The Chase: A Novel

by Brenda Joyce

  Lionel did not take his eyes off Eddy. He wanted to catch him regarding his desk. “Gentlemen never kiss and tell.”

  Eddy laughed. “Very true. Sorry I asked.”

  Rachel popped into his mind, and Lionel felt his body tighten unmistakably. She’d had stars shining in her eyes when she had been with Eddy. It was amusing; it was sickening. “Shall we?”

  Eddy nodded with a grin. He turned, causing his line of vision to sweep over the desk.

  Lionel continued to smile calmly. Had Eddy seen the envelope in the wastebasket? Lionel glanced directly at it: the envelope was face-up, and the Lisbon return address glared up at Lionel in black handwriting. Still, if Eddy had seen it, it was impossible for him to have read the address, and even if he had, Lionel already had a plausible story about whom he knew in that foreign city.

  “Boy, I could eat a horse,” Eddy was saying easily.

  As they crossed the room, Lionel began to tingle with a slight excitement. If Eddy was astute and not what he seemed, then Lionel’s life might become very interesting indeed.

  They walked downstairs and entered the small restaurant, where they were promptly seated. Both Eddy and Lionel were accorded the utmost respect by the proprietor, with Lionel in full uniform and Eddy in a casual, well-worn RAF flight jacket and cap. The waitress fawned over them both. They ordered shepherd’s pies and ale.

  “I saw Rachel last night,” Eddy said, using his cigarette lighter to light a cigarette. He smoked Lucky Strikes—many Americans did. He offered one to Lionel, who declined. Eddy took a drag, leaning against the banquette, seeming happy. “In fact, we have a date tomorrow night as well.”

  Lionel was not surprised. So this was why Eddy had come calling. Not because he “owed” Lionel anything, but because he wanted to fuck Rachel.

  The entire sordid affair reminded him of Harry. It reminded him of the way Ellen had wanted him, the way so many other beautiful girls had, the way Rachel’s sister had. But Rachel hadn’t looked at Harry with stars shining in her eyes. She had liked him, admired him, trusted him. But she hadn’t wanted him that way.

  He had never seen such a look in Rachel’s eyes before.

  Lionel sipped his ale, feeling a faint stirring of anger. He shoved it away, and having to do so made him even angrier. Thinking about Rachel—and Eddy—had been tormenting him ever since yesterday. Yet he knew he had nothing to worry about. In fact, he should be happy. Because if she was falling in love with the American, it would eventually kill her. Lionel knew she would never defy her father over a man.

  Eddy was speaking, his eyes bright, and Lionel tuned in. “Your cousin is amazing, isn’t she? What a heart of gold.”

  Lionel smiled at him. “Rachel would cry if you decided to set traps for a mouse.”

  “She wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Eddy agreed.

  Lionel decided to tell him about the swan. “My stepmother had three beautiful swans. When we were children, one of the swans died. Rachel is the one who found it. She wept over that useless bird.”

  “She would,” Eddy said. “She’s a very caring girl. I like that.”

  “So I can see,” Lionel said, debating how much to tell Eddy. He doubted the difference of religion would affect the American. But Lionel would take bets on his being possessive and jealous. He would also bet a stack of pounds on the fact that Eddy did not yet know about Joshua Friedman.

  “And she’s a knockout. A drop-dead gorgeous woman. And smart!” Eddy exclaimed. “All the beautiful girls at home are bimbos.” He shook his head as if he could not get over it.

  “Rachel likes to read. Ask her what she’s reading now,” Lionel prompted. “She’ll tell you Dostoyevsky or Tolstoy or some such thing.”

  “Who?” Eddy asked blankly.

  Lionel wanted to laugh. He wasn’t surprised that Eddy wasn’t well read. “Where did you go to school?” he asked.

  “You mean college?”

  “Yes, I mean university,” Lionel said. Now he suspected the other man of not even attending a university.

  “I went to a community college,” Eddy said.

  Lionel felt satisfied—the man had no education to speak of.

  “But just for my freshman year. Then I got a scholarship to Fordham U.” Eddy smiled at him. “I was going to graduate this year, but the war put that on hold for a bit.”

