Under the Moon Gate

by Marilyn Baron

  “If you mean Emilie, no, I haven’t been back since you left,” he lied. “But you’ve got yourself a beautiful new wife. Best to leave the past in the past. Who knows when any of us will be going home again?”

  ****

  What good would it do to tell Wilhelm that he had seen Emilie on his last leave and she was lovelier and lonelier than ever? Would it serve any purpose to admit he had always harbored a secret love for the woman who had eyes only for his best friend? Or that she was still desperate for any word of him even though he had left her so abruptly, shattering her heart into tiny pieces? Could he tell Wilhelm that he had even toyed with the idea of proposing to Emilie himself, to protect her? It was so obvious that she needed to be loved, deserved to be loved. Even though Wilhelm was now a married man, he still felt a disloyalty to his friend for even considering the notion. Emilie was off limits to him. Wilhelm would always think of Emilie as his. And it would eat Wilhelm up inside if he found out how Karl felt about his woman.

  Besides, tossed by the seas wherever the whims of war took him, what could he offer Emilie but his name? No, it was best for all concerned to leave things unspoken between them, at least for now. He could still care for her as a good friend. But it nearly broke his heart to leave her so alone and miserable. She had tried to wring promises from him, promises to find Wilhelm and bring him back to her. Promises he knew he couldn’t keep. But it was a relief to know that Wilhelm hadn’t forgotten her, that Emilie was still seared forever in his mind. She deserved that kind of devotion.

  He remembered when they were still schoolboys in Dresden, with not a care in the world, not a sign of trouble on the horizon. Even then, Wilhelm had known what he wanted.

  “I’m going to marry Emilie,” he had boasted about the young girl who was just beginning to show signs of the beauty she was to become.

  “She’s the most desirable girl in Dresden, don’t you think?” he posed, not even expecting an answer. He was stating a fact that needed no confirmation.

  Karl never doubted then that Wilhelm would prevail in his mission. He was one of those people who could make things happen. As boys they had always dreamed of going to sea. They had been cadets together, then midshipmen. They had gone through the Naval Academy together, where William had excelled at all his classes. They trained at the U-boat defense school and U-boat Commander School at Kiel, where Wilhelm again proved to be the brightest and the best of all the candidates. They served under Rear Admiral Canaris for a number of years on the Schlesien. He was brave and intelligent and extremely capable. He’d already demonstrated a quick mind for codes during his tour of duty as part of his military intelligence training in the B-Dienst. The Kriegsmarine did not offer a life of comfort. But Wilhelm was disciplined and determined to succeed, while Karl just managed to keep up.

  There was no question that Wilhelm would make Emilie fall in love with him before she even knew he was pulling the strings. That was when Karl had abandoned his secret dream of possessing her. It wasn’t jealousy, Karl reminded himself. It was admiration. Not only was Wilhelm better looking and more charming, he was also a born leader. He was very popular with the ladies. That had already proven to be an advantage on this mission. Every woman wanted to be with him. Every man wanted to be him, to stand with him, to follow him, to lay his life on the line for him if it became necessary. Wilhelm had a keen analytical mind, a brilliant and clever brain, abilities that had served his ambitions well. He was capable of solving any problem and could always find a way out of any situation. Unfortunately, there was no solution to this particular problem of the heart.

  ****

  Disappointed but resigned, William frowned and buttoned up his jacket as he tried to beat back the wind and the memories that hadn’t yet stopped nagging at him.

  “And William,” Krauss warned, closing the gate on the past, and nodding in the direction of William’s associate, “Be careful. The night has eyes. Do you trust him? We both know the man is an amoral butcher. He isn’t fit to lick your boots.”

  “Don’t let him hear you say that.” William glanced at Nighthawk and then back to the sub’s lieutenant commander. “Thank you for your concern, my friend, but what choice do I have? The hawk watches the eagle. I intend to watch my back.”

  “Well, then, I guess it’s back to shadowing convoys and listening for propellers for me.”

