Читать книгу Diary Of A War Bride - Lauri Robinson - Страница 12
Оглавление21st of May, 1942
Dear Diary,
I heard the boys’ burns are healing fine and that they are doing well now living with the Butlers. No one knows how Mrs Whitcomb’s barn caught fire, but everyone is talking about how the fire would have spread if not for the soldiers. Especially Sergeant Johnson. I am thankful the soldiers were able to keep the fire from spreading and that the young brothers are no longer with Mrs Whitcomb, but I’m not singing praise. I find I have a great desire to remind the locals that we took care of each other before the Americans built the base and will do so again after they leave, but have managed to keep it to myself. No matter how difficult it may be, I must remain diplomatic.
However, I do find satisfaction in the fact I won when it came Sergeant Johnson and his money. I dare say I’m a bit surprised he gave in so easily and have concluded he must be angered that he didn’t get his way this time because I have not seen him since the day of the fire. Which of course is fine. I have no desire to see him again.
On her knees, pulling tiny weeds just poking out of the ground, Kathryn couldn’t stop herself from glancing up when the sky rumbled. Not one, but five planes were coming towards them. How could something so large glide through the sky? It seemed impossible. So impossible, she couldn’t stop thinking about them. Some things did that. Stuck in her brain, making her try to figure out what it was about them that she disliked. She made no mention of them, though. Under no circumstance did she want to appear interested in anything associated with the base. Not even to satisfy her own curiosity.
It was a Saturday, so the girls were helping in the garden and the boys were seeing to the animals. They’d all stopped to stare up at the planes growing closer. Just as Kathryn was about to instruct them to return to their chores, the first plane flew directly over the farm. At first, she’d thought she was seeing things, until a moment later, when she realised something was dropping from the sky. She couldn’t recognise what the tiny specks were, but they were falling directly at them.
Fear overtook her so quickly, she momentarily froze. Then, hooking Doreen around the waist with one hand, she grabbed Patricia’s hand with the other. ‘Run! Run for the bomb shelter!’
Fumbling with the gate as the planes continued to fly overhead, she screeched as something hit her head. It didn’t hurt, but fearing the next one, she gathered Doreen and Patricia close and crouched over the top of both of them, trying to protect them. Save them.
When nothing else hit her, she grabbed both girls and hurried though the gate. The other girls were on the path, as was Charlotte.
‘Hurry,’ Kathryn shouted as terror still raced over her. ‘Run!’
‘Why?’ Charlotte asked.
With her heart pounding, Kathryn attempted to usher them all towards the house. It would be shorter going through it than around it to the shelter. ‘The planes!’ Not exactly sure how to describe the dangers, she said, ‘The—the shrapnel, the—the things falling from the sky. Bombs.’
‘There aren’t any bombs,’ Charlotte said. ‘Those were American planes.’
Frustrated and scared, Kathryn couldn’t stop from shouting, ‘There are things falling from them! Shrapnel!’
‘That’s not shrapnel!’
‘It’s sweets!’
She wasn’t sure who said what, but spun to where the boys were running around the house.
‘They dropped sweets for us! Lots of it!’
Kathryn’s heart was still pounding, but an icy shiver had her lowering both Doreen and Patricia on to the porch. Her arms ached from holding the girls, but it was the fear that had encompassed her that had her trembling. The children were running about, picking up things.
‘Stop! Don’t touch anything!’
‘Kathryn, dear—’
‘Didn’t you read the letter they brought home?’ she interrupted Charlotte. ‘Anything falling from the sky is dangerous.’
‘Of course I read that letter. But as I said, those were American planes. Not German ones.’ Charlotte took something from one of the children and held it out. ‘It’s just sweets. Truly it is.’
Kathryn’s fear turned into anger as she plucked the single piece of gum, wrapped in shiny foil. ‘Chewing gum?’ Her mind seemed to turn a complete somersault. ‘Gum!’
‘Other sweets, too,’ Little George said, holding out a grubby palm full of colourfully wrapped sweets.
‘We can keep it, can’t we?’ Phillip asked.
‘Of course you can,’ Charlotte replied.
With squeals of delight, the children, including Doreen and Patricia, ran throughout the garden, searching for sweets.
