From the bedroom, Millie heard the knock on Mrs. Twill’s front door. She ignored it and tried to go back to sleep. She rarely enjoyed the night watch, and for a reason she couldn’t quite name, this week was harder than usual.
No, that wasn’t true. She could name the reason. Grief over Karl plus a series of unbroken ciphers equaled despair. His death wouldn’t be official until he’d been missing for six months, but the vast majority of men missing at sea for weeks on end did not turn up again.
She squeezed her eyes shut and pulled the pillow over her head. She missed him. His letters all lay together in a box beneath her bed. She wanted to reread all of them but didn’t dare. The last time she’d done that, she’d ended up in tears, and the resulting headache had lasted her entire shift. Better to think of something else. Or to sleep longer. Time was supposed to help with grief, so if she slept through a few days, did that mean she was still progressing toward a future when it didn’t hurt every time she saw anything that reminded her of ships or blue eyes or love letters?
Dad had told her to keep her spirits up, but he hadn’t suggested Karl might still be alive. Sometimes she wished someone would tell her exactly that, even if it were a lie. Sometimes lies were more comforting than the truth, that men were dying every day of this war, and men on merchant ships were dying at a faster rate than most others.
She didn’t want to get out of bed. Nor did she want to face the choice of telling her father she was handling her grief by staying in bed all day or of telling him a lie. He had promised to take her to lunch on Saturday. Mum would probably come too. Mum, who would mean only the best for her but who was likely to suggest Millie take an interest in one of those smart chaps she worked with or in one of those Air Corps officers Irving had brought by the London apartment when he’d last had a London pass.
She forced herself from bed and went to her knees for a prayer—longer and more desperate than her usual prayers because she felt like she needed divine help to get through the day. And Hut Eight needed divine help to break the ciphers so men like Karl wouldn’t be torpedoed anymore. And Karl . . . was it any use praying for him? Surely he was dead by now. No, he could be alive. He might have been rescued by a ship on its way to Australia. And there was the story of the lifeboat that had drifted all the way across the South Atlantic—with survivors. Or maybe he’d been captured by the enemy, and eventually, she’d get a Red Cross postcard saying he was in a camp somewhere. They would put him in a camp with other sailors, wouldn’t they? Or would they discover his birthplace and execute him for treason? She pushed that thought from her mind. His English was quite good now. He could pretend he wasn’t Austrian. And she would keep praying for him until all hope was lost.
When she went into the kitchen, Shirley and Mrs. Twill both looked at her, then at a telegram lying on the table.
“It’s for you, Millie.” Shirley gave her a wary smile.
Millie hesitated. So often telegrams carried bad news. She wasn’t next of kin, so Karl’s company wouldn’t send her notice if they found out he was dead. But if Uncle Silas heard something, he might send a telegram. And Irving was flying missions all the time now. Any day, he might not come back from one. Or maybe that rescue ship from her imagination with a distant destination had finally arrived in port . . .
Millie opened the envelope and pulled out the telegram.
SHIPWRECKED AND RESCUED IN SOUTH ATLANTIC STOP HEADING BACK TO ENGLAND SOON STOP LOVE KARL LTF
Millie gasped, and in an instant, Shirley was reading over her shoulder.
“He’s alive,” Shirley said, and Millie was glad she spoke because emotion made it hard for Millie to breathe, let alone speak. Strange how emotions so different—relief instead of grief, joy instead of sorrow—could both elicit nearly the same reaction from her: tears, a tightened throat, and tremors in her hands.
“Well, what happened?” Mrs. Twill asked.
Millie lowered the paper and inhaled deeply, trying to force calm into her voice. “Another shipwreck. No details.” LTF. Letter to follow. The letter would tell her more. For now, it was enough to know that God had answered her prayers. Karl was alive, and he was coming back.
* * *
Karl leaned against the rails of yet another steamer, the SS Minstrel. The Torlin Line had sent the Hillingdon’s three survivors on the first of its ships heading north. Jake could have waited for one going to Canada instead, but a week in a Gibraltar hospital had done wonders for them, and now, as Liverpool came into view, the three had recovered enough from their ordeal to plan their next voyages.
Jake rested his back on the rail near Karl, looking across the ship and out to sea rather than facing land. Jake’s shirt hung poorly on him because the warehouse where they’d gone for replacement clothing had offered limited choices, and they had yet to gain back all their respective lost weight. “Billy might sign on to stay with the Minstrel.”
Karl had suspected as much. The captain had taken Billy under his wing since their boarding. This trip wasn’t a working one for them; they were passengers recovering their health, not sailors with duties and watches. But by about day two of their trip north, Billy had grown bored, and the captain had found things for him to do, then followed up with him. “He could use a father figure in his life. One who doesn’t hit him. And the crew seems like a good one.”