  “Happy hunting!” William said with a touch of nostalgia, shaking his friend’s hand as they took their leave. The chill followed William.

  First and foremost a seaman, he longed to feel the salty spray of the ocean on his face again. Submerging his desires for the past, he headed for shore to quench a different kind of desire.

  ****

  When Diana woke in the middle of the night and reached for her new husband, he was gone. She searched the house, and as she passed by the parlor window, flashes of light illuminated movement by the water. What she saw disturbed and puzzled her. She could barely make out the shapes in the darkness. But one was definitely William. He and another man were hoisting a large chest from his boat. As William opened the lid of the chest, the two were engaged in a heated discussion. Raised voices assaulted her ears. After the small craft landed, the two men proceeded to dig in the back yard. What were they burying?

  She grabbed her shawl from the chair in the parlor and had started down the stone steps when she noticed the light at the bottom of the study door. Glancing into the room, she realized the large suitcase her husband usually kept on his desk was gone. She remembered him telling her about his shortwave radio. He’d said he used it to listen to historical and sporting events, news, dramas, lectures, symphonic orchestras and other programs. She was learning a lot of new things about her husband. She wanted to be the best wife she could be and share his interests. But she didn’t see the shortwave radio tonight. In fact, she had never actually seen him use it.

  It was really none of her business. Should she mention it to her father? There was no sense in alarming him. She loved and trusted her husband completely. Hadn’t he said he would never harm her? No one who was as tender and loving as her William could ever be capable of treachery.

  She supposed even married couples had their secrets. He was an important businessman with a lot of responsibilities. Of course there were things he couldn’t tell her. Problems at an electric substation that might need his attention in the middle of the night. He might get upset if he thought she was suspicious of him or, worse, spying on him.

  But she wasn’t one to fade into the background. She would confront him on the matter. First, she’d give him an opportunity to explain himself and his midnight escapade in his own time, in his own way. For now, she would go back to bed and wait, longing to be in his arms again, to be stroked by him, loved by him.

  “You were gone a long time,” Diana said when William finally returned to bed, trying not to sound like a scolding fishwife, “and you smell of the sea. Where were you? I was cold and lonely.” She had given him the opening.

  “Nothing for you to worry your pretty head about, darling. Just had to check something out. I thought I heard a noise.”

  “But I saw you digging in the garden,” she protested.

  “Sssh,” he said, putting his finger to her lips. “You must have been dreaming. Let’s not waste time talking about what you thought you saw. It’s a surprise, so I can’t talk about it. We’re still on our honeymoon, after all, my darling. We’ve got more important things to do, have we not?”

  He removed her nightgown and kissed her deeply, soundly, passionately, until she forgot why she wanted to question him.

  “Now what was that about being cold and lonely? I think I can manage to do something about that. Come closer. Let me warm you.”

  Then they made fierce and furious love, leaving Diana properly sated.

  “Was I too rough, Diana?” William whispered, his mouth against her cheek. “Sometimes I can’t control myself around you.”

  “Never, darling,” Diana
assured. “We are a perfect match.”

  “Go back to sleep, then,” he coaxed.

  ****

  William rose two hours before the sun to the brilliance of Venus, which was dazzling in the early morning sky. He walked around the garden to make sure the dirt was packed properly. Then he looked out to sea. Harbor fishing season was about to open. He was more of a sailor than an angler, but he missed being out on the water.

  He returned to the bedroom, and his thoughts turned to Diana. Loving Diana was like coming home. He gathered her to him and, arms and limbs entwined with hers, fell back asleep dreaming of their wedding day. She had worn a dress of white lace over satin and carried a bouquet of yellow daffodils. The ceremony had been at the Castle Harbour Hotel, under the circular stone moon gate. William was in the process of replicating the stone structure behind Marigold House as a special surprise for Diana, built to bless their marriage and to commemorate the first time they had danced together under the moonlight. The moon gate would overlook the garden she had created especially for him as a wedding present, a garden filled with glorious, fragrant flowers and new plant species that had just been introduced to the island. What he remembered most was their wedding night, and as he did, the memory of his last night with Emilie faded.

