Dickie lit a cigarette and offered one to Cole, who refused it.
“That’s that, then,” Dickie said.
“The hell it is,” Cole said angrily. “I’m going to get her back. I don’t know how, but I’m going to get her back. If I ever saw anything worth fighting for, it’s that lady in there.”
“Cole! For God’s sake, think of her feelings.”
“She doesn’t know which way is up. I’ll do it. I’ll get her back come hell or high water.…” Then Cole remembered what she asked of him and the agony that he had brought to her life. He turned and looked at the closed door, her words ringing in his mind, and exhaled a ragged breath; the fight was out of him. He choked back the tears that he knew were close.
“Jordan?” Dickie said.
“‘When I was a child, I spoke like a child,’” Cole whispered. “‘I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I gave up childish ways.’”
Dickie remained silent.
Cole remembered the hospital where he first saw her, and the picnic in Hyde Park, and the terror that he felt when he thought that she had been killed in the bombing raid. And he knew, despite his soul screaming that he must not go back, that she was right.
“Come on,” Cole said to his friend. “Let’s go get a drink.”
Acknowledgments
The following have helped in the preparation of this book and deserve special mention.
Kay Davis
Karen Loving
The Royal Air Force Museum, Herndon; G. Leith, Curator
Michaela Hamilton
Bob Mecoy
Michael Lynch
Thomas Ross Wilson
Denton Loving