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Cadence

1942

T he morning after our night on the Putnam yacht, I slept in and woke to Bess shaking my arm.

“Cade. Wake up. Peter’s gone.”

I sat up, heart racing. “ What? ”

“Gram says Major Gilbert’s man just came, right after Margaret left for work at the pharmacy, and took him up to the base for that game. Said they needed him badly since they were losing.”

“Oh, no.”

“Sounds like he tried to protest. Gram tried, too, but he ended up going.” She shrugged.

I threw back the covers. “What time’s the match?”

“It’s been going on for a while. Briar’s watering the middle field and said she’d meet us up on the hill. I told her about Peter being Donald.”

“Good. Ask Gram if there’s gas in the tank. We need to get up there now.”

—

By the time Gram, Bess, and I zoomed up to the guard shack at Peaked Hill, we could hear the soccer match in full swing. We caught up with Peter and Major Gilbert’s assistant, who’d been stopped at the gate; a sentry inside the shack appeared to be talking to someone on the phone.

Bess stopped the car and I hurried to the jeep, reminding myself to refer to Peter as Donald. “Donald. There you are. We need you at home.”

“Sorry, ma’am. Major Gilbert’s orders. I’m to bring him up to the field right away. We’re just calling the local police for ID verification, since he forgot his at home.”

“He really can’t stay,” I said.

I looked back at Gram and Bess, dread creeping in. Once they dug into Peter’s story, it would be clear he was not here legally. Would Fred Leo have to come over and put him in handcuffs? He’d have to say we’d harbored him.

“Sorry,” the assistant repeated. He leaned closer to me. “To be honest, we’re losing pretty bad. We need the firepower.”

Sweat dripped down my back. Would Fred take the rest of us away, too?

A stocky private in workout clothes came running down the hill. “Jenkins, what’s the holdup?” he called out.

“No ID,” Jenkins called back.

“Get him up here on the double, anyway.” He waved us through. “Just let ’em all in.”

The sentry in the shack hung up the phone and we all drove to the heart of the camp, where Army and Navy soldiers lined the field, cheering their teams on.

We helped Gram to the sidelines and got her settled in a beach chair Bess had brought. I spotted Gil on the field, playing for Army, of course, in the usual green shorts and shirt; the Navy team was outfitted in blue. They got Peter onto the field as soon as he was dressed, and in no time his shirt was dark with sweat. One card table at the head of the field displayed a silver trophy, catching the sun, and another held a pitcher of water.

It didn’t happen immediately, but Peter scored one goal and then Army built on that momentum. It turned out that Peter was pretty good. He was clearly out of shape, after being on a U-boat for two months, unable to walk more than a few feet in any direction; almost dying from hypothermia would do that, too. But Major Gilbert was certainly pleased as the tide turned for the men in green. Part of me thought that even if he knew Peter was a deserting German soldier, Gil would keep him on the team to defend the trophy.

“Peter’s doing so well,” Bess said.

My stomach lurched. “You mean Donald,” I murmured.

“Of course,” she said.

She reminded Gram to say Donald. It would be just our luck to have Peter exposed by one of our own.

Briar edged through the crowd and came to stand next to me. It was good to have her there. I could depend on her not slipping up about Peter.

“Who’s winning?” Briar asked.

“Army is now,” Bess said.

“Men will do anything for a trophy,” Briar said, and crouched next to Gram’s chair.

“Look who’s here,” Bess said, nodding to a woman nearby. “Old Silk and Pearls.”

It was Gil’s Amelia, standing on the sidelines, cheering Army on. It irritated me that she was still hanging around on my island. Didn’t she have BBC stories to cover elsewhere? There was a war going on, after all.

I tried to focus on the match and our strategy for getting Peter home immediately after it ended, to lower the risk of some sort of slip.

It was hard not to watch Gil as he ran back and forth along the field. It was funny that Winnie had said I was in love. Was it even possible to love someone you barely knew? I didn’t even know his real first name.