  He remembered how Diana had offered her innocence to him so sweetly and had so generously opened herself to him. He remembered the quiet tremors and sounds of satisfaction she made when they eagerly came together for the first time. And the look of surprise, the flash of pleasure, and the flush of passion on her face when she called out his name.

  His feelings where Emilie was concerned were still raw, but the more time he spent with Diana, the more the old ache in his heart began to ease. He looked down at his sleeping wife and tenderly stroked her hair. Diana was his salvation. Two great loves in one lifetime. That was more than any one man deserved. Choked with emotion, he looked out the window at the rising moon, thanked the stars, and wondered what stroke of divine providence had landed him in this paradise with this woman.

  Chapter 11

  Bermuda

  1940-July 1941

  In another place and time, William and his father-in-law might have been good friends. They were both naval officers, despite their opposing allegiances. Sir Stirling Hargrave was a worthy adversary, one William had come to admire and respect. And they had something else in common. They both loved Diana. William could hardly expect the vice admiral to become his greatest confidant and champion just because he had slipped a wedding ring on his daughter’s finger. He could not assume that all the vice admiral’s suspicions would miraculously melt away and the icy reception with which William was initially greeted to thaw. But he was determined to get Diana’s father to trust him.

  He was prepared to work hard to gain his father-in-law’s respect and was ready with money, information, contacts and connections, whatever it took to soften the crusty old vice admiral’s heart toward his new son-in-law. It was a relationship he was carefully cultivating and counting on. If he were honest with himself, what he really wanted was for the vice admiral to become the father he had lost.

  The vice admiral stretched after a satisfying meal and relaxed to enjoy tea and dessert in his daughter’s new home. Diana had confided that her father was impressed with Marigold House and the comfortable life his new son-in-law was making for them. His father-in-law seemed to be in the mood to pontificate, one of his favorite pastimes, and William was sure he was parroting Prime Minister Winston Churchill’s words.

  “I fear that this little outpost, this speck in the middle of the Atlantic, is all that stands between England and certain destruction,” the vice admiral said, referring to the fishhook-shaped landmass that was Bermuda, the island William had grown to love.

  “You know how important Bermuda has become as a Royal Navy port. Bermuda serves a critical function as a communications intersect point for transatlantic traffic, a refueling base for our ships and planes, and a theater for battling the U-boats that are attacking our convoys. It’s a life-or-death fight for us.

  “Great Britain is in a perilous state,” the vice admiral continued. “Not many know this, but we’re on the brink of bankruptcy and starvation. I don’t know how much longer we can stem the tide of this Nazi onslaught. It’s only the tenacious spirit of our people and the bravery of our fighter pilots that allows us to survive. We must be vigilant in these dangerous times.

  “The fate of the entire war may be in our hands. Right now, Bermuda seems far removed from the venues of war. But Bermuda may be our last bastion of hope if we are to control the Atlantic and survive this threat. Bermuda and the Americans are our lifeline in the critical war at sea.”

  “Control of the seas at all costs,” echoed William.

  “You have been invaluable in arranging for loans for armaments and your involvement in dozens of other projects on the island have helped pave the way for us here,” the vice admiral acknowledged. “The prime minister is eternally grateful.”

  William was uncomfortable being portrayed as a hero and despised himself for deceiving Diana’s father in this little give-and-take game they were playing. Sir Stirling had welcomed him into the family, a pit viper among defenseless rabbits. He wondered how long he could maintain his current illusion, and what Diana would think of him once she learned of his traitorous deeds.

  “Did you know that in the first six months of 1940, German U-boats sank 900,000 tons of Allied shipping?” Sir Stirling remarked, thumbing through The Royal Gazette. “The Secretary of the Navy said that if England should go down—and he prays to God that will not happen—America will not have a friend in the world.”

