“I could use your help, you know, sorting out this business.”
“Sure. Get rid of the booze. We’ll talk.”
“Don’t talk rubbish. One has nothing to do with the other.”
“Suit yourself.”
She threw the fireplace poker in the fire. “Why are you always so damned sure of yourself? Arrogant bastard. Sitting up there like some high and mighty king. On my wing chair, mind you. In my house. Some high and mighty king you are — is that it?”
“Why are you so mad at me?” Cole asked softly.
“Mad? Do you mean crazy or angry? Be precise. Speak the King’s English, not that bastardized American tongue.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I might be both,” she said bitterly. She looked at the fire and said again, but this time in a lost voice, “I might be both.” She climbed to her feet and the glass slipped out of her hand, shattering on the fireplace tiles. “Look at that. I’m almost as destructive as the Germans.” Cole watched her make another drink, brush the shattered glass out of the way with the edge of her foot, and then sit down.
“You know,” she said, “I lost my world twice. Once when Daddy betrayed me, and when this war came. When you came along.”
“Is that right?”
“You’re the war, aren’t you? You see, I believed in people, in my father and mother. In Greg. And when I could no longer believe in them, I resolved to believe in myself. In my ability to help people.”
“You’re helping people.”
“I’m not helping anyone anymore,” she said. “I’m not helping myself.”
“If you want answers from me, I don’t have any except that you won’t find answers in a bottle.”
“Trite,” she said. “Besides…” She held up the glass. “This simply helps me to sleep.”
“Rebecca, sometimes there aren’t any answers. We met and fell in love, your husband is wounded. That’s no one’s fault. You’ve tried to control every aspect of your life but it can’t be done.”
“How logical of you. One, two, three, is it? Do you always see things so clearly, Jordan? Everything except how people feel? There is no logic to how a person feels, whom a person loves, and that’s why things get so messy. So bloody messy. So you eschew emotions in favor of the logic behind human beings. Except” — she said the last word as if the revelation had suddenly become overwhelmingly clear — “except humans are not neatly stacked blocks of logic. Are they? Have you an answer for that?”
“There’s no use attacking me,” Cole said, fighting back his anger.
“But I’m not, darling,” she said, pleading that he understand her drunken rambling — trying to convince him that within the slurred words there was the truth that he had ignored for so long. “Have you replaced your feelings with logic? Is that how you live your life? No…” She looked down, unsure of her thoughts, until she said. “No, you’re living your life by how things should be, how one should behave. What is right and what is wrong by some obscure code. That is such a cold, false world, darling.”
He saw tears form in her eyes.
“No wonder you have been so terribly alone all of these years.”
“I’m fine,” he said.
“No, you’re not,” she said. “You’re someone who never ventured far from the sanctuary of the world according to Jordan Cole.” Her eyes were drifting shut. “But you’re the chivalrous type, aren’t you, Jordan? A kind man?”
Cole shrugged.
She tried to lock her gaze onto him, but her eyes were unfocused. “Yes, you are. Yes, you are, my lovely American. You’re the chivalrous type because you’ll do what I ask of you.”
“What?”
She grew very solemn. “I want you to leave me, Jordan Cole. I have decided to give credence to my marriage vows. I know it sounds silly when I say it out loud, but it has got to mean something, I have to build my life on something. Greg isn’t dead anymore. My husband is alive. He needs me. You and I were part of the war. You must go away. I could not stand the pain if you stayed. You must go away.”
Cole wanted to hear the sound of his own voice saying something that would make everything all right, but all he heard was the crackle of the fire. He watched as Rebecca slowly struggled to her feet, made her way to the couch, and lay down, dragging a blanket off the back to cover herself. He felt empty inside, dead, and he wondered what good his logic and intellect did now.
He sat in the wing chair and watched the last of the fire die out, thinking about what she had said. He hadn’t thought about it quite the way that she had described, but he had thought about it — about leaving her and not coming back. In his mind it was all neat and tidy; the boyfriend departs just before the husband returns. Circumstances of war and all that — the husband thought dead and the wife, the poor tormented wife, a beautiful creature awaiting his return. But he had never had the courage to leave, and that’s what it took — courage.
Cole moved to the floor next to the couch and began stroking Rebecca’s hair. He was ashamed because he had hurt her. He wondered if there was another way, if there was anything that he could do to stay in her life. Something held him close to her, caused him to find comfort in her presence, and he wasn’t really sure what it was. It could be love, but Cole wasn’t entirely sure that the thing existed, at least not for him. Then why not just leave? he asked himself, and the answer was as puzzling as the question: I don’t know.
The telephone shattered the silence, and Cole stumbled to his feet trying to get to it before the ringing woke Rebecca. He scooped it off the tiny hall table, pressing the earpiece against his ear and cupping the mouthpiece to trap his voice.
“Hello?” he whispered loudly.
“Lieutenant James Cole?” a very precise and professional female voice said.
He was about to answer when he heard a voice say: “Jordan, love. Jordan Cole.”
“Lieutenant Jordan Cole?”
“Yes,” Cole said and then he realized the other voice was Bunny.
“Please hold for a trunk call,” the operator said. “Before I connect you, sir, remember that this is not a secure line.”
“You mustn’t worry about me, love,” Bunny said. “I’m properly trained.”
“Very well. I’m connecting the call now.”
“King?” Bunny said. “Fancy going on a little trip?”
“Trip?”
“Remember that bauble that you misplaced? Well, seems everyone has taken an interest in it. We’ve been put on standby.”
The operator broke in. “Gentlemen, remember that this is not a secure line. I may be forced to terminate this call under the Official Secrets Act unless you take greater care with your conversation.”
“Sorry, love,” Bunny said. “Didn’t realize that I was giving away anyone’s secrets. Here it is, King. I’ve got a chap who can give you a ride up here. Get out to the airport straightaway. I don’t know any more than that, but I’m sure I will when you get here. King? Are you still there?”
Cole was looking at Rebecca, asleep on the couch. She said that he would fly away one day and never return. He felt it somehow, that he was never coming back. Not the premonition of death; nothing quite as dramatic as that, although he could not discount it. It was just that when he left he was not coming back and things would be changed forever.
“Yeah, I’m here. What’s this guy’s name?”
“Ducey. Strange bloke. Hell of a pilot. Have you here in record time.”
“Okay, Bunny. I’m on my way. Thanks a lot for the call.” Cole heard Bunny laughing.
“Don’t thank me as of yet. By the time we get done with this business, Ole King Cole might not be quite a merry ole soul after all.”