“Come on, country boy, follow the sign.” She wrapped her hand around Jack’s elbow and pulled him toward the Way Out.
He’d follow that sign. Warmth coursed through his arm. He’d been so good the last month. He hadn’t touched her, not once, but now she was touching him.
The city girl led the way through the crowd, and Jack let her. At the base of the stairs, she dropped his arm to trot ahead, but maybe she’d guide him again if he played Little Boy Lost. He stepped outside into a canyon of gray stone buildings. He wouldn’t have to pretend he was lost.
“Let me get my bearings.” Jack unfolded the map and searched for the Tower of London along the bend of the Thames.
“Didn’t you come here with Walt?” Charlie asked, his arm around May’s waist.
“Yeah, but we must have come a different way.”
Ruth stepped closer and peered at the map. “Good thing you’re a pilot, not a navigator.”
He lost all interest in the map. Ruth’s auburn hair floated inches from his cheek, and her clean scent tangled his thoughts. She raised her head, her gaze bounced about, and her red lips moved. If only …
She met his eyes. “Well?”
Well—well, what? What did she say?
“I vote with Ruth.” Charlie led May down a road to the right, sent Jack a sly wink over his shoulder, and sang “The Nearness of You.”
Jack shot him a murderous glare.
Charlie swung his gaze to the petite blonde under his arm and continued singing.
May rested her head on his shoulder. Good. If she thought the song was meant for her, Ruth would too.
“He has a nice voice,” Ruth said by Jack’s side.
“Yeah, but he uses it too much.” He flipped the tails of his jacket out of the way and put his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t be tempted to take her hand.
“May doesn’t mind. She adores it.”
The couple snuggled as they walked down the street, and Jack tamped down a surge of jealousy and impatience. He had to wait and let Ruth fall for him. This trip would help. Even Ruth couldn’t resist the romance of a forty-eight-hour pass in London. Despite Charlie’s concerns about Jack’s pride and Ruth’s problems, Jack knew time and subtlety would get him to his goal.
“Do you think your group’s flying today?” Ruth asked.
“I’m sure of it.” Only scattered cumulus and silver barrage balloons dotted the sky. Right now Babcock would be up in that blue, earning points with Castle.
“Things have been going well lately?”
“Yeah. Since Regensburg we’ve had only one rugged mission, and the 94th hasn’t lost a plane all month. The P-47s get us all the way to the German border now.”
“Good. I hate to think of you getting shot up again.”
“Yeah?” He studied her expression and found a new element of tenderness. If she wasn’t in love, she was awfully close.
Her chin jutted out. “One more reason to hate the Nazis. How could anyone shoot at
Sunrise
? She’s beautiful.”
Jack laughed. “You’re in love with my plane.”
“You introduced us.”
He stuck his tongue hard between his molars. Now was no time to joke about how she didn’t date. “Be glad I didn’t introduce you two days ago.”
“Why, what happened?”
Jack frowned. He couldn’t tell her they had tested British H2S radar, which would enable them to bomb through cloud cover. “The Fourth Wing—I mean, the Third Bombardment Division—can’t get the new name straight. Well, we were on a practice mission over the North Sea, got jumped by Me 109s. Good thing we had some guns installed.”
“Oh my goodness.”
“Lost a Fort in another group, but we escaped with a few holes.”
“In
Sunrise
?” Alarm, anger—boy, was it cute.
“Vertical stabilizer.”
“Why, those—”
Jack stepped in front of her and set his hands on her shoulders. “Hold it there, buckaroo. Leave the gunslingin’ to the sheriff.”
“And you’re the—”
“Howdy, ma’am.” He touched the bill of his service cap with his fingertips.
“Oh brother.” She headed downhill.
Jack caught up to her, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and gripped the pocket lining. Had to make sure he didn’t swing her into his arms for a little do-si-do.
“There’s the Tower,” Charlie said. The four turrets of the White Tower protruded above the treetops. The group passed a clump of trees and came to a fence overlooking the outer wall studded with round towers. They leaned on the railing.
“Can you imagine?” Ruth said. “William the Conqueror, Sir Walter Raleigh, Henry the Eighth, and poor Anne Boleyn.”
May clutched Charlie’s arm on one side, Ruth’s on the other. “Too bad it’s closed to visitors. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to see the ravens? The crown jewels?”