‘Be careful of the plants!’ Charlotte yelled before quietly saying, ‘Now, wasn’t that nice? Dropping sweets for the children?’
‘Nice?’ The fury ripping across Kathryn was as hot as it was cold. ‘No, it wasn’t nice. It was the most deceitful, nasty trick anyone has ever played.’
‘Trick?’ Charlotte asked. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Not what.’ Kathryn was so mad she wanted to scream. ‘Who.’ Spinning about, she marched into the house. ‘Sergeant Dale Johnson. He’ll pay for this one.’
She walked straight through the house to the scullery, where she washed her hands and removed her apron. After tying a scarf around her hair, she headed out the back door and rode away on the bicycle before anyone had the chance to try to stop her.
This had gone too far. Scaring the daylights out of people was not funny and would not be tolerated.
The harder she pedalled, the madder she became. She should have known Dale wouldn’t have given up that easy. Men didn’t stop until they got what they wanted. Andrew hadn’t. When her father had said she was too young to marry, especially a soldier who was going off to war with no certainty of what the future might bring, Andrew hadn’t given up. No, he’d gone ahead and got married. Not to her, but to the youngest daughter of Sir Russell Childs, a Commander in the Royal Navy. Andrew got exactly what he didn’t want. He was now serving in the Navy, on a ship somewhere. She didn’t know. Or care.
When she’d first arrived at Charlotte and Norman’s, she’d written to Andrew, several times, and had been hurt when there had been no response. Broken-hearted for months, until Mum had told her about his marriage. She’d grown angry then. As she was now. Dale would get exactly what he deserved, too.
Kathryn forced herself to concentrate on the road. It hadn’t rained for a few days, so there was no mud to contend with, but the previous water fall had left the road rutted, forcing her to continuously ride from edge to edge, utilising the smoothest sections and, at times, the grass along the road when cars approached from either direction.
Each time she heard one, her insides clenched and she kept her gaze forward, not willing to look in case it was Norman coming to stop her or Corporal Sanders driving someone around. Particularly Sergeant Johnson. That was exactly who she was going to see, but wanted it to be on her terms. She would not be surprised by him again.
Upon turning on to the road leading to the base, the much smoother surface allowed her to travel faster and she wheeled up to the main building. Last time, she’d gone through the front doors and a nice older woman sitting there had sent someone to find Dale. Assuming it would be that way again, she stationed her bicycle beside the bench and hurried up the steps. The older woman wasn’t behind the desk today. A pretty younger one, with short blond hair, was sitting there, wearing the same green uniform as the older woman had been.
‘May I help you?’ she asked.
‘I would like to see Sergeant Dale Johnson, please,’ Kathryn responded.
The younger woman’s smile increased as she shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, he’s not available. Could someone else help you?’
Kathryn’s stomach hardened with a sickening sensation. Almost four weeks had passed since she’d given that money to the soldier. She’d thought that had been the end of it. That Dale had accepted he’d failed and she’d won, but maybe he’d been transferred. The sickening sensation inside her grew. ‘May I wait until he is available?’
The woman’s face softened. ‘I’m not sure when he’ll be back. You can leave a message and I’ll see he receives it upon his return. It should be some time this evening.’
Relief filled her that he was still stationed here. ‘Thank you, there’s no message.’
‘I’m sure he’ll be available tomorrow if you want to come back.’
Kathryn nodded even as a great sense of disappointment seemed to drain her. She sincerely had wanted to see him today, while her anger had driven her. By tomorrow, it might not be as strong. ‘I’ll consider that. Thank you again.’
She had been so focused on seeing Dale that she hadn’t noticed the other soldiers on the way in. The way out was different. She could feel their eyes and hear their whispers as she climbed on her bike and rode away. Whether she’d left a message or not, he’d know about her visit.
* * *
Dale hadn’t considered what he’d say upon arrival until he slowed the Jeep down to take the road that led to Kathryn’s house. The entire base knew she’d been there to see him and knew who she was. Brigadier Winslow’s daughter. The head of British Intelligence. There was no denying he’d wondered if her father couldn’t assist in his search for Ralph, but Major Hilts had ordered him to find out why she’d been at the base and to make sure she got whatever it was she needed. Hilts hadn’t said it better not be anything personal, but Dale got the message just the same.
