The Chase: A Novel (44 page)

It was all too much to bear: not hearing from Eddy, the air raids, the bombs, the war.

But facing Papa was perhaps the most difficult task of all.

Rachel crossed the kitchen and opened the back door. Papa sat in his rocker, rocking in silence. But the silence was narrowly contained—somewhere up above them Rachel could hear fighter planes, and somewhere to the south, she could hear bombs exploding. “Hello, Papa,” she said.

He didn’t flinch, stiffen, or turn. It was as if he truly did not hear her; as if, for him, she did not exist.

Rachel turned and walked back inside. How did joy become despair so quickly and thoroughly? Was it only four weeks ago that the future had seemed so bright in spite of the uncertainty of the war? Only four weeks ago she had been in Eddy’s arms.

Pilots were notorious for loving and leaving their women.

“You’re skinny,” Sarah said, handing her a soiled envelope.

“What’s this?” Rachel asked, not caring.

Sarah smiled. “I didn’t think Papa should see it. It’s from Church Fenton.” Her smile increased.

“Church Fenton?” That was an air station. Her pulse began to skitter wildly as she looked at the envelope. “It’s from Eddy!” she cried.

Sarah laughed with happiness.

Clutching the letter to her breast, Rachel ran upstairs and into their bedroom. Flopping on the bed, she tore the letter open as Sarah came in, closing the door behind them. Something wrapped in yellow paper fell onto the bedspread. Rachel began to read the letter. Sarah reached for the carefully folded paper square.

“Sarah!” Rachel cried as she read and began to understand why she hadn’t heard from Eddy. “A squadron of Americans has been formed, and Eddy was transferred to it! They’re calling it Eagle Squadron . . . they’re at Church Fenton, Eddy is wing commander . . . there’s a USAAF liaison! He misses me!” She hugged the letter to her breast.

“Rachel.” Sarah held up a tiny, glittering object.

Rachel froze.
It was a ring
.

It was a gold band set with one very small solitaire diamond—it looked exactly like an engagement ring.

“This fell out of the envelope, Rachel,” Sarah said huskily, with barely repressed excitement, her eyes huge.

“Oh, God,” Rachel prayed, taking the ring from her. It was the most beautiful ring she had ever beheld, and tears filled her eyes.

“What does the rest of the letter say?” Sarah demanded.

Rachel blinked back the tears. She skimmed over three long paragraphs devoted to the training of the raw American recruits and Eddy’s impatience and frustration at not being in battle. Then he wrote: “I’ve enclosed an engagement ring. I know it’s not much, but it was hard to find, Rachel. I hope you like it—I really wanted to give you something so much better. I promise that one day I will. So, here goes. Will you marry me? As soon as I can get away I am coming to see you, and I promise, no matter what, I will make it to London for the holidays. I think we should make plans to tie the knot then—if you’ll have me. So what do you say? You know I will not take ‘no’ for an answer.” He signed the letter simply, “Love, Eddy.”

And there was a postscript, which Rachel did not share with Sarah. “I am so glad that your father did not cause you too much grief over the night you spent with me. I cannot even begin to describe how relieved I am.” Rachel had thoroughly glossed over her situation at home in the letters she had sent to him at Tangmere.

Now, slowly, stunned, Rachel looked up.

Sarah whooped and dove onto her, knocking her back on the bed. “You’re getting married! To a hero!” She whooped again.

Rachel was breathless as they both sat up. “I’m getting married. Oh my God. Eddy and I are getting married—we’re engaged!” It was truly beginning to sink in.

“Put the ring on,” Sarah urged.

Rachel burst into a smile and slipped it onto her fourth finger. She held out her hand.

“That is so beautiful,” Sarah gasped.

Rachel just stared at the ring. “I’m engaged,” she whispered, the joy beginning to take root within her.

“Yes, you are.” Sarah stood. “I had better go check on our supper.”

Rachel suddenly stood. “I can’t wear this.” If Papa saw, or guessed, or knew, it would truly be over between them—if it wasn’t already. Rachel’s joy abruptly dimmed, the way one might turn off a lamp.