“But they carted the jewels away,” Charlie said. “Hid them somewhere.”
Jack pointed to the northern wall. “Good thing. Look at the bomb damage.”
Everyone murmured what a shame it was, and then Ruth glanced down into the moat and laughed. “Is that what I think it is? A Victory Garden?”
Jack peered at the vegetables in their proper English rows. Then he made a ghoulish face at Ruth. “Must be well fertilized—with poor Anne Boleyn’s blood.”
“Quit it, Jack.” Ruth bumped his shoulder. “You can’t disgust us. We’re nurses.”
“Ah, what good’s a girl if you can’t make her squeal?”
May squealed. “Look! London Bridge. Remember, Ruth? Remember that day in town?”
Oh no, of all the lousy things.
And lousier still—May clasped Ruth’s hands and raised them overhead. Jack could still see Ruth in the abbey, in the same position, flirting with him. Now Ruth’s eyes widened and her face grew pale.
He had to stop this. He grasped May’s shoulders and turned her to face the bridge. “That’s the Tower Bridge. Not London Bridge, the Tower Bridge. Let’s get a closer look.” He marched her down the sidewalk.
May laughed. “Charlie, he’s abducting me.”
“Your knight to the rescue, my fair damsel.” Charlie strode in front of them and struck a gallant pose, hands on hips. “Unhand her, you ruffian.”
Jack stepped back and swept a low bow. Only then did he venture a look at Ruth. She followed, her brow furrowed, her purse clutched tight.
Jack’s stomach balled up. May’s innocent mistake could set him back weeks if he didn’t lighten things up. “Say, Ruth, did you hear that? He called me a ruffian.” There, he’d given her a chance to tease him.
Her gaze flicked up. “He’s wrong. You’re a gentleman.”
Wow. He hadn’t expected a compliment.
When they reached the Thames, Jack hung back and directed his gaze up to the giant stone towers, the blue swoop of cables, and the catwalks several stories up, all sky blue and white and gold.
“That looks like fun.” Charlie pointed to a boat loaded with GIs, which turned under the bridge and headed for a pier close by.
No, thanks. Jack would leave the boat rides to Walt and Allie. After Walt’s medical discharge from the Army Air Forces, he’d taken an engineering job at Boeing in Seattle while his fiancée worked in the business office. For fun they rode the ferries. Fine. They could have them.
May headed for the pier. “If we hurry, we can catch it.”
Jack’s chest clenched, but he laughed it off. “Come on, boats are slow. If we take the Underground, we’ll have time to see the Westminster area before dinner.”
“We have all day tomorrow,” May said.
“And just imagine floating on the Thames,” Ruth said with a dreamy look Jack wanted directed at him someday. The look faded. “Oh, I wonder how much it costs.”
A chance to pamper her? A chance for romance? Jack dug in his pocket and handed Charlie a handful of British coins. “Here. Go get four tickets.” The stupid things he did for love.
When it was time to board, he kept his eyes on the boat and away from the river bucking beneath him. His friends went to the railing, but Jack found a bench up against the cabin.
Charlie sent him a curious look. “The view’s great.”
“I can see fine from here. Want to rest my legs.” Jack laced his hands behind his head and leaned back. If he watched the sky, maybe he could pretend he was flying. As the boat pulled away from the pier, Jack concentrated on the engine sounds, but he preferred the pulse of Wright Cyclones, and the sound of air against aluminum to water against wood.
Ruth’s laughter drew his gaze and held it. Since the crowd at the railing obscured the sight of water, he tuned in to the conversation. Charlie related his experiences crabbing on Chesapeake Bay, and he spoke with animation of storms and fishermen and learning Dutch from his dad and granddad to pass time.
Ruth leaned close, one hand on her garrison cap, wisps of russet hair whipping around, her body a blue-uniformed figure eight, one heel raised and swinging back and forth like a metronome. Beauty, intelligence, character, and fire—no wonder he was in love.
He’d never been in love like this. Love always followed dates and kisses, but now none of those things swayed him, and he loved Ruth for herself.
She glanced over her shoulder and gave him a smile. “Aren’t you going to join us?”
“No, thanks.”
“Why not?” She leaned back with her elbows on the railing, her heel still waving back and forth, beckoning him to come over, throw his arms around that slender waist, and kiss her so well, she’d forget she hated it.
“Hmm? Why not?”