“But not good enough to tempt you to stay?” Jake asked.
“Plan the first is still the Royal Navy.”
Jake nodded. “I thought so. I saw how you watched the men on the corvette that picked us up. Maybe you’re right. Maybe you do belong in the navy. Someone has to hunt those U-boats.”
Karl assumed that meant Jake wasn’t upset about Karl’s plans anymore. Karl tried to build on the reconciliation. He and Jake had, after all, survived three ship sinkings together. “And someone has to bring all the materials over so the hunters have what they need to do their work. Someone with the sea in his blood.”
Jake glanced at the deck. “And if the Royal Navy won’t take you ’cause you’re a Kraut?”
“Then I guess plan the second is to keep on sailing with ships that will have me. With crews that welcomed me when no one else would. I overheard some of the men say the Minstrel might lose one of its officers.”
Jake nodded. “I heard the same rumor. And someone needs to keep an eye on Billy, so I suppose I’ll apply. It’s not exactly a passenger liner, but twenty cabins for guests and a dining room . . . ought to keep the chow decent, I suppose. I hate to judge it by this voyage—anything would have tasted like heaven after nothing but tinned food and pemmican for so long.”
“Good food goes a long way toward making a grand voyage.” Karl held out his hand, and Jake shook it. “Good luck to you, Jake. I can think of prettier people to be shipwrecked with, but maybe no one else who can keep a level head as long as you did. Thanks for bringing Billy and me back alive.”
Jake smiled. “Yeah, well, uh, tell that girl of yours that if she has any other bits of useful trash around that might just save a few lives . . . Good luck, Ecker. I’ll be glad to know men like you are hunting U-boats and protecting convoys, if that’s where you end up.”
The crew of the Minstrel prepared to dock, and Billy worked with them. Jake and Karl stayed out of the way, standing with the thirty other passengers on the deck as the ship came in. It would be good to be on land long enough to sample the fish and chips at a few new pubs and visit his girl. Maybe buy her a ring.
How much did an engagement ring cost? The trip on the Minstrel had been complimentary, and the company had given them an allotment that let them replace lost clothing with a suit, tie, single pair of shoes, and two each of shirts, pairs of socks, and underwear. He’d need a great deal more than those few items if he was to outfit himself for a trip as a crewman on a merchant ship. His bank account ought to cover new sea gear and a modest ring. He just wasn’t sure if he ought to send Millie a telegram that he was in Liverpool or show up at her landlady’s door. He had trouble remembering what shift she was on when he came back from even his shortest voyages, so unless he went to the shipping office and found a recent letter from her that listed her schedule, he’d have to guess. Waiting for a reply might mean missing her day off, so he’d head to the train station after stopping by the company office and the bank.
He started down the gangway with Jake and Billy, a mostly empty seabag slung across his shoulder. When they reached the pier, a small woman called Billy’s name. He ran toward her and wrapped her in a tight embrace. She sobbed, and he held her for a moment before pulling back. He was a boy returning to his mother after almost dying, but he was also aware that old and new shipmates were watching. He wouldn’t want to do anything that might make him seem less than independent.
As Jake and Karl caught up to them, the woman grasped each of their hands. “I received his letter from Gibraltar, I did. I can’t thank yous enough for keepin’ me boy alive.”
“Our pleasure, miss.” Jake glanced at Billy. “You’ll be all right until our next trip, mate?”
Billy nodded. “I can look out for myself. And for me mum.”
Karl hoped that was true. His own father had raised his voice at the children only a handful of times. He’d never struck them in anger or for discipline, so Karl couldn’t fathom what life was like with a violent stepfather. The Minstrel would likely leave again within the week. Maybe the stepfather could contain his temper for at least the length of Billy’s leave.
They left Billy with his mother, and Jake shifted his seabag. “And will you be heading to the nearest Royal Navy recruiting office or to see that girl of yours?”
Karl smiled. “The train station and Millie, I think. After we collect our pay and after I find something a little better to wear when I show up on her doorstep.”
Jake chuckled. “Naw, I don’t think you’re off to the train station right yet.”
“I know we’ve been through a lot together, but if you’re suggesting I stay on in Liverpool for a little rest with my crewmates, I’m sorry. None of you can compete with Millie.”
“You’re lousy at gambling, you have the thirst of a nun, and I plan to celebrate hard that I’m still alive despite being torpedoed for the third time. What makes you think I’d be interested in your company?”
“Why else would you suggest I not go to the train station?”
“Oh, maybe because Miss Stevens is currently making her way through the throng. Look ahead, two points on the starboard bow.”
