After the Fall

by Lisa Bingham

  John shook his head in regret. He’d encountered Santo Tomas several times when conducting business for the plantation. He was a good man with a reputation for fairness and honesty. He’d once bragged about his daughter Chica with such pride that the little girl had blushed and squirmed in his arms with embarrassment. His death served as a reminder to John of how dangerous the Philippines had become.

  They were nearly a mile from their goal when John reached out to snag Gilhouley’s arm, bringing him to a halt.

  Gilhouley automatically raised his weapon, thinking John was issuing a silent alarm, but John motioned for him to keep his rifle at his shoulder.

  “Before we get back into camp, I need to ask you some things, and I need you to tell me the truth.”

  Gilhouley’s eyes narrowed, but he said, “Fine. What is it?”

  “How bad are things here on Luzon?”

  There was a beat of silence as Gilhouley obviously debated how candid he could be without giving away military secrets.

  “I don’t think they could get much worse,” he finally said. “Our army is retreating to Bataan, our airfields and bases are destroyed.”

  “How strong do you think your defenses will be on Bataan?”

  When a flash of suspicion entered Gilhouley’s gaze, John hastened to explain. “What I need to know is whether a civilian would be safer with you or with me.”

  Gilhouley’s posture relaxed and he glanced in the direction of the camp. “You mean would Miss O’Halloran be safer?”

  “Yes.”

  He considered the situation, shifting slightly. “Would you be coming with her?”

  Until that moment, John hadn’t really thought that far. But now that he was confronted with the possibility of entrusting Glory Bee’s safety to someone else, he was forced to think things through.

  “I don’t think so.”

  And it wasn’t because of the way things had changed between them or his own confusing emotions. It was because, in that instant, he realized that by coming into the hills, by allying himself with the local guerrillas, he had done the one thing he had not been able to do in China. He was fighting back.

  Again, Gilhouley weighed the matter carefully. Then he said, “Things will get rough on Bataan before they ever get better. It could be weeks, even months before reinforcements arrive.”

  “But she would be surrounded by the military. She could be with other women. Women who could help her if she…if she got sick.”

  Gilhouley had said it could be months before help came. How far along was Glory Bee’s pregnancy?

  “The evacuation plans include medical facilities, even the participation of some of the nurses.”

  Again, John thought of the possibility of a baby. One that would cry and fret. A baby who might even need medical attention—all of which would be dangerous here in the jungle.

  “Is there a possibility that American civilians could be evacuated to safety?”

  Gilhouley’s gaze grew sad. “Right now?”

  John nodded.

  “I’d say the chances are slim to none. There are literally only a few dozen aircraft left. The Navy is decimated. Any evacuations that might occur would probably have to be done by submarine or seaplane, and I’m sure that officers and the wounded would be taken out first.”

  John grew quiet, knowing that there were no real answers. Whether she stayed with him or went to Bataan with Gilhouley, the future held untold risks.

  Gilhouley dragged his helmet from his head and wiped his brow with his arm. “Do you want my personal opinion?”

  “Yes.”

  “If it were me—” he pointed in the direction of the camp “—if it was my girl back there…I’d keep her here rather than take her to Bataan.” He settled his helmet back in place, leaving the chinstraps dangling. Then he offered John a cock-eyed grin that made him look, oh, so American—big and brash and cocky. “But then, if it were me, I’d also let her make the decision. Otherwise, you might never hear the end of it.”

  Then, with a laugh, he turned and resumed their hike through the forest—leaving John to wonder if Gilhouley’s answer would be the same if his girl were pregnant with another man’s child.

  • • •

  Rosemary had been given the evening shift off—which meant, that for the first time in weeks, she would be allowed to sleep, uninterrupted, until 0800 in the morning.

  If the Japanese cooperate, she thought as walked to the tent that she and Alice shared.

  Just before reaching the row of shelters reserved for the nurses, she dodged into the last ward. As promised, she went to one of the far cots to check on Napoli.

  Although he still lay shivering in his bunk, she thought his color looked better. But she knew it would be some time before the quinine could take effect.

  “Hello, Major,” he said gruffly.

  “You’re going to call me Rosemary, remember?”

  He smiled and she grabbed an empty crate, tipping it on its side so that she could use it for a stool.

  “How long have I been out?” His voice was gravelly and shaky.

  “A few hours. Have my nurses been treating you well?”

  Napoli’s eyes became suddenly bright, and he swallowed hard before speaking, “You’ve been really kind. You’ve all been really kind.”

  She felt his forehead with the back of her hand. “I’m glad. I’d have to discipline them something fierce if I thought they weren’t spoiling you.”

  He sniffed and scrubbed at his eyes. Then, he clutched at her hand, squeezing it.

  “Gilhouley’s a lucky man to have found you, Maj…Rosemary.”

  Rosemary smiled. “I think I’m the lucky one.”

  Napoli sniffed again, then said, “Remember, he’s not quite as tough as he seems.”

  “Oh?” she said lightly.

