by Sofia Grey
I dropped the jug and watched it bounce against the edge of the table, the dregs of the cocoa arcing out across my apron as it spun majestically in the air, dropping to the floor in a messy puddle.
I didn’t hear it, though, couldn’t hear anything over the buzzing in my head. The noise that told me my world had just fallen apart.
Chapter Eighteen
The first day after Davy was gone, I’d pleaded illness and stayed in bed. I was ill. The pain that had taken up residence in my chest was eating me from the inside out. My heart had been ripped out and devoured. If I was body-scanned, they’d see a bloody hole where it used to be.
All I had left was memories. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and remembered every detail.
We lay in the wooded glade, dappled sunlight filtering through the trees, the buzzing of nearby bees soothing enough to make me sleepy. Or maybe that was due to the warmth of Davy’s arms, the heat pouring from his bare skin.
“Do you believe in fate, Isabella?”
He lay on his side propped up on one arm, the other draped across me, his fingers tracing lazy circles over my naked stomach. I tilted my head to press a kiss onto his throat. “Fate?”
“That everything has been preordained. That you and I were meant to meet, to be together.”
His fingers were trailed farther down, sparks of excitement flashing in their wake. I longed for him to kiss me again. “What do you think?”
My wish was granted. He leaned forward and claimed my lips in a kiss so hot, I was scorched. “I think I’ve been waiting all my life for you, Isabella.” Kiss. “No matter what happens,” kiss, “I will love you forever.”
Gathering me to him, slanting his mouth against mine, our lips met, and we surged together. I felt strong enough to take on the world. The kiss grew more demanding, hungrier. Davy moved so that I lay beneath him again, his hips wedged securely between my thighs. He’d removed his shirt, and his golden chest pressed against mine, skin to skin, the dusting of chest hair tickling against my breasts. I shifted to lick his nipple, the firm brown nub deliciously tight beneath my tongue, and his groan of delight rumbled through me.
“Tease,” he murmured, “but I can tease too.” One hand slipped between my legs, easing into my folds and flittering across my clit, as he called it, making me squirm. The sensation was intense, driving me to distraction. I could only writhe and beg for more.
“Please,” I whimpered, and he took pity. Dropping his head, he closed his mouth around one nipple, the shockwave making my back arch as another groan fell from my lips. At last, one finger penetrated me, easing inside, a second following, his thumb keeping up the pressure on my clit. I gasped, the breath tight in my lungs as I began the spiral, climbing higher, the spring in my belly coiling tighter with each feverish stroke from his thumb. And yes, God, at last. One final caress and I tumbled over the edge, moaning against his skin, my hands clutching his hair, electric shocks tearing me apart while Davy’s mouth glued me back together again.
•●•
I opened scratchy eyes to a lightening sky and tried to cling onto the memory. Failed.
Juliet’s muffled sobbing annoyed me. She hadn’t been in love with Teddy, hadn’t wanted to change her life for him—hadn’t been prepared to give up everything to be with him. I rubbed my hands across my face and wondered, not for the first time, why I couldn’t cry my heart out too.
Lying on my bed, I stared out through the window at the first glimmer of dawn. If I closed my eyes, I could pretend this was all a dream, the op was still in progress, and Davy was on his way back to me. I wanted to hang on to the memory of us together. Our stolen afternoon in the woods.
Had we done something to change the timeline? I would never know. Jock had flown after all, his suspected appendicitis not being severe enough to ground him. I’d hoped the crew being intact would have worked in their favor. Instead, the raid had been hit badly by flak and pursued by enemy fighters, with most of the Wellingtons limping home damaged. C-for-Charlie had collided with T-for-Tommy as they left the target and tried to avoid the ground fire. The sad-eyed airman who’d spoken to me in the mess hall was the wireless operator on T-for-Tommy. He’d seen Davy’s bomber spiraling down somewhere close to the Belgian border. No parachutes. And an explosion when it hit the ground.
No matter how tightly I closed my eyes, that image lurked in my head. My only escape was to sleep. And hopefully dream of my lover.