  William shifted uncomfortably in his seat as his father-in-law shook his head.

  In 1941, the tide had turned. From William’s perspective, it was the frequent Royal Air Force attacks on Nazi submarine bases and Atlantic nests that were problematic. The Kriegsmarine was losing its best U-boat commanders to British convoy escorts while William was dying a slow death in Bermuda waiting for action.

  How I wish I could feel the salty sting of sea spray on my face again. I would have loved to stand with them. Or sink with them if it came to that.

  “I can’t figure it out, son,” said the vice admiral. “How did the Germans manage to sink those ships? It’s almost like they had a line into us. Like they knew every move we were going to make, before we made it.”

  “Father, is that all you care about?” Diana cried. “Cargo? Think of all the lives lost. The Atlantic is a graveyard. Imagine those poor boys, wounded, gasping for their last breaths of air, drowning and dying alone at the bottom of the cold, dark ocean.”

  William took a deep breath, closed his eyes and willed away the image that had haunted him since he was a child. His own father had lost his life in a stormy sea battle and rested at the bottom of the Atlantic along with his crewmen. There had been no survivors. But of course Diana didn’t know about his past.

  “I have heard stories about the Germans, that they shoot survivors in the water instead of rescuing them,” accused Diana. “What of the poor souls who can never go home to their families, to their wives, their lovers? Oh, William, it’s so horrible. I’m so glad you’re not a sailor. I’m so glad you’re safe here with me. That’s selfish of me, I know.”

  William felt as if Diana had slapped him. No self-respecting sailor would ever shoot a survivor—a fellow seaman—in the water. The world acted as if all Germans were monsters. If Diana were ever to discover the truth about him, she would never understand. She would look at him differently, think of him as a monster. He couldn’t bear to see the light of her love for him extinguished. He’d lost the first love of his life. He still had deep regrets about the way he had hurt Emilie when he left her. Losing his greatest love all over again was his worst fear.

  “That’s an insult to your husband,” the vice admiral said. “Every man worth his salt wishes he was in the fight. Those boys who drowned were heroes, but
your husband has other skills, necessary skills he offers to the war effort. He does his part even if he’s not in uniform.”

  “No need to defend me, sir,” William said. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

  “Oh, William, I didn’t mean anything by that,” Diana recanted. “I was just distraught.” She turned to him with tears sparkling in her eyes.

  “Try not to think of it, my darling,” William said solicitously. “I can’t bear to see you this upset. Come, maybe you’d better lie down. Sir, Mrs. Hargrave, if you’ll excuse us.”

  “Nonsense,” barked the vice admiral. “You coddle the girl too much. Diana’s always had a tendency for the dramatic. You think the loss of lives doesn’t bother me? Let’s put the blame where it lies, with the bloody Germans!”

  William flinched.

  “Diana, why don’t you lie down on the couch for a while,” Olivia recommended, hoping to separate herself and her daughter from the fray. “William will settle you in with a nice pillow and a warm blanket. I’ll bring in some tea. Don’t worry about cleaning up, sweetheart. I’ll handle that. You’ll rest here for a while so your father can finish his conversation with William.”

  “Okay,” Diana sniffled, allowing her husband to lead her into the drawing room and place a tender kiss on her forehead.

  “The girl’s sprung another leak,” the vice admiral mumbled when his son-in-law returned to the table. “Did you manage to plug it?”

  “She’s resting comfortably, sir,” William replied tactfully.

  “William,” the vice admiral said, “the girl needs to develop some backbone. Work on that, son.”

  “Yes, sir,” William said, secretly disagreeing with the vice admiral’s assessment of Diana. Did he even know his own daughter? Diana had backbone and spirit to spare. “She’s just overly sensitive, sir.”

  “Perhaps she has strained nerves,” Olivia pointed out. “The ads say that undermines your efficiency and that drinking Ovaltine will help by building up nerve strength and physical fitness.”