by Brenda Joyce
“But it’s Shabbat,” he said, peering at her closely in the dark. “I did some reading . . . it’s a big deal. You’ve broken the law or something.”
“It’s a covenant with God. I think he’ll understand,” Rachel murmured, as they remained thigh to thigh and chest to chest.
Eddy just stared at her. Then he took her hand and kissed it. “I am glad you did this, Rachel.”
“Me, too.” And she was. Because she was so afraid of what the war might bring. This time there not only hadn’t been any choice, there hadn’t been any conflict, either. But she would not lie to Papa.
It was as if he read her mind. They started walking along the road, away from the entrance to Biggin Hill. “What will you tell your father?”
“The truth.” She hesitated. He was already heartbroken over Sarah, and now he would be over her as well. “Let’s not talk about Papa now. Please. We have this one night.”
“I am in complete agreement,” he said. “But there’ll be more nights, Rachel. More nights and more days.”
Rachel prayed that he was right. She had never been a pessimist before. Her worry frightened her now. “You’re wearing your sling.”
“It hurts a bit,” he admitted.
“How many sorties did you fly today?” she asked, trying not to be critical.
He hesitated, as if debating whether or not he should tell her the truth. “Six.”
“Eddy,” she whispered, dismayed. But the squadrons were all flying round the clock.
“Honey, what can I do? My men need me. They’re exhausted, demoralized. We’ve lost so many pilots,” he said, lowering his voice to a whisper. Suddenly he stopped and faced her. “The Luftwaffe just seem to keep on coming, their numbers just don’t seem to be diminishing. My boys need a break. But they’re not going to get one. I can’t stay down.”
It was the first time she had ever heard fatigue, frustration, even anguish, in his tone. “Are you scared up there?” she whispered.
He smiled a little. “You know what they say—only fools feel no fear.”
“I’m so proud of you,” she said, more than meaning it.
“I’m proud of you, too.”
They smiled at each other and leaned on the split-rail fence of the property they were standing on. A farmhouse seemed to be in the distance. Rachel could hear the bell of a cow. Eddy slid off his jacket, tossing it over the railing.
“Can I smoke?” he asked.
“You never have to ask,” Rachel said, not quite sure she meant it.
He laughed. “Angel, I will always ask.” He lit up and inhaled deeply. “You know, it was a mistake.”
“What was a mistake?” She was so happy that they were together. She also leaned on the rail, not caring if she tore her pale pink cardigan.
“The bombing of London. Two of the Luftwaffe pilots lost their way, can you believe it?” He leaned more heavily on the fence. “And they were running out of fuel, of course.” Everyone knew that the German bombers only had about ten minutes at most of flying time once they reached the British coast.
“They had no choice but to drop their bombs, lighten up, and race for home. What crap,” Eddy said with heat. Then he looked at her. “I curse too much, don’t I?”
“It’s all right,” Rachel said softly.
Eddy lapsed into silence. Rachel didn’t mind. She could hear crickets singing now, and one of the cows sighing. The breeze was soft, warm, almost balmy. It was a beautiful night.
If only this moment would last forever, she thought.
“How well do you know your cousin?” Eddie suddenly asked, stubbing his cigarette out on the railing.
Rachel started. “Lionel? Not well. I’ve spoken to him only a dozen times in my entire life.”
“Why? Because his family is a bunch of snobs and your family is Jewish?” Eddie asked.
Rachel blinked. “Yes, that’s exactly why.”
“Have you ever seen his photography?” he asked.
“His what?” She was surprised by the question.
“He likes birds,” Eddy said. “I stopped over at his flat one day, and he was developing film. Claims he’s an amateur photographer and that he takes pictures of birds.”
Rachel stared at him, but all she could recall was Lionel feeding Ellen’s fish to her swan. “He claims . . . what is this about?” She was filled with unease.
