Field of Blackbirds by Clayton Jeppsen & Lindsey Jeppsen (best ebook reader ubuntu .txt) 📕

glided down the steps and pushed into the crowd, panicking when she’d lost sight of him for only a split second.

************

She still loves me, Lazar said to himself. He trembled. Lazar pushed for her like a dying soldier for a shot of morphine. She was everything, his cure, his life, his future, his secret treasure. And finally she was, here, in his arms; her breath, bursting on his neck, her fingers pressing into his back and her scent, more enticing than an apple orchard in spring time.
“I missed you, Milla.” he said. She squeezed him tighter as if he told her he was leaving. But she was the glove he never wanted to take off.
“Do you know how happy I am to see you?” asked Milla, now beaming up at him.
This time Lazar and Milla weren’t standing in a picture of the sun etched in dirt. They were the sun, radiating hope for the faces spinning and cheering around them. Hope for anyone who had lost faith in the single greatest power in the world; love.
One of those was Josef, who was now looking skyward, shaking two hands clasped together. He was thanking God for the sweet image of Milla stuck in-between a laugh and a cry, and a kiss.
Next, Lazar felt a little body leap onto his back and little fingers that smelled like sugar and candy covered his eyes.
“Who am I?” she asked.
“Hmmm, let me think.” Lazar led on. “Happy. Check mate!” He declared victory.
“No silly. It’s Sofi!” she giggled, with her arms now around his neck, slightly choking. He swung her around in-between he and Milla. It was then, that Lazar lost control of the emotions he had struggled to temper. Seeing Milla on the other side of a child was charming. He wondered if she felt the same about him.

Lazar and Milla walked the sheer, curvaceous paths that dropped into the sea. Split was a city of the romantic era. Everything was capped in terracotta red. The old buildings were unevenly mortared together with mismatched blocks and long columns. They were bleached by the sun and salt of the Mediterranean. The salt was redolent in the air now and the sun, warily casting over them. Milla held Lazar’s hand tightly and glared off into the sailboat speckled bay. She looked fascinating Lazar thought, in her blue and gold dress with white stockings up to her knees. Her skin radiant, her hair glistening, her eyes blooming, and her lips blazed, hinting at a lifetime of endless magenta sunsets. She was softer than when he saw her last in the camp. He loved to see her this way.
The two of them sat on a waist-high wall that was cracked and eroded. Lazar let Milla tell him all about her trip to Split, her reunion with her parents and all she had done since she got there. Lazar was saddened to hear about Ibrahim.
“He died fighting for a cause he believed in.” said Milla. “We can honor his life for that. It’s really all he wanted. Thank you for helping him, Lazar. Thank you for helping us.” She still had her head down but she looked up at him. Lazar reached behind her head and pulled it into his neck.
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Milla.” he promised. “The thought of being with you has kept me alive.” Lazar’s leather jacket creaked as he flexed his arms around her.
“I need you with me, Lazar. I’m doing what I can with Sofi, but I have to get her into a school. She needs her shots and Josef, I can’t begin to tell you the care and medicine he needs. He’s told me that I don’t need to care for him, but he saved my life and he’s so sweet. I can’t push him off with the other refugees. But I need help. I need you, Lazar.”
Lazar tilted his head down to look Milla in the eyes. “Milla, you are a woman now, a strong, courageous, beautiful woman.”
It was hard for Lazar to hear that he was so needed. But it made him feel like a man. It made him feel whole and it was more than he could hope for.
“Lazar,” Milla whispered softly, “I really don’t mean to complain about things or about how hard it is for me. I guess I’m just scared.”
“Scared of what, Milla?” asked Lazar.
“Scared that I’m going to lose you again; that you’re leaving soon or something. It’s why you haven’t said anything about it. Isn’t it?”
Lazar remembered the promise that he’d made that day on the bridge. Now listening to Milla, things were starting to fall into place. He couldn’t suspend her fears anymore.

“We’ve been through a lot, haven’t we?” Milla just waited silently, dreading what she might hear. Lazar lifted her chin with his fingers. A single tear was already paving the way for more. “I promise you, Milla, we’ve no more blood to bleed, no more tears to weep.” he said. Then he pushed away the sadness with one gentle stroke of his thumb.
“How is it so, Lazar? How can you promise that?” Milla wanted to hear more. She wanted Lazar to clarify what he had said.
“Three weeks ago we were arrested, Radenko and I, for helping the refugees and refusing to follow orders we knew were unjust.” Lazar waited for the knot in his throat to subside. “Radenko was shot because of it.”
Milla only knew Radenko for a short time, but they were the refugees he’d helped. And he was dead because of it. Milla curled into Lazar’s chest and sobbed quietly.
“Good and innocent people are dying everyday in this terrible mess. Like your brother, Radenko died fighting for a cause he believed in. I’ll never forget him.”
Milla continued to sob, realizing Lazar nearly lost his life as well.
“Lazar, you’re here with me. It’s a miracle.”
“My first Lieutenant, Vuk Brankovich, found out about my situation, that I was in prison and everything. He said I’ve served my time in the Army, more than most soldiers. He also said; witnessing my best friend’s death was punishment enough. But the truth is; he knows I don’t have the heart to fight a war like this.” Lazar paused, “Milla, he ordered an honorable release for me.”
Milla raised her head and cupped Lazar’s face.
“I’m sorry for everything your family has gone through Milla. I’m Sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you that one summer-day when you told me not to join the Vojsko Srbije. I can only offer you my love now. It’s all I really have left, and it’s certainly not enough. But if you’ll take me, I’ll work every day of my life to make you happy. I’m here now Milla, with you. I can help you with Sofi. I can help you with Josef. Milla, I can help you.” Lazar placed his hand over Milla’s heart. “I love you.”
Milla didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. It was all too much. She never realized how much she loved him, how badly she needed his touch. She climbed into his lap and draped her arms around his neck. She let his strong arms cradle her in, something that made her feel human again.
The two of them just sat for a while, letting their imaginations run wild with what could be. They had futures ahead of them now, futures filled with love, laughter, promises, and long, long reminiscent moments of what it took, to get there.

************

The small ripples crawled back to him. He didn’t have quite the same cast as he did when he was a young man. But he was patient, and that virtue seemed to pay off.
“Reel it in, Marshal!” said Petrovich. “Don’t let him get away.”
“I’ll let him enjoy his last meal first. He doesn’t know he’s caught just yet.” the General explained. “There’s no fight. He’ll fight when he’s ready.”
Petrovich fixed his pole to the boat and got the net ready. The General always seemed to reel in bigger fish.
Almost ignoring the fact that he hooked a fish, the General leaned back and kicked his boots up on the edge of the boat. He tilted his head and tipped his brim down and waited.
“It’s there in the tackle box if you want to read it.”
Petrovich looked over at the box. He’d seen the letter earlier, just didn’t know if he was ready to read it.
“Let’s reel this one in, Marshal. I’ll read it later.”
“This one’s not ready. He’s stubborn. He won’t admit that he’s stuck just yet. Read the letter Petro.”
Petrovich tossed the net in the bow and sat next to the tackle box. He grabbed the letter and patted it on the palm of his hand for a second. Then he took a breath and opened it.
“He would have wanted you to have the picture.” the General admitted. “You kept it safe for so many years.”
Petrovich bowed his head, brought the picture of Mother Mary and Christ to his lips. It was softer now and faded. “Radi,” he mumbled. Petrovich had to shade the letter from sun’s stare. It read:


General Gavrillo,

Hello Sir. You don’t know me, but I knew your son. I served