He also knew why she’d been there. The candy dropping had to have surprised her and, knowing her as he already did, most likely irritated the pants right off her. He couldn’t say why that made him smile, except for the fact he hadn’t had this much fun teasing someone in a long time. He’d teased Judy plenty. Being close in age, they’d picked on each other almost as much as he and Ralph. His throat swelled slightly. Certain memories did that to him. Made him miss Judy all over again and reminded him of the reason he was here.
As his thoughts returned to the present, he let out a sigh.
He couldn’t afford to have Kathryn mad. Not for his sake. If it was just him, he’d ʼfess up to the Major about the plane scaring her off her bike, but couldn’t because of Ralph. They hadn’t heard from him in two years, so he’d enlisted and been willing to do whatever he had to in order to find his brother.
Pulling into the garden, he glanced around. The place looked vacant. Back home, on a sunny afternoon like this, no one could have kept him or any of his siblings inside. Even during the drought years.
While parking the Jeep, Dale kept one eye on the front door, expecting it to open. There was the possibility that no one was home. Norman had mentioned a car before. It was nowhere in sight, but it hadn’t been on his last visit either. The bicycle, however, was leaning against the barn.
The door opened and Norman appeared while Dale was climbing over the side of the Jeep.
‘Hello, Sergeant Johnson.’ Norman waved as he came down the steps. ‘Good to see you. The children were beside themselves with the goodies you dropped from the sky yesterday.’
Dale met Norman near the fence that surrounded the garden and, glad the other man had brought up the subject, he replied, ‘I didn’t drop the candy, but did ask the pilots to.’
‘The children were still searching the ground come nightfall.’ Once again, only one eye stayed open while Norman spoke and the wrinkles around both eyes grew deeper as he laughed. ‘They hadn’t had that much fun in a long, long time. I’d be remiss if I didn’t thank you for that.’
‘No thanks necessary,’ Dale said. ‘Miss Winslow refused to take the money, so I bought candy with it instead. Lots of it. If you don’t mind, I’ll have the pilots make a drop every so often.’
‘That will tickle them pink.’ Norman’s lips pinched and his eyes grew a bit serious. ‘Except for Kathryn.’
Dale nodded. ‘I assumed as much. Could I speak to her? Explain my reasons?’
When Norman’s thoughtful expression grew deeper yet, Dale said, ‘This war has already been going on for a long time and I predict it won’t be over any time soon. I’ve heard stories of the evacuees, met a couple. There’s not much I can do for any of them, except pass out a few pieces of candy, hoping in some small way it will brighten their days.’
‘It does,’ Norman said, nodding and smiling. ‘It surely does. Kathryn’s up in the field with Charlotte and the children picking berries in the hedgerow.’ While speaking Norman had opened the gate. ‘This way, I’ll show you.’
Norman asked about the Jeep as they walked past it and Dale answered his questions while scanning the fields beyond the barn. They were good-sized and a lot to manage for an old man, two women and a bunch of young kids. He couldn’t help but wonder why she was here. The daughter of a Brigadier.
‘They are on the other side of that far end.’ Norman pointed past the fence that housed goats. ‘There’s a pass to get through the hedgerow near the corner. You’ll hear the kids before you see them. I imagine those boys will be doing more playing than picking.’
‘My brother and I would have been,’ Dale said.
‘Me and mine, too.’ After a good-hearted laugh, Norman waved towards the house. ‘Leave yourself time to stop in the house. Charlotte’s been itching for a chance to try out that coffee-making pot she bought. You won’t want to let her down.’
‘Thank you,’ Dale replied, not able to promise coffee could happen. That would depend upon Kathryn.
The vegetables that must have been planted only a short time ago looked like potatoes and, not wanting to damage any, Dale walked along the edge of the field. The hedgerows that grew along all the fields in the area intrigued him and he recognised some familiar plants among the various other bushes and weeds. Or maybe they weren’t considered weeds here. There were plenty of flowers blooming along the edge.
