Far Side of the Sea

by Kate Breslin

  More hilarity rose from the women at the end of the table, and even Grace laughed. Colin looked toward the mirthful ladies still dressed in their bridesmaid gowns and noted that even Miss Danner smiled, though her gray eyes shone with sad tears.

  He thought of his last glimpse of Johanna, and the ache in his chest intensified. She’d told him once that she could love a man like him and that what lay in the heart mattered more than what the world saw on the outside.

  “. . . need a new business manager in my New York offices before long.”

  Colin turned at the sound of his father speaking to one of the guests at the table. “I received a congratulatory telegram from my company head in America, Mr. Fowler. The position’s been vacant for weeks, and we must find someone organized who can come in to run the office and take charge when Fowler’s away on business.”

  Colin’s heart thumped in his chest. New York. America, land of the free . . .

  He gazed at his father while a lightness he hadn’t felt in days came over him.

  Love never fails.

  CHAPTER

  32

  PARIS, FRANCE, MAY 4

  Napoleon once said, ‘He who hazards nothing, gains nothing.’”

  Jo sighed as she sat inside the dim confines of the dovecote, cuddling a pigeon in her arms. Eleven days had passed since Colin said good-bye to her in Barcelona, yet it seemed more like eleven hundred.

  “He was my enchanted prince, you know. Much the way Little Corporal is yours.” She stroked the hen’s smooth gray head. “For that reason I had to tell Colin the truth about Moira. I couldn’t let any more secrets come between us, even though I knew what it might cost.”

  She talked soothingly to the bird, trying to ignore the dull ache in her chest. “Your mate was a big enough surprise when Colin discovered him hidden in my room.” A bittersweet smile touched her lips at the memory. “Though, once he got over the shock, he was glad I’d brought Little Corporal with us.”

  The pigeon in her arms made a soft cooing sound. “Yes, I know your brave mate is off on another mission right now, but he will be back. He traveled more than five hundred miles from Spain to reach the dovecote when I needed help, so I am certain he’ll be all right.”

  Jo spoke more to reassure herself than the hen, as Little Corporal had left the dovecote before her arrival at work yesterday.

  She’d been back in Paris two days after an arduous return trip from Spain. Thanks to Captain Weatherford, she was able to spend a precious week with her father, and already she missed him.

  They had talked about much—Jo’s life in Kilcoole, both the pain and the happier times spent with her birds; boarding school in England; and finally, about the Easter Rising and her failure to save Moira.

  Papa had been saddened by her mother’s death, and while he did not divulge much about himself, he talked to her about Jewel, sharing with Jo the missing pieces of her sister’s life.

  Eventually he had asked about her “young lieutenant,” and she explained to him Colin’s reaction when she told him the truth about her part in the rebellion. There wasn’t much either of them could say after that, knowing the past couldn’t be changed.

  Jo pursed her lips at the miserable reminder of Colin’s taut face, his expression filled with anger and disappointment. He had looked as wretched as she had felt.

  The gray pigeon began to fidget, and she released the bird to flutter upward to its nest in one of the boulins. Leaning back against the cool stone wall, she closed her eyes and listened to the rustling of the birds overhead, yet the steady pang in her heart persisted.

  It was Colin she missed most of all—his rugged features and clear hazel eyes, and the way his lower lip curled whenever he knew she was telling stories. His insistence on calling her Johanna when no one else did, and the rare sound of his laughter, lighting up all the little places in her heart.

  On the day of his departure from Barcelona, Jo had deliberated whether or not to accompany him to the station. But she had wanted . . . no, she’d needed to see him one last time, not only to thank him for all he had done for her and Papa, but to make peace with him.

  Colin had become her friend, her partner, and she respected him. As much as his rejection tore at her, Jo wanted no ill will between them.

  His look of gentleness and longing as he’d reached through the open window for her had nearly been her undoing. Colin had told her she would never be alone, that God would always be with her. Jo wanted to believe that, but she also wanted Colin, and for the past days and nights, she’d prayed for his return. But maybe God wasn’t listening. . . .

