleasant memories of Seville, before the war. But her dress had brushed the ground then, while now he could see her trim ankles, covered in boot leather, and her stockings, just above. Her hair was still the rich honey-gold, and her eyes the same warm brown. The tiny little line between her brows was still there, too. That line was a reminder of the steel that made up her spine.
    It was astonishingly good to see her.
    Natália pushed her lips together in an expression that was very close to a pout. “I stayed in Savannah for a year or so, establishing my new life. Then I moved to Albany.”
    His breath caught. “Home,” he murmured. He glanced at her.
    “You spoke about home with such longing. I could almost see it even before I arrived there.” She smiled at him. “It has grown into a thriving city now.”
    Christian drew in a slow breath and let it out. “You went there because of me.”
    She kept her gaze on the pavement ahead of her for three more steps. “Let’s walk through Central Park,” she suggested.
    “It looks crowded,” he said, glancing at the leafless tree branches and the many people strolling the paths beneath.
    “No more crowded that this sidewalk.” She steered him toward the corner.
    “You’re changing the subject.”
    “If you were a gentleman, you would let me change the subject without challenge, now, wouldn’t you?” She said it with a soft southern drawl and tilted her head at him coquettishly.
    The accent and the charming little tilt of her chin sent his mind tumbling back more than thirty years. He could almost feel the heat of late summer on his skin, and the smell of ripe peaches as he plucked them from the tree and placed them in the basket. The sound of steamboats working their way along the river, the slosh of the paddlewheels making his throat dry at the thought of the cool water. The slap of the screen door as Amelia, the youngest of his brothers and sisters, raced from the house down the path to the orchard, to tell him lunch was ready—
    “Christian?”
    He blinked, as the sounds of Fifth Avenue brought him back to the present moment.
    “Where did you go, just then?” she asked softly. “Home, again?”
    He wrestled with his answer as they stepped onto the path that meandered across the