“I shouldn’t worry, Mr. Cole,” Florence said, releasing him from his dilemma. “I know all about you and Rebecca. We’ve had a splendid time getting reacquainted recently. We talk now, mother-to-daughter, like we’ve never talked before. You have been a recurring subject. Just walk down the hall and turn left at the third door.”
“Thank you,” Cole said, relieved.
The solarium was large, with a few potted plants scattered about, and in the center of the room was a large settee with a lamp just behind it. Rebecca, a coverlet thrown over her lap, sat reading a book, framed by the soft light.
Cole’s mouth went dry when he saw her. Her thick hair fell, unbound, over her shoulders. Her eyes, gliding over the pages of the book in her hand, were as gentle and kind as he remembered them. The delicate curve of her cheeks and the long slope of her neck captured his eyes and he realized with a start that he had been staring at her.
“Hi,” he said. The word no more than a whisper.
When she looked up her mouth parted in surprise, and for a terrible moment Cole was afraid that she would order him to leave, but she smiled and her face suddenly filled with hope. He knew that she was glad to see him. He felt his excitement growing. “Hello,” she said, surprised, her voice kind and inviting. The sound of it brought back a flood of memories for Cole.
“I guess it’s been a long time,” he said, moving closer to her. He’d practiced this moment a dozen times on the trip to Petersfield, but everything that he meant to say evaporated. Now he simply wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to feel her body pressed against his.
She slipped a bookmark between the pages and laid the book on a low table. “Yes. It has. Much too long.” Her eyes shone with longing and he began to hope that there still might be a chance.
Cole stopped, awkwardly, and then continued walking, certain somehow that it was better if he moved about. His mind raced through the countless prepared speeches, but he could think of nothing to say. He remembered their lovemaking and how passionate she was, crying out at the moment that everything, everyone was forgotten, except their pleasure. He finally stumbled onto a pitifuclass="underline" “I talked to Dickie. He said that I should come and see you. He told me where you lived.”
“Dickie’s been here a number of times,” Rebecca said, her eyes following Cole. “It’s permissible to sit, Jordan.”
He felt her eyes sweep over him and he wished that they were somewhere alone. He was stunned at his desire for her and felt foolish because of it. “I’ve been sitting all morning. In the jeep. I mean driving up. I thought I’d stretch.”
Her smile grew larger and she pulled her legs up under her. “Sit here,” she nodded toward the end of the settee. “I much prefer you close to me. We’ve been apart so long I can’t stand the thought of us being in the same room and yet still separated.” Rebecca noticed his cap. “William didn’t take your hat?”
“No,” Cole said, sitting carefully on the settee. He felt the warmth where her legs had been and the sensation was comforting. “He probably thought you’d throw me out or something.” He remembered the “or something” that Florence Bannard had pinned him with. “I met your mom.”
“You’ve met Mother, then?” Rebecca confirmed with a trace of apprehension.
“Yeah,” Cole said. “I bet you she’s a pistol.”
“Pistol?”
“I mean a handful. Kind of a…”
“Pistol,” Rebecca said, catching on. “Yes, she is. She has to be to survive Father. She and he have a very special arrangement. He remains discreet with his affairs and she treats him with a high degree of disdain.”
Cole watched as her hand reached out to smooth a wrinkle in the coverlet and then continued over to his hand. Her skin was smooth and warm and he noticed that she was trembling as well. She intertwined her fingers into his, squeezing his hand. Her touch brought back visions of her naked body against his and he became aroused.
“Jordan,” she said. “What have you done with yourself? I’ve missed you terribly. I cried myself to sleep and felt miserable all of the time. I couldn’t shake the thoughts of us when we were together. I have missed you so much.”
“I kept rereading your letters,” he said. “I behaved like a jerk. I was angry and hurt and I kept thinking ‘I’ll get even with her.’ But all the time you were stuck in my mind.”
She settled against the pillows and glanced through the row of windows bound by heavy blackout curtains. She withdrew her hand from his and began tenderly stroking his forehead, pushing his hair back. “A bit awkward, isn’t it?” she said, smiling to let him know there was nothing wrong with feeling a little at odds. “I damned you a dozen times for being a child, and at the same time I damned myself for being a fool.”
“You’re not alone there.”
She ran her fingers along his temple. “Every time that I wrote, I tried to be happy and behave as if nothing were wrong. I failed, I’m sure. Everything was wrong. You were far away and I was the cause.”
“The war had something to do with it,” Cole joked weakly, and then was overwhelmed with regret. “I was an idiot. I wanted you. I never wanted to lose you. I tried to understand what you were doing, but I hated you for it. And then I hated myself.”
“One would think that you had learned to be a bit easier on Jordan Cole,” she said. She leaned forward and kissed his forehead, and then the bridge of his nose. Suddenly their lips met and they embraced fiercely. They kissed over and over, her tears covering his face and lips, his arms trapping her body tightly against his so that they would never be apart again. Her face was pressed firmly into his shoulder, and he could feel her body shaking as she cried uncontrollably. Finally, the sobbing lessened but she did not move. He held her, his fingers drifting over her red hair.
“Yeah,” Cole said, feeling drained. He began to talk, wanting her to know everything. It was important to him that she knew where he had been and what he had done. “When the Japs bombed Pearl Harbor and all hell broke loose I managed to talk myself into PT boats. Got shipped back to Newport for training. Rhode Island. I was down in the Mediterranean. PT boats. I wanted to be as far away from England as possible. Away from you, really. Silly, isn’t it? Same as before. I’m still the uncertain little boy. You’d think I’d learn by now.”
“You haven’t changed, Jordan,” she said, her voice muffled in his shoulder. She turned and looked up at him, wiping the tears away with one hand. “Economy with words, I think it’s called. You were always one to use them sparingly.” She smiled. “That’s not very much of an autobiography.” She pulled back and examined him. “Look how thin you are. You haven’t been eating, have you? I suppose that’s the service, isn’t it? Why haven’t you been eating?”
“Not much of an appetite, I guess,” he said. “I get by on lots of coffee. We have plenty of coffee, thank God.”
“I thought you would have developed a taste for tea being so long in England.”
“No. Nothing replaces coffee.”
She fell back against his chest, nestling her head into his shoulder. He responded by pulling her tightly into him, caressing her neck.
“Have you found someone else?” she asked, her voice catching.
“No,” he said. There had been no one else. He had thrown himself into his work and dared anyone to interfere with his life, careful to keep people at bay. His walls had been certain and complete. He had made himself an island and had suffered because of it.
“How about…” he began.
“No,” Rebecca said quickly. “No. I was sick of Gregory and sick because of him, and sick because I had sent you away. The only man I wanted was the man I told to go. No. There has never been anyone but you.”