“No, you can’t,” Sarah said realistically.

Rachel had two necklaces. The string of pearls had been Mama’s, and she wore it all the time. The other necklace was a gold chain with a Star of David pendant. It had been a birthday gift from Papa, given the year after Mama died. Rachel walked over to the room’s single bureau, which the three sisters shared. She had her own jewelry box—it, too, had belonged to Mama.

She removed the chain and took off the Star of David, refusing to think about Papa now. She slipped on the ring and put the chain around her neck, tucking it under her blouse and out of sight. Her happiness was now tainted with guilt.

“Let’s go downstairs,” Sarah said, taking her hand and squeezing it. “You had better start thinking about the wedding ceremony now. He’s Protestant, you’re Jewish. Who will perform it? And where will it be?”

Rachel took a breath. Sarah was right. It would take some effort on her part to make the arrangements, and of course, there would not be a wedding, just a small, secret ceremony. Impulsively, Rachel gripped Sarah’s hands. “You’ll be there, won’t you? No matter what? Please, Sarah.” She wished that Hannah could be present, too, but it would not be fair to burden a child with such a secret.

“Of course I’ll be there,” Sarah said, and as they went downstairs, Rachel knew she was thinking just as Rachel was, about what it would be like not to have a real wedding, with all the food and guests, the dancing and a big white wedding cake. Rachel thought about standing in front of an air force chaplain without Papa there. Her happiness seemed to vanish.

In three days it would be Christmas—in another hour she would be with Eddy.

Rachel stood in front of the open but guarded gates at Bentley Priory, unable to contain herself. She clutched a bouquet of roses to her chest, her heart beating wildly. The artillery guard standing behind her were grinning at her, and Sarah, wearing a rather prim navy blue dress and coat and a pair of new black patent-leather pumps, was also smiling foolishly.

The day was grim and cold, the threat of rain imminent. Rachel was not wearing a coat, but she was not shivering. She was warm. Hot. Faint. Disbelieving.

A military jeep approached.

As it came closer, Rachel began to shake and tremble—she saw Eddy in his dress uniform sitting in the front seat beside a BEF officer. Two other officers, both BEF, were in the back. The jeep came to a lurching halt beside Rachel, and Eddy leaped out, eyes wide, staring at her.

Rachel could not move. It had been almost four months since she had last seen him and she had never been this happy in her entire life.

“You are so beautiful,” Eddy gasped.

Rachel said, “I know it’s bad luck to see the bride, but—”

“Like hell it’s bad luck,” Eddy cried, and he lifted her high and whirled her around and around, her white satin wedding gown flying about them, until they were both laughing, until everyone was laughing, and then he slid her down his body slowly, and his expression changed, as did hers.

In his arms, her feet still off the ground, Rachel looked into his eyes and felt her heart expanding to impossible dimensions. In that moment, she felt as if she were weightless; that they were floating up in the clouds. He set her down and they kissed, clinging.

“Enough,” Sarah cried eventually. “The chaplain’s waiting, we have a wedding to perform!”

Eddy and Rachel moved slightly, reluctantly, apart so they could smile into each other’s eyes. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he said huskily. “Is the dress your mother’s?”

Rachel nodded, tears coming to her eyes. “Yes.” How she wished Mama were still alive. If she were, Rachel knew how happy she would be for her and Eddy, and if she were, she also knew that Papa would be speaking with her. Papa did not know that they were getting married that day, and obviously, he had no idea she had gone into the attic and borrowed her mother’s lovely wedding gown.

“You must be freezing,” Eddy said then, sliding his arm around her. “What are you doing, waiting for me out here in that dress without a coat?”

“It’s been so long, Eddy,” she whispered as they walked back to base, Sarah falling into step beside them.

“I’m sorry, hon, I am. But the boys were so damn raw when I got them, not to mention us being stuck with a bunch of old Brewster Buffaloes. We’re getting our Spitfires in another six weeks.” His eyes brightened even more. The squadron also had several Hurricanes, one of which was Eddy’s. Rachel had kept abreast of the Eagles’ situation from the moment she had learned of Eddy’s transfer in October. He currently had fifteen kills to his credit, an amazing record. No American had more. “Man, do I miss my old girl.”

