Richard cheered silently. Definitely worth waking up early for.
He watched Ed Gardiner tower over the young men under his charge, staring at each unflinchingly. They had paired off on the gunny’s orders, their legs bent and linked with a partner’s as they toiled past their first hundred sit-ups. There was a good deal of puffing and panting, their labored breath creating small clouds of frozen air that hung briefly above their heads before dissipating. He noted with satisfaction that most were already flushed and sweating in the cold November air.
Richard walked the line, making sure the boys weren’t cheating, placing a black boot lightly on the abdomen of a few until they stopped lifting their hips off the ground. He’d understood Ed’s need for control over the process and had wordlessly agreed to take second position. Richard would lead the boys on the run, as Ed’s back was giving him trouble. The boys ran drills and performed more calisthenics until the sun was almost directly above them. Ed finally called for a water break and then motioned to the bars, set about six feet from the ground. “Pull-ups,” he declared. “The major will demonstrate.”
Ed met the major’s gaze with a half grin, and the younger man’s eyes lit up at the implied challenge. Richard grabbed the bar with an overhand grip and easily pulled his chest level with it. Ed’s face remained impassive. Richard pumped the pull-ups out without pause, his legs bent back slightly at the knee to keep his feet from touching the ground. When he reached thirty, he called out, “Would you like more, Gunny, or have the little ones had enough of a rest?”
“Thank you, Major,” Ed Gardiner said. “You were preening so much I figured you wanted to show off a bit.” Richard let go, the soles of his boots hitting the ground with a soft thud. “That was thirty, gentleman,” Ed hollered. “Think you can match it?”
The boys groaned, and Ed raised an eyebrow. “Is that a complaint I hear?”
“No, Gunny!” the boys yelled enthusiastically. Not a one of them wanted to start over again. Instead, they quickly lined up.
From his position in the middle of the line, one of the taller boys swiped at a shock of dirty blond hair from his eyes and asked genuinely, “How many pull-ups can your niece do, sir?”
Richard saw Ed’s stare grow cold. “I can guarantee it’s more than you.”
The boy quailed and fell silent. Ed continued to stare at him until the boy swallowed hard and looked away.
Richard took up a position next to him. They stood nearly shoulder to shoulder, and Ed crossed his arms over his chest as the two monitored the boys’ progress. Most of them struggled past two or three pull-ups, and even the two JROTC members barely made five. Four was the minimum required for Marines their age.
“This is pathetic,” Ed said under his breath, and Richard grunted in agreement.
“I’ve yet to see an officer really work,” Ed grumbled, but the way the corners of his eyes crinkled as he spoke revealed his amusement. “But you’ll have your chance on the run.”
“Not taking the lead, old man?” Richard asked, throwing down the gauntlet. Ed’s mouth twisted in chagrin.
“Not today,” he said grudgingly. “Maddy would kill me.”
“Then let me show you how a young Marine does it,” Richard taunted.
“Better call Elizabeth, then,” was Ed’s quick reply.
Richard snorted. “Lifting your chin doesn’t count!” he shouted at the boys. Then a slow smile made its way across his face. “Maybe we should.”
“Should what?” Ed was focused on the line.
“Call Elizabeth,” Richard replied, placing his hands on his hips and gazing straight ahead. He watched the gunny out of the corner of his eye. Ed’s expression remained stoic, but his eyes danced with something close to glee.
“I like how you think,” he said.
“It’s one of my best qualities,” Richard told him with an agreeable nod.
“It sure ain’t your looks,” Ed shot back, and Richard released a loud bark of laughter. Twelve anxious faces turned at the sound. “Get back to work!” they hollered in unison.
“I’ll call,” Ed said evenly. “You run.”
Elizabeth was nearly seven hours deep into her coding when her phone rang. After Will had departed the night before, she’d finally fallen asleep, early for her. Even so, it was something of a surprise to her that by seven o’clock, she’d already had two cups of coffee and was sitting at her computer. She was so engrossed in her work that reality intruded only on the fourth ring.
