A Kestrel Rising (27 page)

“That’s probably a good thing.”

“Sadly for us, yes.”

He kissed her, slowly and deliberately. He was all warmth and comfort and his hands strayed to places that had been untouched for too long. Ilona kissed him back and slid her hand between the buttons of his shirt, until he drew back.

“I’m sorry, darling,” he whispered. “I don’t think I can help myself.”

“Nor can I.” She slipped out of his arms and locked the door. If they were quiet, no one would ever know.

“That’s my girl.” He drew her back into his arms. “I’ve missed you so much, Ilke.”

Ilona’s guilt at what they were about to do was swept away by the feel of Francis’ skin against her own. Her fingers followed paths that she had ached to revisit. She loved the smooth hollow of his back and the way he was colored by the firelight and the way he took his time. The fire of February was replaced by a reverence that hadn’t been there before. Whether he loved her or not, he filled the silence with endearments between kisses and moved with a delicate grace. She wanted to cry again but, instead, she gave him everything. She let her hands and her mouth speak for her. She kissed the shadowed hollow beneath his collarbone and kept her touch light and gentle. He shuddered and sighed as he gathered her up and slid into her. It felt like coming home.

“I missed you too,” she whispered against his throat and his lips until he took her to a place where words were no longer necessary.

* * * *

“Mama,” Aislinn said. “She’s doing it again.”

Ilona picked up the cup and saucer. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because you’ll spoil him, that’s why.”

Brilliant sunlight streamed through the windows of the breakfast room and fell across the table, glittering on the cutlery. “Nonsense, it’s Christmas Day. I didn’t get him a Christmas present, so he can have a cup of tea instead.”

“You are besotted, aren’t you?” her sister declared.

“I might be, but don’t tell him.” She took the tea and walked back up the stairs. She rapped on his door and crept in. His deep, even breathing told her that he was still asleep. She drew back the curtains and looked at him as he slept with the abandon of a small child. She set the tea on the bedside table and touched his face. He murmured something in his sleep and rolled over, clasping his pillow.

“Merry Christmas.” She kissed his cheek.

He regarded her with one open eye and grinned. “Are you my Christmas present?”

“No, your cup of tea is.”

He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “I think last night was the best gift I’ve ever received.”

She blushed and felt weak at the memory, dizzy and reeling as they climbed the stairs, arms wrapped around each other. “Likewise.” She smiled weakly.

He made space for her on the bed and she sat beside him while he drank his tea. “What’s it like outside today?” he asked.

“Very sunny and very cold. We didn’t get much snow, just a dusting, enough to make everything look pretty.”

“Can we go for a walk after breakfast?”

“Don’t we always? It seems to have become a custom of ours.”

“A very pleasant one.” He finished his tea. “Now you’d better scoot, because I don’t think a well brought up young lady like you should be in a gentleman’s bedroom while he’s in a state of undress for very long.”

She laughed. “It’s a bit late to be finding that you have a conscience.”

* * * *

They found themselves sitting on Anna’s bench, holding hands in the sharp, frosty chill of late morning. The fields were brilliant with snow and pale blue shadows lingered in the folds and hollows. They sat in silence listening to the distant peal of church bells from the next village.

“There’s something about this place. It’s so peaceful,” Francis observed. “I can sit here for hours, but it seems the only time we’re ever here is in the winter, when it’s freezing. I imagine my mom spent a lot of time here, and Dad, too, when he was around.”

“I can’t say that I blame them, I like it here. It’s a good place to sit, think and just stare at the scenery. I wish I’d had this place to come to these past few months.”

He sighed and kissed her hair. “I’m sorry, Ilke. I swear I’ll never treat you like that again. There’s no excuse for what I did, but I can be a real ass when the occasion calls for it. I really thought it was the best thing for everybody. It just goes to show that I’d be better sticking to what I do best, flying planes.”

“It was a horrible ten months. It was worse than if you had died.”