No matter how much I wanted to stay in bed again today, I couldn’t. We had our appointment with the sentinel.
As before, we perched on hard chairs and tried not to stare at the stern man sitting opposite us. He scratched out more notes in his little book and then fixed his icy gaze on me. “Student Gillman. At our last session, I asked you to expand your social analysis. What have you learned?”
How to fall in love? How to die on the inside?
Next to me, Juliet cleared her throat. “May I go first, sir?”
“I want to hear from Student Gillman.”
Despite spending the entire previous day in bed, I was tired beyond belief. I’d not slept properly since we arrived here, and I was exhausted. Weariness pressed down on me, sapping my strength and dissolving my common sense. I licked dry lips, swallowed, and tried to find something to say.
Juliet fidgeted in her seat. The clock ticked. I stayed silent.
“Student Gillman. I am waiting.”
I was waiting too. I wanted this to be over.
“I can’t do this.” My voice quavered, but I dug deep. “It’s wrong. We’re sitting here watching while they are dying. A few hundred miles away on the other side of the English Channel, soldiers are fighting and falling. The men here are risking their lives every few days, while we observe. How is that right?”
The sentinel’s eyebrows rose. Beside me, Juliet made a shocked noise, but I wasn’t stopping now. “In the news today, I read about the raid on London. The worst since the war began. And it’s more than I can cope with, to be immersed like this.” I swung around to face my friend. Her face was white, her eyes red-rimmed like mine. “I wish I’d never listened to you. I wish I’d never come here.”
If I’d stayed at home, I would have never met Davy, but I would still be intact, not the broken shell I was now. How did my heart continue to beat, to pump blood through my arteries?
Why did Davy have to die?
“Student Gillman. Please control yourself.”
I ignored the sentinel. “You wanted to come here.” My voice softened at Juliet’s horrified expression. “Are you glad we came? Have you learned something valuable?”
“Student Gillman.” The sentinel sounded annoyed, and I turned slowly to face him. “Make your report.”
What good would my report do? What difference would it make? All my life I’d planned to be an historian, but not anymore. “These aren’t just names and numbers on a page. Not now. They’re flesh and blood. They have dreams and hopes. They fall in love.” I stumbled over the words. “I can’t go back to pretending it’s just history. It’s real now."
“Well done, Student Gillman. That is an accurate, if emotive, assessment. I am pleased to see you are extending your studies.”
I stared in disbelief. It was as though I’d said nothing. I drew in a shaky breath and pushed to my feet. “I can’t do this. Not today, not ever. I want to leave.”
The sentinel cocked his head as though he hadn’t heard me.
“I want to leave,” I repeated, louder. “I know you can authorize an emergency portal. I can’t stay here.”
Something like amusement flitted across his face before his mask slammed back into place. “Emergency portals are for emergencies. Critical injuries. I don’t see you bleeding out, Student Gillman.”
I was injured on the inside. I’d never be whole again.
I stepped toward the sentinel and took a deep breath. “Please. Let me go. I can’t be useful here. I can’t function. Please send me home early.”
H
e glanced at his notebook and made another note with his pencil. The scratching echoed inside my head. “You do realize, Student Gillman, that non-completion of your assignment may result in you failing your studies? Do you really want to risk your future career?”
Right now, I didn’t care about anything except getting home. Did this mean he might consider my request? My heart sped up. “That is a risk I’m willing to accept.”
He made another note and then looked up to meet my eyes. “Request denied. Complete your assignment as planned.” What? He turned to Juliet. “Student Delafield. Update me on your progress.”
“No.” I clenched my fists. “You weren’t listening. I can’t complete this assignment.”
“Student Gillman, you are trying my patience. Emergency portals do not exist to satisfy the whims of hysterical children. You are here to immerse yourself in the period, and up to this point, you’ve succeeded. Any further outburst from you, and you will fail your studies.”
It was like a slap in the face. All the fight went out of me, and I wilted under the furious blast from his voice. “How do I carry on?” I rubbed my hands over my face and wiped away the tears before they fell. “Can you tell me? Because I really need your help.”