She tipped the display towards her to see who was calling. “Uncle Ed?” she asked, curiously, tapping the speaker icon, “everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine, Lizbet,” came the gruff voice. “I was just wondering if you’re available for a physical fitness demonstration.”
Elizabeth considered it for a moment, glancing at her work. Finally making some headway, she thought, and then glanced wistfully out the window at the afternoon sunshine. She was a little tired, but some exercise might help. She hadn’t been on a run for three days, and her legs were beginning to feel restless. “What kind of demonstration?”
The connection wasn’t great. Someone was shouting in the background, and Uncle Ed’s voice came through sounding tinny. “Oh, the usual. Pull-ups, a run. A workout.”
“Timed run?” Where is he?
“If you like.” The connection cleared, and Ed’s voice warmed. “Your major’s here. He rapped out thirty pull-ups. I think you can do more.”
Elizabeth shook her head. They’re competing now? “I hope you didn’t lay money on that. I can probably do twenty, twenty-five tops.” Actually, I haven’t done any in a while. Hope I still can.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’m at the high school. Want to come?”
“Uh . . .” Elizabeth glanced at her keyboard. “Now?”
“Come around four.”
She glanced at the time. How long have they been out there? She wavered. It would give her almost another two hours to work. I suppose I could stop for the day. It’s Uncle Ed. She capitulated. “Okay, but if there’s a bet, I get a cut of the winnings.”
Ed laughed. “You are welcome to a cut of all my winnings,” he said in a voice that made Elizabeth grin. Yeah. He hadn’t made any bets at all. “Wear your gear from the Corps.”
She had intended to, but the request surprised her. “Uncle Ed,” she asked, exasperated, “what are you two up to?”
“Just call me Gunny,” he said, and the line went dead.
Will Darcy was bored. Utterly uninterested, jaded, cynical, impatient. As the brother of a much younger sister, it was not a new feeling. He was sitting on an ancient, dusty trunk in a tiny downstairs shop, surrounded by vintage women’s clothing while his sister tried on dozens of hats, at least ten dresses, and in one impressive display, a pink feather boa with a turquoise sequined blouse and shiny black mini-skirt. He knew she was punishing him for something, though he wasn’t exactly sure what that something was. It might have been his skepticism about Juraj, or his sudden decision to question her about where she kept the password to the apartment’s systems, or what he was sure had only been a brief hesitation when she’d announced her choice of activity this morning. But he was determined to outlast her.
Georgiana pulled back the faded greenish-brown velvet curtain that separated the dressing area from the shop floor, and Will at last forgot his boredom and felt his lips beginning to twitch. His sister stood before him, tall, angular, wrapped in a sixties green and orange flowered print dress that reached to her ankles before flaring out, purple marcasite earrings with a matching choker, and a silver velveteen scarf, the end of which she tossed theatrically over her shoulder. Atop her dark, board-straight hair, a black top hat sat at a rakish angle.
“All I need are knee boots with a six-inch heel,” she said brightly, “and I’ll be nearly as well dressed as Caroline Bingley.”
That tore it. Will began to laugh, big, lung expanding laughs against which he was entirely helpless. F
inally, he rested his elbows on his knees and held his head in his hands, trying to gulp in air and regain control. Instead, he hiccupped, launching a new round of laughter. It was a lost cause in any case, as his sister, evidently thrilled to break her brother’s perfect composure, added, “Oh—and a looong feather. I simply must have one of those.” As he was gasping for breath, she added with a naughty shoulder roll, “I just adore a looong . . . feather.”
“Oh God,” Will wheezed, as Georgiana began to laugh at him, “stop G, please. I can’t . . . breathe.”
When they both brought themselves under control, Will smiled at his sister. “I’ve missed this, G. I’ve missed you. I’m glad you came home to see Richard.”
Georgiana gazed at him and then swept her skirt out in front so she could sit next to him. “I came to see you too, Will.”
“You did?” he asked, surprised.