  A chill caused Napoli to shudder and his eyes grew heavy. “That father of his hurt him. Hurt him to the core.” He fought against his weariness, his lashes opening wide for a moment before beginning to droop once again. “Never had a mother. She died when he was born. I think his dad always…blamed Gilhouley…for that…”

  Napoli’s jaw grew lax and he sank back into a fitful sleep again.

  Tucking the covers more tightly around him, Rosemary reached overhead to pull the mosquito netting over his wizened frame.

  Then, after she’d done all she could to make him comfortable, she eased from between the rows of cots.

  She’d learned more about Gilhouley from her chance encounters with Napoli than she had in the months that she’d known Riley. And yet…

  And yet…

  The things she’d learned hadn’t convinced her she was making a horrible mistake by becoming embroiled in a wartime romance.

  They’d only made her love him more.

  • • •

  Since Maria had given him a huge packet of rice wrapped in newspaper and a bottle of her pork stew to carry back to the camp, John waited until everyone had eaten their unexpected banquet and the soldiers were gathered in a circle playing cards before daring to approach Glory Bee. Moving as casually as he could, he walked to the spot where she had made a place for them to sleep only the day before.

  He saw the way she tensed as he approached, but she didn’t bother to look up. Instead, she sat in the lee between the rocks, running a comb through her hair as if the task would keep the earth spinning on its axis.

  His throat grew dry as he watched the tresses flow through her fingers like molten copper. Not sure if he could trust himself so close to her, he nearly retreated. But he didn’t know when Esteban might return with a message, and if Glory Bee wanted to go with the soldiers, she would need to be ready.

  Hesitating, he knew he had to choose his words carefully. Just as Gilhouley had suggested, he had to make sure that she had all of the information needed to make her decision. Even so, he couldn’t influence her. Not if he was going to live with his conscience afterwards.

  But as he watche
d the gleam of her hair in the darkness, he was forced to admit that he was taking the coward’s way out. As long as he foisted all responsibility onto Glory Bee, he didn’t have to examine his own chaotic emotions.

  Did he really want her to go?

  The thought settled into his stomach like a lump of lead.

  Could he live with the temptation if she stayed?

  John sank onto the ground beside her. “How are you feeling?”

  His question took her by surprise, because she stared at him blankly, then suddenly realized why he was asking.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Not tired, or…I don’t know…nauseous?”

  She scowled. “My feet are blistered, my skin is broiled, my thighs, my calves, and my back are killing me, and I have bug bites on every inch of my body. Oh, and I ate a whole candy bar that Petey gave me in about twenty seconds flat, and now I have an overwhelming urge to find myself some more, a lot more, but other than that…I’m peachy.”

  Against his will, his lips slid into a quick grin. “I think I might have a possible solution to the chocolate problem.”

  Her brows lifted. “Really?” There was a slight tinge of suspicion to her to her tone.

  John felt as if he were about to walk into a minefield wearing hobnailed boots. He probably should have taken more time to work out the best way to approach her with the idea. But there wasn’t time. There simply wasn’t time.

  “I talked to Gilhouley about your predicament.”

  She stiffened, the color leeching from her skin, and too late, he realized how his words might be misinterpreted.

  “No. No! Not…that predicament,” he said hurriedly with a waving gesture toward her stomach. But she didn’t look mollified. Instead, she bristled even more.

  “And what predicament would that be?”

  “You, me…I mean…No, that’s not what I mean, I…” He swore softly under his breath and blurted, “Look, I spoke to Gilhouley, and if you want, they’ll take you back with them to Bataan.”

  He wasn’t entirely sure how he’d expected her to react, but he was mystified when her eyes suddenly filled with tears.

  “When do you want me to leave?”

  She was so suddenly docile, so…emotionless, that he couldn’t help needling her.

  “It’s not about what I want. This is your decision, Glory Bee.”

  “Is it?” she suddenly hissed, anger blazing from her eyes. “Or do you want me to believe that so no hint of blame can ever be laid at your door.”

  When he would have responded, she held up a hand, palm out. “Never mind. I get it.” Her laugh was bitter. “You’d think that after playing this same scenario time and time again that I’d learn my lesson—and you know what, I have. I have definitely learned my lesson. So I’ll pack my bags and be ready to go.”

  She stood and moved deeper into the lee away from the prying eyes of the soldiers, shoving things hastily into her bag. When he caught her stuffing a rock and his shaving kit inside the pack along with one of the fabric pieces he’d brought from the abandoned village, he dodged to take her by the elbows. But she fought against him, trying to wrench away.

  It was then that he saw the tears that fell from the dam of her lashes. Her chin crumpled, her skin growing blotchy and red, even beneath her sunburn.

  He cupped her face in his hands, trying to understand. He only wanted to do what was right. If she could find safety with the Americans, he couldn’t stand in her way. But she looked at him as if he’d ripped the heart from her breast and crushed it in his hands.

  “Don’t send me away,” she whispered, her voice so choked and filled with emotion that he nearly didn’t understand her. “Please, don’t send me away.”

