Heather announced she had seventeen cents in her purse. The amount of spending money they each carried seemed commensurate with their age. They chatted on about the stores they wanted to look in. It was almost noon before they headed out the door.
A large mirror in a shop window momentarily stopped Bronson. He sometimes noted his disguise in the reflection in windows, but this was the first time he actually spotted himself in daylight with a full-length mirror. The image staring back startled him. He moved his hand to the scruffy beard just to make sure it was Nathaniel Bronson he was looking at because otherwise he didn’t recognize the figure to be anyone but a weather beaten old farmer. His Auntie Aileen wouldn’t recognize him even if he walked in and stood in her kitchen.
He turned and continued on his way. The flat tire that gave Anne the opportunity to escape, was beyond repair. He came into town to purchase a new one. Having done that he decided to partake of a decent meal. Canned beans and canned soup were getting old. He was concerned at first about being recognized, but no longer. He turned off King Street, purchased a newspaper from a child hawker, and entered Danbury’s Fountain.
“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m hungry.”
“I’m hungry, too.” Heather was the first to speak up.
“Can we get a soda?” Marie asked.
“How much is a soda?” Heather asked and then looked at her oldest sister. “Have I had a soda before?”
“Yes, and you loved it.”
“Don’t worry about the cost. I’m buying.” Anne looked at Ruth. “Where’s the nearest soda fountain that serves good food?”
“That would be Danbury’s. About three blocks from here – almost to Broad.”
“Then let’s go.” They were standing outside the same bookstore where Anne met Ernest Hemingway. They placed their purchases in the buggy with Elizabeth Anne and then headed south along King Street.
Bronson stared at the article on the front page. This was a blow. More than a year playing doctor at Charleston’s Roper hospital, treating and talking to a trickle of American soldiers and sailors and waiting for the major flood of war casualties. Now that it finally happened, he can’t be part of it. He read the article again.
“Hospital ship Acadia brings first war wounded to Charleston from North African and European battlefields.”
Things weren’t going well in Europe. Not only did Italy surrender but then they turned around and declared war on Germany. And now Germany was losing ground to Russia. And he’s stuck here doing nothing, waiting on the U-boat schedule and not having any success trying to capture Anne Waring. One thing he did find out is that he was not cut out to be a field operative. He found it impossible to obtain any vital information when he had to operate in a full disguise, always worried that he would be recognized. What kind of operative was he anyway? He remembered being initially angry when Anne slipped away from the back seat of the car and then being worried about her out in the cold night. He remembered looking down the road and seeing a figure in white cross and get into a truck, and then feeling both angry that she got away, and relieved that she was safe. That’s not the way it’s supposed to be. He is supposed to be cold and calculating.
What’s going on with me? Twenty-five years I’ve worked toward revenge and now that I’ve got a person who could assure me of the achievement, I find myself stumbling over my own feet because...
because...
I care for her?
I care for her! How did that happen? And it’s not even romantic. I just care for her like... a sister.
Bronson lay the paper down and stared at the back wall of the café. He sat in the farthest corner, his back to anyone who walked in. He didn’t like it that way, but it was better than having his face where everyone could see and study it.
“Your soup, Sir.”
Bronson moved the paper and the waitress set the bowl in front of him.
Danbury’s Fountain was nearly full. It was a beautiful November Saturday and it seemed that everyone was out – and hungry. They left the carriage sitting outside next to two others and the six of them, if you counted Elizabeth Anne, stood just inside looking about for a table. At first it appeared there were only two, well apart, and Anne was about to say they would have to split up when Sarah pointed to one in the far back corner.
“It’s not big enough,” Anne said.
“Nonsense.” Ruth headed in that direction and everyone followed. In the end they managed to get five chairs around it.
Heather accepted the job of borrowing one from the next table, receiving no more than a glance and an unfriendly grunt from its lone occupant – an old unkempt man buried in his soup and newspaper.
“Thank you,” Heather said, receiving another grunt. Heather and Anne exchanged funny faces behind the man’s back and then they all snuggled in together.
“This is fun,” Ruth said.
“Yeah, fun,” the girls agreed.
They talked about where else they were going after lunch, until the waitress took their orders and then they sat wordlessly for a while.
“How come you live in our cabin when you have such a nice house right in town?”
Anne considered Sarah’s question for a time. “I like being out of the city. It’s quiet. Besides, it’s not my house. It’s Mrs. Lamric’s house.”
Marie looked between the two women. “I thought it was your house too because Mrs. Lamric is your mother.”
Anne laughed. “Actually, Mrs. Lamric is not my mother.”
“You call her Mom.”
“That’s because I love her just like my own mother. We have a very special relationship.”
“Where is your real mother?”
“I’m afraid she passed away.”
“Oh. That’s sad.”
“Yes, it is. Let’s talk about something not so sad. What did you think of the bookstore?”
“I liked it a lot,” Sarah said.
“Did you know I met Ernest Hemingway in there yesterday?”
“You did?”
“Have you read him?”
“Yes.”
