Kit stepped out her front door the next morning and was about to lock it when she noticed a basket on her porch. It held something wrapped in newspaper and a small note tucked in the side. She pulled out the note and read it.
Lieutenant Anderson, Please accept this small gift as an apology for my careless mistake yesterday. I truly am sorry for any damage, inconvenience or embarrassment I may have caused. If you will leave your uniform in the basket I will be most happy to have it cleaned and returned to you right away. Respectfully, Emily Mills.
“What’s this? A grenade with a missing pin?” Kit said sarcastically. She folded back the newspaper and revealed two glass jars filled with an amber liquid. She carefully removed the lid and took a sniff. “Gasoline? Well, what do you know? Miss Tea Bag did something right.” She reread the note then set the jars of gasoline inside and locked the door. She wished she had time to try out the motorcycle that very minute, but it was nearly eight o’clock and she was going to be late for a meeting with Commander Griggs as it was.
It was a slow day. With only six airplanes to deliver and two to test, the pilots completed their assignments by two o’clock.
“Might as well let your squadron leave early, Lieutenant,” Griggs said, passing Kit outside the ready room.
It wasn’t like Griggs to offer such luxuries without due cause. But Kit wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She saluted and went to dismiss her squadron. She finished her paperwork by three and headed home, the chance to try out the motorcycle quickening her step. She changed into an old flight suit and hurried up to the carriage house with her precious jars of gasoline. She rolled the motorcycle outside and cleaned off some of the years of dust and grime. Using a bent metal funnel from the crate of tools, Kit carefully filled the tank then replaced the gas cap. She swung her leg over and adjusted the choke then turned on the key. She stomped down on the kick start, but nothing happened. She made a few adjustments and tried again, groaning as she used all her strength and weight on the starter. She was able to coax a little grumble from the engine, but it threatened to stall.
“Come on, sweetheart.” She rotated the throttle to keep it running. “Purr for me, baby. That’s it.” Finally the engine began to chug uniformly. Kit revved the engine to clear the dust from the carburetor and exhaust. “Yes!” she exclaimed with a satisfied grin. She sat down on the seat, its well-worn leather cupped around her bottom like a soft glove. She fiddled with the clutch and gear shifter, testing whether they were in working order. After allowing the engine to idle for a few minutes, Kit was confident it was time for a test drive. She shifted into first and slowly released the clutch, giving the throttle a gentle twist. The motorcycle pulled forward, responding without hesitation. She raised her feet and increased the speed, heading down the driveway toward Digby Lane.
Kit sailed down the road toward the stone bridge with the wind in her hair and a smile on her face. For the first time in a long time, she was roaring along the road without thought for the airfield, the airplanes or her pilots. She was content to ride the wind if even for a few minutes, or however long her two liters of gasoline would allow. She crossed the bridge and was tempted to turn left, away from Alderbrook and the airfield, out into the open countryside. But the motorcycle hadn’t earned her complete confidence yet. She turned right and cruised into town, weaving her way along the narrow streets lined with shops and houses. She turned down the street that formed the perimeter of the airfield. She followed it in a complete circle around the airfield before heading back through town. Just as she took the bend in front of the church, she swerved sharply to avoid a pedestrian in the road. Kit struggled to maintain control and not lay the bike over. It suddenly dawned on her who the pedestrian was. She made a U-turn and pulled alongside Emily.
“What happened to your bicycle? Why are you walking?” Kit asked.
“I had a puncture in the tire. I see you got Grandfather’s motorcycle running.”
“Yes, and thanks for the gasoline.”
“You’re welcome. It was the least I could do.”
“Let me give you a ride home. That’s the least I could do.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Emily said.
“Why not? It’s your family’s motorcycle. You deserve a ride on it.” Kit brushed off the back pad then patted it.
“Thank you for the offer, but I’ll walk.” Emily continued for home.
“It’s two miles. I can have you home in five minutes,” Kit said, rolling up beside her.
“Thank you anyway,” Emily said, keeping a healthy pace to her stride.
“Are you sure?”
Emily nodded, her back rigid and her arms swinging at her side as she made her way along the dirt road. Kit finally gave up and slowly pulled away, trying not to leave Emily in a cloud of dust. Just as she reached the carriage house, she felt the first drops of rain from a dark cloud that had moved across the afternoon sky. She looked down the drive for signs of Emily but saw no one.
“Why didn’t she just accept the ride?” Kit said to herself. She heaved a sigh and studied the increasing rain. “What the heck?” she said and threw her leg over the seat. She started the motorcycle and roared down the drive. She crossed the bridge and headed for town, expecting to see Emily walking along the edge of the road, drenched and disgruntled. Kit got all the way to the center of town but didn’t see her. She turned around and retraced her route. As she rounded a curve in the road she saw Emily standing under a large tree, trying to stay out of the rain. Kit’s flight suit was drenched, and her hair was matted against her head as she rolled to a stop and smiled over at Emily.
“How about a ride now?” Kit asked, the rain running down her face.
“You are soaked,” Emily said, remaining against the tree trunk.
