Authors: Rebecca Dean
On their return home Henry was waiting for them, and he invited Archie to a predinner cocktail on the bungalow’s terrace. The view from its bougainvillea-draped walls led straight down the hill to the officers’ compound and then, beyond the compound, to the beach and, in the early-evening light, a sea that was now no longer blue, but glass green.
Henry mixed himself and Archie a brandy and soda and, for Corinne and Wallis, pink gins. Sipping at what was fast becoming her regular predinner cocktail, Wallis kept her eyes on the compound, hoping to see Win Spencer’s distinctively wide-shouldered, broad-chested figure. There were lots of naval officers walking in and out through the compound gates, but none of them was Win.
Corinne, unaware of the direction of Wallis’s thoughts, sipped her drink, expecting her cousin to begin giving Henry a suitably low-key version of their afternoon at the amusement park, instead of which, twirling her cocktail glass around in her hand, Wallis said, “We saw Lieutenant Allinson on the beach this morning, Henry. He said he was spending the day training recruits in signal and radio work. What is that exactly?”
Corinne groaned and raised her eyes to heaven.
Archie Crosby grinned, more intrigued by Wallis than ever.
Henry smiled broadly and, oblivious of his wife’s irritation, embarked on a lecture on the intricacies of signal and radio work.
Wallis followed what she could—which was very little, though she didn’t allow Henry to know that. What she intended was to speak to Rob and to get him to explain it in a more simplified manner. She wasn’t unintelligent, but the subjects she wanted to learn about were far too like math for her to be able to understand them without a struggle.
But it was a struggle she was going to engage in, for if she’d learned one thing about men, it was that they liked to talk about their jobs, about what interested them. Because she made the effort to do so, it set her out from the crowd and, because she wasn’t beautiful or curvaceous like Corinne, anything that set her out from the crowd was worthwhile, no matter what the effort.
Predinner drinks—and sometimes dinner—with various officers became a daily institution, but it was Rob Allinson, Archie Crosby, and Win Spencer whom Henry and Corinne invited most often.
Whenever Wallis was in a room with Win, she was aware of a sexually charged atmosphere between the two of them, but it was an atmosphere Win was careful no one else should be aware of—and one he’d apparently had second thoughts about following through on.
Once, when no one else was in earshot, he’d held her tightly by the wrist and said, “You’re a guest in the home of my commanding officer and I have a career to think of. If it weren’t for that, Wallis …”
The expression in his eyes filled in the words he’d left unsaid, and for days afterward there had been a bruise on her wrist—a bruise that had excited her every time she’d looked at it.
Because Win, Rob, and Archie were best buddies, Wallis nicknamed them “the Gang of Three,” and it soon became obvious that she had aroused deep feelings in Rob as well as in Win.
Henry had encouraged the match.
“Lieutenant Allinson is a fine young man, Wallis,” he’d said. “Plus, and you can trust me about this, he has a spectacular career ahead of him.”
She’d been touched by the fatherly interest he was taking in her, but as she said to Corinne, “I just don’t feel romantically inclined toward Rob and know I never will.”
“Which is a pity, honey, and I hope it’s not because you have hopes where Win is concerned, because if Henry had any such suspicions he would, because of Win’s reputation with women, cease inviting him here fast as light.”
Wallis remained silent, and Corinne eyed her speculatively. “Win hasn’t made a pass at you, has he, Skinny?”
It was impossible to fib, nor did Wallis want to. “Yes,” she said, enjoying the look of shock on Corinne’s face. “And God willing and the creek don’t rise, he’ll do so again!”
Occasionally, when a dinner party was in progress, Henry would be called away to attend to an emergency that had arisen, and whenever this happened Wallis noticed a change in Corinne’s attitude toward whatever guests were sitting around the table or enjoying drinks on the terrace. She became much more relaxed and more free in her conversation.
It was on one of these occasions, when Henry had been summoned to attend to a crisis and when the guests were Rob, Archie, and Win, that Win turned to Wallis and said, “Don’t you ever get bored with your evening pink gin, Wallis? Would you like me to show you how to make a more exotic cocktail?”
Corinne gave a throaty chuckle. “Please, please show her. A mint julep I can manage, but someone in the house with a little more cocktail expertise would be very welcome.”
