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    All For the Love of You: A Short Story from Fall of Poppies: Stories of Love and the Great War
    All For the Love of You: A Short Story from Fall of Poppies: Stories of Love and the Great War
    All For the Love of You: A Short Story from Fall of Poppies: Stories of Love and the Great War
    Ebook71 pages55 minutes

    All For the Love of You: A Short Story from Fall of Poppies: Stories of Love and the Great War

    By Jennifer Robson

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    About this ebook

    International bestselling author Jennifer Robson once again delights readers with this touching short story of a young woman who has the unexpected opportunity to rekindle love with the wounded American soldier she never forgot.

    On the 11th of November, Daisy Fields celebrated the end of the Great War in the embrace of the only man she ever loved. But years later, the only thing she has left of that single, perfect kiss is the fading memory of her beloved’s face. When a family tragedy reveals the existence of a letter that has the power to change the course of her life, can Daisy find the soldier she thought was gone forever, or has the truth been buried for far too long?

    Originally published in the moving collection Fall of Poppies: Stories of Love and the Great War, this e-book also includes an excerpt from Robson’s new novel, Moonlight Over Paris, available now. 

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHarperCollins
    Release dateMay 17, 2016
    ISBN9780062476548
    All For the Love of You: A Short Story from Fall of Poppies: Stories of Love and the Great War
    Author

    Jennifer Robson

    Jennifer Robson is the Globe & Mail and Toronto Star number-one bestselling author of six novels, among them The Gown and Somewhere in France. She holds a doctorate in British history from the University of Oxford and lives in Toronto, Canada, with her husband and children.

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      Book preview

      All For the Love of You - Jennifer Robson

      Dedication

      For Claudio

      Contents

      Dedication

      All for the Love of You

      Part One

      Part Two

      Part Three

      Buy Link to Fall of Poppies

      An Excerpt from Moonlight Over Paris

      About the Author

      Also by Jennifer Robson

      Credits

      Copyright

      About the Publisher

      All for the Love of You

      PART ONE

      Paris, France

      March 1925

      HER FATHER WAS DYING. DR. SOREL DIDN’T TROUBLE TO mince his words.

      Your father has pneumonia, Miss Fields, and there is no effective treatment.

      I don’t understand. It was only a cold. Surely it can’t be that serious.

      His lungs are weak, as you know, and now the infection has set in. He is dying. One day, perhaps two. It will not be long now. I am very sorry.

      Dr. Sorel’s diagnosis was shocking, of course, but it wasn’t precisely a surprise. She had seen her father diminishing over the past months, his coughing fits becoming more frequent, more severe, and though he’d insisted it was simply the damp Paris winter disagreeing with him, she hadn’t been convinced. Yet she had never quite imagined this.

      Daisy sat at his bedside all that night, and for the day and night that followed. He slept nearly the entire time, rousing only when the medicine wore off and his cough stirred to life again. And then, in the wee hours near dawn, when light had begun to tug at the charcoaled fringes of night, he awoke.

      His gaze was clear, unfogged by the morphia Dr. Sorel had administered, and he motioned for her to draw even closer, though her head was only inches away from his. He looked ghastly, his skin paper-thin and almost gray, and his features, in the thin light of dawn, resembled a death mask more than living human flesh.

      She kissed his brow and grasped his near hand in hers, wishing it were enough to tether him to life.

      Forgive me, he whispered. Did it . . . out of love. Didn’t think . . . not worthy . . .

      I don’t understand, Daddy—you did what?

      Forgive me . . .

      Of course I will. I love you, Daddy.

      He smiled feebly, and then he was asleep again, his expression slackening into something that almost resembled peace. Minutes passed, the space between his exhalations growing longer and longer, and though she longed for him to wake again, to see that she was there, to know that she loved him, he slipped further away with each rasping sigh.

      A long-drawn whisper of escaping breath, and then . . . nothing. He was gone.

      She stood, her limbs protesting after the hours she’d spent hunched at his side, and painstakingly straightened the sheets and coverlet over his still form. There was a fleck of spittle at the corner of his mouth, and she wiped it away with the same handkerchief she’d been using to blot the perspiration from his brow.

      Somehow she made it across the bedchamber to the bathroom, its white tiles and gleaming chrome shockingly bright once she switched on the electric lights overhead. Standing before the sink, she splashed cold water on her face and wrists, watching with a calm sort of detachment at the funny way her hands were shaking. She smoothed back her hair, half of which had fallen out of its pins, but was too tired to do anything more.

      At that moment she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and cry herself to sleep, but she had to take charge. For the first time in her life, she had no one to look up to for advice and support. She would have to manage on her own.

      Knowing that her father wouldn’t wish anyone else to see him struggling, she had kept the servants out of his bedchamber, only occasionally opening the door to admit supplies of fresh towels and lemon water. Their butler was waiting in the hall, as she’d expected he would do, and for all she knew the poor man had been there all night. He probably hadn’t sat down the entire time.

      My father has passed away, Mr. Bishop. It was very peaceful, she added, seeing how he struggled to contain his shock. Could I trouble you to send a note to Dr. Sorel? I shall need his help in sorting out the formalities.

      Yes, of course. May I fetch you anything, Miss Daisy? You haven’t eaten anything in hours.

      "No, thank you. I need to go

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