G rolled her eyes. “Yes, you big dork. I wanted to know why you haven’t been answering my emails or texts.”
Will frowned. “G, I was serious before. I answer everything you send me.”
His sister was quiet for a moment. “How often do you send me things?”
He shrugged. “I write you every Monday even if you haven’t sent me anything at all. But you never write back.”
G reached into her purse to retrieve her phone. She opened her email app to show him.
“Do you ever delete anything, G?” he asked incredulously. “You have ads in here from months ago. I think it’s safe to get rid of them.”
She elbowed him. “Search your name.”
Will did—nothing came up. He checked her spam folder—it was completely empty. “You clear out the spam folder but not your inbox?” he asked.
“I haven’t emptied anything,” she replied, leaning over to have a look.
He handed her phone back and pulled out his own, clicking on the “sent” folder and searching her name. A long list of messages appeared, each subject line the same: “Monday Check-In.”
“I don’t understand,” she said. “Why haven’t I received them?”
Will shook his head. “Maybe you had my mail forwarded to spam last summer and don’t remember doing it?”
G’s expression was pensive. “Maybe. You were being a jerk.”
“I was not!” he exclaimed. “You were barely eighteen—requiring that you live in an all-girls dorm was the responsible thing to do!”
The cashier poked her head through the beaded curtain. “Everything okay back here?”
Chastened, the two nodded, and Georgiana ducked back into the dressing room to change. When she emerged, she put everything back on the racks except the top hat.
“Seriously, G?” Will asked as he stood. “What are you going to do with that?”
“It’s not for me,” she giggled. “It’s for you.” She placed it on his head, and he immediately removed it. “No,” Georgiana begged, taking his free hand in both of hers and squeezing, “please? Just put it on for a minute.”
Will gazed at his sister. Her eyes were pleading, hopeful. He hung his head. Sometimes being a good brother sucks. He slapped the hat on, and his sister tilted her head to the left, then the right. “You know, it looks pretty good. Very 1920s.”
Will grimaced at his reflection in the yellowed mirror. “I look like that old guy on the cover of the Monopoly box,” he complained. “All I need is the monocle.”
Georgiana giggled. “And the moustache. That’s key.” She grabbed the hat. “I’m getting it for you.”
“Fine.” She’s going back to Stanford. She’ll never know if I get rid of it.
Georgiana nearly skipped up to the front of the store to make her purchase. Will smiled wistfully, remembering two pigtails, dark red Mary Janes, and being dragged to the duck pond. Maybe I can just hide it in the closet.
“After this,” she said authoritatively as he joined her at the front counter, “we’re going to Other Music to look for vinyl.”
At four o’clock, Elizabeth stepped out of an Uber and onto the sidewalk in front of Montclair High School. She carried a small kit bag with a change of clothes and a jacket. She tugged her USMC sweatshirt down and gazed around the field.
She spied Uncle Ed immediately. He was standing with his back to her, hands clasped behind him, gazing up at a hill behind the buildings. Elizabeth jogged over. He turned his head when she was about twenty feet away.
“Lizbet,” he called, nodding at her. “Looking good.”
She grinned and held out a hand, gesturing at his own uniform. “Look at you.”
Ed made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat.
“Aunt Maddy see you in those today?” Elizabeth teased. She glanced out at the hill and saw Richard running alongside a long line of boys. The stragglers were stumbling along, and Richard’s voice drifted back to them, though his words were inaudible.
“Not yet,” Uncle Ed replied, and frowned at his niece, who was regarding him with a raised eyebrow.
She held her hands up, palms facing out. “Just asking. I can babysit tonight if Jane’s working.” She grinned, glanced over at the runners, and then back to her uncle. “So . . . what am I doing here, exactly?”
Chapter Seventeen
Elizabeth listened to both the major and her uncle berate the ragtag group of boys as they returned from their run. Uncle Ed, who insisted on being called Gunny for the afternoon, had only shrugged at her.
“Just wait,” he’d said. So she had.
