“Or why my grandmother had his Purple Heart. It’s a case of musical medals.”
She gave a small smile. “Yes, maybe.”
Simon turned to look at her, his expression serious, the medal resting in the palm of his hand. “You know this is a different kettle of fish, though, don’t you?”
“What do you mean?”
“This is a Distinguished Service Cross. They didn’t hand those out like candy. Not, of course,” he added quickly, “that they did that with Purple Hearts. But to put it into perspective… they gave out over a million Purple Hearts to soldiers wounded or killed during the Second World War, and just five thousand Distinguished Service Crosses, for acts of extraordinary bravery.”
Abby leaned back on her hands as she considered the differential. “Wow.”
“So how did your grandfather get Sergeant Matthew Lawson’s?” Simon wondered out loud.
Abby shrugged, smiling. “Like I said, I have no idea.”
“Take a guess, though.” Simon wrapped the medal back in the handkerchief and placed it on the blanket between them. He leaned back, his hands nearly touching hers. “What do we know?” he mused out loud.
“That Tom Reese was in the 82nd Airborne, and he was wounded in Belgium in December 1944.”
“And Matthew Lawson?”
“Was also in the 82nd Airborne, and did something very brave a little while later?”
“Yes, he must have. So they must have known each other.”
“I suppose, considering one had the other’s medal. But where does your grandmother fit into this?”
“She was in love with them both? Or perhaps both of them were in love with her.” Simon’s eyes twinkled as he glanced at her. “She was quite a looker, in her day. Very glamorous.”
“You’re a bit of a romantic, aren’t you?” Abby teased, only for Simon to look at her seriously, making her heart stutter.
“I like to think I am.”
Abby looked away; she couldn’t think what else to do. She stared blindly at the tranquil surface of the lake, wishing moments like this didn’t discomfit her quite so much. She was a grown-up, for heaven’s sake. She should be able to handle a little light flirting.
“Why,” Simon asked after a moment, “do I keep sensing something sad from you? Is it because of your mother and brother? I would understand if it was that, of course. But… am I wrong in feeling like it’s something different, or maybe just more?”
Abby blinked, her gaze still firmly on the lake. “I’m not sad.”
“No, you’re right, not sad, not exactly. But…” Simon paused, weighing his words. “You don’t seem entirely happy.”
She forced herself to look at him. “I thought we were talking about Matthew Lawson.”
“Can’t we talk about each other too?”
“Then tell me something about you. When you ask me these questions…” She took a quick, raggedy sort of breath. “I’m not used to it. I don’t like talking about it. It feels… it feels like peeling back my skin.”
“Ouch.”
“I know.” She managed a small smile. Simon returned it, his eyes so gentle. She could fall in love with him, Abby realized with a jolt. She had so little experience of men, of life, that she could fall right in love with the first decent guy who walked up to her. Who was kind. The thought was completely alarming.
“You want to know something about me?” Simon mused out loud. “All right, then.” He paused, his gaze on the tranquil surface of the lake. In the distance, Abby heard the buzz of a motorboat. “I’m divorced.”
SIMON
Abby didn’t move, but Simon felt her surprise, a palpable thing, a substance between them, creating a barrier, just as he’d known it would.
“Oh,” she said after a moment. Did she sound disappointed? Why wouldn’t she be, if something was happening between them, which Simon was sort of starting to hope there was, even in this very early stage? No one wanted to deal with that kind of messy emotional baggage unless they had to. “What happened?”