THE WAR BRIDE CLUB (32 page)

      Now Betty had tears in her eyes. She couldn’t have asked him to open up more than he had. It meant a lot to her. And she could tell that talking like this didn’t come naturally to him.
 

      “I won’t ever want to stay with your mother, Luke. I don’t mean any disrespect, but I didn’t exactly warm to her.”

      He stopped, took a long sip of his wine, and then sat back as two plates were placed in front of them. Betty eyed the steak with delight. It was huge. A slab of beef beside tiny potatoes and mushrooms, with a sauce drizzled over everything.
 

      “This looks incredible,” she said.
 

      Luke gestured for her to start.

      “Before Ivy came to live with me, I ate here almost every night,” he confessed.
 

      Betty smiled up at him before taking her first mouthful. The meat was like marshmallow on her tongue.
 

      “Ivy cooks wonderful meals, but this
is
good.”

      Luke sat back for a moment.
 

      “You know, you’ve dealt with Charlie’s death extremely well.”

      She hesitated. Was this a trick question? Had he buttered her up just now so he could show his true feelings?
 

      “I’m not so sure about that,” she said.
 

      He raised one eyebrow before cutting into his steak again.
 

      “If you mean the brave face I put on every day, then I guess you’re right. But the real me? She’s the one crying every night into her pillow, holding her baby tight and whispering his father’s name, so he never forgets it.”

      Luke smiled. Was that what he’d wanted to hear?

      “I like you, Betty. Please don’t take my words the wrong way. I’m prone to saying the wrong thing to women.”

      It was like riding a wave with this man. One minute she was attracted to him, enamoured by his company, the next, he seemed to question her intentions, to artfully interrogate her.
 

      “I loved Charlie dearly, Luke. But he’s gone, and I can either live in the past and wallow, or move forward.” She matched his stare. “For the record, I choose the future.”

      “Good.” He acted as if nothing untoward had been said between them. “To friendship.”

      Luke raised his glass. She swallowed her mouthful and did the same.

      “To family,” she said.
 

      They clinked glasses, eyes locked.
 

      “I’m pleased you’re here, Betty. Truly I am.”

      She wasn’t sure of her exact feelings, but she was grateful. And pleased that at least she wasn’t alone.
 

      The beat in her stomach that often hit when she was close to Luke had started to thump again, but she ignored it. He wasn’t interested in her like that. And neither was she in him. They shared family, and friendship. Nothing more.
 

      “So tell me about the plan to locate the rest of your friends?”

      She smiled at his words. Finally, a safe topic.
 

      “Well, I’m hoping to see June in a few weeks time. She and her husband are going on vacation until then. I guess the search starts all over again for the other two.”

      Luke finished his meal, dabbed at his mouth with a napkin and sat back in his chair, wine glass in hand.
 

      “I look forward to meeting this June. Perhaps we could have her over to dinner one night with her husband? After you girls have had a chance to catch up with one another.”

      She nodded. Perhaps. But for now, she just wanted to see June again herself. Talk with her about what had happened, confide in her, hear about her own life here in America.
 

      Her friendship with the other girls was something she craved so much it hurt.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

THE drive to the farm was worse than Madeline had imagined. Even with her little girl tucked against her chest.
 

      The baby had
 
arrived almost three weeks early, which meant she’d had three days in their old house, as a mother, before they’d had to pack the last of their belongings and go.
 

      Madeline was torn.
 

      Her heart still felt shattered. Torn into a thousand pieces when she so much as thought about her father. About the funeral she’d missed, the chance to say goodbye to him alongside their family and friends, and that she’d left it too late to ask him for help.
 

      But most of all, she regretted ever coming here. She loved her father. How could she have ever thought it possible to live in a foreign country, with no family, and expect to be happy?
 

       And then she was faced with her heart mending, each piece fitting back into place, every time she looked at her child.

      Charlotte’s tiny hands, dark blue eyes, smattering of hair and elfin features made her fall even deeper in love every day. With every gaze, every smile.
 

      Only to break all over again when she thought of her child’s father.
Of her husband
.
 

      It was a vicious cycle, only made worse by the hatred she developed every day when she thought about her Roy. About what he had done, behind her back, and the life he was trying to force upon her.
 

      She hated him.
 

      There was no longer room for pity in her heart. No longer even room for sadness. Only an anger that grew hour upon hour, that made her so bitter she wanted to scream from the cruelness of it all.
 

* * *

      “Well, look who we have here.”

      Madeline tried to ignore the cruel taunt. There was a bitterness in her mother-in-law’s voice that she didn’t want to see. Not when she was still trying to hold on to the life she’d just given up.
 

      “Not so high and mighty now you haven’t got your father, are we?”

      Alice swallowed the lump in her throat. Why would she be so cruel?
How?
What would possess a woman to be so heartless? 
      Madeline kept her head held high. It was obvious from his silence that Roy wasn’t going to stick up for her.
 

