The Widow and The CEO.

Prologue 3 – There is a way.

Prologue 3 – There is a way.

Clay stood in front of the begging Marsha, his heart clenching in his chest. Moved by the pleas of a woman who was in utter fear for her daughter, that she would willingly give her to him, a British soldier, although he had visited them years before, she did not know him, not really. He closed his eyes, his mind in a whirlwind of emotions. He knew that if he took the girl his superiors would bring her right back to this very place, yet he could not find it in himself to refuse Marsha’s cries of desperation.

Nodding his head once, he took hold of Ruth’s arm, and led her out of the small house, without so much as a word.

“Shkran, shkran,” Marsha repeatedly thanked Clay, as Ruth wordlessly followed behind him, her eyes wide with fear.

Her mother had given her away to the soldiers. Granted, this man had helped her as a young child, but fear of the unknown washed over her like a tidal wave. Ruth felt trapped between a rock and a hard place. Go with Clay, the soldier who had helped her learn to read and write, or remain, possibly being killed, if she was lucky. Her biggest fear was that she would most definitely be taken as a bride by the evil men who thought of women as only possessions and tools to show their masculinity. She turned her head and looked over her shoulder at her mother, who shouted that she would be safe, to do as Clay Miller told her. To go and escape the perceived doom that would transpire when the Western government’s military moved out from their lands.

“What the…..” Danny began to cuss at Clay.

“No time. Move out,” Clay growled, cutting off the shocked soldier’s barrage of swearing before he could sully the ears of the innocent girl who walked beside him.

“Staff Sergeant Miller, what the hell were you thinking?” Major Smith growled out in frustration.

“She has to go back,” Captain Blunt sighed, shaking his head at the man who stood defiantly in front of them.

“Are you kidding me? They will kill her!” Clay growled out. He knew he would probably be reprimanded for his actions, but he had made the decision, and he was not one to back down. They could dishonourably discharge him, and take his livelihood, and his pension, but Clay knew leaving Ruth behind was not an option.

Major Smith groaned, rubbing his hand through what remained of his thin dirty blonde hair on his balding head in frustration.

“She cannot come, there is no way they will allow her into the country,” Major Smith sighed. He too felt uncomfortable at the thought of leaving a girl at the hands of men who would seek to destroy her life, all because of a thirst for knowledge. But, his hands were tied, and he understood, as much as the Staff Sergeant before him wanted to protect the girl, the reality was impossible.

Danny, who stood behind Clay, took a breath.

“There is a way, sir,” he uttered, not sure how his suggestion was going to be taken.

As he spoke, one of the other men from the unit walked in and, after a quick salute to the officers, slumped down on one of the chairs. Charlie Eccleston, who loved his football so much, during his last tour, had faked a stomach bug, and entered the D.V tent, to watch the FA Cup final, only to catch the dreaded bug for real, and still maintained to that day, it was worth spending two weeks on the toilet pissing out of his arsehole, which had afforded him the nickname ‘s**t-break’, and cost him a trip to the glasshouse when he returned to Catterick Garrison, when that tour had ended. He held little respect for authority, but he was a good soldier, one you wanted beside you in the heat of battle, hence why he had not been discharged from the army, and sent back to the desert, time and time again.

Ruth watched from beside Clay, not sure if she was more fearful of leaving the country of her birth with the soldiers, or being sent back to her village to face the wrath of men who would despise her intelligence.

Major Smith looked directly at Danny.

“Enlighten me,” he growled out, wishing he was anywhere but here. He really did not want to deal with this situation, but as the officer in charge, he had little choice in the matter. He had high tea to enjoy in the officer’s mess, which contained a fan, to cool him from the intense heat.

“He could marry her. Then she would be entitled to return to England,” Danny hesitantly said.

“What, she is a child!” Clay shouted at Danny.

“She doesn’t look like a child to me. You can divorce her in a few years, once immigration is off your back,” Danny shrugged.

“I am going to pretend I am not hearing this,” Captain Blunt sighed. He had grown an affiliation with the villagers they were now abandoning.

