The Wartime Matchmakers, page 49
Elizabeth sank to the ground, the letter now pressed to her chest. Nathan removed his hat and eased down beside her. The silver lion’s head of his cane glinted in the sunlight as he rested it on his lap.
Long moments later, she opened the letter. The fact that Philip had written it made the words all that much more precious and yet unbearably hard to read. Her grief was so strong that it almost blinded her, but she forced herself to focus on Philip’s last words.
My darling,
How much I shall miss calling you that. It’s going to be the small things, the little words, the moments our hands touched and the feel of your lips on mine that I’ll miss so desperately. I’ll miss the way you smile early in the morning light as you lie beside me and the frown you make whenever I tease you. I’ll miss the way you always seem to see into my soul. You have the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. If more people loved the way you do, there would be no more war in the world.
I know you warned me not to be reckless, and please know that whatever happened, I wasn’t. I wanted more than anything to come back to you. To walk through the bureau’s doors and tell you that I’m yours now and always. I wanted to tell you that we would see the world together. We’d go visit your beloved uncle George in India and live the sort of lives only dreamers could ever have.
But if you’re reading this, it means poor Nathan has come to tell you the news. I wish with all that I am that you never faced this pain. Knowing that I’ve been the one to do this to you pains me. Wherever I am, I will do what I can to wish your pain away.
I meant what I said. If I could go back to the beginning of my life and start anew, I’d spend every moment searching for you so that I could find you and love you all over again and for far longer.
Yours always,
The scoundrel who loves you
She stared at the horizon with its clear skies. The sun was setting, painting the world in shades of gold and fuchsia.
“I have no more tears left,” she whispered. The cavern in her chest had widened to fit the entire universe.
“You know he would never want them. He would much rather you were smiling. You know how the old boy was, the way he teased you so often. He loved you to distraction.”
“He certainly did love to tease me.”
“Did he ever tell you what he told me the night after we first met you? When we left you after that first bombing?”
Her heart clenched at the memory of that hour in the basement, and she shook her head. He had kissed her in the doorway of a shop, even as the world burned around them. She’d felt that so long as he was there, life would go on. The world wouldn’t end.
“As we hopped on that fire truck and rode toward the flames, he leaned over and told me, ‘I’m going to marry that girl, Nathan.’ I remember I mocked him mercilessly about it. He simply smiled and said, ‘We’re the same, her soul and mine. Wherever the universe made us, we came from the same place, the same cosmic dust. She and I . . . we belong together, as natural as the sea and the shore.’”
They were quiet for a time after that. Lizzie didn’t want to move from the bureau’s front steps, even though darkness would soon be upon them. As soon as she stood and took that first step, she would be moving forward in a life without Philip in it. She wasn’t ready. She just needed to take a little longer to hold on to the past . . . to him.
“Do his parents know?” she asked.
“Yes. I drove to their estate this morning. Baron Lennox is not convinced he’s gone either. Lady Lennox . . . she’s harder to read. Such a lovely woman, but so very quiet in her grief.”
She finally stood. “I was supposed to meet them.” Elizabeth and Nathan began to walk back toward Hetty and Charles’s townhouse.
“You hadn’t yet?”
She shook her head. “It’s been four years, and yet we never found the time. He didn’t want his parents coming to London, not with the bombings, and he couldn’t take enough time from the base to visit them with me.”
“You should see them. They would want to meet you.”
“I don’t know if I could face them now. It would hurt too much.”
“Some things in life are worth the pain,” Nathan said. “I cursed myself when I bashed my leg. I thought it ruined my life. But if I hadn’t been injured, I would still be flying on missions, and I wouldn’t be here to watch over Eva and Marcus.” He smiled. “When I came into your office and saw Eva again the day that I registered, I knew she was the one for me. But I thought I would frighten her too much, so I let you match me with other ladies so that I would have an excuse to come see her all the time.”
