Tender Heart of Mine

 By Emma Atcheson, age 14

FINALIST (ages 14-17) Writing Contest Winter/Spring 2024 

London

1914

 

A flash of blue twinkling eyes. A glint of thick, glistening, blonde hair. A brush of a leather jacket.

I caught my breath and lowered my dark eyelashes to my crimson cheeks. Oh my.

A jostle to my left caused me to stumble forward. I hastily glanced up, pulling my attention back to the swarming bus stop.

As I moved with the surging crowd, I again caught sight of the charming blue-eyed man.

“Out of the way, blockheads!” boomed the bus driver out his window, slamming a meaty fist on the horn.

I watched with a cheeky smile as several people scrambled to get back to the raised pavement.

Elbowing my way forward, I caught sight of bus number nineteen. Once on board, to my dismay, I found it quite full.

I climbed to the second level and craned my neck to see if any seats were available among the crowded rows.

Suddenly, I felt a warm hand on my arm and a low, heart thrilling, manly voice say, “Excuse me, miss, take my seat, please.”

I raised my eyes and my stomach flip-flopped. It couldn’t be — but yet it was! It’s the man from the bus stop!

In that split second, I couldn’t think of a blessed thing to say, even if my life depended on it. My poor mind tried to formulate a reply but utterly failed.

Before either he or I could do a single thing, a stranger slid into my proposed seat and whispered, “Thanks.”

I heard my seat offer-er let out a low chuckle behind me and I also held back the urge to laugh. Instead, I forced myself to meet his beautiful eyes. “Thank you for the offer,” I whispered as sweetly as possible. “I appreciate it more than you know.”

Oh, yes, I thought, far more than you’ll probably ever know.

He smiled down at me and his next words made my heart melt. “I may not have been able to give you my seat, but I still have my overhead strap to offer.”

I thanked him and reached for it.

The bus abruptly jerked and I was caught off guard. I went flying into his broad chest and, for the first time in my life, felt perfectly safe.

But I knew I couldn’t stay that way. I pulled away, cheeks flaming.

I was shocked when his hand closed over mine.

He gently guided me to the overhead strap and winked as my fingers closed over it. “There you go, miss.”

My flaming cheeks turned a deeper rose and I averted my gaze. Oh, what does he think of me now? That horrible, mean driver ruined my perfect romance.

I discerned my stop coming up and decided to relish every second I had left in his soothing presence. He stood behind me like a knight protecting his queen — or so it seemed.

I was determined to let him know my name and also, hopefully, find out his. “My name is Piper Fortescue,” I said quickly. Perhaps too quickly. I held out a gloved hand.

He eagerly shook my hand and seemed to linger over it longer than customary. “A true pleasure to meet you, Miss Fortescue. I’m Roger Kennedy.”

My heart thrilled strangely as I heard his name. It suits him perfectly.

“Stop forty-three!” the driver bellowed. I pushed forward quickly, determined not to look at Roger for a last glance.

I wanted to keep the memory of his tender look as he bent over me and spoke his name.

I alighted onto the pavement and breathed in the air. London, I thought, my home.

            A sound caught my ears. My heart stopped. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I spun on my heel and gasped.

“Marjorie, dear!” my hero cried. “It’s so good to be home again!”

Roger tenderly embraced a young woman, pressing a kiss to her hair, then patted a small boy’s head fondly.

That was enough for me. I turned away, heartbroken. In those six seconds, my castle had been rudely tossed down and destroyed.

So, I thought bitterly as I blindly moved forward, his kind gestures were nothing more than what a young gentleman must do. He was probably thinking of his wife the whole time he smiled at me. Simply preparing for the big moment.

 

********

 

The soft melody of a symphony played across the radio, as I tidied up the sitting room in my small townhome. I dialed it up a little louder, humming to the tune.

Soon I was singing along, the tears pricking my eyes. “I only wanted love, was that too much? I only craved for it to be true, was it too much? Oh, darling, if you only knew.”

Knock! Knock!

I sighed, my lips pulling into a frown as I trudged forward to open the door. Dreamy moments seem to have a way of disappearing from me. “It’s probably only Mrs. Durby telling me to ‘turn the obnoxious music down for all our sanity’,” I muttered.