Norman was right, he’d yet to come to the corner when he heard children squealing and laughing. Someone else was laughing, too, and he’d bet the chocolate bar in his pocket who that was.
The opening Norman told him about was hidden. If he hadn’t been looking for it, he’d have walked right past it. Ducking beneath the vines, he entered the bushes, but, seeing the sights on the other side, he paused to watch.
Kathryn was playing with the children and looked almost as young and carefree as the rest of them as they tagged each other and ran, trying not to get tagged back. She had on a red-and-white short-sleeved dress, sheer stockings and those same shoes she rode her bike in. Running in them couldn’t be any easier than bike riding. However, they did make her look, well, elegant, even while chasing the children around. Overall, she looked too refined for the life she was currently living.
The odd sense of being watched had him glancing around. It was hard to say if the elderly woman who must be Charlotte was able to see him or not, but she was walking towards the bushes and squinting.
Dale pushed through the bushes, standing up when completely clear of the vines. Besides the older woman, Kathryn was the first to notice him. At least the first to react. She stopped dead in her tracks, bumping into a little girl as she stared at him.
‘Hello,’ the older woman said. ‘I’m Charlotte and you must be the sweet Sergeant.’ Giggling softly, she explained, ‘That’s what the children call you. They found a few pieces out here today, which led to their game of tag rather than picking berries.’
She’d gestured to the basket in her hand and, noting the small amount, he said, ‘Well, then, I better get to work.’
‘Oh, no, that’s not what I meant.’
He held out a hand. ‘If you don’t mind. I haven’t picked berries in years, but when I did, I was excellent at it.’
‘Were you?’ Her ageing blue eyes took on a shimmer as she handed him the basket. ‘My boys used to eat more than they picked.’
Her grey curls and softly wrinkled skin reminded him of his grandmother, who used to make jam that he and Ralph ate by the spoon. ‘I may have been known to do that a time or so myself,’ he admitted. ‘But today I will fill this basket to the rim before giving it back.’
‘Excuse me?’
The sun was too bright for him to be chilled by Kathryn’s cold tone. ‘Good afternoon, Miss Winslow.’ He gave a slight bow. ‘I’m sorry I missed you yesterday and do hope you weren’t too put out by my absence.’
‘Not at all, as I wouldn’t be right now either.’
He grinned. ‘I’m sure you wouldn’t.’ Nodding towards Charlotte, he said, ‘But Mrs Harris might be. I promised her a full basket of berries, so if you will excuse me?’
The shocked look on her face was more than enough to make him smile, as was the welcome he received from the children. A total of nine, all speaking at once, and all thanking him for the candy that had dropped from the sky. Four of the children were almost as tall as Kathryn—two boys and two girls. Then another girl and two other boys were a bit shorter, about up to the older ones’ shoulders, and then two little girls that came up to Kathryn’s waist. Right where a wide white belt encircled her, hugging the white-and-red-striped dress.
Looking up and catching the glare that once again had settled in her eyes, he said, ‘I didn’t drop the candy, the pilots did, and don’t eat it all at once.’
‘I assure you, they won’t,’ she said. ‘It would not only ruin their appetite, it would rot their teeth.’
‘Nonsense,’ Charlotte said. Without waiting for a response, she waved for the children. ‘Bring your baskets. We need to get some berries before Norman comes looking for us.’ Smiling at him, she added, ‘Kathryn, please show Sergeant Johnson which berries to pick and which to leave behind?’
She wanted to say no and did so with her eyes. He’d bet the only reason she didn’t voice exactly what she thought was because of the children.
‘I’ll show him,’ one of the children said.
‘I’ll show him,’ Kathryn said. ‘You go help Charlotte.’
She certainly wasn’t happy, but Dale was. However, he was smart enough to keep his smile hidden inside where it tickled him as much as a feather did a sleeping man’s nose. He’d never claim to be a charming man, but he sure planned on trying to be one today. Her father being the head of the British intelligence might be exactly what he needed to find Ralph. Without anyone knowing, of course.
‘This way,’ she said, spinning about.
He glanced over his shoulder at Charlotte pairing off the children and sending them towards the bushes. Dale took several long strides to catch up with Kathryn. ‘They sure do mind well.’
