Page 17 of The Way We Were

Why did he feel suddenly old, when he was not yet thirty-five? He and Lucy had once danced in the center of a ballroom, and her sweet exuberance had made him see beyond his military career, beyond the tension of duty in India.

Though he used to think himself capable of achieving anything, he had this deep fear that grief and separation had changed him too much. He didn’t want to think about it anymore, so he took his wife’s hand and slid his other arm behind her back.

“Shall we dance, Mrs. Lawton?”

They did not speak, just danced wide sweeping steps around the ballroom. They spun together, focused on each other, and Reggie felt like they were whirling too near a chasm that could be the end of everything he’d cherished about his marriage. He’d given Madeleine what she’d wanted, but worried that even that wasn’t enough to make his wife happily take him back. How could he show her what was in his heart when words and actions didn’t seem to be enough?

And then he thought of his journal, the one he’d begun on the long voyage to India, when the only way he could express his grief over the loss of their precious Anna was to write the words he never thought he could share with his wife. He’d always believed such things would hurt her.

But could letting her see the hurt in him remind her of the bond only they shared, the things they could not find a way to speak of?

“You’re very quiet,” Lucy said, as they left the crowded ballroom for the tea room after sharing a second dance.

He took a deep breath, not certain what to say.

Then Lucy gave a wave to someone behind him. He turned but didn’t recognize the woman walking briskly toward them.

“Mrs. Winslow,” Lucy called in a pleasant voice.

Reggie thought he recognized that name from her letters.

“Good evening, Mrs. Lawton!”

The two women briefly clasped hands before Mrs. Winslow turned to look at Reggie with a shade of skepticism.

“May I present my husband, Captain Lawton,” Lucy said.

Reggie gave a brief bow.

“Reggie, Mrs. Winslow is a member of the London Female Aid Society.”

“Good to meet you, Captain,” the woman said.

But the tone sounded indifferent, making the words a formality. Reggie held back a frown.

“Were you able to make the festival, Mrs. Lawton?” Mrs. Winslow asked.

“Yes, we were,” Lucy answered. She gestured to Reggie. “My husband proved quite invaluable setting up our booth.”

Mrs. Winslow sighed. “Unlike my husband, who was the cause of our delay.”

This was one of the women Lucy had spent her time with, Reggie thought, leading his wife to believe marriage was not a celebration of togetherness, not a union that would help them withstand the worst that parents could experience. Reggie found himself wishing to pull his wife away but knew Lucy would only think him selfish.