Elizabeth stopped as they reached Hetty’s house. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“Because real love, even when it strikes as fast as lightning, still requires faith and trust.”
Faith and trust.
Elizabeth’s hand slid into the pocket of her dress where Philip’s letter was tucked away. She still didn’t fully believe he was gone. Philip was too alive, too real to simply be there one day and gone the next. She refused to believe it, because he had been right—they were the same. Two pieces of a whole. She would know in her very soul if he was gone, wouldn’t she?
“Will you be all right tonight?” Nathan asked. “I could stay here if you need me.” He was so earnest and full of compassion, his warm brown eyes a reflection of her pain.
“I’ll be all right,” she promised. “Will you?” He had to be hurting as much as she was. For the first time since she had met Nathan Sheridan, he couldn’t manage his usual smile. He shook his head and swallowed hard.
“It was a group of us lads—Charles, Philip, Will St. Laurent, and myself. We did everything together. I don’t know what it will mean to wake up tomorrow and not have him here. I have such a strange feeling, like I’ve left all my lights on and the blackout curtains open. It’s a terrible sense of something left undone, you see. I can’t shake the feeling. There’s a part of me that keeps thinking he’ll just fly back to the base any minute and ask if I missed him.”
Elizabeth understood all too well what Nathan meant. The war took goodbyes from the ones they loved most and left only empty graves and futile expectations of men walking back in through doors that they never would again.
“Maybe he isn’t . . . ?” she began again.
Nathan shook his head. “We can’t think like that. The moment we do, it will make the reality that much harder to accept.”
Elizabeth wrapped Nathan in a tight hug for a long moment.
“I’ll be in London tonight, but I return to Biggin Hill tomorrow. Once the funeral arrangements are made, I’ll let you know.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead like a beloved brother. Longing for Alan dug into her heart all over again.
“Thank you, Nathan.”
She watched Nathan walk away as darkness crept across the city. The sound of his cane tapping on the pavement echoed in the silence until he turned the corner. Then she went inside.
“Is everything all right, Miss Mowbray?” Jarvis asked as he took her handbag.
“No . . .” She could feel the pain deep inside her clawing its way to the surface. “Is Hetty here? I need to—”
“She’s in the drawing room.” Jarvis touched her arm, his face lined with worry. “Is there anything I can do for you, miss?”
“No, thank you, Jarvis. You’re such a darling.” She hugged the butler, much to his surprise, but then he gently patted her back.
“Do you wish to tell me about what’s bothering you?”
“It’s Philip. His plane was shot down this morning. He’s gone.”
The butler stiffened. “Not the Lennox boy . . .”
It was then she realized that the butler must have known Philip almost as long as he had known Charles. How he would miss Philip almost as much as he would Charles if something happened to him . . .
“What’s the matter, Lizzie?” Hetty’s voice echoed in the entryway.
Elizabeth released poor Jarvis, who hastily excused himself to grieve in private.
“Oh, Hetty . . .” She walked into her friend’s arms. “Tell me this is all a bad dream. Tell me that I’ll wake up tomorrow and it will be over.”
“Philip?” Hetty asked, on the verge of tears now too. Elizabeth simply nodded.
“Oh no,” Hetty gasped. “Oh no, Lizzie.”
“I have nothing left,” Elizabeth said in a whisper. “Nothing.”
“You have you,” Hetty said. “You are still here. You have me. You aren’t alone.”
A long while later, Elizabeth crept to the window in her bedchamber and parted the blackout curtains. With no light to escape into the night, she was able to steal a look at the sky. Distant stars burned millions of miles away. Endless stars. She began to count them.
It made her think of something Marcus had said before he left. He had mentioned a rumor that Jews were being identified with bright-yellow patches of cloth cut into the shape of stars and sewn onto their clothes. Hitler had sought to mark those he wished to destroy, but he had done so with the most powerful symbol of hope that ever existed. Even if one destroyed a star, new life was always born from it.
