The Chase: A Novel (36 page)

“That would be great.” Eddy glanced briefly at Lionel before looking at Rachel again. “You haven’t introduced yourself,” he said.

“Rachel Greene. I’m Lionel’s cousin, actually, although we met by chance today.”

“I see.” He smiled at her. Rachel looked away. The trio began walking back to Lionel’s Bentley. Rachel’s arm bumped into Eddy’s. She moved aside, putting more distance between them. He kept glancing at her, but she pretended not to see. She felt very small beside his much larger frame—she guessed he stood an inch or so over six feet, and he was a broad-shouldered man. Of course, his flight suit was padded with thick fleece. She had heard it was horridly cold up there in the skies above London.

He could be a poster boy
, she thought,
for the RAF. He should be a poster boy for their recruiters.

It struck Rachel like a bolt out of the blue that she was being unfaithful to Joshua by being so fascinated with Eddy Marshall. She stumbled.

“Hey!” He caught her, sliding his arm around her waist. “We don’t want you to sprain something, too, now do we?” He smiled into her eyes.

She was in his arms again. It was doing crazy things to her body. Rachel pulled away. “I’m fine, thank you.”

His expression faded. He gave her an odd look. They continued back to the Bentley in silence, Eddy studying the ground.

She hadn’t meant to reject him. He was only flirting, only being friendly. But of course she had to reject him—she had a serious boyfriend whom she intended to marry one day.

Rachel told herself that it was absolutely normal for her to react as she had to this handsome American fighter pilot. All the RAF pilots were notorious and dashing to begin with—when they weren’t fighting Stukkas and Junkers, they were drinking and gambling and chasing women. This particular pilot had undoubtedly left a string of broken hearts all over southern England, she decided with determination. Rachel knew she was not the first woman to become all fluttery in his presence. It did not mean she did not love Joshua.

Lionel opened his door as Eddy went around to the car’s other side. “We’ll pick up your bicycle and throw it in the trunk, if you’d like to ride with us.”

Eddy, about to use his left hand to open the passenger door, froze.

Rachel looked at Lionel. She had no reason to go to the hospital with them. Then, aware of Eddy’s stare, she slowly looked at him.

Suddenly his hand went to his head and he staggered a little, as if he’d lost his balance. “Wow,” he said. “This huge pain just went through my head.” He leaned against the side of the car, as if faint.

Rachel was already running around the trunk to him. She thought he was engaging in theatrics to keep her attention, but she couldn’t be sure. He had just crashed in a Spitfire. He could have a concussion. She put her arm around him, and he leaned against her. It was a hard male body—she had never had this kind of awareness before. “Are you dizzy?”

He blinked at her. “Suddenly I’m seeing double. There’s two of you, angel, two beautiful blondes.”

She met his very lucid gaze; he looked away with a smile he failed to hide. He was pretending to be dizzy. Still, Rachel did not move away. She couldn’t help being flattered. “Maybe you’d better sit down.”

“Yeah,” he said roughly. “Maybe you’d better help me.” It wasn’t a question.

Their eyes locked.

Her heart began catapulting around inside her chest. “I’m afraid to let you go. God forbid you should faint and hit your head again.”

His smile widened. “God forbid. God forbid I should drop dead, go to heaven, and find an angel there like you.”

“You are a terrible charmer,” Rachel said with a smile, still supporting him.

“Honey, I’m a man,” Eddy said.

Ridiculously, she blushed again, but this time they both laughed a little. Feeling happier than she ever had, Rachel opened the door and helped him into the front seat. “Don’t abandon me now,” Eddy said. “You’re my good-luck charm.”

“I’ll come to the hospital, but just for a while, since I have to get home,” Rachel conceded, trying to be prim.

Eddy did not try to hide his delight.

A few minutes later, the bicycle was sticking somewhat precariously out of the trunk, and they were on their way.

“That was some dogfight,” Lionel commented once they were back on the motorway. “Not many pilots could land a plane in that condition in a cow pasture and simply walk away.”

“Thanks,” Eddy said. “I’ve been flying since I was a kid.”

“Really?” Rachel asked, impressed.

He twisted to look at her in the backseat. “I started flying when I was ten.”

Her eyes widened. “Is that possible?”

“I love planes. My dad would take me out to a small private airfield on Long Island, and one of the pilots there took a liking to me. Now, I didn’t solo until I was thirteen,” he added with an infectious grin.

