He was thrilled. She was covering but she kept the conversation going, and every word was a chance to Cole — a chance that she might accept.
“Look, I’m sorry to call you at work but I didn’t know your home number.” He spoke quickly, hoping that she would not hang up. “I’d like to see you again.”
Silence.
“Maybe this isn’t right. Maybe you have every right to tell me to go jump in the lake, but I just wanted to see you again.”
Silence. Then it was interrupted by muffled laughter and he heard Rebecca’s name called several times and the sound of papers ruffling and the telephone being knocked about before he heard her voice again.
“Yes,” she said, her voice even softer than before. His heart soared and he tried to calm himself.
“The weather’s nice. At least nice for England. I can get my landlady to fix a picnic basket for us. Is that okay?”
“Yes,” she said, and then her voice dropped nearly to a whisper. “I would like that very much. Have you a pencil?”
Cole snatched a pen from its holder. “Yes.”
“Is two o’clock today all right? I have a few off hours that I can take.”
“That’s great.”
“Warren Square. Number twenty-two. Can you find it?”
“I’ll find it,” he said. Cole heard her name called with playful urgency and heard someone try to take the telephone away from her.
All Rebecca managed was: “Good-bye, then.”
Cole had a hell of a time finding the row house in Warren Square. He rang the doorbell and waited. The door opened and she appeared, and her quick smile made Cole smile in return. She was as glad to see him as he was she.
“I hope that I haven’t kept you waiting,” she said, unnecessarily.
“You haven’t,” Cole said and there was much more emotion in his voice than he had intended. “My car’s just over there. I bribed my landlady to fix a picnic lunch. No potato salad but we’ve got some kind of noodle salad.”
They drove to Hyde Park, Cole excited that Rebecca sat next to him in the tiny car, Rebecca silent, watching all that swept past them. So much destruction, notices posted on telephone boxes and lampposts — Have you seen so-and-so? So-and-so, come to your cousin’s. People displaced, families missing; a list of dead next to a list of those who were luckier — in the hospital.
When they arrived and found a quiet spot near a stand of trees Cole spread the blanket, and Rebecca began setting the places and unpacking the food. It was natural for them to do that, Cole thought, and for an instant he saw them married but quickly dismissed the idea. He was being foolish. They sat for some time without saying a word, watching a group of children play across the way.
“My husband and I used to come here quite often,” Rebecca said.
Cole was disappointed to hear her mention her husband. No, it was more than that — he didn’t know anything about the guy and Cole hated him already.
“Gregory,” Rebecca continued. “He prefers Greg. He’s a banker. Well, not now of course. He’s with the army… in North Africa. Missing in action.”
“I guess this was a bad idea…” he started to say but he didn’t mean it. He was selfish enough to want Greg in an Italian prisoner of war camp for the duration.
“No,” she said. “No, I’m very glad that you asked me. I’ve been thinking about you since we met at hospital. I suppose that’s a bit bold, isn’t it?”
“No,” he said. He’d been doing a lot of thinking as well.
She looked at the sky. It was a soft blue and the barrage of balloons drifted about easily on their long tethers, as if they had always been there and had not come because of the war. “It is a lovely day, isn’t it?” Rebecca said.
“Yeah,” Cole said, following her gaze. “Maybe I ought to take a picture since these days are few and far between.”
“The vagaries of English weather,” she teased.
Cole returned her smile. “Why’d you go into nursing?”
Rebecca handed Cole a bottle of beer and took a drink before speaking. “My father, really. Daddy is very rich and very powerful. Because of the war he will become more so. Manufacturing. My mother, who is beautiful and refined, dotes on Daddy. He in turn keeps mistresses. I suppose that I just needed to find a place in life.”
“Look,” Cole said, the words tumbling out, “I’ve been around. I just wanted you to know that up front.” He felt awkward and stupid. He was a young man again, trying to be sincere but all he managed was clumsiness.
“You say up front,” Rebecca said softly, “as if you expect that there will be more to follow.”
Cole took a drink of beer and then examined the label on the bottle.
“You have difficulty talking, don’t you?” she said.
Cole shook his head. “Not really. Some people even call me glib.”
“I don’t mean that,” Rebecca said. “I mean sharing what’s inside you. Telling people how you feel.”
“Yeah,” Cole said. “I’ve heard that before. Maybe. I don’t know. I guess I have trouble getting things out. But if people don’t know how you feel,” he added, “they can’t use it against you.”
Rebecca took Cole’s hand. Her touch was almost electric. “Jordan,” she said, those caring eyes searching his, “that’s half a life.”
Cole heard the children’s laughter but he never took his eyes from Rebecca’s. The children were shouting and running and screaming with joy because no bombs were falling and they did not have to spend time in the dank, putrid bomb shelters. They could be children again and play as children should and worry about nothing.
Cole leaned closer to Rebecca and kissed her gently. He drew back and saw tears in her eyes, which made him want to tell her that everything was going to be all right, but when he began to speak, she pressed her slender fingers against his lips. He nodded, knowing that words were unnecessary. Rebecca removed her hand and leaned into Cole, kissing him deeply.
When they parted Cole said, “Why are you crying?”
“I’ve been on a raw edge lately. I’m so sick and tired of seeing dead and dying. The men are bad enough but there are women and children. Babies. I cannot let them see me cry. They bring people in missing arms and legs, horribly burned… they must not see me cry.”
Cole watched her take another drink of beer and fish through her purse to find a handkerchief. She patted her eyes, careful not to smudge her mascara. “I must look a dreadful sight,” she said.
“No,” Cole said, “you look fine.”
“Makeup costs a bloody fortune and if I’ve cried any off I shall be very cross.”
“Everything’s right where it should be.”
“I love my husband, you see.” She wiped away a stray tear.
“It was only a kiss,” Cole said, trying to help, but he saw immediately that he’d said the wrong thing.
“Is it very common for you?” she said, her voice strangely sad. “To be with women?” She saw the hurt look on his face. “Oh, I’m so very sorry. What a perfectly horrible thing to say. Please forgive me.”
“Maybe you’re right,” he said, suddenly ashamed of himself. He hated himself for the answer but he didn’t want to lie to her. “I just never thought of it that way.”
“I’ve never…” Rebecca searched for the right words. “I’ve never been unfaithful. In a way… please understand what I mean and not how I say it. In a way it seems that you’re still a child.”
“Why?” Cole said sharply. “Because I want to be with you? What’s wrong with that?”
“We’ve just met,” she said gently. “How could you…?”
“I don’t know,” he said. His own anger surprised him, but he felt that she was finding fault with him — dissecting his emotions so that they could be revealed, one by one, as false.