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‘You drank raw grape juice, too?’
She nodded. ‘Our housekeeper was making wine.’
He had to shake in order to get rid of the shudder rippling over him. His grandfather had made wine once. It had been bad. The morning after had been downright miserable. Being fifteen might have had something to do with it. ‘That had to be worse,’ he admitted aloud.
Her cheeks had turned pink. ‘It certainly was awful.’ With a sigh, she added, ‘And like you, I had to swallow it or get caught.’
Curious, he asked, ‘So do you drink wine now?’
‘Not if I don’t have to,’ she answered.
The laugh they shared lightened the air between them. Hoping it stayed that way, but not wanting to put too much into it, he asked, ‘So which berries are we picking?’ The berries in the basket he’d taken from Charlotte were green and hairy. And more unappetising than any he’d ever seen.
She stepped near the bushes and pointed out a small cluster of berries. ‘Gooseberries.’
‘They’re supposed to be green?’
‘Yes.’
‘And hairy?’
She tried but couldn’t smother another giggle, even with her hand. ‘Yes.’
‘Most of the green berries I’ve seen haven’t been ripe, and hair, I associate that with mould.’
‘Well, you’re not in America, Sergeant Johnson.’
‘You don’t say?’
Her brief glance showed the shine was disappearing from her eyes.
Not wanting that, he asked, ‘Can I eat one?’
She shrugged. ‘Yes.’
‘You aren’t trying to poison me, are you?’
The shine returned to her eyes, turning them a thoughtful, shimmering brown. If he wasn’t careful, he could get lost in those eyes. Except he couldn’t look away because he knew what she was thinking.
‘You hadn’t thought about poisoning me?’ Coaxing, he added, ‘Come on. I know you did.’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘But you are now.’
She laughed and handed him a berry she’d plucked. ‘Go ahead and eat one.’
He took it and ate it, puckering the entire time because his first reaction had been to spit it out. Swallowing twice to get it to go down, he shook his head. ‘That’s as bitter as Grandma’s grape juice had been.’
Hiding a smile, she continued picking berries and dropping them into her basket. ‘They’ll be sweeter later in the year.’
‘Then why don’t you wait until later to pick them?’
‘Because the more we pick now, the more we’ll have later.’ She held up one of the green berries. ‘They may taste bitter by themselves, but you’d be amazed by how good they are in a bread and butter pudding.’
He waited for her to pop the berry in her mouth, but when she dropped it in the basket instead, he shook his head. ‘I find that very hard to believe considering you won’t eat one.’
A hint of dog-eared determination crossed her face as she plucked another berry and popped it in her mouth. Her expression remained unchanged, except for a hint of a pinch to her lips as she swallowed.
‘Satisfied?’ she asked after swallowing again.
With her lips pinched tight, pink cheeks and the sunshine making her black hair shimmer, she was cute. Really cute. His mind shifted. ‘Why don’t you like Americans?’
He wanted to kick himself at how her face fell and she blinked slowly, as if trying to hide something. She bit her bottom lip before turning back to the berries.
‘That was a terrible trick you played,’ she said.
‘What trick?’
She cast him a scathing look while saying, ‘What trick? Have you ever been hit on the top of the head by a sweet? Well, I have and it hurts.’
Now he really wanted to kick himself. He hadn’t thought of that. ‘I’m sorry, I—’
‘Didn’t think of that? You only thought of a way to mock me. To get me to take your money?’
‘I wasn’t mocking you,’ he answered. ‘I wouldn’t do that.’ Noting there was more she was trying to hide, he shook his head. ‘Honestly, and I wasn’t trying to scare you either.’
She reached for another clump of berries, but stopped and balled her hand into a fist instead. ‘Are you trying to say it wasn’t another one of your jokes? Like the plane?’
‘Yes, or no, I’m not sure which is right. Yes, that’s what I’m saying, no, it wasn’t a joke.’
She eyed him critically.
‘I truly didn’t think about the candy hitting someone or that it would scare you.’ He huffed out a breath. Those were things he should have thought about, but hadn’t. These people had been taught—hell, the entire world was being taught to run and hide, protect themselves, from anything and everything falling from the sky. He’d talked to the school children about that very issue. ‘I’m sorry.’ Shaking his head, he admitted, ‘I’m not sure what else to say.’ He dug in his pocket and pulled out the candy bar. ‘I brought a peace offering.’
‘I don’t want a peace offering.’
‘Will you accept an apology?’
She looked around, not necessarily at anything in particular, just anywhere but at him.
They stood there for a stilled moment. Not sure what more to say or do, he didn’t as much as breathe.
She moved first, spun around and started picking berries again. ‘I still won’t take your money.’
‘That’s good.’ He dropped the candy bar into his basket and picked several berries before adding, ‘Because I spent it.’
‘It was yours to spend.’ She’d taken several steps away, clearing the berries off the bushes with remarkable speed.
He took a couple of long steps to catch up with her. ‘I bought candy with the money. Lots of candy. Ten, maybe twenty times more than what was dropped.’
Turning to face him slowly, she asked, ‘Why?’
He shrugged. ‘You said it was rationed and hard to come by. We, the GIs, get it with our food packs. A wide variety. Some men like it, others don’t. So I bought up all I could. Figured I’d pass it out to the children and, being short on time, I came up with the idea of the pilots dropping it as they flew overhead.’
Her frown increased, but so did the thoughtfulness of her gaze. ‘Did you drop it other places?’
‘No, I guess you could call this my test run.’ Flashing her a smile that showed the guilt inside him, he added, ‘I guess I’ll have to rethink the delivery.’
