Arm still wrapped around Cora’s shoulder, Van led her down the sidewalk. “Are you up for a stroll? I thought we could look at the flowers in Regent’s Park. The roses won’t be open in Queen Mary’s Garden, but there must be something blooming.”
Face flushed, Cora nodded. “Perfect. I’d appreciate looking at something other than rubble and boarded-up windows. I don’t suppose we could work an article about our visit.”
He hugged her to him for a brief moment. “Always thinking, aren’t you? Maybe something about pursuing normalcy during times of difficulty.” He shrugged. “Let me give it some thought. If nothing else, we’ll have a delightful evening.”
Her pink cheeks deepened to red, and she nodded, then slipped out from his hold.
His heart fell. Cora fit perfectly in his embrace.
They ambled north on Portland Place, silent except for the sound of their feet crunching on the ever-present dust. Few shops were open, and those that were had little merchandise to offer. The windows not covered in sheets of wood were crisscrossed with tape, lending a Tudor flavor to the buildings.
The tantalizing aroma of baking bread wafted toward them. Van’s stomach rumbled, and he pointed to an open door under a sign that swung in the breeze: Bea’s Breads. “I vote we stop in here.”
Cora rushed forward. “Me, too.” She lifted her chin and sniffed. “And I detect potato soup, too.”
“Quite the investigative reporter.”
She giggled, and they entered the bakery.
A petite, redheaded woman hunched over a table kneading a large lump of dough. Two young girls sat at one of the tables drawing pictures. They looked up and gawked at Van and Cora. “Mum?”
The woman turned, a smudge of flour on one cheek beneath twinkling green eyes. “I’m Bea. Welcome to my shop. I hope yer hungry. Several loaves of bread just came out of the oven, and the soup should be finished cooking.”
“We’re starving.” Cora grabbed Van’s hand and dragged him toward the counter. “We could smell your delicious food outside.” She gestured toward the children. “Yours? They’re cute as buttons.”
Bea nodded, her smile wide. “Nancy’s seven and Joan is eight.” Her smile dimmed as she cut generous slices from a steaming loaf. “Their school closed two years ago, so they spend most days with me. We work on their numbers, letters, and reading during the morning hours, and in the afternoons they color or play games. ’Tis tough to be a little one these days…so much sadness. I do what I can to keep them cheery.”
“You’re a good mother.” Van laid some coins on the counter. “Their father…?”
“Best I can tell in Italy somewhere, making his way up the boot. I still get mail, and he referred to a fountain we visited on our honeymoon…not by name, of course.”
Clasping her hands to her heart, Cora said, “I’m glad he’s still alive. I’ll pray for his continued safety.”
“That’s nice of you. I’ve also been prayin’ that the good Lord sees fit to bring him home. It’s been hard enough on the girls having him away, but to lose him…” Bea sniffled as she ladled a generous portion of soup into a pair of bowls, then set them on the counter along with a plate filled with bread slices. “Eat up. There’s more if you want it.”
Van picked up the dishes and carried them to one of the tables. “This will be plenty.”
Cora stopped next to the girls. “Didn’t you do a wonderful job on your pictures? You’re both very talented.”
The youngsters beamed and looked at their mom who mouthed, “Say thank you.”
“Thank you!” Nancy and Joan spoke in unison, their words shy and uncertain.
“You’re welcome, ladies.”
They tittered, and Van smiled. He’d thought it once before, but her graciousness on the heels of her emotional upset with Myrtle told him she’d make a great mother someday. She deserved the chance.
Van dipped his bread into the creamy-looking concoction then took a bite. His eyes widened. Who knew potatoes could taste so good? He tried not to wolf down the food but was unsuccessful. Minutes later, his bowl was empty, and only two pieces of bread remained.
The bowl in front of Cora was also empty, and she wiped her mouth with a napkin. “That was one of the best meals I’ve had in ages.”
“Agreed.” He grinned. “If she wasn’t already married…”
“Yeah, right.” She snorted a laugh. “As if you were the marrying kind.”
He grunted and pressed his hands to his chest as if he’d been stabbed. “That’s not a nice thing to say, Miss Strealer. Especially after I told Miss O’Malley about our relationship.”
Shadows passed across her face, then she sent him a saucy smile. “Sure, but we’re only dating, remember? It’s not as if you proposed or anything.”
His jaw dropped, and his belly buzzed as if a flock of hummingbirds had taken flight. The sharp intake of breath from Bea was audible, and he cringed at what she might think about their conversation. Did the proprietress expect him to take the opportunity to drop on one knee and pop the question? How would Cora respond if he did?
Whoa. Where did that thought come from? Granted, she was beginning to mean something to him, but as a wife? No, and definitely not in wartime.
He took a deep breath and hoped she wouldn’t be offended if he played along with her flippancy. “True, and don’t be looking for one any time soon.”
She threw back her head and laughed. “What a relief.” Tossing her napkin on the table, she stood. A smirk tugged at her mouth, and she held out her hand. “I’m ready for a turn around the park.”
“A perfect way to walk off our meal.” Van laced his fingers with hers and nodded to Bea who stared at them, mouth in a perfect O.
Cora waved with her other hand at the trio. “Goodbye and thank you. Bea, your food was absolutely delicious. We’ll be back, I’m sure.”
Van led her out the door, and they continued their walk toward the park. A breeze lifted Cora’s hair, and he caught the floral scent of her shampoo. How did she remain so fresh and clean tramping London’s dirty streets?
They crossed Park Crescent and entered Park Square Garden, the ground soft beneath their feet. A few minutes later they turned onto Outer Circle headed for York Bridge. Somewhere in the distance a church bell tolled the hour. Five o’clock already. Time spent with Cora flew on eagle’s wings.
He pulled her along and smiled when she skipped to keep up with his long legs. Slowing his pace, he said, “I’m sorry. I forgot about your stubby little legs.”
She yanked her hand out of his and stuck out her tongue. “I’ll show you stubby little legs.” With a shout, she ran along the path, her Victory rolls tumbling from their pins. The sun shimmered on her corn silk-colored tresses, and her skirts fluttered with every step.
His mouth dried at the vision of her trim figure racing away. He blinked. Away. She was getting away. He sprinted after her, legs pumping to catch up. She pivoted and waved, her face dazzling with joy, then continued running. Minute by minute, she was burrowing her way into his heart.
Cora lagged, her breath loud and ragged.
Van drew alongside her. “Speed, but no stamina, Strealer. Too bad. You almost won.” He put two fingers to his forehead in mock salute and dashed past her to the entrance of the Inner Circle that surrounded Queen Mary’s Garden. He jogged in place and raised his arms. “The winner and grand champeeeen, Van Toppel. Woohoo!”
Seconds later, she crossed the finish line, her face aglow. “Congratulations, but you know I let you win, right?”
“Nice try, honey. You lost fair and square.” He shadowboxed. “No one can beat me when I set my mind to winning.”
“Uh huh. Whatever you say, Superman. Or is it Clark Kent?”
“Ha! Show a little respect to your elders.”
“Only if my elder deserves it.” She danced away then beckoned. “Come on, let’s check out the Japanese Garden Island. One of the girls at my boardinghouse visited a few days ago and said it’s exquisite.” She sobered up. “Wait. Does it feel weird to be at war with Japan yet sightseeing one of their gardens? Perhaps we should look at something else.”
“What did you have in mind?”
She shrugged. “How about the little lake farther up the path? That might be fun.”
He bowed. “Your wish is my command.” Any activity with this sparkling woman would be enjoyable. Something told him life in the future wouldn’t be nearly as bright or as fun without her. But she might reject him once she discovered his secret.