“I haven’t,” Marie said. “But I heard Daddy talk about him.”
“Who’s Ernst Hemway?” Heather said.
“Ernest Hemingway. He’s a famous writer,” Sarah explained. “Did you get his autograph?” she asked of Anne.
“As a matter-of-fact, he signed ‘For Who The Bell Tolls’ for me and then I sent it to my husband.”
“What’s an autograph?” Heather asked.
“His signature,” Marie told her. “He signed his name in his book.”
“Oh.” Heather picked up her book – a picture/word book about playing in the park. She started paging through it.
“Is your husband still far away?” Sarah asked.
“I’m afraid so.”
“Will he ever come here?”
“I really don’t think so. But I’ll be going to see him pretty soon.”
All three girls looked at her. Marie asked the question. “Are you going to stay? Will you ever come back?”
Anne suddenly regretted her words. She intended on telling them in the next week, probably after the Tuesday test with Fluffy. Now it was going to put a bit of a damper on a nice girls’ out Saturday. Anne looked at Ruth who shrugged her shoulders and raised her eyebrows. The girls were waiting for her answer and Anne could see in their faces, especially Sarah and Marie’s, that in the many seconds of delay of her reply, they were forming their own conclusion. To lie now would be obvious. Besides, don’t ever lie to the children. There wasn’t even room for a maybe.
“No. I won’t be coming back.”
“Ever?” Marie asked.
“Not ever.”
“You don’t like it here?”
Anne sighed. “I love it here and I love you guys a whole lot and it’s going to be very sad for me when I go, but my place is with my husband, and Elizabeth Anne’s place is with her father.”
“When will you go?
”
“In a week or two.”
Sarah nodded her head and sat back.
Marie made a sad face and asked no more questions.
Heather said, “Oh.”
The resulting silence amplified the rattle of kitchen work and conversation around them.
“Would you autograph in my book?” Heather extended her book toward Anne.
“I would be honored.” She pulled out her pen. “Let’s see... To Heather Thigpen.” She considered for a moment, wrote quickly and handed it back.
“Me too,” Marie said.
Anne picked up Marie’s book and noticed Sarah’s appear unobtrusively in its place. “To Marie Thigpen,” Anne said and then wrote a couple lines. She did the same for Sarah and then handed them back. “So, where is our lunch?”
Their sodas arrived and everyone laughed when Heather sipped on hers and said, “I do like sodas, don’t I!”
After a time Marie whispered in Sarah’s ear, taking furtive glances at Anne.
“I will!” Sarah said impatiently.
The food arrived. There was a tight squeeze getting it all on the little table. The lull in the conversation continued while everyone knocked the edge off her hunger. Anne discovered Elizabeth Anne liked ketchup, but not mustard and wondered if she should start introducing a variety of mashed foods.
“So, Sarah, you will what?” Anne asked.
Sarah looked at her with a blank face.
“Marie whispered something to you and you said you will.”
“Oh. Well... ah... Momma said we could ask you if it was okay to call you Aunt Annie instead of Mrs. Waring. Is that okay with you?”
Anne’s face lit up. “Oh, yes. That would be wonderful... but I would prefer it be Aunt Anne, not Annie. Okay?”
“Okay.” The girls grinned at each other.
With that they started gathering things together to head out for more shopping.
Sarah stepped up. “I’ll take her, Aunt Anne.”
Anne grinned at her. “Thank you, Sarah.” She gave up Elizabeth, dug for money and returned the fifth chair to the next table. “Thank you,” she said to the old man still sitting in the same position as when they came in. She noticed the newspaper was still open to the front page and only half of his soup had been eaten. She touched his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
His head nodded and he grunted something to the effect that he was fine.
“Have a nice day,” Anne said, paid the cashier and then went out to join the others.
Thigpen! Bronson remembered the entire Thigpen family. They came to visit Gertie the day Anne arrived. So that’s where she’s spending most of her time. He didn’t know where they lived, but it would be easy enough to find out. He’d better find out quickly because it sounded like Aunt Anne was about ready to disappear.
He paid for his meal, folded the paper and left.
Chapter 58
Monday/Tuesday ~ November 9, 1987/1943
James held the car door open and Anne started to duck to get in when she heard Ruth call her name. She looked back up at the front door of the house.
“Telephone,” Ruth yelled.
“Who would be calling me?” she said to James, and then ran into the house.
“Sounds official,” Ruth said and then took Elizabeth Anne while Anne picked up the phone.
“This is Anne.”
“Mrs. Waring? Anne Waring?”
A woman. “Yes, this is Anne Waring.”
“This is Marge from Admiral Harris’ Office. The admiral asked that I pass a message to you.”
“Yes, thank you. I’m listening.”
“He said he’ll arrive here by train Friday afternoon. He would like to meet with you as you and he discussed, say about 4:00.”
“Did he say where?”
“At your place.”
“I have two places. Did he say which?”
“Not exactly. But he did say something about it being remote.”
“Of course. I’ll have to get him some directions.”