Kathryn kept her eyes straight ahead and marched forward like a soldier doing drills.
‘The children,’ he said. ‘They mind well.’
She still didn’t respond.
‘Charlotte reminds me of my grandmother. We, my brother and younger sister, used to go berry picking with her. And for the most part, we minded her. Our dad had said she knew how to use a switch and we never wanted to find out if he was telling the truth or not.’
Although she clearly hadn’t wanted him to notice, he’d seen the way she looked at him out of the corners of her eyes.
No longer trying to hide his smile, he continued, ‘And she made the best jam. Ralph and I never waited for bread, we ate it right out of the jar.’ He chuckled while recalling an incident he hadn’t thought of in years. ‘She had a bunch of grapes that grew along the fence around her garden. Sour grapes. But she made the best jelly out of them. One time, she’d boiled down the grapes and seined the juice out, but must have run out of time or something, because there was this big jar of the juice on the counter. Thinking it would taste as good as her jelly, I sneaked a big swallow.’
His entire being shuddered at how bad that juice had tasted. ‘She hadn’t added any sugar yet. My first reaction had been to spit it out, but she’d walked into the kitchen just then so I couldn’t.’ Laughing, he said, ‘I’ll never forget how hard it was to swallow that mouthful of juice.’
That story did more than he’d been able to. She not only smiled, she covered her mouth to smother a giggle.
‘I don’t think I ate grape jelly for a good five years after that,’ he said. ‘Just couldn’t bring myself to eat it.’
‘I know the feeling,’ she said softly.
‘You drank raw grape juice, too?’
She nodded. ‘Our housekeeper was making wine.’
He had to shake in order to get rid of the shudder rippling over him. His grandfather had made wine once. It had been bad. The morning after had been downright miserable. Being fifteen might have had something to do with it. ‘That had to be worse,’ he admitted aloud.
Her cheeks had turned pink. ‘It certainly was awful.’ With a sigh, she added, ‘And like you, I had to swallow it or get caught.’
Curious, he asked, ‘So do you drink wine now?’
‘Not if I don’t have to,’ she answered.
The laugh they shared lightened the air between them. Hoping it stayed that way, but not wanting to put too much into it, he asked, ‘So which berries are we picking?’ The berries in the basket he’d taken from Charlotte were green and hairy. And more unappetising than any he’d ever seen.
She stepped near the bushes and pointed out a small cluster of berries. ‘Gooseberries.’
‘They’re supposed to be green?’
‘Yes.’
‘And hairy?’
She tried but couldn’t smother another giggle, even with her hand. ‘Yes.’
‘Most of the green berries I’ve seen haven’t been ripe, and hair, I associate that with mould.’
‘Well, you’re not in America, Sergeant Johnson.’
‘You don’t say?’
Her brief glance showed the shine was disappearing from her eyes.
Not wanting that, he asked, ‘Can I eat one?’
She shrugged. ‘Yes.’
‘You aren’t trying to poison me, are you?’
The shine returned to her eyes, turning them a thoughtful, shimmering brown. If he wasn’t careful, he could get lost in those eyes. Except he couldn’t look away because he knew what she was thinking.
‘You hadn’t thought about poisoning me?’ Coaxing, he added, ‘Come on. I know you did.’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘But you are now.’
She laughed and handed him a berry she’d plucked. ‘Go ahead and eat one.’
He took it and ate it, puckering the entire time because his first reaction had been to spit it out. Swallowing twice to get it to go down, he shook his head. ‘That’s as bitter as Grandma’s grape juice had been.’
Hiding a smile, she continued picking berries and dropping them into her basket. ‘They’ll be sweeter later in the year.’
‘Then why don’t you wait until later to pick them?’
‘Because the more we pick now, the more we’ll have later.’ She held up one of the green berries. ‘They may taste bitter by themselves, but you’d be amazed by how good they are in a bread and butter pudding.’
He waited for her to pop the berry in her mouth, but when she dropped it in the basket instead, he shook his head. ‘I find that very hard to believe considering you won’t eat one.’
A hint of dog-eared determination crossed her face as she plucked another berry and popped it in her mouth. Her expression remained unchanged, except for a hint of a pinch to her lips as she swallowed.
