He swung around, and this time she really thought he was going to hit her. Defensively, her hands clenched into fists, hard and tense. If he struck her, it would be over between them. Forever and irreparably broken.
But instead of the blow, he reached down, cradling her face in his hands. “How can you just sit there and justify this? How can you—” His voice broke. “Christ, Katrinka, I was in the hospital.”
“It wasn’t like that! I longed for you. I ached for you. Every breathing second. Why are you doing this? It was nothing.”
He released her then, his anger replaced by a calm that seemed more terrible. She tried to hold him, but he moved away.
“I thought we had something together. I thought I meant something to you.”
“Wolfe, please.”
“I know you’ve had a hell of an upbringing. I’ve tried to understand you, tell myself you have a different way with things. Not much guidance from your parents, whoever they all were.”
His remark struck, much worse than any blow.
She choked over her words. “You do not even know my parents. My mother…” She would not let herself cry. “You do not know me at all,” she finished quietly.
“Katrinka, I can’t listen to this now. I have to go. I need to go.”
“No! Wait. Wolfe, please!”
But he had walked out of the room and down the stairs. She heard the backdoor slam, too stunned to move. She sank onto the bed, covering her head with the blanket, and curled into a knot. Wracked with an anguish too deep for tears, and distress so severe, she feared she would not be able to bear it.
* * *
Wolfe exploded into the street and the cool night air. Her careless words had scalded his soul. He staggered a few steps down the road. Lurching into nearby bushes, he fell to his knees in the dirt, heaving his guts out.
* * *
Later that night, Katrinka heard someone come in. She crept downstairs, but it was Wills. There were other men with him, arguing loudly. Wolfe was not there. She went back to bed but did not sleep. Wolfe did not return.
In the morning, she came down early to see Wills sitting at a small table, drinking a cup of coffee and studying some reports. He got up to greet her, then sat back down, smiling.
“I hear all went well?” he asked.
“Yes. Milou and the pilot are on their way to Lisbon.”
“And Emerson? Any difficulty with his remains?”
“No, the people at the cave were very kind.”
He gestured to the room. “Our last camp, I should think. New assignments going around. Things are breaking up quickly.”
Her heart lurched. “You are going away?”
He shrugged. “The teams are being sent all over. Some back to England, some continuing on to Germany. As a matter of fact, a job has come up we may need you for.” Nye indicated his papers. “Messages and radio parts have to be delivered to another Jed team, east of us. Might take a few days.”
“Yes, of course.”
“I know it’s a bloody imposition. You’ve only just returned.”
“It is not a problem.”
“Did you and Farr get together? He was driving me crazy asking when you’d be back.”
She nodded.
“You can spend the night there and come back tomorrow. It’s a quick turnaround.”
She had trouble getting the words out. “Will you still be here when I return?”
He looked up, and saw her puffy face and red eyes looking back at him. “Sweet Jesus, Trinka, what’s wrong?”
“I’m fine.”
He sat back in his chair, flipping his pencil onto the papers. “I wouldn’t ask, but we’re shorthanded at the moment. I need Valentine, and Farr left early this morning, for a meeting at HQ.”
Wolfe was gone.
“It is not a problem, Wills. I can do it.”
“Is there something you want to tell me? Something going on between you and Farr?”
She shook her head.
He sighed, frowning. “Right. Come back in an hour, and we’ll have everything ready. And, yes, I should be here a bit longer. I would not leave without—”
She nodded and fled the room.
* * *
Katrinka was gone for a few days and returned late one afternoon. A downpour had caught her several kilometers outside of town. By the time she reached the library she was soaking wet, her clothes clinging to her body with an uncomfortable dampness. A dark, gray bowl of sky loomed above her, filled with rumbles of thunder. Lightning flashed in the distance.
Giraud was working with a small group of French recruits in the main room, and he waved to her as she passed. She could hear Valentine upstairs on the radio. She did not see Wills. Wolfe’s room looked strangely bare, and his rucksack was gone.
Katrinka washed in the small bathroom. She pulled on a long shirt, a castoff of Wolfe’s. It was much too large, but it smelled of him. She hung her undergarments to dry in a corner of her room, too tired to do anything more. She would meet with Wills in the morning and ask about Wolfe.
She had just settled on her small bed when Nye appeared in the doorway, holding a bowl of something hot and a small plate of bread.
“You’re back.” The smile of greeting he offered did not meet his eyes.
“Yes, I arrived just before dark.” She rose from the bed and they both sat down at a splintered wooden table by the window.
“I returned a short time ago and heard you in the bath. Thought you might want something to eat.”
“Wills, where is—”
“Any trouble with your delivery?”
“None at all.”
“Got some messages concerning supplies. Big disagreements. Trying to form a coalition between the damn Communist French and Free French is like—”
“Wills.”
He stopped.
“Where is Wolfe?”
“Look, you’re tired. Get some sleep. Tomorrow we can talk.”
She pushed back the chair.
“Wait. Where are you going?”