He nodded. “Yes, I remember that line from your last letter, about the ghosts of the living being the hardest to vanquish. That cut deep because you were right. I didn’t think so at the time. I intended to throw that letter away. I crumpled it up and threw it on the floor and then, after a while, I thought better of it and retrieved it.”

She remembered Harry’s letter and kept quiet.

“I spent so much time missing you. I may have shut you out, but I can’t tell you how many conversations I had with you in my mind. Wherever I was, I always thought of you, even though the guilt just about killed me.” He gazed at the sky and swallowed. “I told you yesterday that I care more about you than I should, and what I mean is that, because of this damn war, there’s too much that can go wrong. Will you be patient with me?” He rested his forehead against hers. “I can’t offer you any more than that at the moment, darling.”

Ilona put her hands to his face. “It’s all right. I understand. I’ll be patient, I promise. Just don’t be an idiot again. Talk to me, Francis. Don’t shut me out. If you abide by that one request, I will wait for as long as it takes because I need you. I really didn’t want to go through the rest of my life hiding away, because of what happened with Ian. I couldn’t go through that again. I can’t live life wrapped in cotton wool. He made me promise, a long time ago that, if anything happened to him, I wasn’t to mourn him forever and that I had to live my life. It took returning to Catterick to honor that promise, and I’m so glad that I did. It was hard and I cried more than once, but it’s done and I’m free now.”

“Thank you,” he whispered, kissing her. “Thank you, darling. I promise that I won’t let you down again. I don’t want to lose what we have, not now.”

“Neither do I.” She kissed him back, wishing they were somewhere else.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“I want you to have these.” Francis pressed something cool and hard into her hand.

It was their last evening and everyone had gone to bed. They had sought refuge in the small sitting room for the first time since Christmas Eve. Rain spat against the window. Ilona opened her hand and found the glint of firelight on silver, a small round badge with an eagle at the center of a laurel wreath, and two flat discs on a chain.

“It’s your Eagle Squadron badge.”

“I wanted you to have something. Look on them as a promise.” He took the chain and slipped it over her head. “I wore these until I joined the USAAF. I’d like you to wear them. It’s my promise to you that I won’t let you down again.”

The discs felt warm against her skin.

“Thank you.”

She couldn’t think of anything to say, knowing that she was wearing something that he had worn against his own skin for three years, like a talisman that had kept him safe. “What about the badge? Don’t you wear that on your uniform?”

“I did, and I could if I wanted to. I know one or two of the other guys do, but it’s yours now. It meant so much to earn that badge, but you mean so much more.” He kissed her warmly. He cradled her face with his hands. “It’s the best I can do at the moment, darling. I think there’ll be tough times ahead.”

“I know.”

“I’ll be careful. I promise.”

“I know you will.”

* * * *

Darling Ilke,

Well, here we are, again, back to writing letters and me back to flying planes. It’s non-stop here. Blakeslee is now in charge and that’s not a bad thing, although he is a stickler for good behavior, which is a little tough sometimes, because I don’t think any of us are particularly well behaved. We’re good where it matters, in the air. We’ve already had some choice battles. We had to rendezvous with the bomber boys the other day and a dozen or so enemy planes pounced on us from above, flying out of the sun…always tricky. We were all over the place, from twenty-four thousand feet almost down to the deck. If fights like that go well, it can’t be beat. I would still rather be flying something a little more nimble than the Jug, but it takes a lot of flak and bullets and stays in the air. When I got back from that mission, I had a look at the old girl. She’d been shot up pretty bad and I didn’t have a scratch on me.

How was your journey back to the frozen north? I hope it didn’t take too long and that you got back in one, gorgeous piece. It gets harder to say goodbye to you every time, and I really hope that, one day soon, we’ll be done with all these goodbyes. It doesn’t help that you’re halfway to Scotland. I’d love to drop by sometime, but I don’t think Blakeslee would look too kindly on my using the plane for social calls. I hope the driving is going well and that you’re not having to battle with too much snow. I carry this picture in my head of you singing as you drive. Of course, that is only one of the many pictures I keep in my mind, the color of your hair in the firelight is another. I had better stop this because I could go on all day and night about those memories.