  “I thought I would find you here.”

  André had entered the dovecote, carrying a plate of sugared biscuits. “Isabelle has brought these from her friend at the pâtisserie in Paris. A little sweetness to cheer you up, eh?”

  Jo tried to muster a smile. “Merci, my friend, but I’m not hungry.”

  “You have been stewing in your sorrows since you returned. It is Saturday, and the sky is clear. You should be out riding your motorcycle. Or have lunch with Isabelle and me.”

  His mood softened as he set the plate down beside her. “I know you feel bad about your sister and your father, but Isabelle and I, we are still your family, non?”

  “Of course you are, André.” Jo reached to give his hand an affectionate squeeze. She’d been sworn to secrecy, so she could not share with her friends the real account of her quest. Only that the woman with Kepler was not her sister, and she had learned Jewel died of illness months ago.

  When André questioned her about Little Corporal’s unexpected arrival with her cryptic note about La Rambla and a golden key, she had told him part of the truth: she’d become separated from Colin and wanted the lieutenant to find her. Just as I do now.

  “You are missing your young man, I think.” André read her thoughts and sat down beside her. “Would you like to talk to me about it?”

  Jo gazed into his dark eyes, so full of compassion, and shook her head. What could she tell him without revealing secrets from her past that would potentially get her booted out of France?

  She sighed. “There is nothing to say, André. I came to care very much for the lieutenant while we were together, but he did not share my feelings, and that’s an end to it.” Averting her eyes, she added in a whisper, “Trust me, it is for the best.”

  “Bah! Who could not love my Jo?” André scowled. “I thought the lieutenant had more sense than that, but I was wrong.”

  “André, please . . . it’s not his fault.”

  “Whose fault?”

  The door had opened again, and Isabelle approached. She studied Jo questioningly.

  André spoke up. “Lieutenant Mabry deserted our poor girl.”

  “Papa, quit upsetting her!” Isabelle flashed her father a severe look before she crouched at Jo’s feet, her dark eyes gentle with understanding. “You still love him, ma chère amie, and nothing we can say will change that. You just need time.” She smiled. “Perhaps a nice lunch at the café in town will make you feel better?”

  Jo smiled at them both, so grateful for their friendship. “You two go on, and if you like, you can bring me a sandwich. I will stay here and keep an eye on things. I’m very anxious to see Little Corporal.”

  “Always, you are worried about that bird.” André sighed as he tilted his head up toward the empty traps at the top of the pigeonnier. The small bells on the traps hadn’t rung for some time, and when they did, the returning pigeons hadn’t been her white one.

  “He’s been gone a long time.” Jo met his gaze. “Where did you say you sent him?”

  “Do not fret, ma petite.” He rose from the bench. “The pilot at Orly said the bird would not be gone more than a couple of days—”

  “Orly is the airfield.” Her pulse leapt as she too rose to stand. “Has Little Corporal been dropped by parachute over enemy territory?”

  “It is likely.” André flushed. “I took a parachute with the bas
ket . . .”

  Jo wasn’t listening as she imagined her bird somewhere inside occupied Belgium or France. The basket could get caught in a tree branch or hidden in some brush. “What if he’s trapped and—”

  “Rest easy, Jo.” Isabelle put an arm around her. “Your pigeon will be fine. Did he not just fly across the whole of France to deliver your message?”

  Jo frowned at her friend. “Little Corporal made that trip in less than a day, Isabelle. It’s been far longer than that since my return yesterday, and I still have not seen him.”

  “Do not worry, mon amie.” Isabelle hugged her. “He is doing exactly what he was trained to do. All will be well.”

  Once they departed, Jo went to stand by the ladder, staring up at the traps in the dovecote’s opening. What if her pigeon did not come back?

  A familiar loneliness settled over her, intensified by her yearning for Colin. Once again she thought of his assurances, how God would always be there for her. Yet hadn’t she tried to speak with Him since Colin had left? Trust in Him, Johanna. . . .