  “Your major?”

  “Phys ed,” Eddy said promptly. “I plan to teach physical education after the war.” He added, “I like kids.”

  Gymnasium, Lionel thought, pleased. The man wasn’t that bright—he was going to become a gymnasium teacher to a bunch of brats if he survived the war. If Rachel was falling in love, it wouldn’t last, even without the obstacle of her father and their religious differences. Rachel was an intellectual through and through. Eddy would soon bore her.

  Then Lionel thought about the fact that he was very handsome and in uniform and a pilot. It might be a while before Rachel figured out that they were not compatible at all.

  “How well do you know Rachel?” Eddy asked.

  “Our families aren’t close. Still, I am very fond of my cousin, even though we have not spent much time together.”

  “Are you Jewish, too?”

  The question shocked Lionel. “Of course not.”

  “I didn’t think so. So what’s her story?” Eddy asked. “What’s a doll like that doing unattached? And what about her old man? Is he the reason she’s fancy-free?”

  Lionel sat back, folding his arms, pleased with the turn of the conversation. “Rachel is hardly ‘fancy-free,’ as you put it, Marshall.”

  Eddy sat up. “What?” His smile was gone. His eyes were no longer lazy. They were piercing.

  “Rachel is very much spoken for.”

  Eddy slowly stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray, taking a long time to do so. He looked up. “What do you mean?”

  Eddy didn’t look like a man who would one day teach snotty children how to throw a ball. There was nothing lazy about the light in his eyes now. In fact, he looked every bit a fighter pilot—rather intimidating and even dangerous.

  “Everyone knows that it is just a matter of time before she marries Joshua Friedman.”

  “Joshua Friedman,” Eddy said slowly. Lionel smiled, but only inwardly; outwardly, he kept his expression bland. He could not take his eyes off the American.

  “Who the hell is Joshua Friedman?” Eddy said very calmly.

  “She didn’t tell you?” Lionel asked.

  “No, she did not.”

  It was almost nine; Eddy was late.

  For two days and two nights, Rachel had not known what to do. It had been impossible to sleep, just as it had been impossible to concentrate while on duty. It seemed that all she could think about was Eddy, while yearning to be with him, but Papa’s stubborn refusal to allow her to see him again haunted her. Rachel was torn. Should she follow her heart—or break Papa’s?

  She felt certain that was what it would come down to: if she dared to defy Papa, she would hurt him terribly. He had never recovered from Mama’s death, Sarah was a huge disappointment, but she was his Rachel-lay, the apple of his eye. If she saw Eddy, if she fell in love with him, he would wither up and die, an old and bitterly defeated man.

  Rachel stood nervously outside the security gates, where two benches were placed. Three soldiers and another WAAF waiting for friends, family, and rides were seated on the benches, the pair of airmen flirting with the WAAF. Rachel didn’t know anyone except in passing, and she kept her back to everyone, as she did not want to be friendly now. Partly because she was so anxious about seeing Eddy again. He didn’t know she could not go out with him now. She had tried to call him four times earlier in the day, but he had not been at the base. What would he do when he found out?

  But the real question haunting her was would he hate her for her choice?

  Rachel stopped pacing. She glanced at her small gold wristwatch. It was almost nine-thirty now. Surely he wouldn’t hate her for d
oing what was, ultimately, right.

  Rachel peered up and down the road. Because of the blackout, and the fact that high beams were illegal, one could not discern an approaching vehicle until the very last minute. The night was spectacular in its darkness. Other than the glow of one of the soldier’s cigarette tips, and a few stars overhead, the road, the security gate and booth, and the airbase were cast in shadows and darkness.

  Rachel couldn’t believe that he had changed his mind about their date. Her stomach sickened at the very notion. Her heart knew better than to believe that. Had something happened?

  She could not help being frightened, which made her more nervous than she already was. What if he was in the air? He could be scrambling even now, while she was waiting for him. What if he had refused to stay grounded; what if he had flown and been hurt? He could hardly fly his plane and man the machine gun with one hand!

  She would die if something happened to him.

