Chapter Ten

“Meet me in the garden gazebo at 1600. Ted”

She stared at the words printed on plain white paper. A wave of embarrassment, all-consuming and painful, washed over her. Mortified by the image of herself, soaked and shivering, her hair wet and wild, she struggled to control her emotions.

For two years she had fantasized about meeting this man again, dreamed of him falling head over heels in love with her. What a stupid fool she’d been.

When he finally recognized her, she’d looked worse than a drowned rat. And the way he reacted to her yesterday screamed loud and clear that he wanted nothing to do with her. If she had looked as bad on the beach that day, she didn’t blame him for blocking the memory.

Then why did he want to meet her? What could he possibly have to say to her? Would he apologize for the way he acted? Would he tell her to stay away from him? And what did she want to say to him?

She stuffed the note back into the envelope and turned it over to read her name again. Neatly printed by hand, no telltale return address or identifiable handwriting. She glanced around wondering if anyone had seen the envelope or who left it on her desk. She folded it up into as small a piece as she could then slipped it in her pocket. It would definitely go into the stove when she got back to the hut.

By the end of her workday Kitty was nauseous. She wasn’t sure she wanted to talk to Ted, but she had no choice.

Directly behind the enormous building, a graveled path led from a flagstone terrace into an extensive garden. On the right a high hedge shielded the garden from the sprawling stable the Americans had transformed into a motor pool. In the distance, at the far end of the garden, the “cottage” clung to the edge of a small lake. She’d been told the castle’s owners had taken up residence there when the Americans took over.

Determined to see this through, Kitty strode along the path fighting the temptation to linger over a fragrant bloom or pause to watch the bees buzzing among the blossoming trees. At some other time, she might be able to relax and enjoy the formality of the garden’s arrangement or investigate the variety of specimens, but not today, not with her nerves stretched to the breaking point.

Deep within the garden a vine-covered gazebo stood as an inviting retreat.

As she approached, she saw his knees and then his hands twirling his cap impatiently.

Her footsteps must have alerted him to her approach because he jumped to his feet and faced her. She glanced up at the tall figure who appeared even taller because he stood on the platform two steps above her. She grabbed for the railing and forced her gaze down to guide her feet. In her state, she did not trust her ability to climb the steps without falling. He must have sensed her nervousness because he held out his hand to help her, but she refused to accept his assistance.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” his words rushed out as if he couldn’t contain them any longer.

Astonished at his outburst, all she could say was “What?”

“You knew.” Accusation was evident in his tone.

“What did I know?” she rebutted. “And why did you want me to meet you here?”

He looked out over the garden, where an older woman knelt digging in the dirt, his hands still fidgeted with his cap.

She stepped further into the gazebo and sat on the bench.

He turned back to her, his brow wrinkled. She thought he was going to say something. Instead he pressed his lips together, as if to silence himself, and sat on the bench facing her. After a moment he put his cap on the seat beside him and leaned forward.

“There was something familiar about you from the beginning. Then, yesterday, I knew what it was. Two years ago, on a beach, on the Georgia coast. You were there. You pulled me out of the water.”

He waited for her to say something. She didn’t know what to say so she just stared at him.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” His insistent tone required a reply.

She released her breath and nodded.

“You knew, but you didn’t say anything.”

She leaned back unsure where to begin. “Why say anything? You didn’t know me, didn’t remember what happened, so why should I bring it up?” It sounded lame to say it out loud. She hadn’t wanted to embarrass herself. But she’d been even more embarrassed by what happened yesterday. He didn’t know that, she told herself. He doesn’t know how much you’ve dreamed about him, how often you’ve wondered where he was and what he was doing.

“It’s true. I don’t remember much about that day.” He looked straight at her, and she could see pain in his eyes. “It was all like a dream. You were there. You told me I was safe. And then you were gone.” He looked away, back toward the garden. “I didn’t think you were real. I thought you were a mermaid or an angel. Someone I’d dreamed up. Until yesterday.”

Stirred by the emotion in his voice, she tried to lighten the mood. “Well, you obviously survived and recovered nicely. And by some strange twist of fate, we have met again.”

“Yes.” His smile looked grateful somehow. He glanced around. His hand darted out and grabbed his hat again. He tapped his finger on the bill. “I never got the chance to thank you.”

“Oh,” she hadn’t expected that. “For…for what?”

He fidgeted with his hat. Avoided eye contact while his lips contorted. Finally his gaze rose to meet hers. “Thank you for saving my life.”

Taken aback, she hesitated a moment before responding. “I…I just did what anyone would have done.”

“But you were the one. You saved me.”

She looked away and swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. An awkward silence stretched between them while she digested his words.

“Does Madge know?”