“I will recommend counseling for you when you return.” He pursed his lips and then sighed. Closing his notebook, he placed it on the floor, the pencil on top. “These assignments are not intended to be easy. They’re not just a matter of learning what food was eaten and how spare time was utilized, or even what tactical skills can be used. They are designed to challenge you. To stretch your abilities. To make you struggle. Learning does not always come with a data sheet, Student Gillman.”
Chapter Nineteen
Everywhere I went, I saw reminders of Davy. The uniforms. The replacement airmen that arrived within a few days and tried to fill the gap left by my lover and his crew. A glimpse of a snow-white handkerchief. The faint strains of “Moonlight Serenade” playing on the wireless in the NAAFI.
I wanted to block everything out.
I didn’t want to be the one left behind.
God knew how, but we struggled through the rest of the week, the days passing in a blur of exhaustion. Sleep eluded me. I would doze, recapture my all too brief memories of Davy, and then wake again, calling for him. Juliet coped a little better, but by the time we packed up our things and prepared to make the time jump, we were wrecks. And still I hadn’t cried. Juliet had wept for England, Olympic-sized pools of tears. Had she loved Teddy?
Davy said he would love me forever.
•●•
Stepping back into my own time was unsettling. There were no reminders of Davy anymore, no sudden jolts of pain or moments of hope that he might return after all. Would it make things easier?
I hid in my student quarters and avoided everyone. Several appointments dropped into my schedule for counseling, but I ignored them. I told my family that I was busy studying, and I asked Juliet to let me have some space. I was days away from being ejected from my studies, and I didn’t care.
I would forget him, eventually. There’d be a day when I couldn’t picture his face or hear his voice in my head, and even though I should have taken comfort from that, I didn’t. I couldn’t.
What would I do next? I had no idea. All I wanted to do was to lie in bed, a pillow over my face.
Juliet suggested I speak to my cousin Marc, but I stared at her like she was crazy. “He’s a ghardian. What could he possibly know about falling in love? They might as well have their emotions surgically removed. An iceberg would be warmer.”
“He offered to counsel you.” She stood her ground in my doorway, refusing to let me close the door on her.
“Maybe later.” Maybe never. “I’m tired.”
“You’re not the only one that got hurt, Bella.”
I could do without her brand of sympathy. Ignoring her, I climbed back into bed and rolled onto my side, my back to her. She spoke for a few minutes longer and then left, the door slamming loud enough to shake my bed.
•●•
Davy reared over me, my hands clinging to his shoulders, his head bowed, breath rasping. Each thrust deeper than before, slick and hot. I burned for him, moving with him, opening my legs and raking his spine with my foot.
“God, Belle.” He drew a rapid breath, devouring my mouth in one greedy kiss. “Don’t forget. The target for tonight.”
I wailed his name, waking in that instant, shocked with the return to my own time and furious at being denied him. “Davy,” I whispered to my pillow, trying to fall back asleep, to hold him one last time.
His words penetrated my brain. The target for tonight. He hadn’t said that; someone else had. I thought hard and tried to recall the conversation. Mrs. Latham. The film Davy and Teddy had been featured in. Target for Tonight. I sat bolt upright, all thoughts of sleep forgotten. Maybe, just maybe, I could see him one more time. One last time.
When I checked the archive, it was there. A forty-five minute film available on request. I lodged an application straight away and received an invitation to view it later that day. Another history student had requested a viewing, and I’d have to share the theater. I’d share with the entire class. I didn’t care. While I waited for my time slot to come around, I reread the archive description, every word now familiar to me.
Target for Tonight was made by the Crown Film Unit for the RAF and is widely regarded as one of the greatest British aviation films of the Second World War. Target for Tonight recreates an early Wellington bomber raid on Nazi Germany, concentrating on one aircraft in particular—F-for-Freddie. No actors were used. Instead, genuine Wellington pilots and crew recreate the mission for the cameras.