No one could ever count all the stars—their numbers might as well be infinite. Elizabeth continued to stare up at the sky. Was Philip among these glittering stars now? When this war was over, Elizabeth would see a vast sky of stars and she would never forget what each one meant.
Somehow, life did go on in the week following Philip’s death. Each day Elizabeth woke, dressed, ate a light breakfast, and headed to the bureau’s office on Bond Street. The V-1 flying bombs still flew across the Channel into England, their buzzing engines cutting short just a second before they fell to the earth and exploded. Elizabeth had witnessed several over the last few days, and despite the fresh fear they inspired in the already devastated city, Elizabeth was unafraid. Her greatest fear had already happened. What more could they take from her? It seemed so silly to cower and hide now, so she didn’t. She stopped retreating to the Anderson shelter and stayed in her bed whenever the sirens went off. If she was fated to go, it would be on her terms.
Both Hetty and Miss Plumley grew concerned about her new bravado, but Elizabeth didn’t care. She poured herself all the more into the work of matching couples with a level of intensity that exhausted even Hetty.
But her strength was soon tested. On the sixth day after Philip’s plane was lost, Lord and Lady Lennox came to the bureau.
When Miss Plumley informed her of their arrival, she had them sent up immediately. Hetty was out having lunch with her father, and with no appointments that afternoon, Elizabeth could take her time talking to them in private. Her heart beat so hard in her chest that her ribs began to ache. She drew a steadying breath and opened the door.
Lord Lennox was tall and in fine shape, with silvery blond hair and bright-blue eyes, every inch the dashing flying ace he’d been during the Great War. It was easy to see where Philip got his looks. Nothing in his face suggested weakness, except perhaps his eyes, which held a vast pain she recognized all too well.
Lady Lennox was a stunning brunette with soft gray eyes, and she was dressed as elegantly as her husband. Something about her face reminded Elizabeth of Philip—a softness, a compassionate playfulness that was now marred with heartbreak. They were exactly how Elizabeth had always envisioned Philip’s parents to be.
“Are you Miss Mowbray?” Philip’s father asked.
Elizabeth shut the door, giving them all some privacy. “Yes.”
“I am Andrew Lennox, Philip’s father. This is Louise, his mother.” He cleared his throat. “We were supposed to meet you soon, before . . .” Andrew didn’t continue.
Elizabeth found it almost impossible to speak but managed to say, “Yes.” The love she bore for their son was so strong that it burned bright within the wintry world where her heart was covered in snow and encased in ice.
Andrew cleared his throat. “I apologize for showing up without scheduling an appointment. It’s just that . . . we wanted to meet you, to see his Lizzie for ourselves. Our boy has talked of nothing else over the past few years.” Lord Lennox’s strained smile was heartbreaking. “We want you to know that we consider you the daughter we never had, even with Philip gone. You were his, and now you are ours. If you’ll have us as a family, that is.”
Louise’s hands shook as she set her handbag down on Elizabeth’s desk. Then she placed her hands on Elizabeth’s shoulders as she appraised her with motherly affection.
“You are so lovely, my dear, so very lovely. I can see what drew him to you.” She smiled. “He told us so much about you, we feel as though we’ve known you forever. Don’t we, Andrew?” Her husband nodded.
Elizabeth was surprised by that. “You do?”
“Oh yes, we know all about your adventures in India, about the bureau and everything,” Louise said. “It was then we understood how he fell in love with you. You see, no one before you has ever turned his head. My son is a notorious flirt, but the moment he met you . . . you were all he could talk about. You were his world.” Louise was smiling as she said it, but the smile was full of the pain only a mother could feel.
“I . . .” It took Elizabeth a moment to collect herself before she could continue. “Philip was my second chance. I made a mess of things when I first thought I fell in love—what I thought was love. It was only after I met Philip that I learned what real love is, how it makes you feel. Loving him made me fearless. Even now, I’m still fearless, perhaps even more so.” She shook her head. “I’m sure that must sound like nonsense.”
