Gill turned away from the magnificent old buildings along the embankment to look up at him. “I have to believe it, Simon. I loved and lost one man and never thought I’d find the courage to take the risk again. I’ve found the courage, and I believe it’s for a reason. I’ll hold to hope for as long as I can. We can phone and email. I have the long break at Christmas. My family will understand I have to come over for the holidays.” Gill could barely hold back the tightness of tears in her throat, but she wouldn’t ruin the time they had together.
“You’d do that, Gill? Yes, I know you would. You’d come here to be with me, giving up holidays with your sisters and their young ones. You’ve a great heart, darlin’, but I won’t put you through that hardship. I’ll know soon what’s going down with my company; maybe I can make the trip to you. We’ll see. Just you know I’m with you, every minute, every day, as long as it takes.”
Gill drank in the moments of their day. She held on to every word, and the kisses between, and pushed the thought of tomorrow, and the tomorrows to come, away. She’d promised herself, and Simon, she’d give herself to the joy of their time, not wasting a second on regrets. Though daylight stretched far into the evening hours, with the sun barely gone as Big Ben struck ten, Gill’s perfect day slipped past. She once more climbed the steps to her hotel. Simon came as far as the great door but not a step inside.
“It’s getting late and I have that call to make. It’s important, not more important than you, love, but it’s got to be done.” They clung together in the shadow of the doorway, postponing the parting for as long as possible. “You have the packing and all still to see about. I won’t have you staying up till the wee hours and starting your journey home tired out. The grannies will give you enough grief on the way back. No need to add a layer of exhaustion to what they’ll provide.”
She touched his shoulder anxiously. “But you’re coming tomorrow? You’ll be driving us to the airport? I’m going to see you one more time, even for a little bit?” Gill heard the uneasy note in her tone and wished she’d held it back.
“I’ll be here. Promise.” He held up his hand as if swearing an oath. “I’ll not let you go off without a word of farewell. And maybe a bit more than one word.” His arms were tight around her; the warmth of his embrace filled her. A kiss, one more, and he stepped back. “Hardest thing I’ll ever do is walk down these steps tonight, but go I must. Goodnight, Gill, my darlin’ Gill. Sleep well and warm and remember me in your prayers. You’ll be dancing in my dreams all night.”
Gill held off the first tear until she was locked safely in her room. Then she buried her face in her pillow and sobbed for all the emptiness of the days ahead.
Morning crept in, gliding grey and solemn over the windowsills. Gill stared at the half-packed suitcase and knew she should get hold of herself. The bag had to be packed. She’d wash her face, tidy her hair, and put on enough make-up to hide her red, burning eyes. The ladies must never, ever, suspect the secret pain eating away at her heart. A stolen moment, a romance with their bus driver, the clandestine rendezvous in the cafe, it would all sound sordid and cheap when they got through hashing it over. Gill wouldn’t let their gossip ruin something filled with joy and love. So she’d hide behind a thick novel she could pretend to read. She’d nap when the others were chatting. She’d do whatever she must to keep Simon and their hopes for herself, if she could.
Somehow she managed to finish her packing and choke down a cup of tea and a scone, bracing herself for departure to the airport. If she was unusually silent, her traveling companions didn’t seem to notice. They were busy showing off the small treasures they were taking back, glancing over guidebooks and postcards collected along the way, and remembering details that had already begun to run together.
“I do believe I see the bus coming,” Mrs. Metcalfe called from the hotel window. “Simon must have set his alarm clock extra early. He’s not due here for another fifteen minutes.”
“Well, our Simon never keeps us waiting,” another answered.
“Dear boy,” a third responded. “Wish I could get help like that at home. He may be just a driver, but he takes pride in being a good one. We don’t see much of that kind of work ethic in the trades at home.”
“Don’t see anything that good-looking, either. I suspect he’s hired for that as much as for his driving skills.” Though the comment was barely above a whisper, Gill heard it. She bit her tongue to keep from replying. Simon was smarter, and better educated, than most of the people he drove. Certainly he had better manners than this lot. He’d even been willing, when he changed his profession, to start at the bottom and learn the business thoroughly before trying to run a branch of it. Gabbling, snobbish, old hens.
Simon took only minutes to load the mountain of luggage into the coach. Though the ladies had been limited to one bag each coming over, Gill noticed most had acquired additional bags and boxes along the way. Simon cheerfully stowed the surplus, rearranging and fitting together the pieces so nothing would fall or be damaged in transit.
“No new pieces to add to yours, Gill?” he asked as he tucked her bag between two larger ones.
“No, I didn’t have much time for shopping.” She had to grin at his conspiratorial wink.
“All loaded, then. Ladies, need a hand into the coach? It’s been a pleasure to show you around the country, and I hope you’ll be coming back for another visit. We have a good many churches you haven’t seen yet.”
