Make Love Not War

by Margaret Tanner

  His gaze settled on the Honor Rolls along one wall. He perused the names under 1914-18 and spotted Dennison three times. Probably Caroline’s relations. Two had been killed in action apparently, as they had gold stars beside their names.

  On the 1939-45 roll, Dennison appeared twice, with stars against both names. Andrew Dennison had won a bravery award. What a tragedy! Two generations of the family virtually wiped out by war. Pride surged through him when he spotted the name Alexander Harrington.

  He had never given much thought to the war, but he remembered his father saying he’d fought in the Middle East and the Pacific. Not that he ever spoke much about the war. He was in fact quite reticent about it, although his mother said the old man was an officer. Damn it, where the hell was Caroline?

  The Harringtons had donated an honor board for ex-students serving in Vietnam, and already there were a few names on it. Only one had a star against his name, though.

  Captain Simon Alford. Poor old Fatty. They hadn’t been close friends, but their lockers were next to each other in the last two years at school. Everyone called Simon “Fatty” not because he was fat but because he was so thin. Even in the fourth form he stood over six feet tall.

  He stared at the door. Still no sign of them. He’d give them a piece of his mind when they arrived. That young Andy probably thought it amusing to have him cooling his heels. He wasn’t a patient man, he would be the first to admit it, but this would try the patience of a saint.

  He was debating the legal ramifications if he got up and walked out, when Russell said quietly, “They’re here.”

  He stood up on Russell’s signal. Chancing a quick glance over his shoulder, he saw Kerry. What was she doing here? If ever a female got his back up, it was her. Bad enough getting married, but having her here, he quite honestly didn’t know how her boyfriend put up with such a shrew.

  He watched as the two of them took a seat on the opposite side of the church from him. Where the hell was Caroline? No wonder she was late. Kerry probably instigated the delay on purpose. He didn’t much care what Caroline did after their marriage, but Kerry was one female he didn’t want her associating with.

  “She’s arrived,” Russell said.

  “About time,” he snapped, before he could stop himself. He chanced a glance over his shoulder, watching his mother crane her neck.

  Young Dennison certainly looked well in his uniform. What a fine-looking boy. A shaft of sunlight bouncing off one of the stained-glass windows momentarily enveloped him in a ghostly aura.

  A cold rush of dread chilled his body. This boy would soon be heading off to the jungles of Vietnam. Was his name destined to appear on the honor board with a star against it, like poor Fatty? Get a grip on yourself, man. He forced his emotions under control again.

  He didn’t know why, but he wanted to watch his bride walking down the aisle. What was wrong with him? Why should he care what she looked like? He argued with himself. He was only marrying her because he had no choice, doing the honorable thing, as men of his father’s generation would say.

  When Caroline was nearly up to him, he glanced over his shoulder again and caught his breath. She looked exquisite. Her hair had bleached silver blonde, thanks to the sun. Her huge eyes were over-bright, her skin white and smooth as porcelain. She started trembling. He should smile, give her some kind of encouragement, but he couldn’t. Damn it all, she had kept him waiting, hadn’t she?

  She suddenly baulked and Andy almost pushed her to his side. Russell started the service. It was brief, just the bare necessities. He had warned Russ to cut out all the usual sentimental mumbo-jumbo.

  He fumbled in his pocket for the ring and laid it on the Bible to be blessed. When it came time to slip the ring on Caroline’s finger, her hand shook. He was shocked to notice a fine tremor to his own hand, also.

  “I now pronounce you man and wife.”

  Thank goodness. It was all over. A couple of signatures, and that would be the end of it. It suddenly registered that Russell stared at him with a weird expression on his face.

  “You may now kiss the bride.” He repeated the words slowly, distinctly.

  “What? Of course.” Bryce put his hands on Caroline’s shoulders and brushed her lips with his own. Russell gave him another strange look. What was wrong with him? Did Russell expect him to take Caroline in his arms and really kiss her? He had to be kidding. A few chaste kisses on the mouth wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him once he tasted her soft sweetness.

  They trouped out to the vestry to sign the register. His parents, Andy, Kerry and the boyfriend came, too, and he introduced everyone. His mother scrutinized Caroline, desperate to find some flaw in her appearance. He grinned to himself. He didn’t know why, but Caroline’s appearance pleased him. She’d picked her outfit well. Not showy or outrageous, just understated good taste.

  “Well, my dear.” Bryce watched his father come up to Caroline. “You’ll have to call me Dad from now on.” He kissed her cheek. “I always wanted a daughter, and now I’ve got one.” He was definitely the happiest person in the vestry, no question about it.

  “How are you, Caroline?” His mother spoke in aristocratic tones. She used different voices for different occasions. “You can call me Iris. Now, you’re Andrew, aren’t you?” She turned towards the young captain.

  “Yes, my friends call me Andy, but you can call me Andrew.”

