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39

Cadence

1942

G ram was exhausted by the time the funeral reception wrapped up and I brought her back to the hospital. Though she’d already buried two children—my mother and uncle—the news of Tom’s death was the one to finally break her physically.

I drove home and went to the kitchen, trying not to look at Scout stretched out by the hearth, resting her head on her paws. Gil would be here soon to distract me from the pain of missing Tom.

I found an envelope addressed to me on the kitchen table. A telegram. I opened it, thinking for a moment it might be the Army with news. They had made a mistake. Tom was still alive. I pulled the telegram from the envelope and read, OUR DEEPEST CONDOLENCES. WINNIE AND YOUR PUTNAM FRIENDS. I held the paper to my chest. Of course there had been no mistake. That infinitely kind gesture from Winnie and the girls made me wish we could rewind and go back to our night on the yacht, still unaware of Tom’s death.

Gil pulled up out front, and I called upstairs to warn Peter of his arrival and to stay in the attic. I met Gil at the front door, and we stood in the darkened living room.

He removed his hat when he entered. “I know this is highly unusual, and I apologize in advance for speaking of it on the night of your brother’s service.”

“Shall we sit?” I asked, putting the telegram on the table.

“There’s no time. I just want you to know that my life is complicated right now.”

I braced for it. He was married.

“No, I don’t have a wife stashed away in my attic,” he said, as if reading my thoughts. “But I am leaving sooner than expected, and I need to know if you’d be willing to follow me in a life that is…well, unorthodox to say the least.”

“Follow you where?”

He stepped close to me. “I know I’ve been a most irritating boor to you, and I’ll be happy later to enumerate the ways. But please know that I’ve wanted you from the day I met you.”

I laughed. “That’s hard to believe.”

“I’m sure of it. I have the brain of a kipper sometimes, though. Petrified of happiness, or some other dodgy male affliction.”

I was dizzy at the thought. It was such a turnaround. He looked so sincere, but it was almost too good to be true.

“I know it’s sudden, but I don’t want you to slip away. Who knows how long the war will go on, but please consider coming to London when all this is over. Meet my mother.”

I barely knew what to think. “Are you serious?”

He took my hands in his. “I couldn’t be more so. You just need to wait for me. Not get snapped up by Lawrence Belson. I’m not the get-down-on-one-knee type, and that may be premature anyway, but I want to be with you. Of that, I’m sure.”

I stepped away from him. “It’s all so unexpected.” Tom’s death. Gil’s abrupt declaration of love. His ex-fiancée’s recent departure from the island.

He followed. “I like to think you return a bit of what I’m describing?”

It could be wonderful. There were publishing houses in London. But there was something odd about it all. People often fell in love very quickly—I already had immense feelings for him, as well—but marriage?

I nodded. “You know I do.”

Gil kissed me quickly. “I need to go. But I’ll be in touch, my darling.”

He left the way he came, and I touched my fingers to my lips. He’d loved me the whole time? Not that he used the word love, but I felt it. Meet his mother? It was practically a proposal.

Briar stepped into the kitchen. “I hope you’re not serious about marrying him.”

I turned to her. “You’ve been hiding here all this time?”

She nodded. “Isn’t it all a bit odd? Last week he barely spoke to you. Now he wants you to meet Mummy.”

Of course Briar couldn’t be happy for me. “People change, Briar. You’ll see when you find someone you care about.”

“He told you he’s leading an unorthodox life, Cade.”

“He does have an unusual life. Including shipping off to war soon.”

“Sounded to me like he was warning you he might be involved in something more nefarious. ‘I’m leaving sooner than expected’?” Briar stepped closer. “If he’s the spy, he might be trying to lull you into inaction with a marriage proposal.”

I waved that thought away. “Oh, please don’t tell me you’re serious. He was appointed by Churchill himself.”

“Allegedly.”

“I’m tired, Briar. Can’t you just be happy for me? After everything we’ve been through with Tom, I need some sort of hope.”

“You’ll believe anything if it gets you out of here.”

“Is it so bad that I want something better for us all?”

“Your attraction for him is clouding your judgment. What if he really is the one meeting the U-boat tonight?”

“ Gil? Are you insane?”

“Sandra at Island Treasures had her doubts. Said he knew a lot about the Nazi merchandise.”

“You do, as well.”

“And I heard him on the phone the day of the soccer match, saying he had to leave his men.”

“Perhaps he’s being reassigned. He’s an officer in the British Army, for God’s sake.”

“He spent time behind enemy lines. Could have been compromised. It’s not unprecedented.”

“His family is extremely wealthy.”

“And has contacts with Germany probably, am I right? But things aren’t always done for money. Ideological reasons, too.” Briar paused, then, “I saw him pick up a letter at the post office. And overheard the postmaster saying it was from Switzerland. A woman named Greta.”

“So much for postal privacy.”

“They thought it odd that it had been sent through regular mail, not Army. They also said he’d been snooping around at the Katama firing range.”

“You’ve been following him.”

“The clerk at Briggs’s told me he bought a diamond-and-pearl necklace, too, which hasn’t materialized for you, right? You have to admit it’s all very odd.”

I moved away from her. “Well, this is your wildest theory yet, Briar. And that’s saying a lot. This entire spy thing is ridiculous. What we need to do is find Peter an identity card and get him out of here. Or tell McManus and be done with it. I’m sick of it all.”

“Want me to go to prison? You, too, probably. Major Gil would be history, and Gram would probably die in prison. Like it or not, this is the path we chose, and we have to see it through. And I don’t think you want to marry a spy, right? Tom wouldn’t want that.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “Of course not.”

“A U-boat is picking someone up tonight. Isn’t it smart to at least rule the major out?”

“I can’t just ask him about his spy past.”

“Go up to Peaked Hill—you might even uncover someone else we haven’t thought of. Bring some more books for the troops or something, as cover, and leave them in his office. It’s right across from the bathroom.”

“How do you know these things?” I asked.

“Have a look in his drawers. His closet if there is one. Really drill down. You may find something.”

“Piano wire? A vial of cyanide?”

Briar looked gravely serious. “That letter from Greta, for a start. Photos. Reconnaissance. You’ll know it when you see it.”

“I can’t believe I’m considering this,” I said.

“I’m hunting down leads on my end, too. Thinking about Tyson Schmidt.”

“Oh, please. Peter is probably wrong about all of this.”

“We can’t just let someone board a U-boat tonight to report back to Hitler.”

I studied Briar’s face, so earnest. What would it hurt to make her happy? We owed it to Tom to follow every lead.

“Fine. I’ll go up there now.”