“If you won’t tell me, I’m asking someone who will. Val will know.”
Nye held out his hand. “Trinka, come here and sit down. I’ll tell you.”
She sat down.
“As you know, many of the SAS and Jed teams are being sent back to England for training, or given new assignments. Our job here is pretty much done.”
Her fingers were shredding the bread into tiny pieces. She forced herself to stop. “Yes, you’ve said as much.”
“I think I’d mentioned the colonel’s meeting a few days ago. He was looking for volunteers.”
“Yes.” Her fingers were at the bread again. The smell of the soup was making her sick.
“They need experienced radio operators to go to the Far East, and Malaya.”
Nye was close, but she could barely make out his face. Black dots swarmed in front of her eyes and a ringing in her ears made his voice unnaturally distant. She felt clammy.
“Farr mentioned wanting a change. He decided… he’s volunteered, you see.”
Katrinka fainted.
For a man who took charge in the worst possible scenarios, Nye was hopelessly inept in this one. He tried ineffectually to revive her. When this failed, he bellowed for help. Valentine sprinted in and surveyed the scene. He carried Katrinka to her bed, put her down, and elevated her feet with a rolled blanket.
“Sir, some cold towels I think?”
The major ran to get them.
Valentine looked down at her face. He guessed she’d been told.
“Dammit all to hell,” he swore viciously, to no one in particular.
* * *
Katrinka awoke. The room was steeped in gray light, and a figure sat quietly in the corner, not moving. She sat up.
“Wolfe?”
Nye jerked awake and stumbled across the room to kneel at her bed. “Sweetheart, I had no idea you’d go over like that. I am so sorry. I put it all the wrong way.”
He was going to talk about it. The pressure in her head came back.
“He is truly gone.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“A small convoy drove up to Paris yesterday. He’ll be put on a waiting list for transport to England for more training, and orders for his next assignment.”
She looked away. Outside the window, it was growing dark. The rain had stopped, and the damp smell of wet leaves filled the room. Down below, a small bird hopped through the brown grass, looking for worms. It meant nothing to her. He was gone. He would never again be just a few footsteps across her room, into the hall, and through his sunlit doorway.
“Trinka, what happened?”
She was silent.
“Farr looked like hell before he left. He wouldn’t say anything.”
She got up from the bed and went to sit at the table. Nye followed, sitting opposite her.
Slowly, as if each word might implode, she spoke. “Milou and I made love. Or at least we tried. It came out later, when Wolfe and I were talking in bed. He went crazy. He wouldn’t listen to me.”
“You and Milou? Made love?”
“Yes. It was the day with Emerson’s ashes and the cave. I had a night terror, and she was in bed with me. She said we should make love. I wasn’t sure I’d like it, but I said yes.”
“Did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Did you like it?”
“We tried, but I had to stop. It… it made me miss Wolfe even more. You may have the pleasure, but it is an entirely different thing.”
Nye frowned. “Trinka?”
“Yes.”
“Did Farr know Milou was a woman?”
“Yes, of…” Katrinka thought of the brief conversation. The rapidly accelerating emotions, careening out of control.
“He was so angry, he didn’t listen. I did not mention she was a woman. Would it have mattered?”
“For a man, it would matter a great deal.”
“Well, it shouldn’t. A man or a woman, it is the same thing. A little fun, a little comfort.”
“It’s not the same thing at all, as you just said yourself.”
She caught her breath. He was right. She would never have spoken like she did, had Milou been a man. She would not have spoken of it at all. Her words came back to her with a sickening clarity. How could he have thought her so cruel as to say them?
Her anger continued to ferment, and she encouraged it. So much better than anguish. Suddenly, she missed Milou. She would have something snappy to say. She would not let this crush her.
Well. It was over now. All the weeks of keyed up emotions, danger and risk. Suddenly deflated like one of those carnival balloons, flying out in random directions. Everyone scattering. What would she do? Go back to Porto, or her mother’s people in the Andaman Sea? Papa had taken them there a few times over the years. But the war was on. There were her mother’s ashes. She could return them to Coronado.
“So. It is over now. Time to move on?”
Nye fumbled for words. “I don’t know… Farr might—”
“No. No, I mean our jobs. They are finished?”
Nye was silent for a long while, and Katrinka saw the dismay in his eyes.
He reached for her hand. “Trinka, would you like to go back to Porto? I could try to find you transport.”
She let out a small gasp, drawing away. “Now? Leave here? Leave you?”
“Sweetheart, we’ll all be leaving soon. I should be getting orders in the next few weeks. Giraud will be moving up to Paris, and Valentine is being sent back to England.”
The time had come. Everyone was going. Katrinka felt she could shatter at any moment, scattering into irreparable fragments. She forced herself to think. She still had her father. And Le Flâneur.
“I want to find my father. He spoke of leaving as well, returning to California. He said this was all a young man’s game.”
“He’s been through two wars, Trinka. I should think he would be ready to go.”