Karl glanced to the right and picked her out among the crowd. Jake slapped him on the back. “Good luck, Ecker. Let me know what happens, eh?”
Karl nodded but didn’t take his eyes off Millie. A few more steps and she rushed into his outstretched arms.
“I was so afraid I’d never see you again.” Her words were muffled against his chest as they held each other.
“Millie, I . . .” He wasn’t sure whether to thank her for the mirror that saved their lives or ask her again if she’d marry him or tell her how much her memory had meant to him when he’d been drifting across the Atlantic on a lifeboat. “I think plan the first is that I kiss you right now, in front of everyone.”
“Sounds lovely.” She eased her head back, and he met her soft red lips with a passion born of long days hovering near death and with a love that had grown stronger with each letter, each dance, each conversation and smile. A kiss could be many things, but this one was a celebration, a kiss he hadn’t been sure he’d live long enough to ever experience.
Given their location on a crowded pier, there were a few whistles and a few chuckles and a few people who bumped into them. Karl didn’t look up to see if the jostling was intentional or accidental, and he didn’t really care. He was back with Millie, and her lips were a balm that provided the final healing after a voyage that had almost cost him his life.
“I missed you,” he said as he pulled away.
“I missed you too.” She ran a hand along his jaw, making him glad he’d shaved recently and that his sun-blistered skin had mellowed into a tan.
“How did you know when I’d arrive?” Karl had written a letter just before the Minstrel had left Gibraltar, but he hadn’t been able to give her any details about his planned route north.
“A little bird told me. A tall one, actually, with gold lacing on his sleeves.” She smiled. “I don’t think Rear Admiral Adams is in the habit of telling women when their fiancés’ ships are arriving in port, but I’m his favorite niece, and I know all the best ways of pestering him.”
Karl tilted his head to the side. “Did you just refer to me as your fiancé?”
Her smile grew less exuberant, more serious. “Well, you said the offer stood and I could think it over. So I did, and, um, yes, I want to marry you.”
That called for another celebratory kiss, and Millie didn’t seem to mind.
“When?” he asked.
A pink flush grew on her cheeks. “Well, I only have a week off, and today counts as part of my holiday, so maybe tomorrow? Mum’s been saving rations since your telegram came. She thinks she has enough sugar and butter to make a cake, and Irving said the weather’s supposed to be dreadful, so he won’t be able to fly, and he might be able to come down, and Dad can sneak away from the embassy a few hours early, and . . . and is that too soon?”
Tomorrow. Millie would marry him tomorrow, and it sounded like her family would support her. “I’d marry you in five seconds if that’s what you wanted.”
She grinned. “Do you have anyone you want to invite?”
Ingrid. Anna. Papa and Mama. Frau Davies. Captain Blake. So many family members or mentors, all of them missing or dead now. But he knew two sailors just about to start their leave who might enjoy the celebration. “Jake and Billy. We better catch them now.”
Jake was easy to find, and he slapped Karl on the back upon hearing the news. “I’ll be there. And I’ll tell Billy.” He smiled at Millie. “Congrats, Miss Stevens. I’m not sure what you see in him, but I’m glad you see it. That cracked mirror you gave him saved our lives.”
“It did?” She looked at Karl for an explanation.
“I’ll tell you the story on the train.” Karl had meant to write it down, but he’d run out of paper.
Jake glanced at Karl’s trousers and shirt. “Before you catch the train, you better collect your measly pay from this voyage and find something to wear, eh?”
Karl almost asked what was wrong with the suit he’d worn on his most recent shore leaves before remembering it was still on the Hillingdon, at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. He offered Millie his arm. “What do you say we head to the company office? And then the bank?”
They said their goodbyes and walked through the dissipating crowd toward the Torlin Line offices. Millie was going to marry him. That fact made everything about the day grand and hopeful, but a worry niggled at him too.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Millie, because I’m eager to marry you, but can we really pull it off by tomorrow? We don’t have rings, I don’t have the right clothes, and I don’t know the first thing about whatever paperwork we need.”
“I’m up for the challenge if you are. I thought we could spend the day looking for rings and something for you to wear. Then take the last train to London, and we can do any shopping we don’t finish here tomorrow morning.”
“Do you have something to wear?” He’d marry her regardless of what she wore, but he’d gotten the impression that wedding dresses were highly important to most women.
“Shirley loaned me the white dress from her debutante ball, and Mum did a few alterations. I think I’ll skip the opera gloves and borrow some of Mum’s jewelry. You’re supposed to borrow something on your wedding day. It’s tradition. I’m just borrowing more than normal.”
“And you can be happy with that?”
She leaned closer to him. “Of course I can. It’s the groom that’s important. And there’s a war on. Everyone cuts a few corners nowadays.”