  Rachel wanted to cry. The extent of her feelings told her that she truly loved this man. How had this happened? Why couldn’t Papa see that he was wonderful? But Papa wasn’t going to change, Rachel thought miserably.

  If only she could be more like Sarah. Sarah would never let Papa keep her apart from the man of her dreams.

  A pair of dimmed low beams suddenly became visible, and a moment later a motorcar’s engine could be heard. Rachel stiffened, even though she doubted it was Eddy—where would he get an automobile? Unless, of course, he had gotten a lift. The motorcar paused before the security gates, and a man called out. One of the soldiers returned the greeting, and Rachel’s heart sank. As she had thought, it wasn’t Eddy.

  Two soldiers left. A few minutes later the WAAF was boarding a small bus headed for Islington, and Rachel was alone.

  She shivered even though she wasn’t cold, her thoughts returning to her family. Tomorrow was Shabbat. Because of her religion, she was exempt from duty on the Sabbath, and she would go home before sundown, returning after sundown the next day. In the past, Rachel had always enjoyed Shabbat, when the family sat down to a fine meal together. Even Sarah never failed to be present for their Friday night celebration. Now, for the first time in her life, Rachel dreaded going home.

  Rachel suddenly stiffened. A man was walking toward her. He formed a dark, indistinct shadow, emerging from the even darker night—clearly he had come from the underground, which was a few blocks away. Her heart jumped in relief and excitement and even more fear as she recognized the way he moved, the tilt of his head and the width of his shoulders.

  “Hello, Rachel,” Eddy said quietly, pausing before her.

  It was hard to make out his features in the dark, but she didn’t have to see his face clearly to know that something was terribly wrong. She heard it in his tone. Her apprehension, the feeling of nausea, increased. Did he somehow know what she was going to say? “Hi, Eddy.”

  “You didn’t change.”

  She remained in her uniform. “Eddy. . .” she began, wringing her hands.

  He just looked at her. A beam of moonlight illuminated one side of his face.

  “I. . . I. . . I hate doing this—”

  “You should have told me right away,” he said abruptly. “But I still don’t believe it.” He was harsh.

  Rachel was confused. “What are you talking about?”

  “Joshua Friedman.”

  She gasped in surprise.

  He peered more closely at her. “Isn’t that what you were going to say? That you can’t see me because of your fiancé?”

  “We’re not engaged,” she managed. “I meant to tell you, but. . .” She stopped.

  “But what?”

  She said truthfully, “It just didn’t seem to matter.”

  “I don’t understand. Lionel said the two of you have an understanding, and that you will get married after the war.”

  Lionel! Rachel found herself taking his arm. “Lionel likes to make trouble, I think. I . . . it’s not Joshua.”

  “What? What do you mean?”

  She wished she could see him better. “It’s Papa,” she cried. “He’s forbidden me to see you ever again!”

  Eddy stared, and then, before she knew it, she was in his arms. He was not wearing his sling, she realized. “Do you love Joshua Friedman?” he asked.

  “No,” she returned, hardly able to breathe.

  “Are you supposed to marry him?”

  “Papa wants it,” she said honestly, becoming acutely aware of how impossibly good it felt to be held this way, in his strong embrace.

  “I think I see. You didn’t tell me about him.” His gaze was searching hers.

  “When we were together, I forgot about him,” she whispered.

  Slowly, he began to smile. “Do you love me, Rachel?”

  She bit her lip and slowly nodded. “God help me, I do.”

  His smile broadened, and he swept her up against his chest—which was astonishing in its hardness—and covered her mouth with his.

  Rachel was electrified; and then his lips were asking hers to open, and they did, and his tongue was inside her mouth, and she was amazed, and she felt as if they were spiraling way up into space, far above the clouds and the earth.

  Eddy broke the kiss. He stroked her hair. “No more Joshua,” he said. “You’re my girl now.”

  For one instant, elation swept her even farther above the atmosphere—perhaps to heaven itself—and then she came back to earth with a thud. “Eddy. No. There’s Papa,” she said.

  “God,” he said.

  “I have never disobeyed him in my life,” Rachel whispered, still in the circle of Eddy’s arms. “I have never broken his trust.”

  He studied her. “Do you want to stay on base?”