I arrived early, grabbing one of the front row seats in the tiny theater. With only four rows of seats in this room, it was small enough to feel private. The other students didn’t disturb me when they arrived; my entire focus was on the screen in front of me.
I watched, frozen, as I recognized the aerodrome, the control tower and runways, the mess hall, the Operations Block. And there, in the pre-mission briefing, was Davy. I sucked in my breath, tears finally welling in my eyes at the sight of him. He grinned, the gorgeous lopsided smile that made my heart pound, his eyes seeming to lock on to me, staring directly into the camera before turning to speak to Teddy and making a joke with him.
Davy was on screen for three and a half minutes. Every second burned into my memory, adding to my other memories of him.
As the film drew to a close, the now famous F-for-Freddie landing safely back at Mildenhall, I buried my face in my hands. At least I could come back here and get another fix of him, see another tantalizing glimpse of him. Another three and a half minutes.
I began to wish I’d stayed there after all and taken my chances evading the ghardians. I could have visited his family, told them I’d been his girlfriend, and looked at photographs of him as a child. I didn’t want to be here like this, without him. Forever trying to live without him.
A hand touched my shoulder, and I jerked upright, horrified at the intrusion. Glaring up to see who it was, I blinked in disbelief. Dark curly hair, strong chin, sharp cheekbones. Achingly familiar, yet different. My lungs burned as I realized I’d forgotten to breathe.
“My apologies for disturbing you. I wondered if you were okay?” Even the deep voice was the same, the accent different, though. He tilted his head, dark brows coming together as he observed me.
“Davy?” It came out as a croak. His frown deepened as my eyes raked his appearance. The hair was longer, the features different when I looked properly. He wore the regulation student uniform. The name badge identified him as D.J. Porteous.
“How do you know my name?” He paused and glanced at my own badge. “Student Gillman. I don’t believe we’ve met.”
He waited patiently for me to speak. I groped for my voice. “I’m sorry, you looked like someone else. I’ve just come back from a field trip where I met Davy Porteous.” I
fell in love with him. “Right before he, ah…” I couldn’t say the words. Tears clouded my vision again. As I blinked to clear them, I saw his face light up.
“He was my ancestor. That’s why I came to view the archive.” There was a sudden flash of a lopsided smile; a dimple appeared and then vanished again. “Would you mind talking about him with me? We could, ah, go and have some refreshments.”
It felt as though he’d thrown me a lifebelt. I grasped it. “Yes, please. I’d like that.” A thought struck me. “He didn’t have any children.” I scrubbed at my eyes, at the tears threatening to fall.
Student Porteous frowned, a puzzled look on his face. “When he returned home after the war, he—”
I froze. “He returned home? How? I heard…I heard his Wellington crashed. All crew lost.”
Time seemed to stop between us. His frown gave way to another smile, so familiar I couldn’t believe this was a different person. “No, C-for-Charlie crashed on the border of Belgium, but Sergeant Porteous escaped. He was a hero. He rescued his two friends, Teddy and Jock, despite being wounded. Together they crossed Belgium, worked their way through occupied France, and arrived back in England months later.”
My knees shook. I couldn’t stand. Groping for the nearest seat, I sank into it. My head spun, the words flying around and around in circles. He returned home. Davy returned home.
I drew in a shuddering breath. He escaped. Another breath. He survived the war. I closed my eyes as the pain engulfed me. I wasn’t there. I didn’t wait for him. I wanted to weep.
Somewhere over my head, Student Porteous was speaking, his voice gentle. “Some of his artifacts are held in the archives. Would you like to see them?”
•●•
I was glad to be sitting down when the archivist brought the box to the table and opened it before us. A photograph of Davy and Teddy, the paper yellowed and flaking at the edges. Some military badges. The metal RAF badge I recognized from his cap. My yellow ribbon, tied in a neat bow, the edges now ragged. I gulped as I stroked my finger over its protective cover. And a letter, held securely inside a clear sleeve. I glanced up at my companion, and he smiled encouragingly back at me.
