"At first I wasn’t happy with your father’s plan, but now I think he’s right. If anyone can understand what Felix has been through, it’s him." It certainly isn’t me, finished Alec to himself sadly. Izzy was not completely convinced by Alec’s words, but gave a tiny nod of her head and continued morosely picking at her food.
Meanwhile, at the harbor, Clive had sat down at the bar and bought Felix a drink. Much to Felix’s dismay, however, that drink was coffee. Felix had been well on his way to getting totally drunk when Clive approached him, and he figured Felix needed some sobering up before he could have a proper conversation with him.
After a couple of cups of coffee, not to mention being hit with the fact that he had been tracked down, Felix did sober up; and the soberer he got, the angrier he became. He slammed the coffee cup to the bar and got up off of his chair, and reached for his crutch. Clive was quicker and grabbed the crutch away, and said in a commanding voice, "Sergeant, you will stay here until I dismiss you. You may be injured but you are still in the army, and must obey me, even if I am retired." With a groan of disgust, Felix got back onto the barstool and hung his head wearily.
"I know it’s not easy to come home after being in battle," began Clive, "I remember how everyone expects that you can just go right back to being the person you once were, when in reality you’re totally different."
Met with resentful silence, Clive continued with a small chuckle, "My poor Jessica, what she went through when I came home from the Boer War! Arthur was a toddler and Morgan was a newborn, and to tend to them while doing all she could to help me get used to civilian life again, it’s a miracle she didn’t have a breakdown. But the thing that I realized is that you have to help yourself get back to where you were. People mean well and try to help you and to understand, but they really can’t step into your shoes—all they can do is love you."
Clive signaled to the barkeep for another two cups of coffee, and put his hand on Felix’s shoulder. "So you’re the only one who can keep your experiences from destroying you, and alcohol will not help you escape from them. You’re going to have to face what you’ve experienced head on, and move beyond it."
"Well, maybe I can’t!" snapped Felix.
"You won’t know that unless you try a lot harder than you have," retorted Clive unsympathetically, but then he softened his tone. "Felix, you have a lot to make it worth returning to Avonlea, not the least of which is my daughter."
Felix glared at Clive, "What do you mean, you never wanted me to be with Izzy. I know you never thought me good enough for her."
Clive grudgingly had to agree, up to a point, "It’s true, when you first started courting Izzy, you were so capricious and never had any common sense; it was always one scheme after the other with you. But I heard about your battle experiences, and I think it takes a real man to make every effort to help a friend under those conditions, not to mention continuing to fight, after you were so seriously injured yourself." Then Clive told Felix that he knew of Felix’s destruction of the German machine gun nest, and how that action saved the lives of his comrades and allowed them to win the battle.
Clive paused to sip some coffee, and turned to look Felix directly in the eye, and continued, "If the man who fought so bravely on that battlefield were to ask for my permission to have Isolde’s hand in marriage, I would be proud to grant it."
To say the least, Felix was stunned at this turn of events. To think that he might just be accepted for the person he had become—it was more than he ever dared hope. He shook his head in confusion. "It’s nice that you feel that way," Felix shrugged, "but how do you know that Izzy would want me?"
Clive stood up and handed Felix his crutch, "There’s only one way to find out. Let’s go."
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