I yanked open the door and my heart stopped. Roger? No, no, it can’t be! But… it’s him!

“Miss Fortesque.” Roger removed his hat. “After our meeting on the bus, I decided to look up your address in the phone book to renew our friendship. I hope you don’t mind that I decided to drop by and ask you a favor.”

“Of course not.” I could barely breathe and had to force myself to politely say, “Won’t you come in?”

Roger smiled and followed me into my tiny sitting room. “You have a lovely place, Miss Fortesque. I hope you don’t mind me intruding.”

“Oh, no, please don’t worry about it” I shoved my hands into the folds of my dress to hide their shaking. “It… it sometimes gets lonely living by myself.”

I inwardly smacked myself on the forehead. Gracious goodness, Piper. How embarrassing.

Roger glanced up from where he was running an eye over my array of novels waiting to be read. “Yes. Yes, I’m sure it does.”

I lowered my eyelashes to my cheeks, and the music filled the silence.

“Fly away, baby girl, I’ve plenty of space for you. It might be lonesome, it might be weary, but oh, I've got a better place for somebody like you.”

I flushed a deep rose. Of all the songs that could play…

“Miss Fortesque,” Roger began, his voice thrilling my heart, “I came here wondering if perhaps you would be willing to do a favor for me?”

“Oh, I’ll do anything.” I responded a bit too eagerly, making me also smack myself on the forehead as soon as the words came out. I really do need to think before I speak.

Roger turned, running his hand over my bookshelves, his back to me. “When I first met you, you struck me as a person who cares deeply about others.”

I nearly fainted. He’s complimenting me?

“There’s a lady who lives more towards the slums of London— an elderly widow. I visit her as much as I can, bringing food and supplies, reading the Bible, and tidying her home. Sadly, a certain situation is preventing me from no longer doing this. I was wondering if perhaps you could take my place?”

I hesitated. I’d love to but one thing was stopping me. I decided to voice my thoughts. “Couldn’t your… your wife do it?”

Roger spun around and faced me, mouth open. “My what?”

“Y-your wife,” I faltered. Oh dear.

“I’m not married!” Then he laughed. “Where on earth did you hear I was married?”

“I-I…” I fumbled for words. “At the bus station,” I finally blurted. “Marjorie, and a little boy.”

Roger erupted into laughter. When he finally got his breath back, he said, “Dear Marjorie is my sister and Gilbert is my little brother.”

My cheeks flushed a deep red. I bit my lip and quickly apologized for assuming.

“Don’t worry about it,” he assured. “Anyone could make that mistake.” He smiled.

I smiled back. “Thanks.”

“So, will you do it?” he asked abruptly.

“Yes,” I answered. “I will go and deliver some meals to your friend.”

Roger came forward and clasped my hands. “Thank you so much, Miss Fortesque!”

I laughed softly. “Please call me Piper; Miss Fortesque sounds too formal.”

He bowed his head in submission. “Of course. But only if you promise to call me Roger.”

“Of course,” I mimicked, a teasing glint in my eyes. He might as well know my real colors from the start.

Roger laughed, his own eyes twinkling right back.

 

********

 

            Over the next few months, I visited Mrs. Loft, the widow Roger had asked me to look after. She was a dear and I’m not sure which one of us benefited more from the visits.

Each time, she would explain to me the passage we had read from in the Bible. My understanding broadened and I came to find true rest in Jesus.

            Occasionally, Roger and I would “bump” into each other in the market or on a bus.

            I loved him more and more, and feared that all too soon my feelings would show.

           

********

   Four Months Later

 

            Ding dong!

I swiped aside a stray lock of dark hair.

Hurriedly, I yanked off my dirty apron and exchanged it for a clean one. I may not be fit for the king but I’ll do.

I ran a hand over my unruly curls, trying in vain to smooth them down before opening the door.

Roger stepped inside the door. “Good morning! Busy cleaning I see.”

“Yes,” I sighed as I led the way to the kitchen. “It must be done.”

            Roger’s lips curved into a smile. “Majorie has been cleaning our house as well.”

            I nodded and wrung out a washcloth, continuing to wipe the table. “So, what brought you here?”

            “I wanted to stop by,” he replied, “and see what you were up to.”