She rubbed her eyes and thought. To be on the deck of Le Flâneur again, headed to Coronado with a good wind at her back. The striped tents were long gone, as well as the old horse Paycheck. But the little town drowsing in its sunlit bay, would be waiting for her.
“You’ve got a proper passport, haven’t you? Proper papers? I know it was easy going on Le Flâneur. Your father had his ways.”
“Yes, that’s why A-mah and Papa Emerson married. It meant nothing to her, but she wanted me to have birthright citizenship. They gave me a visa to attend school in Switzerland, and I was issued papers by Emerson’s business contacts to get me to Lascaux.”
Nye seemed relieved. “I could arrange your transport to England aboard a troop ship, but once there, you would need a job while waiting. Some authorization. Then from England—”
“I can get in contact with Papa in London, through his solicitor,” she said with sudden eagerness. “He spoke of leaving from Liverpool Docks.”
“That’s settled then. But what can we have you do? We’d better move fast, as my contacts are shifting. We can get you papers and a working visa. Secretary? Nanny? Clerk?”
She shrugged.
“I have a friend who works for a small news agency in London. He is always in need of office help, especially now with the rocket attacks. It would give you a legitimate reason to be there, while waiting for your father. He should be almost to Lisbon now, with Milou and the pilot.”
Katrinka forced all thoughts of Wolfe from her head. She would deal with that pain later. “Yes, Wills, please.”
“Leave it to me. I will arrange for your documents immediately. We can get you in a convoy up to Paris late next week. From there, with your papers, it will be easy to get a transport to Dieppe and across the channel to England. I’ll give you the directions to the London office.”
Katrinka nodded, feeling very tired. Wills had on his take-charge expression. She was a problem, and he was going to solve it with his usual efficiency.
“How are you set for money? You were never on the payroll you know, just what we could give for your transactions.”
“Papa gave me money, and I have what’s left from the last trip. I’m to contact his solicitor for any funding.”
“Your father has done very well for himself over the years.”
“Yes, I suppose he has.”
“Nonetheless, I will leave you something before you go. We have a general fund for our expenses.”
“So, I was just an expense?”
The take-charge look vanished.
His voice shook. “You know what you are to me, Katrinka.”
She looked at him, and for the briefest moment, his eyes were open windows.
He stood up, clearing his throat. “I’m off early tomorrow for a meeting near Faucher, then another one to the east after that.” He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and scrawled something down. “This is my sister’s address in Bristol. She forwards my mail to me wherever I am. I would ask for yours, but…”
“Let me give you the address of Papa’s solicitor. Gorges handles Papa’s papers and communication. He will know where to find me.”
She tore the sheet in half, writing the information down.
Nye pocketed it. “Right. Well.”
They stood awkwardly, facing one another.
“Do you need help with the pack up?”
She shook her head. “Will you be back before I leave?”
“There may be a possible space between meetings, but I shouldn’t count on it.”
“So, I will see you when the w
ar is over?”
“I shall look forward to that, sweetheart.”
Nye seemed to hesitate. The next moment he was pulling her close, clasping her head between his hands, and kissing her with a hungry ferocity. Katrinka drew away, startled, and he hastily released her, stumbling back with apologies.
She reached out for him, “No, Wills, please…”
But he hurried from the room, leaving her too stunned to do anything but stare after him, drawing tremulous fingers across her scratched lips.
* * *
Farr was not sleeping well. The disastrous encounter with Katrinka had loosened a barrage of emotions he’d always kept under tight control.
Christ, he’d come close to hitting her. He could still feel the rage in his fists, the desire to strike out and hurt her like her words had hurt him. He was no better than his old man. But he wasn’t going to be like his old man. He’d not turned into a drunk, and by God, he wasn’t turning into a woman-beater.
Their last conversation replayed endlessly in his mind, and the whole thing seemed off. She may have dealt with sexual matters differently, but she’d never been cruel. What had been missing? Something he should have heard before storming off. Volunteering for this mission halfway around the world, that he was already regretting. The answer came a few days later, when two messages arrived at the Rue de Aalis HQ.
Val’s message was cryptic: “You need to write to her. Sort it out.” There were a few more sentences, but the censor had blacked them out.
Nye’s message had been less circumspect: “The escapee was a woman. Clear this up.”
Farr stared at the papers in his hand. Snatches of their last conversation came back to him now, along with a painful understanding. The brutal carelessness of Katrinka’s replies suddenly made sense. “I thought it might be fun… something new. It felt hollow and empty… I missed you.” The wonderful traveling companion had been a woman.
The enormity of his mistake left him feeling sick. It was so like her, something she would try out. He’d goaded her by his angry questioning, into the last flippant confession. And it had blown up in their faces. He did not ask himself why a woman lover made a difference.
She’d told him to give her time. She’d never been confronted with someone like him or the kind of demands he made. Her unconventional upbringing had not given her the guidance or role models. She’d sensed the difficulties to overcome, while he’d turned a blind eye.
Just Another Girl on the Road Page 19
