“I know.” And then she thought of the night before, when they'd gone dancing. “But it's as though our life here is like one long party.” She was echoing his words and they looked at each other long and hard.
“Do you want it to stop?” He held his breath.
“No.”
“Neither do I.” But in April he picked her up at the Red Cross one afternoon and he was strangely silent.
“Is something wrong, Nick?”
He looked at her sadly. He felt none of the excitement he had expected to feel. He felt loss and desolation. “The party's over.”
There was a strange tingling in her spine. “What do you mean?”
“I'm leaving San Francisco tomorrow.” She caught her breath and looked at him, and suddenly she was crying in his arms. They had both known it would come, but now they weren't ready.
“Oh, Nick …” And then fear struck her again. “Where are you going?”
“San Diego. For two days. And then we ship out. I'm not sure where. I'll be on an aircraft carrier, the Lady Lex.” He tried to smile. “Actually, she's the Lexington. We're going somewhere in the Pacific.” She had just returned for some repairs, Liane had read in the papers. And now as they drove home to her uncle's house, neither of them spoke. They were grim-faced and silent and Uncle George knew at once when he saw them.
“Shipping out, son?”
“Yes, sir. I'll be leaving here tomorrow for San Diego.” George nodded and watched Liane, and it was a quiet dinner that night. Even the girls seldom broke the silence, and when he said good-bye to them that night, they cried, almost as much as they had when they had left their father. He was more real to them now than Armand. They hadn't seen him in two years, and Nick had been in their midst almost constantly for the past four months. His loss would be felt by all, especially Liane, who kissed him tenderly in the doorway. She had promised to take the train to San Diego the next day, and they would have a little time together before he shipped out. He had to be on the ship the day before she sailed. That gave them one day and one night in San Diego together.
“I'll call you at the hotel in San Diego tomorrow night, if I can. Otherwise I'll get to you the next morning.” She nodded again, with tears in her eyes.
“I miss you already.”
He smiled. “So do I.” Neither of them had been prepared for the pain they felt now. “I love you.”
She waved as he drove away, and went back into the house, and when she got to her room, she lay on the bed and sobbed. She wasn't ready to give him up … not again … not now … not ever….
“I'm sorry, love. I couldn't call. I've got meetings and briefings and God knows what else.”
She panicked at his words. “Can I see you?” She glanced out at the Pacific as she spoke, trying to imagine where he was. Her room had a view of the base and the port in the distance.
“I can't see you until tonight. And Liane …” He hated to do it, but he knew he had to tell her. “That'll be it. I have to report to the base at six o'clock tomorrow morning.”
“When do you sail?” Her heart was pounding in her ears.
“I don't know. All I know is that I have to be on the ship at six o'clock tomorrow morning. I assume we sail the next day. But they won't tell us.” That was standard military procedure, because of the war. “Look, I've got to go. I'll see you tonight. As soon as I can.”
“I'll be here.” She spent the day in her room, terrified that he would come early and she would miss him. And at ten minutes to six there was a knock on her door. It was Nick and she flew into his arms, crying and laughing and desperately happy to see him. For these few moments they could pretend that he would never leave.
“God, you look so good to me, love.”
“So do you.” But they were both exhausted from the strain of the past two days. It was a time she knew she would never forget. It was worse than when she had left Paris.
They talked frantically for half an hour, and then he took her in his arms and took her to bed, and after that, things seemed to slow down. They never left the room to go to dinner that night, and they never slept. They lay there and they talked and made love. And Liane trembled as she saw the sun come up. She knew that their last night was over.
At five thirty he got out of bed, and he looked at her soberly as she watched him. “Babe … I've got to go….”
“I know.” She sat up, wanting to pull him to her, wanting to turn the clock back.
And then he asked her something he had wanted to ask her for two days. “Will you write to me, or would you rather not?” They had agreed four months before that when he left it would be over.
“I'll write.” She smiled sadly. She was already writing to Armand, and now she had lost two men to the war, for the time being at least. She didn't know what she would do when he came back. For weeks she had been asking herself that question. Things were different than they had been on the Deauville, she and Nick had had four months, not thirteen days, and she couldn't give him up so easily now. Once or twice she had thought of leaving Armand after the war, but she didn't think she could. Nor could she give up Nick Burnham.
“I'll write to you too. But it may take forever for you to get my letters.”
“I'll be waiting.”
He didn't shower before he put on his clothes. He didn't want to waste a single minute of their time together, he could shower on the ship, he had a lifetime to do that. And all he had now were a few moments left with Liane. “Remember what I said about Johnny.” He had given her Hillary's address, but she had insisted again that she wouldn't need it. He'd come back to see to Johnny himself, and he had answered “Just in case.” She had taken it to make him feel better.
Their last moments ticked by like the last seconds before a bomb explodes, and in the end they stood in her room and he held her tight. “I'm going to leave you here.”
Panic struck her again. “Can't I take you back to the base?”
He shook his head. “It'll just make it harder.” She nodded, tears already flooding her face, and he kissed her one last time and looked into her eyes. “I'll be back.”
“I know.” And neither of them asked the other what would happen then. It was too late to think of that. All they had was the present, and whatever fate dealt them later. “Nick … take care. …” She grabbed at him once as he left the room, and he held her again, and then with a last wave he ran down the stairs, and she went back into their room and closed the door, and she sat, feeling as though the last bit of life had been drained out of her. She was still sitting in the room two hours later, thinking of him, when she happened to glance out the window, and the whole Pacific Ocean seemed to have disappeared and in its place was an enormous ship, moving slowly out to sea. Her heart pounded as she watched. It was an aircraft carrier, and she knew as she watched that it was the Lexington and Nick was on it. She flung open the window of her room as though that would bring her a little closer, and she watched until it had left the harbor. And then she turned slowly and packed her bag, and two hours later she was back on the train, sitting silent and still as she returned to San Francisco.