He shook his head. “My papa gave my mama a pair of sapphire and diamond earrings for their wedding.” Karl couldn’t come close to affording a gift like that, not even if he emptied his bank account. He would be lucky if he could find a pair of shoes that fit.
“I’d rather have your kisses than fancy jewelry. And I prefer laughter to flowers.” She threaded her fingers through his and smiled up at him.
“I’m not very funny, I’m afraid. Maybe our children will be better at making you laugh.”
She squeezed his hand. “First things first. Rings. And something for you to wear.”
“What about paperwork? Can we get all that by tomorrow?”
“I know a chap who knows a chap who didn’t mind getting it started for us, even when the groom wasn’t present. I had to tell him the whole story about your ship going down and you being lost at sea. I think he was a bit of a romantic at heart.”
Karl almost stopped walking. “What names are on the paperwork?”
Millie’s forehead furrowed in surprise. “Mildred Stevens and Karl Eckerstorfer. Did you want Ecker instead?”
Karl had been using an alias since fleeing Austria, but he wanted to marry Millie with his real name. How had he never thought to tell her that he was a Lang, not an Eckerstorfer? “Millie, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“You look awfully serious.” She studied his face. “It’s something bad, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s just . . . when we met, I’d just finished running for my life because someone had killed my father and wanted to kill me too.”
She nodded. “I know. You told me what happened.”
“I told you most of it, but I never told you my real name.”
“What do you mean? I saw your papers. Karl Eckerstorfer, born in July of 1922. We changed it to January, but—”
“August, actually.”
Her lips pulled down. “No, you came over for breakfast, and we changed the seven to a one so you could have an easier time enlisting, and it didn’t work because Dad said the Royal Navy wouldn’t take an Austrian, but I haven’t forgotten what I read.”
“Those papers didn’t have my real name. Or my real birthday.”
She took a step back. “They didn’t?”
“My father had false ones made in case we were pursued. In all the confusion, Ingrid ended up with my real ones. All I had were the Eckerstorfer ones. Plus, I didn’t know how far an SS colonel’s reach might stretch, so it seemed safer to keep with Eckerstorfer. The Germans don’t often take merchant sailors as prisoners, but there was always that chance. And I didn’t have any documents with my real name—nothing to prove who I really was.”
“But if you aren’t Karl Eckerstorfer, who are you?”
“Karl Lang.”
“But I didn’t fall in love with Karl Lang. I fell in love with Karl Eckerstorfer.”
“I’m the same person.”
She swallowed. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“It never came up.”
She crossed her arms. “No, I don’t suppose I thought to ask, ‘Oh, by the way, you aren’t by chance using an alias, are you?’”
Karl tried to imagine how he would feel if their roles were reversed. Maybe a little anger. Probably a lot of hurt. He gently ran his hands from her shoulders to her elbows. “Millie, no matter what name I go by, I’ve given my heart completely to you. Please forgive me?”
“Is there anything else you haven’t told me?”
Karl glanced at the sea, then back at Millie. “If we win the war, my family is wealthy, or at least, we were. But right now, my bank account holds less than fifty pounds, and the one in Halifax has less than twenty, so marrying me isn’t going to make you rich, not while the war lasts.”
“I’m not marrying you for money.” Her lips pulled into a bittersweet expression, absolutely kissable, but he wasn’t sure he should do that again yet.
“Are you still going to marry me?”
“Maybe.” Her expression changed. “I think I need to know if kissing Karl Lang is any different from kissing Karl Eckerstorfer.”
Karl leaned in and brushed his lips along her mouth. A contented sigh slipped from her throat as he ran his hands to the small of her back and pursued the kiss with vigor. If the kiss earlier had been a celebration, this one was full of reconciliation and promise, a profession of love, a plea for mercy. Millie’s mouth had to be the most beautiful thing ever created, and her kiss was intoxicating.
She pulled away and met his eyes. “I think I can love Karl Lang as much as I loved Karl Eckerstorfer.”
“And can you marry him tomorrow?”
She nodded. “I actually think I’d rather be a Mrs. Lang than a Mrs. Eckerstorfer.” She frowned. “But I don’t know if we can change the papers if you don’t have anything with your real name.”
Marry Millie tomorrow, even if it meant using the wrong name? Or postpone it until he could somehow fix his identity? The answer was easy. “We can get married first and change it later.”
She ran a finger along the side of his mouth. “That sounds like the best plan. And as much as I would love you to kiss me senseless right now, we have a lot to do today if we want to pull off a wedding tomorrow. I meant what I said when I told you I’d rather have your kisses than jewelry, but I would like a wedding ring.”
Karl threaded his fingers through hers. “Then let’s go find you a ring. As soon as we collect my money from the shipping office and the bank.”