“I don’t know. Something feels so damn odd about him. I think I might have walked in on him doing something he did not want me to see or know about. Or maybe he’s protective about his birds.” Eddy smiled at that but looked carefully at Rachel. “Surely you knew your cousin likes birds?”
“Actually, I didn’t know, but I’m not surprised.”
“Why?”
Rachel hesitated. Eddy was so intent. “It has to do with an incident when we were all children. He seemed very interested in his stepmother’s swans.”
Eddy was listening. “He told me about the dead swan.”
“He did?” Rachel was surprised.
“So you can see him being a bird-watcher—an ornithologist?”
“An orni—what?”
“Ornithology is the study of birds. I had to look it up,” he said with chagrin.
“Eddy, why are you asking me these questions?”
He shrugged. “I did a bit of checking. The authorities think his father might have turned fascist, been a spy, and fled to Germany.”
“I heard that.”
“From who?”
“Lionel told me the day you crashed near Eltham.”
They both smiled a little at the memory.
“Like father, like son?” Eddy asked.
“What?” Rachel gasped.
“I’m only fishing, hon. Relax. It’s just that he’s weird. And cold. He smiles all the time, but have you ever noticed how amused his smiles are? And they don’t reach his eyes.”
Rachel was becoming chilled. “Yes, I have, and the truth is, I have never liked him. He can’t be a fascist, Eddy. He’s in the RAF, just like you.”
Eddy smiled at her. “Did you know his father?”
“Yes, but we only met a few times.” She knew what he wanted to know. “I believe Lord Elgin could have been a fascist. But the person you might want to ask about that is Papa.”
Eddy nodded. “I will.” He paused, gazing into the night.
“What is it? What are you really thinking?”
He smiled and slid his arm around her. “Do you already know me so well? It was too easy at Elgin Hall. They found all kinds of German-made paraphernalia. Invisible ink. A paper opener made in Dusseldorf. A list of code names in German. No self-respecting spy would leave such incriminating evidence around.”
Her heart was beating very loudly—surely Eddy could hear. “He might, if he was planning to disappear and didn’t care what the authorities found.”
“Good point,” Eddy conceded.
“How would you know about this? You’re not family.”
Eddy hesitated. “It’s not top secret. I asked around. The story’s a big deal—it’s floating all over the place.”
Rachel believed him until he looked away. She suddenly wondered if he wasn’t telling her the entire truth. Still, Rachel trusted Eddy completely. If there was something he wasn’t telling her, there was a good reason for it.
“I think the best thing might be if you steer clear of your cousin for a while,” Eddy said.
Rachel nodded. “I have no problem with that. His company isn’t exactly enjoyable.”
“Good.” Eddy stared at her.
Rachel let him. It was funny, how a long look from him could make her start thinking about being held and touched and kissed. One long look, and she was melting all over and wanting what was impossible—and what no self-respecting girl should even think about.
Tomorrow he was leaving.
“Eddy?”
“Yeah?” he asked roughly, reaching for her hand and holding it hard.
“You’
re going to see a lot of action now, aren’t you? Tangmere is so close to France.”
“There’ll be a lot of action,” he said.
“I am so scared,” Rachel said in a whisper.
His eyes widened. “For me?”
She nodded.
He pulled her into his embrace. “I don’t want you worrying about me, hon. I’m one of the best, Rachel. Trust me. I’ll come home in one piece.”
“I hate those words!” she cried, clinging to him.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said urgently, cupping her face in his hands.
He was forgetting his sling again. “Your wrist.”
“I don’t care about my wrist” he said with a smile, and he kissed her again.
This time they were all alone. The crickets sang and the moon beamed and Rachel swayed in his arms as his mouth plied hers hungrily; their bodies seeming to fuse. It was pleasant out, but Rachel became warm as the kiss continued taking on a volatile life of its own. Eddy’s strong hands slid down her back, then up again, and finally settled low on her hips. Rachel wanted to moan into his mouth, but she did not dare.
