The Defiant Hero (25 page)
The trip downstairs was as slow and labored as it had been going up. But finally they were back in their room. As Eve lowered herself carefully back onto the floor, the Bear didn’t bother to tie their ankles together again. No doubt he was thinking that her bad hip kept them tethered. Good.
Amy curled up, her head in Eve’s lap. She was learning to escape her hunger through sleep.
Still, just the same, Eve put her hand on the child’s forehead, checking to be sure she wasn’t running a fever.
Amy’s head was cool.
She smelled faintly of butterscotch.
Of Ralph.
Eve closed her eyes.
“We have to go back to the house. Nick’s surely waiting for us by now.” But instead of helping her to her feet, Ralph kissed her again.
They’d spread a blanket on the grass, alongside a stream, not far from the estate. They’d shared a picnic lunch, during which time Ralph had been uncommonly silent. He’d barely eaten half of his meat pie.
And when she’d asked him what was wrong, he’d pulled her into his arms and kissed her as if there were no tomorrow.
It wasn’t as if he’d never kissed her before, because over the past few weeks, he had. He kissed her good night almost every evening. He’d kissed her a time or two on the beach, when no one had been around.
But he’d never kissed her like this, never with them both lying back on a blanket, with the weight of his body partly covering hers.
Eve knew all about sex. Her mother had explained the mechanics to her when she was barely even eight. It was the day after “Uncle” Sergei had come into Eve’s bedroom, drunk and completely naked. Eve had laughed at how funny he’d looked, but her mother had been furious. It was one of the few times her anger hadn’t been an act.
Sergei had been kicked out of the house, never to return, and Eve had lost a bit of her childhood as she’d learned for the first time about the power that women—even an eight-year-old girl—had over men.
It had taken her until now to learn that there were some men who had a similar power over women—and that Ralph was one of them.
She knew Ralph had a great deal of experience when it came to sex. With a face and eyes like his, he’d been—as her mother was fond of saying—not just around the block, but circling it for a while. His good looks would have probably been enough, but combined with that glib tongue . . . Ralph could talk his way into just about anything, including, as her mother also would have said, a girl’s panties.
Eve had been expecting him to try something like this weeks ago. She’d even had a speech prepared.
Except he didn’t seem to be trying much of anything. He rolled away from her, onto his back, one arm up over his eyes.
“I’m such a coward.”
Eve sat up, not sure at first just what he was talking about.
“I planned this so carefully,” he continued, “so that we’d have this time without Nick around, and then . . .”
And then she knew. He’d brought her out here, to this deserted spot to . . . Taking a deep breath, she launched into her speech. “Ralph.” A good start. “I’ve got to tell you that you, well, you may have gotten the wrong impression about me from the way I sometimes dress and talk.” She sounded breathy and childish, and she tried to lower the pitch of her voice in an attempt to sound more sophisticated. But she couldn’t do it. This was too important. She may have rehearsed this speech, but its content was something she believed completely. “The truth is, I believe with all my heart that a man and woman should be married before they . . . before . . .”
He looked up at her, his eyes wide. “Dear Lord, you didn’t think—” He sat up and started to laugh. “You did. You thought I was planning to try to . . .”
Eve felt her face turn bright red.
He reached for her and grabbed her before she could stand up and walk away, walk anywhere, walk to the stream. Walk into the stream.
“Not that I haven’t thought about it or wanted to—badly, I might add and . . . It was definitely my fault for kissing you that way. I mean, I was practically on top of you, so it makes sense that you’d think I was trying to . . . Heavenly God, save me, I’m just making this even more embarrassing, aren’t I?”
But he wasn’t. Like everything else he touched, he was making it bearable. As she glanced into his eyes, Eve felt her heart beating, so huge and heavy in her chest. And she suspected that if he truly tried to take advantage of her, she’d be unable to refuse him, as frightened as she’d be.
She loved him.
This wasn’t just some silly attraction, like the crushes her mother used to get on the young men who came to lounge around their swimming pool.
“Please know that I respect you far too much to even suggest you compromise yourself and your beliefs with me in any way,” he told her. “But I know myself well enough to be aware that what I should do often gets knocked aside in the heat of the moment. If such were the case, I’d take responsibility for my—our—actions. At least I would under normal circumstances. However.” He cleared his throat. All laughter was gone from his face. He was suddenly so serious. “My circumstances have suddenly rather drastically changed and you deserve far more than—”
“Ralph, is there any chance you could explain what you mean in American?” What was he telling her? Eve felt a stab of fear. Circumstances?
He laughed, but it sounded forced. “Am I being too English?”
“Quite, old man. Pretend you’re John Wayne.”
He laughed again. “I’m not sure I can. You see, I’m trying rather hard not to cry—I can’t imagine Mr. Wayne’s ever had that particular problem.”
Eve looked at him. Sure enough, there were tears in his eyes.
With one arm still around her, he got out his tin of butterscotch. He opened it with his thumb and held it out. “Better take one. It might sweeten the news I have to share.”
Bad news. He had bad news about his circumstances. Heart pounding, Eve took a candy, slipped it onto her tongue. She could barely taste the familiar sweet flavor.
Ralph drew in a deep breath, looked her in the eye, and forced a smile. “Eve, I’ve received a letter from my father. I’ve been called up to serve in the BEF—the British army. I’ve been assigned to an antitank division that’s bound for France. There’s no way around it. I have to report for duty in just over two weeks.”
He was leaving.
There was nothing he could have said—short of telling her that Nicky’d been killed—that would have devastated her more.