“Hey, Staff, if you are not up for it, I will take one for the team,” s**t-break said, looking Ruth up and down with lust in his eyes, blowing her kisses, as she stepped behind Clay, to hide herself from him.

Clay let out a warning growl to s**t-break, shaking his head in disgust.

“Are you both insane?” Clay asked.

“Enough, she must return,” Major Smith, sighed in frustration.

“However, Danny has a point. You clearly have a…connection with the girl. Her mother gave her to you. It could work,” Captain Blunt said, it felt wrong to send the girl back, and his staff sergeant had built a bond of trust between her and the mother.

Major Smith sighed, he really needed that cup of tea, accompanied by a scone with cream and jam, and to sit in front of the fan.

“Fine. If you can convince the Padre to marry you, we will take her back,” Major Smith sighed, washing his hands of the situation.

Clay looked around the Officer's tent, shaking his head in disbelief.

“There has to be another way,” he sighed, as Ruth blinked her eyes, not sure what to think about the situation.

“She is a child; we cannot force her into marriage. Hell, that will make us as bad as the bastards we are trying to save her from!” Clay continued, desperate to find an answer, any answer to his conundrum.

“She is no child. She is 18 years old, and with the best rack I have seen in a long time,” s**t-brake declared, his eyes once more trailing over Ruth’s body, which was mostly hidden under her long dress, making her shudder in disgust.

“Get yourself under control or get out!” Clay shouted at the man. Clearly, he needed to go home on leave and work out his s****l frustrations on the willing females who loved to bed a soldier.

“You have less than a week to decide, then we head back to England. Our tour is over. Best make your choice, Staff Sergeant Miller, and you had best make it quick. I cannot let you keep her here much longer.

Clay let out a heavy sigh, as he nodded at his superior, before gently moving Ruth out of the officer’s tent, taking her to the mess tent, and sitting her down with some of the female soldiers, before heading back to his own bunk and laying down. He let out a loud shout of frustration.

He lamented getting himself into this position, part of him wishing he had never come across the village all those years ago. Yet, still, he knew, deep down in his gut, he had to do everything he could to protect the girl. Danny walked in, and sat down on his own bunk, looking at Clay.

“Staff. Look, I know you think she is just a child, and she possibly is compared to girls her age in England. But you have to see, this is about the only way she can be taken back to England. Hell, she is 18 and was not married off to someone in her village. She is lucky. Plus, it doesn’t even need to be a ‘real’ marriage. Once you are free and clear, and she has her citizenship, you can cut her lose, no harm and no fowl. She is safe, and you helped a girl escape a fate worse than death,” Danny explained.

“Even if I do this, life in the UK is no bed of roses. You know how people feel about immigrants at the moment, and who in all honesty can blame them? We know, better than most, that terrorists hide in their number, she will be subjected to a lot of racial hatred,” Clay sighed.

“I don’t dispute that, but she will not be entering England on a dinghy, about to capsize. She will be married to a soldier of the British Army. It has to count for something,” Danny shrugged.

“Immigration will still sniff around our arses,” Clay contemplated, not sure why he was beginning to entertain the idea.

“Let them sniff, you have watched over that girl since she was, what, 13 years old. It is not beyond the realms of possibility you fell for the girl when she grew boobs,” Danny shrugged.

Clay let out a frustrated sigh.

“Where is she now?” Danny asked.

“In the mess tent, I left her with some of the RAF girls. Corporal Waite is looking after her,” Clay answered, looking up to the sky as if begging for divine intervention. The truth was that was exactly what he was doing. Praying for the answer to come to him.

“Give her the choice,” Danny said.

“What choice does she have? Me, or back to the village and almost certain to be stoned to death, or s**t-break!” Clay huffed.

“I am not saying I am going to do this, but, even if I agree to this madness, there is the small matter of the Padre. If I do decide it is the only way, and Ruth agrees, that man is not one to be swayed by a sob story, he takes marriage very seriously,” Clay sighed.

“Then, leave it in his hands. Ask Ruth if she agrees, you leave the final decision to God or his representative,” Danny shrugged, then got up and left Clay, to his thoughts.