  Rachel nodded, since she didn’t have permission to leave.

  He slid his arm around her and they walked back through the gates, Eddy showing his ID as they did so. “We have to talk about this, Rachel,” he said. “You can’t be Daddy’s little girl forever.”

  “It’s not so simple,” Rachel returned, at once ecstatic and miserable. “Even now, I am betraying Papa by being with you.”

  He halted and cupped her face in his hands. “Look. Where there is a will, there is a way.”

  Rachel tried to smile. “I want to believe you.”

  “Then believe, Rachel.”

  She searched his eyes and she believed. Rachel nodded and smiled.

  Relief filled his gaze. “How about a coffee in the canteen?”

  Rachel knew what he meant by “canteen,” and she nodded. “The NAAFI is to our right,” she said.

  They headed that way, walking past several large barracks and several groups of airmen and WAAFs. “I happen to be a catch,” Eddy said with a smile. “I come from a good family, I have a good job, a solid future. Maybe in time your father will come to see me in a different light.”

  Rachel didn’t think so. “What did you do before the war?” She realized she didn’t even know how old he was. “How old are you, Eddy?”

  He laughed. “I’m twenty-two, Angel.” He hesitated. “This is off the record, hon. Okay?”

  She blinked at him. “You mean what you are telling me is a secret?” His slang was endearing.

  “Well, we don’t need to advertise, because it might affect my relationships in the squadron. I’m squad leader, Rach. The guys look up to me. There can’t be any doubt. When you’re flying against the sun, you have to trust your wing-mates completely—one hundred and ten percent.”

  “I understand,” she said, wondering where this would lead.

  “I graduated from NYU a year ago—a year early, in fact. I skipped a year in high school,” he added. “I have a B.A. in political science.”

  “NYU,” Rachel said. “Is that a university in New York?”

  “Yeah. It’s a pretty good school.” He shrugged. “My family doesn’t have money. We’re like your family, hardworking, decent. I got a partial scholarship and I worked a part-time job to get through
. And I had some help from Uncle Sam.”

  “The government?”

  “As a sophomore, I was recruited by the FBI,” he said. “They helped pay the bills.”

  Rachel stared at him.

  “Of course, I quit the bureau when I decided to fight Hitler.” He smiled at her. “But my old job’s waiting for me when I get home.”

  Rachel didn’t know very much about the FBI, but she knew it was some kind of investigative government agency. She didn’t know whether to be proud of him or afraid for him. “Is it a dangerous job?” she asked carefully.

  He was pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He offered her one. Rachel declined—she didn’t smoke. “Do you mind?” he asked.

  “No.”

  He lit up. “Hon, after this war, my answer’s got to be no.”

  Rachel studied him. She wasn’t reassured. “You like danger,” she suddenly said. “You like living on the edge.”

  He slid his arm around her as they continued to walk. “Would it bother you terribly if I said yes?”

  She hesitated, thinking about it. “No. It’s who you are. It’s part of what makes you so exciting.”

  “I like that,” he said, and he tossed his cigarette aside, but only so he could sweep her into his arms for a very long and even more thorough kiss. Rachel was shaking and boneless by the time he was done.

  “Wow,” Eddy said.

  Rachel smiled. “Can I second that?”

  He laughed. Suddenly he gave her a look. “Hey, what are you reading?”

  “What?”

  He repeated the question.

  “I’m reading Somerset Maugham,” she said with puzzlement.

  “No Tolstoy?”

  What was this about? Rachel wondered. “I’ve read Anna Karenina three times.”

  Now he smiled. Then his expression changed. “Rachel, about your cousin Lionel,” he began. “He seems a bit strange and—” He was cut off.

  Somewhere not far away, a series of huge explosions sounded.

  Eddy pushed Rachel to the side of the building, covering her body with his. In unison, they turned to locate the origin of the sound. Beyond the base, somewhere to the southeast, the night was on fire—the sky red and aglow—illuminating the skyline of London and St. Paul’s tall spire. More explosions sounded, one after another, and as it struck Rachel just what was happening, they saw the sky brighten again and again, the circle of fire expanding. Air-raid sirens began screaming.