‘Satisfied?’ she asked after swallowing again.
With her lips pinched tight, pink cheeks and the sunshine making her black hair shimmer, she was cute. Really cute. His mind shifted. ‘Why don’t you like Americans?’
He wanted to kick himself at how her face fell and she blinked slowly, as if trying to hide something. She bit her bottom lip before turning back to the berries.
‘That was a terrible trick you played,’ she said.
‘What trick?’
She cast him a scathing look while saying, ‘What trick? Have you ever been hit on the top of the head by a sweet? Well, I have and it hurts.’
Now he really wanted to kick himself. He hadn’t thought of that. ‘I’m sorry, I—’
‘Didn’t think of that? You only thought of a way to mock me. To get me to take your money?’
‘I wasn’t mocking you,’ he answered. ‘I wouldn’t do that.’ Noting there was more she was trying to hide, he shook his head. ‘Honestly, and I wasn’t trying to scare you either.’
She reached for another clump of berries, but stopped and balled her hand into a fist instead. ‘Are you trying to say it wasn’t another one of your jokes? Like the plane?’
‘Yes, or no, I’m not sure which is right. Yes, that’s what I’m saying, no, it wasn’t a joke.’
She eyed him critically.
‘I truly didn’t think about the candy hitting someone or that it would scare you.’ He huffed out a breath. Those were things he should have thought about, but hadn’t. These people had been taught—hell, the entire world was being taught to run and hide, protect themselves, from anything and everything falling from the sky. He’d talked to the school children about that very issue. ‘I’m sorry.’ Shaking his head, he admitted, ‘I’m not sure what else to say.’ He dug in his pocket and pulled out the candy bar. ‘I brought a peace offering.’
‘I don’t want a peace offering.’
‘Will you accept an apology?’
She looked around, not necessarily at anything in particular, just anywhere but at him.
They stood there for a stilled moment. Not sure what more to say or do, he didn’t as much as breathe.
She moved first, spun around and started picking berries again. ‘I still won’t take your money.’
‘That’s good.’ He dropped the candy bar into his basket and picked several berries before adding, ‘Because I spent it.’
‘It was yours to spend.’ She’d taken several steps away, clearing the berries off the bushes with remarkable speed.
He took a couple of long steps to catch up with her. ‘I bought candy with the money. Lots of candy. Ten, maybe twenty times more than what was dropped.’
Turning to face him slowly, she asked, ‘Why?’
He shrugged. ‘You said it was rationed and hard to come by. We, the GIs, get it with our food packs. A wide variety. Some men like it, others don’t. So I bought up all I could. Figured I’d pass it out to the children and, being short on time, I came up with the idea of the pilots dropping it as they flew overhead.’
Her frown increased, but so did the thoughtfulness of her gaze. ‘Did you drop it other places?’
‘No, I guess you could call this my test run.’ Flashing her a smile that showed the guilt inside him, he added, ‘I guess I’ll have to rethink the delivery.’
She turned completely around, pausing briefly to look off at each of the children picking berries at different places in the long hedgerows encircling the field. ‘They certainly were excited yesterday and again today when they found a few more pieces.’
‘I suspect there are more children like those two boys who’d lived with Mrs Whitcomb.’ He glanced at the children picking berries. ‘Those boys had been miserable there.’
‘Yes, they had been and are much better off with the Butlers.’
He stepped up beside her. ‘You gave me the idea. When you said there wasn’t any candy. I knew where there was an abundance of that and sharing it seemed appropriate.’
Her shoulders slumped slightly. ‘It appears your benevolence was in the right place, it was just your delivery that was lacking.’
Taking advantage of her acknowledgement, he asked, ‘Would you be willing to help me work on that? The delivery?’
Her frown included a gaze that said he’d either lost his mind, or that she thought he was teasing her.
He laid a hand on her arm. ‘I’m serious, Kathryn. I can’t imagine how these children must feel, being taken away from their families, but you can. You’ve seen them brought to the house, scared and alone, and are helping them adjust.’ He glanced towards the children and a hard lump formed in his throat. ‘My sister, Judy, died when she was young, thirteen, and a day doesn’t go by that I don’t miss her.’