“It sounded like he already knows where it is.”
“Oh! Thank you then.” She hung up the phone and stared at it. “I’m doing it Friday – the meeting I asked the admiral for. Him, Groves and Oppenheimer.” She looked up at Ruth, and James who followed her in. “Wow!”
“It’s what you wanted,” Ruth said, “What you believed you’re here for.”
“Yes, but now I have to figure out what to say to them. I didn’t expect to hear anything from him until tomorrow. He must have approached them right as they left the president. I wonder what he told them to bring them here, and so quickly?”
“Guess you’ll find out on Friday.”
“Yes. I guess I will.” She looked up at James. “Shall we go?”
An hour and a half later, and after starting the fire in the cabin stove, James lit the lantern, handed it to Ruth and then pulled the box out of the trunk. The women walked ahead of him to Reverend Nelson’s grave, to the circle that was always trimmed and swept clean. James laid the box in the circle and Anne knelt down next to it. She ran her fingers along the white fur and said, “Well, Fluffy. In hopes that we meet again on the other side, I wish you a safe journey.” She rose and stepped away.
For five minutes they stood and paced in silence. Anne rocked Elizabeth Anne in her pacing and looked at her watch every thirty seconds. “It should begin any second now,” she said, finally breaking the silence.
With that, as if cued by her words, the bubble of light grew around the box. They all held their breath for what seemed an eternity and then came the flash. In a blink, the light and the box with Fluffy were gone. The resulting darkness faded to the lantern light and they stood and waited some more.
The whine and light died away, but no one moved. The cardboard box that appeared in the cage had no top but it was too tall to see inside from anyone’s angle. Steven pushed his goggles up to his forehead and his ear protection down around his neck, but didn’t move from his seat.
“If you’re not going to check, Steven, then I will.” Jerry stepped into the cage, looked in the box, picked it up and stepped out. He looked at Steven, Dr. Hair, James Lamric and then the rest who all had their eyes on him and the box. As far as he could tell, not a man was breathing. When he sensed he couldn’t hold his bland expression any longer, he looked down into the box, grinned and said, “Welcome home, Charlie.”
“How long was it last time before we got the confirmation?” Ruth finally asked.
“It was raining, so it seemed like forever,” Anne said. “I think it was 7:15.”
“What time is it now?”
“7:13.”
Ruth stopped pacing and stared at the center of the circle.
“Do you think anyone has ever seen us standing here?” James asked.
“Don’t know,” Anne said. “I do worry that the kids will get curious and try and spy on us.” She looked around but couldn’t see anything beyond the reach of the lantern light.
“Here it comes,” Ruth announced and together they watched another plastic bowl appear. When the light flared out Ruth picked up the bowl and peeled off the lid. She pulled out a note and handed it to Anne.
“You’re going to have my entire Tupperware collection before this is over,” Anne said. James stepped up next to her with the lantern so she could read the note.
Success!!!
Charlie is well.
Be ready to go, 7:00, Friday, your time, November 12.
Contingencies – every 24 hours.
7:00 Saturday
7:00 Sunday
“Friday! I go home Friday!”
Ruth said nothing. The bowl dangled from one hand, the lid from the other. James lowered the lantern.
“Makes sense. I meet with Robert Oppenheimer at 4:00, and I depart at 7:00. Everything is as it’s meant to be. This meeting, to reverse the decision Roosevelt made today is why I’m here. I’m certain of it now.”
“Come home with us toni
ght,” Ruth said.
“Bronson will try again. You know he will.”
Ruth looked to James. “James will search the entire house, turn on all the lights this time.”
“And Roger and I will stand guard in the back yard the entire night,” James added.
“You can’t do that, James. You’ve got a job to do. You can’t spend your entire shift guarding me. I wouldn’t be able to sleep for the guilt.”
“There’s a dangerous individual on the loose and where you are is the most likely place he’ll show. It’s my official duty to protect you and nab him.”
“You can do that without me there. He just has to think I’m there, and he doesn’t know about this place.”
“I want you there,” Ruth said. “You only have three more days with us and then you’ll be gone forever. You’re the only daughter I’ll ever have.” Tears began forming in the corners of her eyes.
Anne put her arm around the woman she had come to love, and began feeling her excitement ebbing away and her own tears rising. She wished Ruth would be excited for her, but she knew she couldn’t. “James and Johnny will eventually marry and you’ll have two new daughters, and grandchildren.”
Ruth didn’t smile.
“How about this?” Anne said. “If you’ll come here and spend the night with me tomorrow night, I’ll come with you tonight.”
“Okay,” Ruth said and put her arms around Anne.
Chapter 59
Friday ~ November 12, 1943
“I have some visitors coming soon, official business, and then I’ll be leaving shortly after.” Anne looked among the three sets of sad eyes standing in front of her. She said her good-byes to Gertie and Danny earlier, and then the girls escorted her down to her cabin. This was turning into as sad a departure with them as it had been and still would be with Ruth. “So... I think we need to say our good-byes.”
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