Gil ran by us, and our eyes met. I almost waved, but then he looked away and kept running. My future husband was not exactly committing to the relationship. Might have something to do with his girlfriend standing ten feet away.

Suddenly, as if thinking about it made her appear, Amelia was standing next to me.

“Oh, is this the whole Smith family? How lovely.” She gave herself a little hug. “And so cozy, all of you here.”

I made introductions and we watched the game.

“They’re winning,” I said, just to make conversation. “Gil must be happy.”

Amelia turned with a smile. “Is it Gil now? I love you Americans, so familiar.”

“Best to be on a first-name basis, with me writing about the Army in my column.”

“I enjoyed your last column. Heard about that Oak Bluffs trip. How was it?”

“Crowded.”

“If I’m honest, I know things are terribly informal here and all, but where I come from, a single woman doesn’t ride alone in a car with another woman’s fiancé.”

Gil scored a goal, the crowd erupted in cheers, and Amelia clapped. “Good job, you!” She turned to me again. “He’s in cracking form.”

I checked her ring finger and found it ringless. “I didn’t know you were engaged.”

Amelia leaned closer to me, eyes on the soccer field. “Well, things were speeding along until you two started joyriding.”

“I have no intentions toward him, Amelia.”

“Well, that’s rubbish. Any woman with a pulse desires him. I completely understand the attraction. But, fair warning, he always comes back to me.”

I kept my gaze on the game. “Good to know.”

“And you might want to ask him about Greta.”

“Who?” I asked nonchalantly.

Amelia smiled. “You see, there’s rather a queue forming for dear Gil. So don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She wandered away, and Bess and I exchanged a glance.

“Those two fight a lot,” Briar said.

Bess and I turned to her.

She shrugged. “I saw them in town yesterday. She was giving it to him good.”

Sometimes it was helpful to have an overly inquisitive sister.

The game ended up being close, but Army pulled ahead for the win, with Peter assisting on their final goal. The Army team went crazy, patting Peter on the back, and Gil walked away toward the Quonset hut in the distance. Why wasn’t he celebrating with his men?

Army raised the trophy high, then both teams lined up and shook one another’s hands, in a show of good sportsmanship. Briar went off in search of the bathroom; I left Gram with Bess and approached Peter at the water table. It wouldn’t be long before we got him back down to the house and I could breathe freely again.

“Get your things,” I said, keeping my voice low. “And we’ll go right home.”

Peter toweled sweat from his face and nodded. “I could use a break. I’m not fifteen anymore.”

Two players for the Navy team approached the water table; I recognized one as the goalie. He downed a cup of water and turned to Peter. “Great playing out there today.”

“It’s been a while, but thanks,” Peter said, in his Midwestern accent, and started to walk away.

The goalie followed Peter. “You’re from the Twin Cities? I’d recognize that accent anywhere.”

I swallowed hard. Why had Peter said so much?

“Yes, nice to meet ya,” Peter said, and moved along.

The goalie kept following him. “My aunt and uncle live there. I swear you look so familiar.”

Peter jabbed a thumb in the direction of the field. “Gotta get back to the team.”

“Know the Richmonds? From Minneapolis?”

Peter shook his head. “Can’t say that I do.”

“Their son Oliver, my cousin, went to the championships there, and we went out from New Jersey for it. I was talking to Major Gilbert, and he said you went, too.”

“Yup,” Peter replied. “Seems like a million years ago now.”

The goalie persisted. “You look just like a guy on his team. Kid went back to Germany with his parents, and the team never went to state again.”

“Germany, wow.”

“Name wasn’t Donald, though. Peter something? I bet my mom still has the pictures.”

I stepped toward them, ready to intervene. Should I pull Peter away? Claim our cousin Donald was needed elsewhere?

All at once Bess pushed past the players to me. “Cadence—”

“Not now, Bess,” I said.

I looked beyond her to a crowd gathering at the sidelines, near where we’d been standing.

“Come quick,” she said. “It’s Gram.”