Excerpt from My Angel, My Light As Darkness Falls
by Linda D. Hays-Gibbs
by Linda D. Hays-Gibbs
From the corner of the woods Pierre Blanchard saw her. She was like an angel floating around in the carnage of hell. At least she looked like an angel. Her beauty was compelling and her grace was like a dancer and a determined little flower with serious and painful intent. He could feel her emotions. Suddenly, all he wanted was to comfort her, to take her into his arms and never let her go. He started toward her and then halted, shaking his head to clear it. He could not do that. He was the enemy, the dreaded Frenchman, and he had to stay hidden. After all this horrible battle, someone had to report back to France that they were defeated. Pierre should have already left. Maybe, God willing, this time there would be no more wars. No, that was not possible. Was it not Plato that said the only men who did not war were dead men? There would always be wars. Mesmerized by his angel, he kept following her. She had on the most exquisite gown, and though it was soiled, she still looked like a china doll.
Pierre ran toward her and almost out into the clearing. He stopped just short of exposing himself. Oh, God he wanted to help her. She was so helpless and tiny and she was so broken. His heart was breaking for her as she screamed and wept, so he continued to weep too. She had found her lover. Oh, what Pierre would give for her to love him like that and to hold him like that! His features twisted into a scowl. If he could only take her in his arms and love her! His clothes would not give him away.