            I gestured a hand at the piled up dishes, wet table, mop in the corner, crumbs littering the floor, and piles of soaking cloths. “That’s what I’m up to.”

            Roger laughed. “Need some help?”

            “Oh, would you?” I asked. “I’d appreciate it so much.”

            In no time, we had the kitchen sparkling. I got both of us a glass of water, then flopped into a chair and admired the cleanliness.

            Roger followed my example, a satisfied sound coming from his mouth. “There. Much better.”

            “Thank you so much.” I leaned forward. “You helped tremendously.”

            “Happy to help.”

            Silence came between us for a few minutes.

            Then Roger spoke. “Piper, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately.”

            “Oh?” I asked casually. “What about?”

            “You.”

            I choked on a sip of water I had just taken. “Me?”

            “Yes, you,” Roger replied seriously. “I’ve been praying and have felt led to ask you this question. Would you consider entering into a courtship with me?”

            My heart leaped. I could hardly believe my ears. “Oh, Roger, yes! I’d be delighted to court you.”

            Tears welled up in my eyes, and my heart felt like it would explode with joy.

            My dream is slowly being realized.

 

                                                            ********

                                                   Five Months Later

 

            I stepped closer to the stall brimming with fruit then began bargaining for the price of a bushel of apples. “One pound.”

            “One pound!?” the grocer cried incredulously. “Ma’am, these are top of the line apples, hand picked by yours truly.”

            “One pound, my good sir, or no pound at all,” I said sweetly.

            “A pound, five pence, no less, no more.”

            “Oh, please.” I rolled my eyes. “I do believe I’ll be buying somewhere else.”

            The grocer blew an exasperated breath. “Fine, one pound.”

            I smiled triumphantly and dropped the coins into his hand. “Thank you!” I hefted the wooden basket onto my hip, and started out for home.

            Between juggling the other groceries and the basket, I certainly had my hands full.

            “Thank goodness,” I breathed, as I caught sight of Roger, weaving his way through the crowd. “Yoo-hoo! Over here!”

            Roger’s eyes lit up and he shoved his way to my side. “Piper! Here let me have that basket.”

            I gratefully relieved myself of the burden, smiling up at him.

            We arrived at my townhouse, and I led him inside. After putting the groceries away, I flipped on the radio, hoping dreamy music would flood the room.

Instead, a man’s serious, deep, voice came through. “The Archduke and his wife have been assassinated in Austria-Hungary. Britain has declared war on Germany and Italy, who have jumped at the chance to fight.”

I wanted to leap forward and smash the radio to pieces but couldn’t move.

“Britain is calling on all her young men to enlist. Man up, men! There’s freedom to be fought for, a war to wage, and lives to save!”

I flung myself forward and yanked the radio’s cord out of the wall.

I turned horrified eyes to Roger’s grim, but determined, face.

No words were necessary. I knew him well enough what his decision would be.

 

 

********

                                                                 A Month Later

           

            “How do I look?” Roger asked, his tone lighter than the present situation.

            I forced a smile as I gazed at his strong, khaki-framed body. He was even more handsome than when I had first met him.

            We were in his family’s living room, saying our final farewells to each other before we left for the station.

            A lump rose in my throat, threatening to escape in the form of tears. How can I let him go? Let him go and never expect to see him again?

            “You look perfect,” I whispered. “Being a soldier suits you.”

            Roger tenderly folded me in his arms. He understood. He knew.

            A sob escaped, and I buried my face into his chest. “Roger, I can’t!”

            “Piper, the word can’t runs back to the root word of can. I want you to promise me that you can and will make it through these next years.”

            “I-I promise.”

            “Roger, darling,” his mother called from the front door. “It’s time to go. We’re going to be late!”

            Roger glanced up, then focused back on me. “I want you to promise me two more things. Write to me, please. Also promise you’ll wait for me until I get home.”

            I nodded and wiped the tears streaming down my face. “I promise.”

            “Roger!” boomed Mr. Kennedy. “Your mother is waiting!”

Roger bit his lip. “Coming, Dad.”

He took my face in his hands, his thumb wiping a tear off my cheek. “I love you, Piper.”

“I love you too, Roger.”

My dream was fulfilled— my heart was broken.