Mayfield, Virginia
Cameron Hall
March 1944
THE PHONE RANG, piercing the quiet afternoon.
“I’ll get it,” Kitty offered, rising. “It’s probably Craig. He said he’d call from Los Angeles.” She went out to the hall, leaving Jill and Scott discussing the evening’s plans.
Their conversation stopped abruptly when Kitty reentered the room with a face drained of color. She moved over to the table and, steadying herself on the back of one of the Heppewhite chairs, said in a voice that shook, “Something’s happened. It’s Luc.”
A shocked silence followed. Then Scott asked, “What is it?”
Through stiff lips Jill asked, “Is he dead?”
“No, he was shot down, taken prisoner. That’s all I know so far.”
“One of us should go over to Montclair,” Scott said, getting to his feet.
“I’ll go,” Kitty said quietly.
“Yes, maybe that would be best,” Scott agreed.
“Give Cara and Kip our love, our sympathy,” said Jill, knowing it would not be enough, wouldn’t help.
“Of course.” Kitty slipped on her jacket, picked up her handbag and car keys. “I’ll let you know … later,” she said as she went out of the room, out the front door.
Driving the short distance over to Montclair, Kitty’s mind was in turmoil. What to say? In one way, under the devastating grief there was anger. Why, why? Kip had encouraged Luc, made him feel that joining the air force was the best way to serve. He had been inordinately proud of his son. It was almost as if Luc were his alter ego, his youth relived, as if Luc were experiencing the whole reckless adventure his father had pioneered.
When she walked into the house, she heard the raw sound of a man sobbing. Cara turned and looked at Kitty as she came into the living room. Her eyes were anguished. She stood beside Kip, whose head was down on his crossed arms on the table, his shoulders shaking.
Part of Kitty did not want to feel pity for him. She stood there, almost dispassionately watching, wanting to scream, You wanted him to go. This is what happens when young men go to war!—but that would be too cruel, inhuman. Kip needed more. He needed compassion. The words of a poem she loved came back into her mind: “Loose me from tears and make me see how each hath back what once he stayed to weep: Homer his sight, David his little lad.”
Surely, God willing, Kip would have Luc back once this horrible war was over. At least Luc hadn’t been killed. Whatever a German prison camp was like, there was still a chance that Kip and Luc would be reunited.
Montclair
It was gray dark when Cara woke up, the furniture hardly discernible in the dimness of the room. Kip’s place beside her in the bed was empty. When had he got up, where had he gone? Probably to the air field….
A glance at the bedside clock told her she had slept a good six hours. Still, she felt she had spent a sleepless night. The heaviness of yesterday’s news hung like a weight over her as she dressed, went downstairs.
In the kitchen she made coffee. How did one go on doing the ordinary things of life when everything had changed, dreams had been shattered, the future diminished?
She got out cream, put the sugar bowl on the table, and answered her own question out loud. “But life is full of tragedy. You only need to pick up the paper; every day another disaster, somebody’s tragedy.”
Why was it people seemed to be able to withstand the big tragedies, with whatever inner source most people find? … It was the unexpected disasters that wounded the spirit, sickened the heart …
Kip, who had been called from the reserves to active duty, requested compassionate leave from his commanding officer and was granted it. As they waited for more news—where the prison camp was located, whether the Red Cross had been able to contact Luc, confirm the information—Kip remained devastated. Nothing seemed to help, not Cara’s support or others’ sympathy.
Although Kitty’s heart ached for him, Cara knew that underneath, her twin dealt with her resentment of the past, saying Kip had encouraged Luc to learn to fly, almost as if he had wanted to replay his own youth. What would Kitty have had Luc do? Be a conscientious objector like Gareth?
But Gareth’s feelings were deep-rooted, bred into him by his father from boyhood. If anyone had a reason to want to go fight, defeat the enemy, especially the Japanese, it was Gareth. His beloved was a prisoner trapped in who knew what horrible conditions, from whom he hadn’t heard for two years.
No, to be fair, it had been Luc’s own choice to become a pilot, join the air force. Maybe he had unconsciously needed to prove something to his father, if nothing else. Would Kip ever have his son back? Well, if he could survive a German POW camp, he might still come home.
Kip had to report back to duty before they received definite confirmation of the name and location of Luc’s prison camp.
England
When Niki heard about Luc being shot down and taken prisoner, she was devastated. She thought of Tante and Uncle Kip, what they must be going through. And Aunt Kitty, who had loved Luc and hated the war. When Bryanne called her from Birchfields to tell her, Niki had for the rest of the day moved around as in a walking nightmare. She lived the scene in her mind—the shrapnel-riddled plane, the ball of fire, the spiraling downward plunge, the explosion on the ground. Evidently Luc had parachuted out but was injured, couldn’t escape, and was captured. All Alair had received was an official notice that he was now a prisoner of war.
Niki thought of their wedding day. No two people had ever seemed more in love. Alair had been a picture, and Luc had gazed at her with such devotion…. Niki’s heart wrenched as she remembered. She should write to Alair. But what could she say? Were there any words that could help? Alair was in that lonely place where sometime everyone who loves has to walk.
Fear gripped Niki. It had happened to Luc. Luc, who had always seemed invincible to her. As far back as she could remember, Luc had been in her life. More than a brother, a friend, the one person in her world that she knew had loved her unconditionally all these years. He had stood up for her, stood by her; even when he wasn’t convinced she knew what she was doing, he had fought for her. She had never believed anything bad could happen to Luc.
If it could happen to Luc, no one she loved was safe. Niki clenched her hands, brought them to her mouth, bit down on her knuckles to stem the agonized sobs that rushed from deep inside. Fraser. She knew he was in dangerous work. He couldn’t talk about it; it was top secret. But he had been training with his unit down at the coast, cliff climbing. The rumors were that those units were preparing for the coming invasion of France. She shivered with dread.
Niki touched the small luckenbooth brooch she wore pinned to the lining of her uniform jacket. Betrothed. She and Fraser were promised to each other as surely, as solemnly, as if they had already taken marriage vows.
If anything happened to Fraser, she couldn’t stand it.
The irony of the tragedy came only a month later. Before they had verifiable information about Luc, Kip was killed. In a routine flight delivering a B-52 bomber from an air base in Texas to another in North Carolina, his plane disappeared, mysteriously went down somewhere in the mountains of Tennessee.