“Staff Sergeant Elizabeth Bennet,” Richard called out. “Good of you to join us.”
“Sir,” Elizabeth nodded. She’d clasped her hands behind her back, the same as her uncle, and she carefully observed the exhausted-looking bunch before her. Most of them refused to meet her gaze, and the few who did appeared abashed.
“Gentlemen,” she greeted them sternly.
“Hardly,” her uncle said in the deepest voice he had. Elizabeth laughed inwardly. He only used that voice when he was trying to intimidate someone. It was a very useful tool. “One of these boys was wondering how many pull-ups you can do, Staff Sergeant.”
Elizabeth was perplexed, but it was Uncle Ed, so she played along. “About twenty, I think. It’s been a while.”
“Would you care to show us?” he asked. Only she could hear the real question in his tone. To anyone else, it would sound more like a command. She nodded and stepped over to the bar. She stood for a moment, stretched her back a bit, then bent her knees and jumped up a few inches to grab the bar in an overhand grip. She allowed her body to still and tightened her abdomen muscles. After a moment, she began to pull herself up, chest to the bar, then all the way down. She worked more slowly than normal, but her pace was steady, and she was pleased to hit her stride after the first five. Pull-ups were hard for everyone, particularly those who were tall. Uncle Ed had insisted on special conditioning before she left for boot. She’d kept it up, practicing nearly every day early in her career and at least a few times a week after. Lots of push-ups, lots of pull-ups. Eventually she’d been able to hit the men’s maximums, which never failed to earn her the respect she craved.
She hadn’t worked out like this much since returning home, so she was grateful to feel her muscle memory kicking in. She stopped counting, just allowing her body to work as she concentrated on her breathing, on the tightening of her chest and back, the familiar burn that was beginning to flare in her shoulders and arms. Home, she sighed, content. This is just what I needed today.
She felt a tap on her leg. “I think you’ve made your point, Staff Sergeant,” growled her uncle with an undercurrent of humor. “You don’t want to outshine the major.”
“Yes, Gunny,” she replied automatically, and dropped from the bar. She assumed a position of attention.
The boys were alternately staring at her and the ground, embarrassed.
“Who are they, Gunny?” she whispered, tilting her head towards him. “The JROTC?”
“Some of them,” he replied, then l
oudly ordered her, “drop and give me some push-ups.”
“Yes, Gunny!” she responded, adjusting her position until she was on her toes and her fists before she began pumping out push-ups. Maybe they’ve been giving him some trouble? He clearly wants me to give them a show. Fine with me.
By the time she was stretching for her run, she was thoroughly enjoying the reaction of her audience. “Anyone want to join me?” she inquired.
To her surprise, she had three takers. Two appeared to be JROTC members: one shorter, broad in the chest and built like a tank; the other taller, lean but muscular. The third was rather small. Maybe he hasn’t had his growth spurt yet, she thought, assessing them. She nodded at them all, then set the pace. She moved a little more quickly than she might have on her own, but she wanted to show off a bit for Uncle Ed. He should know I haven’t forgotten everything he’s taught me.
As they ran, the boys tried to speak with her. The first two kept pace easily and nodded when she asked whether they hoped to join up after school. Both mentioned going to college first, and she agreed it was wise. The smaller boy couldn’t keep up, but he wouldn’t give up, either. They ran up the hill and down again, over and over, until she saw her uncle waving them in. She turned and sprinted, surprising the others who pushed to catch up. She grinned at them as they pulled level with her, but she wouldn’t allow them to pass. Good thing they’re worn out. When they reached her uncle, he pushed a button on his stopwatch, and she turned without breaking to go back for the third boy. He was breathing hard, his legs hitting the ground haphazardly.
“Careful,” she warned him, “you’ll injure yourself. Go slower if you have to, but watch the placement of your feet.”
He glared up at her. “I’m fine,” he said, gasping out the words.
She shrugged, jogging along beside him. “You’ve run twice as far as most of the others. Twice as far as me. It’s not surprising you’re a bit tired. Listen to your body.”
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