Her expression grew so soft, so tender, he had a hard time swallowing.
‘I’m sorry for your loss. I truly am.’
Somewhat shocked that he’d told her that, he shook his head. ‘I—Thank you, but I didn’t say that for sympathy, I was thinking of the children. War is tough all the way around, but it has to be worse for them.’
She followed his gaze towards the children. ‘I agree, and not all children are treated as well or have fared as well as the ones placed with Norman and Charlotte.’
‘I’ve witnessed that myself.’ The two boys from the fires had told him that they hadn’t been allowed out of the bedroom except to go to school and that the only food they got to eat was what Oscar and Ed left outside the pub for them grab on their way to and from school. That’s what they’d been doing in the barn, eating, and had found an old lantern they decided to try to light. ‘I know it’s not much, but the candy could be a small consolation for them.’
‘It certainly thrilled these children and I’m sure it would others.’
Before he could stop himself, he asked, ‘Why are you here?’
She started picking berries again. ‘My father sent me here three years ago, when many of the girls my age were joining the Auxiliary Territorial Service. He’s a British Intelligence Officer and knew many of the ATS members would be sent to France and Germany. He didn’t want that for me.’ Glancing his way, she added, ‘And my mum didn’t want me anywhere near soldiers, including the American ones.’
‘Why?’
‘She has her reasons.’
Considering how outspoken and stubborn Kathryn was, he questioned if she’d merely obeyed what her parents wanted. ‘Do you?’
Without missing a berry, she said, ‘Yes. The same reason as my mum.’
‘What’s that?’
The way she eyed him, from head to toe for a silent moment, he questioned if she’d answer and, for a reason he wasn’t willing to investigate, he discovered he was holding his breath.
Turning back to the bush, she said, ‘This isn’t the first war to bring American soldiers on to our soil.’
The air left his chest as relief washed over him. A simple reason, really, yet to her it must be more. ‘No, it’s not.’
‘They come and leave again, go wherever the army sends them with no concern to those they leave behind.’
The bitterness in her tone was colder than a North Dakota winter and chilled him just as deeply. Not sure he should, but still had to, he asked, ‘That happened to your mother?’
‘No, my aunt.’ With an even colder tone, she added, ‘And her son, my cousin.’
‘What about after his tour of duty?’
As she turned back to her berry picking, she snapped, ‘He’d forgotten all about them by then.’
World War I, as it was now being called, had provided many men with foreign brides, just as he had no doubt that this war would. For those foolish enough to go down that lane. He wasn’t. He also wasn’t foolish enough to continue a conversation that clearly disturbed her. However, what he had learned was all the more reason to befriend her. If the Brigadier disliked Americans as much as Kathryn did, he wouldn’t be any more interested in helping him find Ralph than the army was, unless his daughter asked him to.
Stepping up beside her to pluck a few more berries, he asked, ‘So, back to my original question—will you help me figure out a better way to distribute the candy to the children? I know it’s not much, but...’ nodding towards the children, he continued ‘...it could mean a lot to them.’
‘It would need to include other children as well,’ she said.
‘Of course. As many children as possible, which is another reason I need your help.’
Tucking several strands of her long black hair behind one ear, she said, ‘You are persistent, aren’t you?’
The smile she attempted to hide gave him hope. ‘I’ve been called worse.’ Lifting the candy bar out of his basket, he held it out to her. ‘Truce?’ When it appeared she wasn’t going to give in, he added, ‘Think of the children. How much it would mean to them.’
Her smile included a hint of pink covering both cheeks as she shook her head and took the candy bar. ‘Truce.’
‘That’s made by the Hershey candy company,’ he said, hoping to keep the smile on her lips. ‘It comes from Hershey, Pennsylvania, where the world’s largest chocolate factory is.’
When she eyed him critically he held up a hand.
‘Honest. They make all sorts of candy.’ He had no idea if his next statement was 100 per cent true, but wanted to get her further on his side. ‘They even make a candy bar named after Babe Ruth, the greatest baseball player in the world.’
‘Baseball?’
‘You’ve never played baseball? Well, let me tell you about that.’