Win’s eyes meaningfully held Wallis’s. “Let’s go into the house, and if Henry has some crème de violette tucked away, I’ll show you how to make an aviator cocktail.”
It was the first move he’d made on her since he’d given her to understand it was something he was never going to do, and as she rose to her feet Wallis was weak-kneed with hope and anticipation.
The minute they were in the house and out of sight of everyone he pulled her against him, saying thickly, “This is against my better judgment, Wallis, but what the heck, I can’t have anyone else running off with you.”
His mouth came down on hers in swift unfumbled contact. It was a demanding, violent kiss, totally unlike John Jasper’s kisses and her cousin Henry’s kisses.
When at last he raised his head, saying huskily, “Now to cocktail making before anyone becomes suspicious,” she felt as if her mouth were as bruised as her wrist had been.
He began taking bottles from the Mustins’ cocktail cabinet, saying as he did so, “I need lemons, a sharp knife, and cracked ice.”
By the time she returned from the kitchen with all he had asked for, he had assembled a lineup of crème de violette, London dry gin, maraschino liqueur, cocktail glasses, and a cocktail shaker.
“Now, Wallis, sweetheart,” he said. “Watch and learn.”
He sliced the lemons and squeezed the juice into a shaker until it was a third full. Then he topped it up with two-thirds gin.
“Time to do your bit,” he said to her. “Add two dashes of maraschino and two dashes of crème de violette.”
When she had done so, he added a handful of cracked ice. Then he put the top on the shaker and gave it back to her, his hand remaining on top of hers.
There was ownership in his fingers. Utter assurance.
“Okay, Wallis,” he said. “Give it a good shake.”
Still with his hand over hers, she did so.
When the cocktail was mixed, he said gruffly, “We’d best be getting back. Corinne will wonder what we’re up to.”
Removing his hand from hers, he took the shaker from her and poured the contents into the glasses through a small sieve.
Then he handed her two glasses to take through to Corinne and Archie. As he did so, his hands were as steady as a rock. Hers, as she took the glasses from him, trembled violently.
They moved toward the French windows leading to the terrace and as they reached them, he said in a low undertone, “I’m going to teach you how to make a different cocktail every time I’m here for drinks and supper—and I’m going to teach you lots of other, far more interesting things, Wallis.”
W
allis was sure he was—and she was sure of something else as well. Win Spencer might have the reputation of being the air station’s lady-killer, but he was a lady-killer she was going to tame, and once she’d tamed him, she wasn’t going to lose him as she’d lost John Jasper. She was going to bind him to her with hoops of steel.
Late that evening, just as she was about to get into bed, Corinne tapped at her door and walked straight in. “Just what happened between you and Win tonight?” she demanded bluntly. “There was so much electricity in the air when the two of you stepped out onto the terrace I thought sparks were going to fly!”
Wallis climbed into bed and hugged her silk-pajamaed knees with her arms. “Win showed me how to make aviators—and if we all have headaches in the morning it will be his fault—and while doing so he made it clear to me that he’s fallen for me just as hard as I have fallen for him.”
“Dear Lord Almighty!” Corinne sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. “I shall have to tell Henry, Skinny. And when I do, he’ll speak to Win and that will be the end of it all.”
Wallis hugged her knees a little tighter. “No, you’re not going to do that, Corinne. I’m not as innocent about matters of the heart as you think I am. I’ve already lost someone I loved so much I wanted to marry him—and I thought I’d never get over him. Since meeting Win, I know I can get over him—that I’ve already done so. That is why Win falling for me is so important to me. If I returned to Baltimore engaged to Win, I wouldn’t mind any longer about … about the other person being in Baltimore with the girl he married instead of me.”
“Oh, sweetie!” Corinne put her arms around her and hugged her tight. “You should have told me you’d had an unhappy love affair. It just never occurred to me. Not when you’re still so young. I hate to say this to you, Skinny, but you not only chose wrong the first time around, you’ve chosen wrong the second time around. Win Spencer isn’t the marrying kind. He just likes to fool around a little and have fun—and as long as he does that with married women, it’s okay. No one gets hurt. Doing it with you, though, is very different. You risk losing your reputation—and once that happens, all hopes of a suitable marriage fly right out the window.”