  Bryce winced, but his mother didn’t pick up the snub.

  “Well, my boy, you’ve done it.” His father came up and slapped him on the back, completely overdoing the jocularity bit. “I’ve booked a table for us at Sebastian’s.”

  “You what?” His mother took the words right out of his mouth.

  “We have to celebrate. You’ll come won’t you, Kerry, Trevor?”

  “No, thanks, Mr. Harrington we can’t stay. We have to go out. We only wanted to give Caro some moral support.” Kerry answered, shooting Bryce a triumphant look.

  “What a shame you’ve got a prior engagement,” he drawled, lying through his teeth. He caught Kerry’s eye, and she knew damn well he was glad they weren’t coming.

  He watched them kiss Caroline goodbye, shake hands with everyone else and prepare to leave.

  “May I kiss the groom?” Kerry smirked up at him. Bryce ground his teeth. Because his father and everyone else seemed to expect it, he touched her lips briefly with his own.

  “I expect to be Godmother,” she said, firing one last parting shot.

  He nearly choked with rage. She would have to be the most infuriating female God ever put breath into.

  They trouped outside to the car. The Jaguar was roomy enough for the five of them to fit in comfortably. Bryce drove to the restaurant and parked in the car park. This exclusive basement restaurant was one of his father’s favorites.

  Caroline’s hand felt icy cold when he touched it. He stared into her face and her pallor worried him. “You okay?” He didn’t mean to sound abrupt, but it came out that way.

  “Yes.”

  “If you want to be sick, just say so.”

  “I won’t disgrace you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” She sounded weary, somehow sad.

  “I wasn’t worrying about that. I’m worried about you.” It was true. He did feel anxious about her welfare. “If you’re not well, we can give this farcical wedding feast a miss.”

  “You okay, Sis? You look crook.”

  Bryce watched his mother wince.

  “Don’t they teach you to speak correctly at the Military Academy, Andrew?” She didn’t even try to hide her disdain.

  They were walking down the steps by this time. Would his father be all right? Hadn’t he read somewhere about stairs being bad for heart victims, but his father didn’t look like he had a worry in the world. He was enjoying himself, only person who was.

  They arrived inside the foyer of the restaurant and the Maitre de hurried over to greet them.

  “My son has just got married and this is his prett
y bride,” his father announced and Bryce could have sunk through the floor. Every head in the restaurant swiveled towards them.

  They were escorted to a table set with a white lacy tablecloth. Red candles in carved silver holders gave out a subdued flickering glow. He held the chair out for Caroline, suppressing a smirk as Andy did the same for his mother.

  “Just a little something we learned at the Academy.”

  “Andy, stop it,” Caroline admonished him. “He’s only teasing Mrs., um, I mean, Iris.”

  They had seafood crepes for an appetizer and pork fillets with sour cream as their main course. Two bottles of champagne rested in silver, ice-filled buckets. There was also a dish of chicken fillets, floured and grilled, and fresh garden salad. Thank goodness Caroline ate all of her meal. He didn’t know why, but it pleased him. Of course, he didn’t want her being sick. Pregnant women needed to eat to stay healthy. Now that the formalities were over, he felt quite hungry himself. The food tasted superb, as always.

  Dessert consisted of brandy-snap baskets filled with glazed wild berries.

  Bryce, mellowed by the food, smilingly encouraged Caroline to eat the delicious fare.

  “Caro.” Andy tapped her on the hand. “I don’t want to spoil the evening, but this time next week I’ll probably be in Vietnam.”

  Four spoons dropped with a clatter into the dessert bowls.

  “No! You can’t. Please Andy,” she implored, grabbing his hand. “You’ll get killed.”

  “Better a dead hero than a live coward.”

  Caroline let out a sob and fled from the table.

  “Hell,” Bryce exploded. “Couldn’t you have kept your mouth shut for a while longer? She was enjoying her food.”

  “Where else could I tell her? I only found out last night.”

  “Go after her son. She’s upset,” his father urged. “You should comfort her.”

  “Yes, go after her. You’re her husband,” Andy put it.

  “Oh great.” Bryce’s lip curled. “You surely don’t expect me to go into the ladies’ powder room.”

  “You could wait for her near the entrance,” Andy retorted.

  “And get arrested for being some kind of pervert? You wait for her, if you want to run the risk.” He gulped down his champagne.

  “Go and check on her, Iris. She’s in shock, she might have collapsed,” Bryce heard his father say.

  Collapsed? He hadn’t thought of that. “For God’s sake, Mother, go and check on her. Pregnant women faint, don’t they?” He turned worried eyes on his father.

  “Don’t ask me. I wouldn’t know. Your mother has never fainted in her entire life, have you dear?”

  “For heaven’s sake,” his mother said frigidly. “I’ll go. Then we are leaving. This farcical display has gone on for long enough. I’ll never be able to hold my head up again, never, I tell you.” She glared at Andy.