      She held Charlotte tight, not letting Roy’s family so much as glimpse her. They hadn’t met their granddaughter before, and Madeline wished they’d never been given the opportunity to.
 

      The sneer from behind her almost stopped her in her steps. Almost.
 

      “Did you hear me girl?” Her mother-in-law called. “He’s gone now, so you’ll never get back on that ship. You hear me?”

      Her feet did stop then. Her shoes stuck like glue on the tatty brown grass.
 

      
How did she know that?

      Madeline turned, Charlotte still cradled firmly in her arms, as if she could somehow draw strength from her.
 

      “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her voice shook. She could feel the tremble of her lower lip.
 

      Roy stood still, watching. Her mother-in-law glared at her, eyes shining, enjoying the scene, and her sister-in-law just smirked.
 

      “Ah, that got your attention, did it?”

      Madeline focused on the cool exhale of her breath, in and out, as her lungs worked. Just keep breathing, she told herself. Stay calm. The silly old woman couldn’t know. Could she?

      “I read every letter, you know. Every one,” she crowed.
 

      “Mother!” Roy’s voice hit out like a bad musical note through the air.
 

      She felt like she was being dragged beneath water. Drowning slowly, blackness all around her. It couldn’t be. No.
Please, Lord, no.

      Madeline shut her eyes, tried to control her fear. Her anger.
 

      “I said I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Only this time she could hear the weakness of her tone, the raspy whisper of her voice that sounded like it was being dragged over gravel.
 

      “He wrote to you. I even knew he was sick. But you missed your chance. And now he’s gone.”

      Madeline ran. She couldn’t do anything else. She ran into the house, through the kitchen, into their old bedroom. She didn’t know where else to go.
 

      The crow of laughter from outside still seemed to find her. The cruel, indecent tune of her mother-in-law, knowing that she’d succeeded in keeping Madeline here.
 

      She looked down at Charlotte. At her sweet, innocent face.
 

      Had she not gotten pregnant, maybe they would have been pleased to see the back of her. But now? She was under no illusions what they wanted. Their son and their grandchild.
 

      Well, they could have Roy, but they weren’t getting their hands on her little girl.
 

      Not while she still had air in her lungs and fight in her body.

      She wouldn’t let them so much as touch her.
 

      But she would find the letters. If the old biddy hadn’t burned them yet, she was going to find them. Devour them.
 

      And then she was going to figure out just how she was going to get back home.
 

      
Because she would.
And no one, not her husband, and certainly not her mother-in-law, was going to stop her.

      All this time she’d thought her family hadn’t wanted to write to her. Had been too busy, were annoyed at her for leaving them. She’d never even guessed her father could be sick – he’d been the picture of health when she’d left.
 

      She’d also never considered
 
the lengths a bitter old lady could go to to ruin her daughter-in-law’s life.
 

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

SHE hadn’t expected there to be so many. Letter upon letter, all addressed to her in either her father’s spidery hand, or her mother’s even, perfect prose. Even her sister had written to her.
 

      Asking why she never responded to their questions. Wondering why she acted like she’d never received mail from them when they’d written to her week after week.
 

      It made her feel cold.
Dead
.
 

      Charlotte started to snuffle and make a feeble cry, but Madeline couldn’t rise. How could she do anything when she now knew that her father had died, hoping to see her again one last time. Wanting to see her before he passed.
 

      And perhaps worse of all; telling her he would bring her home before he died. That if something was wrong, if she wanted to come back, for whatever reason, he would bring her.
 

      Her in-laws had known her father was on his sickbed, that he’d been unwell for months, and they hadn’t bothered to tell her.
Had purposely kept it from her.
 

      They’d passed her the odd letter, early on, just to stop her from being suspicious, but now she realized how stupid she’d been. Between her job, the pregnancy, the stress of moving house and then life as a mother, she’d worried herself sick but not really thought it through.
 

      In hindsight, she should have known.
 

      But it was all very well being able to wish on something passed.
 

      She walked over to scoop Charlotte up in one arm, still holding one of the letters in her other hand.
 

      This only made her more determined to go, to leave this God forsaken place, but she just didn’t have enough money. Not even close to enough, not after buying all the things they’d needed for the baby.

      And it wasn’t like she could go and get a job somewhere. Not living all the way out here.
 

      It was probably one of the reasons they’d wanted her back here. To keep her under lock and key, away from the world.
 

      It also explained why Roy had become so cold.
 

      They’d obviously waited until the time was right. Waited until they knew their marriage was almost on track. To make sure that when they told him, that his wife had the option to return home and wanted to leave him, it would hurt him the most. That he’d agree to this plan.
 

      She sat back in the old rocking chair in their room to feed Charlotte. The letter fell to the floor and she didn’t bother to retrieve it. Her eyes followed it though, thinking, knowing there was something she could do.