“Only thirteen?” Rachel quipped.

“Only,” he said.

“You’re from New York?” Lionel asked, interrupting them.

“Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn,” he said cheerfully.

“What brought you to Britain?”

Eddy finally faced Lionel. “That damned megalomaniac, Hitler,” he said, no longer smiling and deadly serious. “He has to be stopped. Obviously. I got tired of waiting for America to join the war. I think we will. But later, rather than sooner.” He turned to wink at Rachel. “I’m an impatient guy. I can’t sit around twiddling my thumbs when I can be doing something—like shooting down German bombers.”

Rachel smiled at him.

Lionel glanced at her in his rearview mirror. “Well, I am afraid that this time they shot
you
down.”

“It was the first time, but I doubt it will be the last,” Eddy said.

“Don’t say that!” Rachel cried, aghast. “You might jinx yourself!”

He gazed at her. “So you care,” he said.

She stiffened. “Of course I care.”

He turned away, smiling and satisfied.

Lionel met her gaze in his rearview mirror again. Rachel looked away instantly. Whatever had made her declare herself like that? And what would Joshua do or say if he knew about this day?

“And you, Rachel? Do you work in that factory we were just at?” Eddy asked.

She shook her head. “I’m a WAAF at Fighter Command.”

“Really?” he exclaimed, twisted around again so he could converse with her. “How come I haven’t seen you at any of the clubs or pubs in town?”

Lionel remained quiet, as if concentrating on driving, but Rachel knew he was listening intently. Rachel hesitated. “I don’t really go out like that. I work double shifts and long hours. When I have enough free time at night, I go home to see my father and my sisters.”

“Where do you live? When you’re not in the ladies’ barracks at Bentley Priory?”

“My home is on Fournier Street. I’m sure you’ve never heard of it. It’s the East End,” she added, without any shame.

Eddy shrugged. “I don’t know where that is. I’ve been to a few pubs, but I don’t know my way around London. At least not yet. Maybe you could show me the city sometime?” His eyes met hers.

He was asking her out. Wasn’t he? She shot a glance at Lionel. Of course, she should tell him she was practically engaged. That she wasn’t available. Rachel could not get the words out.

Fortunately, Lionel had just entered the hospital car park.

“Oh, we’re here,” Rachel cried instead of answering Eddy. She avoided looking at him now. She knew he was startled by her failure to say yes.

Doors slammed as they all got out and entered through emergency. Lionel and Rachel waited while Eddy went to the nurse at reception. Rachel watched him speaking with the redhead. She wasn’t particularly attractive, but she was very busty, and she had a porcelain and perfect complexion. She began to giggle. Rachel couldn’t hear a word that they were saying, but she knew Eddy was flirting with her. In a way, she was relieved.

On the other hand, amazingly, she was jealous.

The redhead came out from behind the desk.

“I can wait,” Eddy was saying. “Take those factory workers before me.” Gurneys carrying victims of the recent bombing waited in the hall.

“You come with me, Lieutenant,” the nurse said firmly. “We don’t make pilots wait. Especially not handsome ones like you.” She smiled archly.

“Hon, I will wait my turn, as I am hardly bleeding to death.” He patted her arm. “I’ll be sitting right over there.” He pointed at a row of empty chairs. “Okay?”

She finally acquiesced, going back to her duties behind the desk.

Eddy came back to Lionel and Rachel. “Keep me company?” he said to Rachel.

“I really have to go.” It was absurd, her eavesdropping on him and the nurse and being insanely jealous. “I’m really late.”

“You’re not going to bicycle all the way back to London, are you?” he exclaimed.

“Yes, I am.”

His face fell. Rachel realized that he understood she was rejecting him. “Well, I hope we’ll meet again. Sometime soon.” His gaze was searching.

She bit her lip. It was now or never. Give him what he wanted—or never see him again. “I’m sure we will. I’m . . .” She paused.

“You’re what?” he asked quickly.

“I’m glad you’re all right,” Rachel said in a rush. She turned abruptly, almost blindly, crashing into Lionel.

“I’ll help you get your bike out of the car,” Lionel said. “And I’m happy to wait, Marshall. I can give you a lift back to Biggin Hill if you want.”

For a moment Eddy was silent. Rachel felt his eyes on her back. She wanted to cry. What was wrong with her! “The boys will be picking me and Betty up at any moment,” he said.

