Prologue #2
It was a game they had played a hundred times before, one that George had grown to love for the simple fact that he could chase Cece around the garden without worrying what anyone might think. After all, of late, he had felt a pull towards her like nothing he had ever felt before.
And as he set off in his blind search, it was she he intended to find first.
As ever, Cece turned out to be the most slippery of players. Laughter and joy filled the garden as one by one, George caught everyone save for her.
Yet, he was utterly determined not to give up. If this were to be his last time playing blind man’s bluff, he would not have it said that he had lost against her.
And so, he continued through the gardens, certain she was nearby.
Having walked the paths so often before, he was easily able to navigate about, only misstepping once or twice when he heard a noise close by and found himself grabbing hold of one of the hedgerows or even one of the statues that dotted the garden.
There was even once where he found himself hugging a tree to which the others laughed as if their stomachs might split.
With every noise, he felt himself growing closer, and soon, Cece could not hide her laboured breathing from him.
It had to have been at least fifteen minutes of him chasing her about, the last one to be caught, and yet, he would not give in.
Then, just when he felt his hands brush silk, just as he smelled the floral scent of her lavender perfume, he was shocked by the hands that jammed into his chest.
Forced backwards by the impact, George stumbled, his heel meeting something hard that made him squeal out in pain.
Too late, he realized what he had done as the stone-built flowerbed wall hit him in the back of the knee, forcing him down onto his rear.
The scent of flowers surrounded him, and he might have laughed if not for the pain that lanced up his left leg.
Stunned by the sudden turn of events, George grabbed the scarf around his eyes and plucked it from his head.
“Cheater!” Cece crowed, but George was much too concerned about the sensation of warm liquid seeping down his trouser leg. “You aren’t supposed to remove the scarf until the game is finished!”
“I am not cheating,” George protested. He dropped the scarf into the flowerbed and proceeded to try to pluck himself out of it to look at his leg.
“You did; you cheated!” Cece protested, her mischievous tone telling him she was attempting to goad him into one of her playful arguments.
“Cece, stop!” Catherine ordered as she and the others came running at the sound of the commotion. “Can’t you see, he’s hurt?”
Cece crossed her arms over her chest and huffed loudly. “He would do anything to get out of losing!”
George scowled at her but instead of attempting to defend himself, he bent to check his leg. Sure enough, there was blood leaking through the cream material of his britches.
“Are you alright?” Mary asked, crouched beside him, her gentle brown eyes huge with concern.
“I’m fine,” George assured her. Hers was not the concern he wished to receive. He half-turned his attention back to Cece, hoping that she might have realized the seriousness of the situation.
“See, he’s fine!” she insisted, throwing her arms wide. “He had to have been cheating, or he never would have been able to lay a hand on me. Nobody ever manages to catch me.”
“I was not cheating,” George insisted. The sting of her accusation once more caught him sharply in the chest.
“Yes, you were! You are a cheat,” Cece snapped, glaring at him with anger brimming in her brilliant green eyes.
George would have given anything to grab her then, to take her into his embrace and force her to calm down so that he could assure her he was not anything of the sort.
Yet, before he could do so, she added, “You’re a cheat and a coward! ”
To be called a cheat was one thing, but a coward?
The pain in his leg suddenly forgotten, George jumped to his feet and towered over her once more.
“How dare you? I’m no coward!”
“Yes, you are,” she snapped back at him, and for a second, he thought she might push him again.
He braced himself, prepared for it. Cece had always been a terribly sore loser.
This was nothing new on her end, and things always worked themselves out.
They always had tiffs like this, and yet, there was something about that word – coward.
“Go on, Georgie, admit it!” Cece insisted. “You are a cheat and a coward. You told me so by the fountain. You’re a coward.”
“You had to have been cheating,” Walter insisted. “Cece is right. Nobody ever catches her. We all give up in the end.”
George didn’t respond. He was still stuck on that word.
“Yeah, go on, George, admit it!” Elizabeth added, brushing back a loose strand of pale blonde hair.
George’s stomach clenched, yet he did not snap back at his best friend’s little sister. Instead, he found himself staring at Cece, his entire world feeling as if it were falling apart as he saw the angry intent within that beautiful green gaze.
“Go on, George, tell them what you told me,” Cece insisted, placing her hands upon her hips, hips that in recent months had started to grow rounder.
The urge to reach out, grab her hand, and drag her somewhere more private to talk was almost uncontrollable. He even took a half-step forward, but Cece’s next words stopped him dead in his tracks.
“Georgie here is frightened! He’s a coward and a cheat, and he would run from a rabbit, let alone the French!”
The lump in his throat grew so thick then that he couldn’t utter a word past his trembling lips.
The laughter of those all around him made his eyes sting, but it was the look on Cece’s face that had a single tear rolling down his cheek.
“Look, there it is!” Mary said, clearly following her sister’s lead as she so often did. “He’s crying.”
“I am not,” George protested, angrily swiping his sleeve across his face.
Again, his friends laughed, and his chest tightened until he could barely breathe.
Unable to stand there a moment longer, he glanced around the group, pausing on Cece’s angry face before he turned on his heels and started to hobble away.
Silence fell then as though they realized the nerve they had hit.
“George! Come back!” Catherine called after him. “She didn’t mean it, did you, Cece?”
But George did not wait to hear the answer. He fled, barely able to hold back the tears that stung his eyes even more than the burning he felt in his wounded leg.