“I’ll have to go to my parents’ house about a day before that,” he continued. “To pick up my gear.”
Eve was frozen. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. Inside she was screaming. Inside, she’d thrown herself on the ground and was kicking her feet and sobbing, the way she’d done when she was four or five. Don’t leave me. Mommy, don’t leave me!
For the first time since she could remember, she’d felt safe. With Ralph around, she’d felt protected, taken care of. She’d started living again, instead of just surviving.
And now he was going to leave.
He was watching her, as if he expected her to say something. What could she possibly say?
“Well, that’s that, then.” She called up all of her mother’s acting talent to make her voice sound matter-of-fact, to make the expression and smile on her face look natural, instead of as if she were being eaten alive inside with grief and anger.
Ralph looked away, out at the water.
“Yes,” he said. “I guess that is that.” He nodded. “That’s that. Right.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll, um, I’ll spend the next few weeks—at night, of course—working out lesson plans for Nick, using those doctors’ methods. That way you can carry on with him. Keep up the progress we’ve been making. It’s just . . . my room in the boarding house is rather warm at night. I’ve found it’s nearly impossible to write—I perspire and the ink runs. If you don’t mind, I’d like to work in your library . . . ?”
“That’s fine.” Eve stood up. “Of course you may.” Suddenly they’d gone back to being strangers. How could he talk so calmly of the next few weeks when her heart was shattered?
They packed up their picnic and returned to the house.
As they walked back, he didn’t even try to hold her hand.
It might’ve ended there—and there were countless times when Eve wished that it had.
She spent the next three days numb. Ralph was there at the estate, teaching Nick, tying up all the loose ends. But other than that, he was already gone. He was polite to her again, nothing more. There were no more kisses on the beach, no kisses in the hallway as he pulled her into some shadowy alcove for a giddy, breathless, and far-too-brief moment of stolen passion.
He still stayed for dinner each evening—a gloomy affair despite his attempts to entertain Nick—but he retired to the library right after. No more walks on the beach or in the garden. No more stargazing from one of the balconies. No more late night talks of books and plays and dreams.
For several mornings in a row, Eve had found Ralph still in the library, slumped over his notes, fast asleep.
And then it happened.
Nick woke her up in the middle of the night—just past 1:30. He’d just gotten sick all over the bathroom. His head was pounding and he felt miserable.
His cheeks were bright red and he was frighteningly hot to the touch.
Eve got him cleaned up and put him back into bed, and went running for the library.
Ralph was still there. His eyes widened at the sight of her and she realized she hadn’t taken the time even to put on a robe over her cotton nightgown.
But she didn’t have to do more than utter the words scarlet fever before Ralph was running back down the corridor with her, to Nick’s room.
One look at the boy, one touch of his head, and Ralph was heading for the telephone. Eve didn’t know what he said or who he called, but a doctor pulled into the drive within twenty minutes.
Ralph woke the Johnsons, and together they worked to bring Nicky’s fever down. It was dawn before he was sleeping, although only fitfully.
Eve was getting a blanket and pillow from her room, preparing to curl up in a chair beside Nick’s bed, when Ralph stopped her in the hallway.
The Johnsons had gone back to bed, and the doctor had departed as well, promising to return in the early afternoon.
“He’ll get through this, Eve,” Ralph told her. “Nick is going to be all right. He’s strong. He’s a fighter.”
She nodded, but she knew his words were just that—words. Back home in California, Jilly Renquist had had scarlet fever. She was strong, too. A sturdy little girl of eleven. But she’d died.
“You should probably go,” Eve said. “It’s been a long night.”
“No,” he said, “The damage is already done, so I’m going to stay here. Mrs. Johnson made up a room for me.”
Damage, what damage? He didn’t make any sense, but then again none of this did. Scarlet fever was contagious. Why was it that Nick had gotten it, but not Eve or Ralph?
“I know you want to be with him now, but I’ll come in and sit with Nick in a few hours so you can get a chance to sleep,” he continued.
She shook her head. “I’m not going to leave him.”
“Of course not. We’ll bring a cot into the room for you. You can sleep right there while I watch over Nick.”
She was too tired and too frightened to argue. She just nodded and turned toward her little brother’s room.
But Ralph stepped in front of her. “Eve, there’s something else you should know.”
Whatever it was, it wasn’t good. He was having trouble looking her in the eye.
“I realize this is probably not the best time for this, but it wouldn’t be fair for me to withhold this from you—you’ve always been honest with me, so . . .”
Yeah, sure, she’d been honest with him. He had no idea.
“American, Ralph,” Eve said. “Think John Wayne.”
“Yes, well, I’m not sure old John would particularly give a damn, but . . .” He took a deep breath. “Both Dr. Samuels and Mrs. Johnson pulled me aside tonight to caution me and tell me . . . well . . . Doc Samuels actually gave me some condoms. Do you know what those are?”
He had her attention now. She nodded as she blushed. Yes. “Why would he . . . ?”
“Apparently the fact that lately my bicycle’s been parked out front when the milk delivery comes in the morning is the subject of a great deal of gossip in town. Mrs. J. mentioned it to me, too. She told me to pull my bike around into the garage if I’m planning to, ahem, spend the night. She then told me with huge disapproval that what you and I do is, of course, no one’s business but our own.”
“Mrs. Johnson and Dr. Samuels think that you’ve . . . that we . . . ?” She giggled, her hand up over her mouth. Oh, dear.
“Not just them—the entire town,” Ralph told her grimly. He didn’t find it funny at all. “I denied it, but . . . Eve, your reputation is in shreds, and it’s completely my fault.”
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