One by one the group straggled into the coach, some having difficulty with the high steps and needing assistance. Gill was the last to board and received a slight caress as Simon took her hand. She sat in the back, far from his driving seat but aware of his every move. The drive was a long one; still it passed far too quickly in Gill’s mind. Well before she was ready to deal with the looming break with Simon, the coach rolled into the parking area of the airport. Tour coaches had an assigned area that made disembarking more efficient. She silently cursed the efficiency bringing the end closer and closer. Her fellow passengers appeared eager to head home, but Gill’s feet felt leaden as she came down the steps to the pavement for the last time. Simon had already unloaded the luggage, and porters hurried to transfer bags to the checkpoint. She saw her own in Simon’s hand and turned to take it.
“Wait up, Gill.” Simon put the bag down and took her hands in his. A number of the group must have heard him, for they turned in time to see their clasped hands. A shocked communal intake of breath rippled across the tarmac.
Simon drew her closer until Gill could rest her hands on his shoulders. His hands circled her waist and his eyes sparkled, as if he knew the consternation he was causing among the ladies of the tour and didn’t care.
“Last night I told you I had a call to make. I made it and managed to explain a few things to the man I’m working for.” He tilted his head toward the listeners. “It’s a little easier to plead your case when the man who owns the company is also your father.” He faced Gill again. “It’s his company, darlin’ girl, and his business I’ve been learning for almost two years. Now he’s willing to let me come over and work with him. When I have a handle on things, say six to ten months, I’ll be opening a new branch of the firm.”
Though it didn’t change things for her, Gill was happy Simon would have the job he’d worked for. “Wonderful, Simon. I know it’s what you said you wanted. That’s great news.”
“Be happy for both of us, darlin’. I told you that, when the parents split, my father left for foreign points. His foreign point was New York. Paul went over to work with him a few years back and then came and opened the branch office here. When I got interested, about two years ago, they were talking about adding an office in Chicago or Philadelphia.” His infectious smile lit up his face. “It took some fast arm-twisting on my part, but now I’m pretty sure the new office of Dohr’s to the World will be opening in Boston sometime next year.”
“Boston? You’ll be in Boston?”
“If all goes as
planned. And if a pretty librarian I met a while back is willing to let me move into her hometown.”
She threw her arms around his neck, laughing, crying, and all but incoherent with excitement. “Simon, you were right! You did find a way to make it all work out.”
“It works out if you think we have enough to build a life on. Do we, Gill? Will you take the chance? Marry me?”
“I will, Simon. I will, anytime, and in any part of the world.”
He picked up her bag and draped an arm over her shoulders, turning toward the airport doors. “I’m thinking I just might arrange to be in Boston come Christmas. Is that time enough and place enough for you?”
“Perfect. And so are you, Simon. I do love you.”
“I loved you before I knew your name.” He kissed her, then looked around at the gaping women surrounding them. “Want to thank you ladies for taking the time to bring Gill into my life. It was a fine and wonderful thing you did, whether you knew it or not. We’re hoping to see each one of you at our wedding, come Christmas, being as you’re all something of godmothers to us now. God bless you, each and every one. It’s a fine day for flying and for falling in love. Good journey to you. Good journeys ahead for us all. And this year may Christmas come very early.” He stopped as if struck by a thought. “But then, I believe it’s come already, now, hasn’t it, Gill, my darlin’?”
A word about the author...
Fleeta Cunningham began writing at the age of eight, but she was telling stories before she was old enough to write them down, much to the dismay of various relatives who thought her “tall tales” less than believable. She found an outlet for her active imagination when a high school English teacher took an interest in her stories and class writings and suggested she join the school newspaper and yearbook. After taking a degree in English Literature from Texas Tech, Fleeta was accepted at the University of Texas, where she took a master’s degree in Library and Information Science. She began her career as a law librarian with the State of Texas and later worked with two major law firms in Houston. She wrote a syndicated column for her professional newsletter, contributed to a number of legal publications, and sat on the advisory board of two legal publishers before “retiring” to write full time.
A fifth generation Texan, Fleeta has lived in a number of small Texas towns. Drawing on all of them, she created the Santa Rita Series, a vintage view of the 1950s. With Bal Masque, a historical novel set on a sugar plantation in Louisiana, 1835, she has begun a new series, “Confronting Destiny.” She has a number of other titles in progress also. When she isn't writing, Fleeta gives workshops and classes in creative writing and frequently speaks at programs and community events. She is also serving as the wedding coordinator for her church. She says at the age of ten she had three ambitions—to design wedding gowns, to be a librarian, and to write novels. She counts herself blessed to have been able to fulfill all three goals.
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