Free Tides of Honour by Genevieve Graham

her eyes and smiled, feeling like a happy cat. She practically purred when he touched her.
    â€œI guess it makes no sense, but I’m plain crazy about you,” he said softly, then leaned in to kiss her. His lips were soft but not shy. When he pulled away, she leaned in for another. Then he rested his forehead against hers and whispered, “I’ll be back for you, Audrey. I promise.”
    â€œKiss me again, soldier,” she whispered, and he did. “I will wait for you,” she said, then she turned toward the kitchen counter. She slid open a drawer and pulled out a small sheet of paper, then a pencil. She scribbled the postal address in town and thrust the paper at him. “Mail comes to here. And I’ll send letters to the Twenty-fifth Battalion, right?” She tapped her temple with the pen. “I’ll remember.”
    Danny read the address on the paper, then folded it and tucked it inside his jacket. Then, shy again, she reached into her apron pocket and pulled out the portrait of herself. She peeked at it, said a silent farewell, then handed it to him.
    Danny smiled, looking at it. “You sure are pretty,” he said, then flipped the picture over.
    To Danny. Please be careful. Audrey.
    Still smiling, he opened one of the packs that hung from his waist and pulled out a small tin can that smelled strongly of tobacco. The picture fit perfectly into the lid.
    â€œMy writing’s not too neat,” he said, tucking the can back into his pack.
    â€œI’ll understand,” she assured him.
    â€œI’ve never been much good at spelling, neither.”
    â€œDon’t worry.”
    He kissed her again, then she touched the straps crossing over his shoulders as if ensuring they were secure. She skimmed her fingers over each one of the nine buttons on his jacket, then reached for the mess tin hanging on the outside of his pack. She held up one finger, asking him to wait, then turned to the pantry and brought out a small sack of buns, which she set inside the tin.
    â€œThank you, Audrey,” he said.
    â€œYou can share.”
    â€œI will. Thanks.” They stared at each other, and she knew he was trying just as hard to memorize her features as she was with him. Her mind’s brush swirled over the dark line of his eyebrow, skipping over the scar that cut the line neatly in half. She had just the brown for it.
    â€œAudrey?”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œThanks. Thanks for everything.”
    She smiled, but her chin quivered awfully, and tears threatened. When he saw it, Danny slumped a little, his eyes wide with concern. He folded her into his arms again, and she wished she could crawl inside his coat with him, hide there, be safe there.
    â€œI will wait for you, Danny,” she repeated, then he was gone.
    The last brown coat disappeared over the hill of the road, but Audrey still didn’t move. One second more, she thought. One more second where she could pretend they were still standing in the same place, breathing the same air. Just one more moment with his deep blue eyes inches from hers, gazing into her soul.
    Then she spun and raced back toward the house, her skirt flapping behind her as she went. She didn’t say a word, didn’t want to interfere with the pictures pulsing through her mind. Paper.She needed paper. And charcoal for now, though paint would be added later. All different hues, from white to yellow to red, and a touch of cobalt blue for his eyes and for the shading beneath them. Right now it was imperative that she capture every line, every curve of his handsome face, bring back the light in those eyes, the shy charm in his smile. In her mind she recalled how he’d lifted his cap and a brief spark of sunshine had brought to life a gentle hint of gold— raw umber, she thought—about halfway back, blending into his brown waves. Then he’d replaced his cap with one hand, tugging on the brim with finger and thumb,