Eddy’s mouth tore free of hers and suddenly he was kissing the underside of her neck. One of his hands slid up over her rib cage, pausing beside her breast.
Rachel wanted to die. If he did not touch her breast, she might. His mouth moved to her ear. Rachel could no longer control herself, and while she meant to sigh, she moaned.
He crushed her hard, finding her mouth with his again. This time, Rachel felt his hardness against her thigh. She knew what it meant, even though she wasn’t supposed to. Excitement made her tremble from limb to limb. It made her giddy and reckless. Somehow, Rachel Greene had disappeared and a wild woman had taken her place.
Planes sounded overhead.
The roar was rude and loud, as if the flight was just a few meters above them, not hundreds or thousands of feet. Rachel stiffened as Eddy ceased kissing her, holding her so hard that she could feel his wildly pounding heart against her bosom. She felt certain that her heart was the faster of the two.
“Oh, God, Rachel,” Eddy whispered against her hair.
Rachel couldn’t speak. She had never been consumed with desire before, but now she understood what passion was. She could not move.
Eddy remained standing that way, holding her and breathing hard. “I want you so much,” he said in a rough whisper. “We had better stop—this is too tough.”
“I want you, too,” Rachel heard herself say. “So much.”
Eddy tensed even more. He seemed to stop breathing as well.
Rachel could hardly believe herself. First violating the Shabbat and defying Papa, and now she was turning into a tart. “You’re leaving tomorrow,” she said.
He finally pulled an inch away and looked down at her face. “Yes, I am. But I’ll be back.”
The fear almost choked her. She could not voice it either, but it was there, consuming her—what if he did not come back? Saul Goldberg was dead, and he had been an old man, a civilian. This man flew a dozen sorties every day—every day he faced and taunted and tempted death.
“Rachel? I will be back. There’s no need to rush, as much as I want to.” He tried to smile and failed.
“I love you, Eddy. I want to stay here tonight with you,” Rachel said, not quite sure what she meant.
His eyes widened. “What are you saying?”
“I don’t know!” she cried. “But we have tonight, for certain, and it’s a magical night, isn’t it?” Now she was the one to take his beloved face between her hands. “Kiss me again.”
He stared. “But it’s too hard. It’s harder for a man to control himself.”
“I know.” She hesitated. Her mind raced, spun. She couldn’t think it through. Didn’t want to. “So don’t.”
His eyes widened almost comically. He gripped her arms. “Are you asking me to make love to you?”
Her heart beat hard. It was like a drum, and then there was not enough air, and that was almost suffocating her. She felt light-headed, faint. “Yes,” she whispered.
For one moment he did not move, and then he crushed her to his chest again. Rachel felt his heart beating madly beneath her cheek. “Hon. I can’t. I respect you too much, Rachel. When we make love for the first time, it will be in a bed with satin sheets—on our wedding night.”
Rachel jerked to look up at him. “What?”
“You heard me.” He smiled a little and made a funny face. “I can’t believe I just said that, but I did. And I meant it. We’ll make love for the first time on our wedding night,” he said, this time very firmly.
He wanted to marry her. The planes were gone, but the acrid smell from their engines remained in the air. Eddy was a fighter pilot and the war was real. He might never come back.
“Eddy?” Rachel whispered, filled with trepidation now. But her determination was even greater.
“What?” There was the slightest hint of wariness in his tone.
She hesitated, then slipped his hand over her breast—then beneath her cardigan and into her blouse and over her lace brassiere.
Eddy was still.
So was Rachel.
Their eyes held while her heart beat insistently, and then he slid his hand beneath the cup of her bra and her breast filled his palm. Her nipple hardened immediately.
Rachel heard a small moan escape her as her eyes drifted closed.
“You’ve never been with a man,” Eddy said, and it wasn’t a question.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
She opened her eyes and looked at him in time to realize that he was not going to reject her—his arms were going around her and he was lifting her up. “I am going to marry you when I come back,” he said.