Her stomach twisted into a knot. “No.” She shook her head and looked down at her hands. “I don’t see any point in telling her. Do you?” She had tried for casual and matter-of-fact, not desperate and scared. Her gaze darted back to his face as she willed him to agree with her.

His eyes held a faraway sadness. He forced a weak smile. “All right. I don’t like to talk about it anyway.”

She understood not wanting to dredge up bad memories. Perhaps that was why he blocked the memory of their first encounter.

“Such lovely young people shouldn’t look so sad.” The older woman stood on the path beside the gazebo. In her gloved hands she held a basket of cut flowers and gardening tools.

Ted jumped to his feet. “Ma’am. We were just enjoying the garden.”

“It needs more work than I can give it these days,” she offered. “But it keeps me active.”

Kitty rose slowly. She shot a glance at Ted and then clattered down the steps to where the English woman stood. “We were just leaving.”

“You Yanks are always hurrying off to do something.” The older woman eyed them more closely. “You will join me for tea, the both of you. Looks like you both need a little something.” The invitation sounded more like an order than a request.

“Oh, no, ma’am. We couldn’t,” Ted protested as he hurried down the steps.

“You’d reject an invitation from your host and benefactor, would you?”

He put his cap on and adjusted it. “I really must go. I apologize for not joining you but…”

She nodded her understanding and dismissed him with a wave of her hand. Her frown of disapproval followed his escaping backside.

Shaking her head, she returned her attention to Kitty.

“Even though your young man had to go, you can still have a cup of tea with me.”

With her sweetest smile and the most gracious voice she could muster, Kitty gave the only answer she could. “I’m sorry, but I too must go. Thank you so much for the offer.” Without looking back, Kitty hurried along the same path Ted had taken.

The meeting had been private, and Ted was not her “young man.” She prayed no one else had observed them together. She didn’t want Madge to find out. If Madge knew about their meeting, she might guess the truth. And Kitty wasn’t ready for that.

She hadn’t really lied to Ted. Madge didn’t know Ted was the man she pulled from the ocean. But Madge did know of the incident.

Kitty had been a little tipsy when she confided in Madge about the handsome man she had met once and dreamed of meeting again. Madge never made fun of her. She thought it was a great story, but she never told any of the other girls. That’s when Kitty knew Madge was a true friend, one she could trust with her confidences.

But not this. Kitty couldn’t tell Madge about this.

****

“Kruger, come on and join us. We’ve got room for one more.”

Ted shook his head. “Sorry, fellows. Not in the mood.”

He took a sip of the lousy, warm beer. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a cold beer. Back in the states, probably. Although he’d schooled himself against remembering, the image of his last night out before they’d started the long journey to England crept into his mind.

A crowded bar filled with men clad in Air Corp uniforms, smoke hanging in the air, music from a juke box flowing around them. And lots of cold beer. Art, the natural leader, had insisted they spend their last night together. All single with no steady girlfriends, neither he nor Bud nor Mack had objected. They’d had a great time.

A pang of loneliness struck Ted. He missed them, more than he’d ever missed anyone.

A commotion caught Ted’s attention. He glanced up as several officers filed into the club. For a split second, he saw them. Images so vivid he almost waved for them to come join him for a drink. Then reality slammed him in the gut. They were gone. Art, Bud, and Mack. Gone.

A sob caught in his throat, and he gulped his beer to wash it down.

“Mind if I take this chair,” a young lieutenant stood next to him, hands clutching the chair back.

“No. Go ahead.” Ted didn’t look up. He blinked rapidly and hoped the young man didn’t notice the tears threatening to betray his grief.

I’ve got to get a hold of myself.

Kitty’s image invaded his thoughts. She wasn’t bad looking. She was actually pretty in her own quiet way. And serious, way too serious. He’d always gone for the smiling, flirtatious girls. They laughed at his antics and kept him entertained. He’d never even paid attention to the quiet, serious types. If he was honest with himself, he had to admit that they intimidated him.

But Kitty intrigued him. Underneath that prim, proper, serious exterior was Kitty hiding a wilder side? He thought of that wild mass of curly hair. She always kept it tightly pinned. Yet the rain had set it free, turned her into an entirely different creature. Add in that angelic smile and he definitely wanted to get to know her.

He finished off his beer. Staring at the empty mug, he wondered what Art would advise him to do. Keep things light and fun with Madge, or find out what this was between he and Kitty?

Ted knew his dead friend well enough he could hear the advice Art would have offered. Find out what this is with Kitty. Time is short. Your orders could come through any day. Then you’d never know.

So that was it. Ted stood and carried his empty mug back to the bar. He’d break it off with Madge, and then he’d try to get to know Kitty. Maybe he’d be bored with her. Something told him that wouldn’t happen. Something told him there was a lot more to Kitty that he had seen thus far.