“So are you.”
“I told you, I don’t need a ride.”
“You don’t need one or you don’t want one?” Kit asked skeptically.
“Does it matter?”
“If someone else was offering a ride would you take it?” Emily scowled bitterly.
“I thought so. You don’t like me and I can accept that, Miss Mills. But rather than stand there discussing the fact I rented your grandmother’s cottage without your permission, would you please swallow that ever-loving British pride and get on the back of this motorcycle before I use up the last of the gasoline idling here on the side of the road? Please?” she added with a forced smile.
Emily looked up at the increasing rain and over at Kit who was being drowned by the downpour. Without a word, she came out from under the tree and climbed on the back of the motorcycle.
“Put your feet on the pegs and hold on,” Kit said, waiting impatiently for her to get situated. Emily positioned her feet on the pegs and modestly placed her hands on Kit’s waist. “Hold on tighter.”
Emily slowly eased her arms around Kit but she held back, trying not to commit her whole body to the hug.
“Scoot up,” Kit said, revving the engine eagerly.
“You Yanks sure are a pushy lot.” Emily finally did as she was told.
“We don’t fall off motorcycles either.” Kit released the brake and pulled away.
They roared down the road, the motorcycle slinging a plume of muddy spray in its wake. Kit could hear Emily gasp and felt her grip tighten as she shifted through the gears, slowly gaining speed. Kit kept the bike on a steady course, but with each gradual turn she could feel Emily’s bear hug increase. As they rounded the house and stopped in front of the carriage house, the rain was coming down in buckets. Emily climbed off and scurried into the safety of the garage, dripping wet and shaking from the cold. Kit turned off the engine and rolled the motorcycle inside.
“Thank you for the ride, Lieutenant,” Emily said, folding her arms for warmth.
“You’re welcome.” Kit shook her head and ran her fingers through her wet hair.
“And by the way,” Emily said, looking over at Kit. “What makes you think I don’t like you? Do you still think I did those terrible things to you on purpose?”
Kit looked back at her and chuckled. “Now be honest. That first time you came to the airfield to tell me to move out of your grandmother’s cottage, you weren’t exactly thrilled to meet me.”
“Well,” Emily stammered.
“And when you barged in on me when I was taking a bath, it wasn’t because you wanted to wash my back, now was it?”
Emily blushed bright red.
“And having to ask me to sign as your reference on the job application was about the last thing in the world you wanted to do. Am I right?”
“That was a complete misunderstanding.”
“You don’t like me, and we can work around it.”
“I do not dislike you, Lieutenant. I have apologized for the smelly pan of water incident and the runaway truck. You must admit your reaction to my misfortune was somewhat rude and boorish. But yes, I have to take the lion’s share of the blame. My record doesn’t inspire much confidence.”
Kit laughed. “You British tickle me. Why not just say everything you touch turns to shit?”
Emily raised her eyebrows as if she didn’t approve of such language.
“What? You don’t say stuff like that?”
“As a literature teacher, I prefer to use a more descriptive vocabulary.”
“Oh, come on. Say shit.”
“I will not.” Emily frowned indignantly.
“Then try damn.”
“No.” Emily scowled.
Kit chuckled and shook her head. “I’ve got a few more, but I won’t suggest them.”
“I can just guess.” Emily studied the skies for a long moment as if considering her next statement carefully. “Will I be sent off to Manchester right away, or will I have a few days to prepare?”
“Why are you going to Manchester?”
“You know what I mean, Lieutenant. How soon can I expect the incident with the truck to cross Commander Griggs’s desk?”
“What truck? Did you have a problem with a truck I should know about?” Kit asked innocently. When Emily finally looked over at her, Kit smiled shyly. “I don’t need to report anything. Do you?”
Emily stared at her blankly, seemingly surprised at her forgiveness.
“I’m not the evil person you seem to think I am, Emily.” Kit smiled at her, their eyes meeting for a long moment. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go change out of these wet clothes. I think it has stopped raining.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Emily said, touching her arm.
Kit nodded then trotted down the drive toward the cottage. As she opened the door, she looked back through the woods toward the big house. She couldn’t see Emily, but Kit could feel her heart pounding in her chest over the way Emily’s eyes had fallen so softly on her and the way her body molded against her back on the ride home.
“Maybe she doesn’t hate me,” Kit said, raising her eyebrows. “Maybe she even likes me just a tad.”
She stripped out of her wet clothes and toweled off, fluff drying her hair as she stood naked in front of the window. She scanned the spaces between the trees for a view of the house. The memory of the feel of Emily’s breasts against her back and of her thighs curled around her hips as she straddled the motorcycle washed over Kit. It wasn’t like her to fantasize about someone she knew she couldn’t have, but she couldn’t stop it. Emily was lovely. Even when she couldn’t stand to be in the same room with Kit, there was something about the smile that curled her lips and the twinkle in her eyes that captured Kit’s heart. Emily Mills may be a tea bag, but she was the cutest tea bag Kit had ever seen. Too bad she couldn’t tell her that.