“I know,” she whispered, as he carried her over to the gate. Without letting her down, he unlatched it and butted it open with his hip. He did not bother to close it. His strides increased, and then Rachel found herself on the ground, on her back, beneath a spreading oak tree. Eddy slipped the cardigan off her shoulders, tossed it aside, and as he knelt over her, he smiled.
She smiled back, happy and excited all at once.
He moved on top of her, their mouths melding, and for one instant it was gentle. And then no more.
His hands were on her breasts, teasing her nipples again and again, through silk and cotton; his lips were demanding, his tongue inside her mouth; he reached down and tossed her skirts up, sliding his hands up her thighs, over her gartered nylons. Rachel cried out. Eddy’s fingers brushed over her cotton panties.
This time Eddy cried out, and suddenly he was helping her remove her blouse and skirt while shrugging off his own shirt. Rachel took one look at his muscular, broad, bare chest and she wanted to cry—he was the most beautiful man, the most beautiful person, the most beautiful thing she had ever laid her eyes upon. He stood up, to hop out of his pants. “What is it?” he asked.
“You’re beautiful.”
He sank back down, in only his boxers and socks. “I’m a guy,” he said roughly. “You’re the one who’s beautiful, Rachel.” He pulled her back into his arms.
It was the most natural thing in the world to let him settle himself between her thighs and to hook her ankles over his calves. But Rachel hadn’t expected the shock of excitement from having his hard loins against her own. Eddy was kissing her, but he must have been jolted too, because he buried his face against her neck, and they lay like that for a long moment, the heat building between them.
“I want you so badly. Can you feel that?”
She had to smile. “How could I not?”
He began gently rocking his erection against her. “I want this to be good for you.”
Rachel actually couldn’t speak. An odd sound escaped her, like a whimper.
“I want you to come when I’m inside you,” he whispered, still moving his hard length back and forth over her womanhood.
Rachel had no idea what he was tal
king about. It didn’t matter. Her body had taken over. Please, she thought, aching and dying. Please!
“Rachel?” he half murmured and half gasped. He was reaching down between them. His fingers stroked over her panties, between his manhood and herself.
Rachel couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. She could only feel.
He said something incoherent, pulling off her panties. Rachel gripped his shoulders more tightly, and she heard herself whisper, “Please, dear God, please.” And it somehow crossed her frantic mind that she should not be using the Lord’s name just then. But she could not dwell on it.
Eddy suddenly gasped, but Rachel didn’t really hear, because the huge tip of him was pushing against her where she was soaking wet and waiting.
“Eddy!” she moaned.
“Oh, damn,” he cried, surging into her.
Briefly, there was a tearing pain. Rachel stiffened, and then it was gone. What remained was the most amazing fullness inside her. Rachel began to cry.
This was Eddy. They were one.
“Did I hurt you? Are you okay?” Eddy was asking, a frantic note in his hoarse voice.
“No, no,” Rachel gasped, rocking him now, using her hips and her pelvis and body parts she hadn’t ever paid attention to before.
Eddy began moving.
Rachel felt herself spiraling out of all earthly existence; the universe shattered, and so did she.
Birds were singing. It was their cheerful chirping that woke Rachel up. Stealthy fingers of light were slipping over the field as Rachel opened her eyes. She lay stark naked in Eddy’s arms, their legs entwined, her buttocks spooned into his groin. Her skirt and his shirt were covering the lower halves of their bodies as a makeshift blanket.
Rachel did not want to move. Her body felt tired and sore from all the times they had made love—and dear God, now she began to blush, thinking about the things they had done that she just knew weren’t proper—but the reason she did not want to move was that maybe being held like this was even better than making love. It was a difficult if not impossible question that Rachel decided to debate at a later date.
She felt elated, but now she sobered, because it was almost dawn, and it struck her, cruelly, that Eddy was leaving for Tangmere in an hour or so, while she would have to go home to face Papa and the wrath of God—the very same thing.