She turned completely around, pausing briefly to look off at each of the children picking berries at different places in the long hedgerows encircling the field. ‘They certainly were excited yesterday and again today when they found a few more pieces.’
‘I suspect there are more children like those two boys who’d lived with Mrs Whitcomb.’ He glanced at the children picking berries. ‘Those boys had been miserable there.’
‘Yes, they had been and are much better off with the Butlers.’
He stepped up beside her. ‘You gave me the idea. When you said there wasn’t any candy. I knew where there was an abundance of that and sharing it seemed appropriate.’
Her shoulders slumped slightly. ‘It appears your benevolence was in the right place, it was just your delivery that was lacking.’
Taking advantage of her acknowledgement, he asked, ‘Would you be willing to help me work on that? The delivery?’
Her frown included a gaze that said he’d either lost his mind, or that she thought he was teasing her.
He laid a hand on her arm. ‘I’m serious, Kathryn. I can’t imagine how these children must feel, being taken away from their families, but you can. You’ve seen them brought to the house, scared and alone, and are helping them adjust.’ He glanced towards the children and a hard lump formed in his throat. ‘My sister, Judy, died when she was young, thirteen, and a day doesn’t go by that I don’t miss her.’
Her expression grew so soft, so tender, he had a hard time swallowing.
‘I’m sorry for your loss. I truly am.’
Somewhat shocked that he’d told her that, he shook his head. ‘I—Thank you, but I didn’t say that for sympathy, I was thinking of the children. War is tough all the way around, but it has to be worse for them.’
She followed his gaze towards the children. ‘I agree, and not all children are treated as well or have fared as well as the ones placed with Norman and Charlotte.’
‘I’ve witnessed that myself.’ The two boys from the fires had told him that they hadn’t been allowed out of the bedroom except to go to school and that the only food they got to eat was what Oscar and Ed left outside the pub for them grab on their way to and from school. That’s what they’d been doing in the barn, eating, and had found an old lantern they decided to try to light. ‘I know it’s not much, but the candy could be a small consolation for them.’
‘It certainly thrilled these children and I’m sure it would others.’
Before he could stop himself, he asked, ‘Why are you here?’
She started picking berries again. ‘My father sent me here three years ago, when many of the girls my age were joining the Auxiliary Territorial Service. He’s a British Intelligence Officer and knew many of the ATS members would be sent to France and Germany. He didn’t want that for me.’ Glancing his way, she added, ‘And my mum didn’t want me anywhere near soldiers, including the American ones.’
‘Why?’
‘She has her reasons.’
Considering how outspoken and stubborn Kathryn was, he questioned if she’d merely obeyed what her parents wanted. ‘Do you?’
Without missing a berry, she said, ‘Yes. The same reason as my mum.’
‘What’s that?’
The way she eyed him, from head to toe for a silent moment, he questioned if she’d answer and, for a reason he wasn’t willing to investigate, he discovered he was holding his breath.
Turning back to the bush, she said, ‘This isn’t the first war to bring American soldiers on to our soil.’
The air left his chest as relief washed over him. A simple reason, really, yet to her it must be more. ‘No, it’s not.’
‘They come and leave again, go wherever the army sends them with no concern to those they leave behind.’
The bitterness in her tone was colder than a North Dakota winter and chilled him just as deeply. Not sure he should, but still had to, he asked, ‘That happened to your mother?’
‘No, my aunt.’ With an even colder tone, she added, ‘And her son, my cousin.’
‘What about after his tour of duty?’
As she turned back to her berry picking, she snapped, ‘He’d forgotten all about them by then.’
World War I, as it was now being called, had provided many men with foreign brides, just as he had no doubt that this war would. For those foolish enough to go down that lane. He wasn’t. He also wasn’t foolish enough to continue a conversation that clearly disturbed her. However, what he had learned was all the more reason to befriend her. If the Brigadier disliked Americans as much as Kathryn did, he wouldn’t be any more interested in helping him find Ralph than the army was, unless his daughter asked him to.
Stepping up beside her to pluck a few more berries, he asked, ‘So, back to my original question—will you help me figure out a better way to distribute the candy to the children? I know it’s not much, but...’ nodding towards the children, he continued ‘...it could mean a lot to them.’
‘It would need to include other children as well,’ she said.
‘Of course. As many children as possible, which is another reason I need your help.’
Tucking several strands of her long black hair behind one ear, she said, ‘You are persistent, aren’t you?’
The smile she attempted to hide gave him hope. ‘I’ve been called worse.’ Lifting the candy bar out of his basket, he held it out to her. ‘Truce?’ When it appeared she wasn’t going to give in, he added, ‘Think of the children. How much it would mean to them.’
Her smile included a hint of pink covering both cheeks as she shook her head and took the candy bar. ‘Truce.’
‘That’s made by the Hershey candy company,’ he said, hoping to keep the smile on her lips. ‘It comes from Hershey, Pennsylvania, where the world’s largest chocolate factory is.’
When she eyed him critically he held up a hand.
‘Honest. They make all sorts of candy.’ He had no idea if his next statement was 100 per cent true, but wanted to get her further on his side. ‘They even make a candy bar named after Babe Ruth, the greatest baseball player in the world.’
‘Baseball?’
‘You’ve never played baseball? Well, let me tell you about that.’
Chapter Four (#u739ddb39-624e-5a33-b137-8be3ebbde695)
11th of June, 1942
Dear Diary,
The warmer days have arrived, with plenty of sunshine, which seems contradictory with all that’s happening in the world. The war continues to rage on and it would be far more fitting for the skies to be cloudy and grey. I feel as if I should be that way, too, and I’m a bit ashamed of myself for feeling so happy at times.