Rachel knew he meant his old Spitfire from Biggin Hill. “I’m not even nineteen, dear,” she said primly.

He laughed and turned to Sarah. “Hi. I’m so glad we finally get to meet.”

“So am I,” Sarah said with a smile. “Rachel did not exaggerate when she spoke of you.”

Eddy gave Rachel an affectionate glance and bounded ahead of them to open the door. The chapel was housed in a small brick building with a whitewashed porch.

Sarah said to Rachel, under her breath, “Boy oh boy. Handsome, dashing, and a real gentleman.”

“I know,” Rachel whispered back, clutching her roses tightly. “I am the luckiest girl alive.”

They got out of a cab on a quiet street in Knightsbridge. It was lined with white-plaster two- and three-story homes. Tall trees shaded the street. Every house had a small grass lawn in front, and one neighbor had a stone walkway with hedges lining the property. In the summertime, the azalea bushes would be in bloom.

“Where are we?” Rachel asked, still dazed.
They were married. Eddy was her husband. She was wearing a small, antique gold wedding band to prove it. And they had papers
.

She was now Mrs. Edward Marshall
.

Eddy grinned and swept her up into his arms and carried her up the stone walk, Rachel clinging to him. An idea was occurring to her—but it was impossible—wasn’t it?

The front door and window boxes of the house were a freshly painted shade of evergreen. Eddy used his hip to open the front door, which was unlocked, and he carried her inside.

Rachel felt her eyes widen. They had stepped into a small parlor with shining wood floors, what looked like a brand new couch, a pretty antique coffee table, and freshly painted, canary-yellow walls. A fire was burning in the stone hearth. Still clinging to Eddy’s broad shoulders, she took in the yellow-and-white curtains. Narrow stairs led to the next floor; ahead, Rachel could glimpse a kitchen that had recently been painted white. She glimpsed blue-and-white gingham curtains inside, which looked brand-new, as did the white enamel stove and refrigerator.

“Do you like it?” Eddy’s voice in her ear, his breath feathering her neck, jolted her out of her amazement.

She blinked at him, her body stirring, tightening. “Like it? I love it! Whose house is this?”

“Ours,” he said, sliding her to the floor.

Rachel would have stumbled in shock and disbelief if he hadn’t been holding her. “What?” she gasped.

“I’ve leased it for us. You can stay here now, and I’ll come as often as I can. Maybe you might want Sarah to move in.” He was smiling. “I think she’d be happy to.”

“What have you done!” she cried, throwing her arms around him.

“You’re my wife,” he said simply, embracing her hard.

Tears filled her eyes.
This was their new home.
Of course she would ask Sarah to move in! “But how can you afford this?”

He smiled a little. “I’m not a poor man. I wired home for some of my savings. And two of my brothers sent us some dough as a wedding gift.”

Rachel could not speak.

“Do you really like it, Rachel?” he asked in a husky tone.

“It’s the most beautiful house in the world,” she managed.

His gaze seemed to turn to smoke before her very eyes. “I am glad.” Then, “You have made me the happiest man on this planet, Rachel.”

Rachel thought she saw tears sparkling on his eyelashes.

Eddy released her and turned away. Rachel let him compose himself. He walked over to the hearth to prod and poke the fire. Then he turned and he was himself again. “Sarah did the decorating. I hope that’s all right.”

Rachel nodded, starting to cry.

“Rachel!” He rushed over to her.

“I’m so happy it hurts,” she whispered.

“Good.” He was fierce. He cupped her face and kissed her, hard.

They hadn’t seen each other, or touched each other, or kissed in four months—not until that morning. Rachel sank into his arms, opening hungrily for him. She had not been exaggerating. The beauty of her love was painful. It crossed her mind as they sank onto the rug that she wished he weren’t a pilot.

He settled on top of her, amid the ballooning skirts of her wedding dress. An instant later he was propped up on his elbows above her, and they were both laughing. “That dress is beautiful,
but,”
he said.