  She closed her eyes and let the seconds pass as she recollected the same prayer she’d been saying for days. Lord, I want to have Colin’s faith, and you already know how much I love him and miss him. But I do not want to lose my pigeon, either. ’Tis a very small thing, I know, but I would ask you to please bring him back to me.

  As Jo opened her eyes, the only sound was the cooing of the birds above. Maybe she was being foolish, asking for such a trifling favor. Or what if she wasn’t saying it the right way, and God hadn’t heard her prayers?

  She left the ladder and had started back toward the bench when the sound of a bell reached her ears. Turning, she glanced high above and caught sight of the fluttering, snowy white wings. “Little Corporal!” Relief washed through her. He was safe after all.

  Still bedazzled by his timely appearance, Jo grabbed up the retrieval basket and slung it across her shoulder before she began to climb the ladder. Had God been listening?

  Upon reaching the trap, she spied the tiny silver capsule strapped to her pigeon’s leg.

  “Little Corporal, where have you been?” She scolded him gently as she opened the trap and transferred him into the small basket. “I was so worried.”

  A flash of gold caught her eye as she closed the wicker lid, and it was another minute before she’d brought the ladder back around and carefully descended the rungs to the ground.

  Seated on the bench once more, Jo placed the basket on her lap. Reaching inside for her pigeon, she stared at the glint of gold she’d seen moments before.

  The ring, a plain gold band, had been tied with white ribbon to his tail feathers.

  Jo’s heart thumped wildly as she held the bird in the basket while she loosened the ribbon. Holding up the ring, she realized how much larger it was than her own fingers.

  Her breath shook as she eyed the silver capsule attached to Little Corporal’s leg, and she removed it before releasing him to fly to his nest.

  Normally Jo would have taken the small metal tube inside to the agents on duty, but she opened the tiny canister now and removed the message, hope and fear seizing her heart as she instinctively knew the sender:

  To my lost girl at La Maison des Oiseaux, Vernon, France

  Urgent you remember your promise of love. Meet me Napoleon’s tomb, 5 May, 1500 hours. You’re my last hope. —C. M.

  Elation surged through her as she read and reread his words, and her sudden burst of laughter caused a cacophony of rustling feathers and cooing. Tears of joy ran down her cheeks, and she closed her eyes, hugging the precious note to her chest as she said a silent prayer of thanks to God. He had listened to her after all, and He’d given her more miracles than she could ever have dreamed.

  Tomorrow, at three o’clock, Jo would finally see her prince.

  CHAPTER

  33

  Had Johanna received his message?

  Colin rechecked his watch as he stood inside the Dôme des Invalides at the railing surrounding Napoleon’s tomb.

  Fifteen minutes past the hour. She could simply be running late, which was not unusual. Or perhaps the pigeon had failed in its mission. . . .

  He clung to the first possibility rather than reconsider the insanity of his plan. After overhearing his father’s conversation during the wedding reception at Stonebrooke, Colin had returned to Hastings the following afternoon and sent a telegram to Lacourt. He’d requested an all-white pigeon from the dovecote at Vernon be taken to the Orly airfield outside of Paris, and he’d had Goodfellow sign off on it, so the French agent wouldn’t suspect Colin’s involvement and share his intentions with Miss Moreau or her father.

  Colin had spent three remarkable days since his sister’s wedding, starting with the lengthy return trip by car with his father from Bedfordshire to London, giving them both ample opportunity to talk.

  In truth, he had done most of the talking. Though sworn to secrecy about the details involving Zero and the Black Book, Colin shared with his father his reasons for going to Paris, and then meeting Johanna instead of Jewel and their quest to find her family. How, in the course of his two weeks away, he had fallen in love, and his whole world had changed.

  Because he’d half expected his practical father to scoff or at least dismiss his feelings, Colin was gratified when, after listening to his son’s story, Patrick Mabry confessed to his own whirlwind romance with Colin’s mother years before.

  Filled with hope and praying his father would agree, Colin had decided to broach the subject of his decision to leave Britain and cross the sea.

