The Soldier and his Reluctant Bride

By EVER JONES

In the fictional novel "The Soldier and his Reluctant Bride," Rain, a young girl, finds herself in an arranged marriage with Vincent, a soldier. As their relationship develops amidst the challenges of their world, the two must navigate the complexities of their situation. The story explores themes of love, sacrifice, and the consequences of choices made in difficult circumstances. With explicit scenes and vivid storytelling, Rain takes readers on an emotional and gripping journey.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ever Jones
• Release date: Jan 6, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224014262

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

THE SOLDIER IN THE WINDOW

I

am in a dark forest surrounded by the unknown. I can’t shake the feeling that there is somebody behind me... Tracking me. Danger is lurking only a step away.  I don’t know how I know this, but I can tell that whoever is behind me, is male. I can hear it in the sound of his ragged breathing behind me. My legs start aching. I surrender, screaming as I fall.  My legs curl up beneath me waiting for the blow that is sure to follow.

I wake up startled and glancing around at my pitiful surroundings, assuring myself everything is fine.

There are three beds in my depressing room, but other than mine all remain unoccupied. Four years ago, when I was fifteen years old, they were occupied by my three younger siblings - the triplets, Amy, Sammy and Libby. After my dad died, mom sent them off to live with my aunt and uncle who couldn't have any children of their own.

They immigrated to a country far from the war, right after the triplets arrived with their escort. Years later I overheard my mum telling one of the neighbors that my uncle and aunt did not want me. that the person I knew and loved as my father was never really my dad. According to mom he was a nameless soldier who passed through town.

I dared confronting my mother about this once.  My mother was standing in the kitchen washing the dishes when I walked in.

Why didn’t you tell me? I had asked my mother. She kept on washing the dishes as if I asked nothing.

I don't have time for your games today, why did I not tell you what?

That daddy was never my real father.

My mother's hands stilled in the dishes; she turned around slowly.

You should not go around listening at other people's conversations dear. The one thing you must understand about my mother she was the queen of diverting questions.

Mother. I am asking you a question.

What good is going to hear that you are bastard child? That I did not know the name of the man I slept with, nor do I care to ever find out who it was.

But daddy...

But daddy what? He knew whom I was when he married me, and he had his fair share of girls on the side.

I felt the tears dripping down my face, You disgust me.

My mother suddenly turned around then slapping me across the face, You don't get to judge.

Looking at her hand as she walked away grunting again, You don't get to judge.

I never asked again after that knowing it would be futile and accepted that my sibling’s lives could only have become better being away from a mother who did not care.  Although ever so often I think about the sounds of the laughter that filled our house with something more than this morbid war reality.

I stand up and look out the window of the small bedroom. The valley is eerily dark tonight I can just make out the vast array of trees, standing on attention like soldiers against the backdrop of trees and protecting us from the danger lurking on its outskirts.

The only light I can see from here is from the soldier’s pub where I know my mom will be tonight. From as far back as I could remember my mom had this kind of glow to her that would draw people to her. These days she looked like a ghost of her former self. Used and old. The only kind of people she attracted where the soldiers at the pub that paid by the hour for her services.  She never admitted it, but I didn’t need her to confirm it. Everybody in town knows just by looking at her sleeping arrangements. The war turns a lot of good into evil, and evil to good, but I am not sure if I can blame thew war alone for my mother’s sins.

We were not affected in the beginning when the war for land first started. The neighboring country started the war as their land was a barren wasteland and they needed the land on our side for food and resources. What was supposed to be a peaceful agreement between two neighbors ended in a war that lasted almost six years. The soldiers came and plundered our small farming villages into chaos. They put a fence around town and ordered everyone to stay in its confines. A regiment was set up and food became rationed to conserve the produce. With the war won about a year ago, by our side things got a little easier, but the imminent threat of the desperadoes left us void of everything we called home, looming over all our heads. At least we still have the protection of the soldiers who stayed on after the war, to help with the desperadoes.  Most of the soldiers stationed at our village have been building permanent houses for themselves and settling down with the local girls. The more hardened soldiers stayed at the barracks where they entertained an endless supply of loose women.

Sighing I close the window, pulling on my sneakers and a pair of tracksuit pants that I found at the salvation shop a while back. I loved running in the early mornings when everything was still dark, it cleared my mind for the day ahead that was most surely a difficult one. I usually stop to glance into the pub window when I pass there. My mother was sitting on the lap of the soldier I recognized as Colonel Grant, her arms wrapped around his neck her tits almost popping out of the dress - it made me sick to my stomach to think what she did.

Letting my eyes wander over the bar my eye catches a soldier in the corner of the bar I have never seen. Unlike the others he did not have female company with him - he sat alone at the bar, staring at me. I don't know why but I had a sudden impulse to know everything about this soldier. From this distance I could not make out his eye color, but from the intensity in his face I could see it was strained. He shook his head slightly at me, and slowly stood up walking to the door. He was wearing a tight black t-shirt stretched over his arm muscles and a pair of combat pants, I needed to get out of here and quick. Danger, my mind screamed at me!

Hey, stop. Little girl! he shouted when I started backing away; I did not wait a second later having previously encountered a soldier or two who thought I was as promiscuous as my mother. I may be my mother's daughter, but I will never be like her.  I repeated in my head as I ran from the strange soldier.

That night I dreamt of the soldier voice in