Wallis pulled away from Corinne and looked her straight in the eyes. “Losing my reputation is the one thing I am never ever going to do, Corinne. Trust me. Win Spencer may not know it yet, but he’s finally met his match. Just you wait and see.”
T
here was a blissful intensity of happiness about the next few days that, because of the way they ended, Wallis never forgot. Although it was customary for the officers at Pensacola to work arduous eighteen-hour days, in the week that followed Wallis’s cocktail-making lesson there was a miraculous period when the entire Gang of Three was off duty simultaneously. In the late afternoon, and with Henry’s permission, they took Corinne and Wallis to a little sun-baked golf course lying halfway between the air station and the town.
It was a course Corinne had visited often, for golf was one of the few leisure interests she and Henry shared.
“It’s simple, Skinny,” she said teasingly. “You just grip the club so hard your knuckles shine white and then thwack the ball with all your might.”
Rob and Archie creased with laughter, and Win shook his head in despair.
“First of all,” he said, “you have to know how to stand over the ball properly.” He passed a club out of his golf bag over to her and then pushed a tee into the ground with the palm of his hand. “Now what you do, Wallis,” he said, placing a golf ball on top of the tee, “is this.”
He stood behind her in such close bodily contact as he positioned her hands on the club that Wallis’s cheeks flushed scarlet.
Only Corinne noticed.
As far as Rob and Archie were concerned, Win was simply giving Wallis a straightforward, necessary lesson in how to hold a club.
Her attempts to hit the ball had them all in fits of such hilarity that after twenty minutes of tuition, she was relegated to being an onlooker as the others embarked on a serious game.
Strolling across the green in Win and Corinne’s wake, Rob said to her in a voice that was, for him, unusually serious, “You do know how much I like you, Wallis, don’t you?”
She flashed him a sunny smile, hoping to defer what she anticipated was coming next. “Considering what good friends we all are, I should hope you do, Rob. And the feeling is mutual. Your friendship—and Archie’s and Win’s—has made my stay at Pensacola far more enjoyable than it would have been otherwise.”
He came to a halt, forcing her to do the same.
A light breeze lifted his sandy hair, and his gray eyes were full of intense emotion.
“I don’t just like you, Wallis. I love you. I know it sounds corny when we’ve never even dated—but the reason I’ve never asked you out on your own is because I was sure Commander Mustin would disapprove.”
With all her heart—and purely for his self-esteem—Wallis wanted to tell him that far from disapproving, Henry thought him so honorable a young man that he would have been delighted by the thought of a romance between the two of them. Saying so, though, would make what she was about to say to him even harder for him to accept.
“I don’t think our dating would be a good idea, Rob, even if Henry were to approve. I need good friends—and I want you to stay a good friend to me—but when it comes to romance …” She hesitated, looking ahead of them to where Win was just about to putt a ball. “When it comes to romance, I’ve already committed myself elsewhere.”
He followed the direction of her gaze, and his face went very still.
“I see,” he said. There was no bitterness in his voice, only bleak resignation. “I should have realized … I’m sorry I embarrassed you by speaking as I did.”
“You didn’t embarrass me.” She tucked her arm in his. “We’re friends, remember?” She let the sassiness that always amused him into her voice. “And remember, Rob, friendships often last for a lifetime, when romances don’t.”
Later, when Win and Archie were watching Rob take an expert shot, Win said to her and Corinne, “I expect you know Rob has a special mission tomorrow?”
Corinne, who never took any interest in what went on at the air station, shook her head. “What kind of special mission? He’s not going to be catapulted from a ship as Henry was, is he?”
Win gave a deep chuckle. “Nothing so dramatic. He’s going to attempt an altitude record. It will be interesting. No aviator has reached over ten thousand feet yet.”
“But isn’t that dangerous?” Wallis knew she sounded like a fool, for nearly everything the pilots did at Pensacola was dangerous. This, though, sounded more dangerous than usual.
“Oh, it’s dangerous all right, but if he succeeds he’ll get himself into naval history books.”
T
he next morning the entire air station was out in full force to watch the record attempt. Some cadets had even taken the ferry to Santa Rosa Island, from where they thought they would get a better view.