  Colin turned back toward the entrance, searching for a sign of Johanna. It was Sunday, and the Dôme was crowded, mostly with women garbed in mourning black and traveling in pairs, a few clutching the hands of small children. Several older men also wandered about the place, their threadbare uniforms giving evidence of hard times spent at the Front and perhaps even more difficult times at home.

  He reached to loosen his tie before unbuttoning the coat jacket of his brand-new suit. Again he considered the risks he had taken, his own personal leap of faith to offer a future to the woman he loved.

  Looking at his watch, he realized another five minutes had passed.

  Perhaps she wasn’t coming.

  He stared at Bonaparte’s red sarcophagus below while his heart thudded heavily in his chest. Johanna had once encouraged him here in this place after Lacourt had rejected him as her escort to find Jewel. She’d told him he couldn’t let the opinions of others stop him in his quest.

  Yet in this particular case, his situation was impossible, because despite all his plans and romantic gestures, he needed Johanna by his side to make his dream come true.

  And she wasn’t here. Johanna hadn’t forgiven him. . . .

  “Napoleon once said, ‘Great men seldom fail in their most perilous enterprises.’”

  Colin’s heart leapt, and he briefly closed his eyes before turning around slowly to see her standing behind him. Johanna was a vision in pink with her silver shoes and her little pink hat with its black feather, looking much the way he remembered her from their night at Le Bibent in Toulouse. A lifetime ago, it seemed.

  Seeing the sparkle in her eyes, he smiled. “I do tire of having to wait on you, Miss Reyer.”

  Then his humor fled, and he stepped toward her. “You look beautiful, Johanna.”

  Her chin lifted, and a sudden blush added roses to her cheeks. “I received an urgent message. And this.” She opened a gloved hand to reveal the gold ring he had sent.

  Colin had imagined so many scenarios with her: pleasant bantering about the fairy tale she’d told him, or talking practically about the future and making plans with one another. Explaining to her why he had changed his mind and decided to come back for her.

  But as he lost himself in the deep blue of her eyes, he was suddenly that man buried beneath the earth, clawing his way toward the surface, unable to breathe and desperate for a glimpse of the blue sky above, kn
owing it would fill his lungs and save his life.

  A groan rose from deep in his chest as he reached for her, pulling her into his arms. He lowered his head, pressing the side of his face to hers while the knot in his throat loosened and he simply held her.

  She trembled in his arms, her quiet sobs muffled against his shoulder. Colin closed his eyes, regretting the pain he had caused her. “Please forgive me, my darling.” He whispered the words against her ear. “You saved me once, and I find I am in need of saving again . . . and again and again. A lifetime, if you will have me.”

  He turned to kiss her soft cheek, tasting the salty wetness of her tears. “Love me always, Johanna, and be my wife.”

  Her grip on him tightened, and he held her in his embrace, both of them oblivious to the curious stares of passersby.

  Finally she leaned back to gaze at him. Colin held his breath, waiting for her answer. Perhaps he should have gotten down on his knee?

  Her eyes were puffy and red, her little hat askew. A lock of her blond hair had come loose from its coil to fall against her shoulder.

  But her smile was radiant. “Yes, and yes, and yes.”

  Relief and jubilation filled him as he lifted her off the floor and turned with her. Johanna laughed, and he leaned in to kiss her, gently at first, before surrendering to her all of the love and longing he’d been harboring since the day he’d left her in Barcelona.

  She responded to his kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck, and it was a few moments before he again set her back onto her feet and drew her close.

  Hearing her happy sigh, Colin hugged her tight, knowing she had broken the enchantment and set him free.

  Now he would never let her go.

  Epilogue

  NEW YORK HARBOR, NEW YORK, LATE MAY

  There she is, Colin, and looking just as lovely as her little sister in Paris.”

  Standing beside her new husband on the deck of the USS Huron, Jo breathed in the briny smell of the sea as she pointed toward the Statue of Liberty in the harbor. They had traveled across the Atlantic for many days with the constant fear of attack by German U-boats, but by God’s grace, they had arrived in New York safe and sound.