  And then, in one crashing moment, he realized that she thought, with his cautious words and carefully coached argument, that he was attempting to abandon her, to banish her—to throw her away. Her mother, the men in her life, even the father of her baby…they had all tossed her aside the moment she’d become inconvenient to them. They had used her for their own selfish pleasures and motives without a care in the world as to what would make her happy or complete. And unwittingly, he’d been about to do the same.

  He felt a rush of shame, acknowledging that he’d been no better than any of the other people she’d cared about. Shocked and confused by her pregnancy, he hadn’t wanted to deal with the repercussions. He hadn’t wanted to examine his own shortcomings too closely. He hadn’t wanted to admit that her condition had shocked him to the core. That he’d been angry—and a yes, jealous—of the way she’d been so comfortable with her sexual history. Rather than deal with his chaotic emotions, he’d sought a way to circumvent them without telling her the truth. And no matter what had happened, no matter what decision she made, she at least deserved to know that he had grown to care for her.

  Because he did care for her. More than he knew he was willing to admit.

  Swiping the tears away from her cheeks with his thumbs, he stared deeply into her eyes, eyes that reminded him of dark rain-kissed pansies. And in that instant, he knew that whatever his shortcomings might be, he couldn’t hurt her. Not now. Not ever.

  “Don’t cry,” he urged, his chest tight. “Don’t cry.” Then he bent to brush his lips across hers, softly, sweetly, and then, because he couldn’t help himself, he lingered, the caress growing more demanding, more intimate, until his tongue begged for entrance. When her lips parted, he pressed closer and closer, his arms sweeping around her waist to draw her tightly against him.

  She sobbed against his lips, but when he drew back, thinking he might be hurting her again, she blinked up at him, her eyes wide with disbelief.

  “You don’t hate me,” she whispered.

  “Hate you?”

  “Y-yes…I was so sure that you…that I…”

  He stopped her with a finger on her lips.

  “I could never hate you.”

  “B-but you could hate what I’ve done.”

  “I could never hate you or anything you’ve done,” he stated more forcefully. “Never.” Then he kissed her again.

  “You won’t send me away?”

  John couldn’t account for relief that eased the tension gripping his chest. “Not if you don’t want to go.”

  “I don’t want to be a burden.”

  He kissed her cheek, her nose. “You could never be a burden.” He drew back to eye her with concern. “But I want you to think carefully about what you’re saying. It could be months before the Americans arrive, and even then, driving the Japanese back off the island—”

  “I don’t want to go.”

  “Glory Bee, have you thought about when the baby—?”

  “I don’t want to go. Please don’t make me go.”

  He drew her into his arms, settling her cheek against his chest, wondering if she could hear the way his heart thumped against his ribs—in joy, in panic. It wouldn’t be easy. The fact that Glory Bee was pregnant would complicate their situation immeasurably. But if she needed help, Maria was near.

  “You’d best unpack your things, then,” he whispered against her hair.

  When she gripped his waist, he settled his back against a rock, bringing her with him. Spreading his legs out in front of him, he cradled her between his thighs, drawing a blanket around her shoulders.

  She shuddered against him, exhausted, emotionally and physically.

  “You won’t leave me.”

  He stroked her hair, and the tresses wound around his fingers like molten copper. Just as he had imagined.

  “Esteban will send a runner as soon as he has news. I don’t know if I’ll need to go with the Americans, to make sure they get to Esteban’s camp safely. But if they need my help, I’ll make sure you know when I’m going.”

  “Even if…” her words were interrupted by a shuddering yawn, “…it’s the middle of the night?”

  “If it’s nighttime, I’ll wake you first. But I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise.”
>
  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  Her fingers curled into his shirt.

  “I’m sorry, John.”

  “I told you. There is nothing to forgive. You are an incredible woman, Glory Bee. With everything that you’ve been through, you remain so…filled with joy. That’s a gift. A gift you’ve shared with me.”

  “How so?”

  He continued to stroke her hair, feeling her body relax against his.

  “Because you’ve taught me how to live again.” He added more quietly. “And to love.”

  He waited for her response, barely able to breathe. He couldn’t believe that he’d allowed himself to think the words, let alone utter them.

  But as the silence continued—much longer than he would have liked—he leaned down to gauge her reaction, then laughed softly.

  He’d bared his heart and soul to her—something he never would have thought possible mere weeks before. And Glory Bee, this incredible, maddening, joyful woman…

  Was fast asleep.

  • • •

  There was no sign of a runner from Esteban for a day…two…three…

  When a week passed, Glory Bee could see the tension in the soldiers beginning to increase. They alternated between fanning out on patrols and prowling around the camp, oiling their weapons to keep them in prime working condition.

  In order to make their rations stretch further, the men had begun eating one meal a day. Glory Bee would have been happy to follow suit, but John forbid her from cutting back on her calories any more than she already had. But he also knew she didn’t want to be caught eating in front of the men, so he would bring her a little rice left from the night before or a precious tin of fruit from their supplies.

  So far, the soldiers hadn’t made too serious of a dent in their cache of canned foods. At least once a day, one of the soldiers would return to camp with something for the dinner table—whether it was fish from the stream or birds they’d caught with the snares that Petey had fashioned from shoe laces and woven twigs.