I’d better go. I need a cold shower.

Take care, my darling.

Francis

Dearest Francis,

Thank you for your letter. It is very cold up here but, luckily, not much snow. It’s times like this when I really miss Duxford, because our hut had central heating. There are other reasons, more obvious, why I miss that place, but I shan’t bother going into them because you know what I mean. I have heard talk that Catterick will be downgraded, for want of a better word, so I may be on the move again. I will let you know what happens. My fingers are crossed for a move back down south, but we shall see. I really hope so. As much as I love Catterick, it is too far from everywhere and everyone that matters.

I do hope that you stay safe, my darling. I’m sure that these dogfights are great fun to write about, but the thought of them scares me witless. Please be careful. I know you will be, but, still, try to come back in one piece. I have every faith in you as a pilot, so I shan’t nag at you, because I know that you do your best and that your best is probably better than most. In any event, I look forward to hearing more of your exploits. I’m just glad that you don’t fly the Halifax. They have been dropping out of the sky all over the place lately. They don’t fly out of Catterick, but it is disheartening to hear about them all the time.

I have my own pictures in my mind, most of which do require a cold shower.

Be careful, (or as careful as you can get away with)

Ilke

My dear Francis,

At last, I have the answer to your question. It is better than I could have possibly hoped for. I’m being sent back to Mildenhall. Given that the bomber boys are busy and that Mildenhall is still at the heart of things, I will probably be returning to my normal duties there, delivering things to the other satellite fields. That is what my corporal has told me, anyway. I understand that the barracks are better than they used to be, so that is a bonus. Of course, the best thing is that I will be much closer to Debden so, we may be able to see each other one of these days. I’ll write to you as soon as I get there.

I have to go, now. I have one final delivery to make and then I will be making ready to leave here. My only regret is that I shall miss my friend, Faith. She has been here since the beginning and has seen me through the worst of times. Now she will be heading off to North Weald and waiting for her fiancé to return in one piece. He is still with the 219 and she has been very patient and loyal to Sandy. I hope that, one day, they will get their wish. She has made me promise that I am to be maid of honor at their wedding.

Until later, my dearest Francis,

Ilke

* * * *

Returning to Mildenhall felt like stepping back in time, even though it seemed busier than ever. It was strange to walk into the barracks and see no familiar faces apart from Grace who, much to her disgust, had been sent back to the station once the improvements had been finished. That disgust was clearly placated when Ilona crept into the hut.

“You weren’t fibbing,” she cried. “It’s so lovely to see you!” She hugged Ilona. “Welcome back to the arse end of nowhere. I’ve even managed to make sure that you get the bunk next to mine.”

“Thank you! It’s lovely to see you too, and you won’t believe how happy I am to be back here.”

“Ah, yes…your Yank, now you’re that much closer.” She took Ilona’s arm. “Now you can tell me everything that you didn’t put in your letters.”

“There’s not much more to tell.” She set her case down on the cot and opened it. “We’re on very good terms. He gave me this.” She held out the Eagle Squadron pin for her friend to admire.

“Oh, heavens, Ilke. What a lovely thing to do.”

“And these.” She carefully pulled the chain from underneath her collar. “His old RAF discs.”

“When I think of how things were between you, when you reluctantly went to visit him in that hospital. I can’t believe how different things are now—how things have changed. As long as he makes you happy, that’s what matters.”

“He does, now.” She thought back to Christmas, to the fire lit warmth of the sitting room, and to the scent of him and the feel of his skin against her own. “Much more. I miss him so much, Grace.”

“That’s plain to see.” She chuckled. “It’s written all over your face.”

Ilona blushed. “Is it that obvious?”