Jack readjusted his hands behind his head. “I don’t like boats. I like planes.”
One side of her mouth crept up. “What’s the matter? Seasick?” “I don’t get seasick.”
“Can’t swim?”
Too close. “Of course I can swim. I grew up on the river.”
“Oh yes. I remember the stories.” Ruth walked over and sat beside him on the bench. “You and your brothers in the San Joaquin River without any suits.”
Of all the things for her to remember. He smiled. “Mmhmm.”
“So why does a boy who grew up in the water dislike it now?” Her eyes glinted with friendly teasing and something more—she knew she was on to something.
“No reason.” Jack shrugged off his annoyance. “I prefer sky to sea, okay?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Okay.”
Words formed, but he blocked them. Reminding her she also disliked certain things would sound childish and petulant. Instead he leaned closer and pointed up. “Can you blame me? Look at that sky. Remember what those clouds are called?”
“Cumulus.” She smiled and patted his arm. “I’m going back.”
Jack rapped his knuckles on his thighs. Stupid river, keeping him from the woman he loved.
London
Monday, September 27, 1943
Westminster chimes in Westminster. Ruth imprinted the sound into her memory.
“That’s one big clock.”
She glanced up to Jack’s mischievous face. “That’s Big Ben, you goon.”
“Is it now?” He looked at the map, then pointed left. “This way.”
“Only if you want to fall into the Thames,” Charlie said with a laugh. “Ruth?”
She shook her head at Jack and studied the map, which wasn’t easy with his breath on her ear. “We go straight ahead on this road to the right.”
Charlie and May led the way down the sidewalk. Jack touched the small of Ruth’s back to ease her in front of him so a group could pass, and electric shimmers ran through her. But why? He was just as likely to clap Charlie on the back or pat May’s shoulder.
She had to control these emotions that had propelled her so disastrously into his arms before.
Jack looked over his shoulder to Big Ben. “My mom has always wanted a grandfather clock. Whenever she pined about it, Ray played the Westminster chimes on the piano for her.”
Ruth smiled up at him. “I think I’d like your brother.”
“Who doesn’t? Even the cadets he washes out of pilot training like him. I’m surprised he eliminates anyone. He’s too nice. Gets him in trouble.” Jack shook his head and huffed. “That Dolores, what a number. Good thing he had a broken engagement, not a broken marriage. She sure fooled him, made him think she was a virtuous woman.”
Ruth frowned. She understood why someone would conceal a lack of virtue.
Charlie came to a stop. “Here we are. Houses of Parliament. Wow. Look at the bomb damage.” The rubble had been cleared long ago, but boards still covered holes in the walls.
“Parliament. Babcock would be right at home here,” Jack said. “Suppose we could get the Brits to elect him, take him off our hands?”
“I don’t understand why you can’t get along with Jeff,” Charlie said. “You get along with everyone else.”
“Let’s see. Naked ambition, manipulation, glad-handing, phoniness, and pride bigger than his home state.” Jack ticked off points on his fingers.
“I see the problem. Other than the phoniness, it hits too close to home, doesn’t it?” Charlie laughed and led May down the street.
Jack’s eyes burned in a face set like stone. Ruth had never seen that expression and never wanted it pointed at her. What was going on with the men? Charlie always played the role of loyal sidekick, but lately she detected acid in his tone.
“If it’s any consolation,” Ruth said, making Jack’s gaze turn to her and soften, “I think your pride’s smaller than your home state.”
He broke into a smile. “Thanks a lot. California’s bigger than Illinois.”
“Mm. Only in land, not in population or importance.”
“Fine. Charlie insults me, you insult my home state.”
She nudged him in the arm. “For the record, no Doherty ever voted for ‘Baby-Face’ Babcock.”
“Yeah? Would you vote for me?”
“Oh, you’re too noble to enter the base profession of politics.”
Jack laughed. “At least I have one friend,” he said loudly for Charlie’s benefit.
He’d called her his friend again, a compliment rich in meaning. Yet as Charlie and May studied a building with their hands entwined, friendship seemed second-rate. It could have been more.
If she were virtuous.
“Wow,” Jack said. “Must be impressive with windows.”
Ruth focused on the side of an ancient building of pale gray stone with a regal façade rising to her right. Westminster Abbey, of course. Every window was boarded up. “I heard they removed the stained glass to storage during the Blitz.”