Rachel turned. “Betty?” she asked, instantly thinking of the redhead.

“My plane,” he said, staring at her.

He had a girl. Her disappointment was vast. “Oh.”

“My mom’s name is Betty,” he said.

Rachel started. “Really?”

He nodded. “I’m renaming her, though, today.”

Rachel didn’t move.

“I’m naming her Angel,” he said seriously. “Because for the first time in my life, I have met one.”

Rachel was speechless.

Rachel’s family lived just a few blocks from the Whitechapel High Street synagogue, on a small narrow cobbled street lined with two-story brick homes and a few scanty trees. Most of the homes were divided among two or three families. Here and there the lower floor was devoted to a cobbler’s shop, a butcher store, a grocery, or a milliner. Gardens and yards were out back. Clotheslines hung from house to house, stretched across the street, drying clothing fluttering over the heads of passersby, wheelbarrows, bicycles, and carts like so many multicolored flags. Before the war, the elderly used to sit out on their front stoops in good weather, simply to watch life in the neighborhood pass by and to gossip whenever they could.

By the time Rachel had arrived in front of their two-story white plaster house, her thighs and calves were burning with fatigue from the long bicycle ride. She carried her bicycle up the three steps to the front stoop and left it there. Her neighborhood was small and close-knit. There was no theft.

The sun had begin its descent. Rachel knew that dusk would soon follow as she pushed open the screen door and entered the small, narrow parlor, thinking about a long, hot bath.

Hopefully Sarah wasn’t home. If she were, their single bathroom undoubtedly would not be available.

Delicious odors drifted to her from the kitchen, and Rachel realized, with no small amount of guilt, how late it was. She should be helping Papa in the kitchen. He still worked long hours, tending both his shoe store and his factory. A widow from down the block came most days to help him and Hannah with the evening meal, out of the goodness of her heart and the hope that Papa might marry her. Knowing that Rachel was home for a few days, Mrs. Winkle had stayed home.

The BBC radio was on. As Rachel hurried into the kitchen, she recognized the radio commentator’s voice. He was mocking the latest German propaganda efforts to sway the British to Hitler’s side. Periodically London was barraged with leaflets and flyers dropped by the Luftwaffe in lieu of bombs.

She was ravenously hungry. She hadn’t eaten all day, she was very tired, and she just might fall asleep in her bath when she had the chance to take one, but that wasn’t all she was thinking about.

He would name his plane Angel after her.

“Rachel!” Hannah appeared from the narrow, carpeted stairwell, shrieking. “Where have you been? Joshua wants you to call him so he can see you tonight. And someone named Eddy Marshall called
three
times.”

Rachel stared at her eleven-year-old sister, whose dark hair was pulled into pigtails with pink ribbons, her glasses slipping down her small nose, her ankle socks bagging about her scuffed and worn Mary Janes. They could easily have new shoes from Papa’s factory. But of course, they would not think of breaking the law by violating the government’s rationing orders.

“Did you
hear
me?” Hannah cried.

Rachel’s heart was skipping uncontrollably. “Yes, of course I did. How could I not? Being as you are always shouting,” Rachel said evenly. She was trying to marshal her thoughts and emotions. Eddy Marshall had called three times? What could he want? And how had he gotten her phone number?

She had left immediately, while Lionel had stayed. That was it. Lionel had given Eddy her number, even while knowing that she would one day be engaged to Joshua. Rachel had to close her eyes. She had the distinct impression that Lionel had done so on purpose, solely to cause trouble.

The way he had fed Ellen’s fish to the swans.

Rachel did not know what to do.

“Who is Eddy Marshall? He’s an American! How did you meet him? Is he a diplomat?” Hannah asked, tugging on her hand.

“Hello, Rachel-lay,” Papa said, coming out of their small kitchen and wiping his hand on one of Mama’s old aprons. “Is everything all right?”

“Everything’s fine,” Rachel lied, filled with desperation.

He wasn’t Jewish.
What had she been thinking—even if with the back of her mind? He wasn’t Jewish. Papa would never allow anything to happen between them.

And Eddy would be shocked if he realized she was a Jew. Rachel felt sure of it. Gentiles were always stunned to learn that someone was a Jew. It was as if they expected horns on your head or a scarlet letter hanging on your chest, and if there wasn’t, then you couldn’t possibly be Jewish.