“Not at all,” Louise assured her.
“I . . . I miss him so much,” Elizabeth confessed. Louise’s eyes filled with tears.
“As much as I never wanted my son to fight in this war,” Andrew began, his voice quiet, “as a parent, you learn that you can’t hold your child back. You can’t let them shun life and be afraid of things, or else your child will someday become an old man who never tasted the sweet fire of life. And death is a part of that . . . but no parent should ever have to bury their child. My boy was supposed to live to a ripe old age, surrounded by grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Now we have only ourselves, but thankfully, we still have you.”
The honesty and love in Andrew’s eyes and voice struck a chord so deep that Elizabeth would feel the vibrations for years to come.
“You don’t know what it means for us to meet you,” Louise went on, tears dripping down her face. “To look at you, to see your courage and know what you do each day for others—it eases the ache in my heart to know that my son loved you and that you loved him. When I think of all these lads who don’t come home, how our boys trained, were forced to endure things and to go on and kill other mothers’ sons, how the light from all these mothers’ faces must die when they learn their lads are gone . . . I have to hold on and think that as long as women like you are here, you will hold the world together for the men who do come home.”
“No one is a lost cause,” Elizabeth said. A sudden memory of Philip came to her. “When Philip smiled at me or teased me, which he did so often, it always gave me the most wonderful feeling, like I had left a dark bit of woods and found myself on a hillside full of yellow gorse and poppies in bloom, with the warm summer sun surrounding me in all its splendor. When he made me feel like that, nothing was impossible, nothing. His love gave me an undying flame. I only wish I could have given him half my life so that we would have had more time together . . .”
Louise covered her mouth with a trembling hand as she shared a look with her husband.
“Even a thousand years isn’t enough when you love someone that deeply,” Lord Lennox said.
“No, it isn’t,” Elizabeth agreed. “Would you . . . would you tell me about him, what he was like as a boy?” She hoped desperately they would be able to give her new memories to cling to.
“We would love to tell you everything,” his mother said.
Elizabeth gestured for them to sit with her. “Start at the beginning.” The three of them lost themselves in recounting Philip’s life and stories of his mischief and cleverness. By the time Louise and Andrew had to leave, Elizabeth was wiping away fresh tears and smiling.
“Come and stay at our estate next week,” Louise offered. “Please. We’ve arranged for Philip’s service, and we would like you to stay a few days afterward, if you’d like.”
“I would like that, Lady Lennox. Thank you.”
“It’s Louise and Andrew to you, my dear,” Philip’s mother said, and she stroked a lock of hair from Elizabeth’s face like a mother would her daughter.
“Thank you so much.” Elizabeth suddenly remembered that she still wore the RAF sweetheart pin on her dress, and she reached up to unbutton it. “Philip gave this to me. You should have—”
“It’s yours, my dear. Keep it safe for him,” Andrew said with loving but sorrow-filled eyes.
“I will. Always.” It was a promise. The pin would never be left anywhere. It was part of her now, just as Philip’s love and memories were a part of her.
“We will ring you once we know when you should come down for the service. We’ll send our car.”
“Oh, but the petrol . . .”
“Don’t worry about the petrol, dear,” Louise said. “We stayed in the country so much that we saved up our rations quite cleverly.”
Elizabeth hugged them both goodbye and sat at her desk again once they were gone. It was a strange thing to see what her life might have been like if Philip hadn’t died. Andrew and Louise would have been her mother- and father-in-law.
Hetty returned from her lunch with her father and saw the odd look on Elizabeth’s face. “Are you all right, Lizzie?”
“Yes, I feel strangely at peace,” Elizabeth said. “Not that I deserve any, but somehow I do feel steady inside, like a flowing river. The pain is still there, but there’s a peace to that too.”
“I’m glad you’re feeling better. I hope you are up for a bit of good news,” Hetty said, and with a small smile, she removed a letter from her handbag.