  “Don’t look at me. And don’t blame Caroline, either.” He stabbed his finger at Bryce. “It’s your son’s fault.”

  “Ah, she’s coming,” his father said.

  “You okay, Caro? I’m sorry for blurting it out like that.” Andy put his arm around her shoulder.

  That’s my role, Bryce thought furiously. I’m the one who should be comforting her. He couldn’t help noticing how pale and stricken she looked.

  “I suggest we go,” he said, getting up and removing Andy’s arm from Caroline. He didn’t know why he had such a strong desire to knock it off, but he restrained himself.

  “I’ll get the bill,” Bryce said, watching his father link one of his arms through Caroline’s and the other through his mother’s before heading towards the door.

  “I will see you before you go back, won’t I?” Caroline asked Andy in a fear-filled voice as they prepared to leave.

  “No. I’m being picked up at five o’clock in the morning.” He grinned, and Bryce wondered how he could act so cheerful when he was marching off to war.

  “I’ll give you a ring in a couple of days. Give me your home phone number, Harrington.”

  Andy moved away, and Bryce followed him.

  “Here.” Bryce pulled out a business card, wrote his private number on it and handed it to Andy.

  “Thanks. I won’t be back before I go. All leave is cancelled.”

  “I had a feeling it might be.”

  “The army is worried about anti-war protesters stirring up trouble,” Andy said.

  “Understandable. Ranting lunatics, most of them.”

  “I don’t want to upset Caroline again, but if I haven’t rung by Wednesday, it means I’ve either gone or can’t get to a phone.”

  “All right, good luck.”

  “Who needs luck? I’ll probably spend my tour of duty at our base camp in Nui Dat.”

  Bryce dropped his parents off first.

  “Good luck, Andrew.” Alexander shook his hand. “You give those Viet Cong the hiding they deserve,” he said fiercely. “Show them what the Aussie soldier is made of.”

  “Yes, good luck, Andrew.” Bryce watched his mother bestow a benevolent smile on him. A young soldier going off to war certainly tugged at the heartstrings. His mother would get plenty of mileage out of that at her committee meetings, he thought cynically. Like a vampire let loose in a blood bank, she’d suck out every drop.

  “Bring Caroline over one day soon. I’ll search out my old school photos. Sure to be some of her father.” Alexander leaned through the open window and kissed Caroline’s cheek.

  “Thank you, I’d like that. I haven’t got any pictures of Dad.”

  They drove off and were soon pulling up outside Caroline’s apartment. Bryce watched as Caroline kissed Andy goodbye.

  “Take care, Sis.” He ruffled her hair and gave her a hug. “Look after her, Harrington, and make sure you treat her decently.”

  “I will.” Bryce got out of the car and shook Andy’s hand. “Good luck. If you need anything, just let me know.”

  They drove along in silence. Bryce was morose, brooding, and Caroline felt sad and frightened. He had seemed so angry during the ceremony, even if he did thaw out over dinner. He obviously regretted his decision to marry her. Maybe he would want a divorce after a couple of months. She had to stop this incessant weeping, but it was hard, knowing that your husband had only married you because he felt duty-bound to do so, and your brother was marching off to war.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It was nearly nine o’clock by the time they arrived at his apartment. Bryce parked the car and they alighted. Caroline stood without speaking while he locked the doors. He was always security conscious. With his hand under her arm, he escorted her to the elevator, then down the hall when they reached his floor.

  At the door of his apartment, she faltered.

  “Come on.” He flung the door open. Probably remembering the last time she stayed here. Who isn’t? He scooped her up in his arms and carried her across the threshold, kicking the door shut behind them. He lowered her to the ground, watching as she stood there, uncertainty written all over her face.

  “Come on, for heaven’s sake. This is your home now. Stop acting like a frightened rabbit.”

  “I think mouse was the word you once used to describe me.”

  Hell, she remembered that? “Would you like a cup of tea? I’ll make you one, if you like.”

  “That’s my job, isn’t it?” she asked bleakly. “I’ll have to earn my keep somehow.”

  Her lips trembled, and he knew he should comfort her but couldn’t bring himself to do it. I’ve done the right thing. I’ve married her. What more did she expect? He was acting like a self-righteous pig, but he resented being maneuvered into doing something he didn’t want to do.

  “I’m tired. I might go straight to bed.”

  Was she dropping hints? No, of course not, she looked exhausted, and so sad it smote his heart.

  “Do that. Why don’t you have a bath or a shower?” He tried to sound kind rather than autocratic.

  “Cou
ld I? I mean, have a bath in that swimming pool in the bathroom?”

  “Why not? It will relax you.”

  “Thanks. It’s been a trying day.”

  God, what an understatement. He gritted his teeth so the words wouldn’t spill out of his mouth.

  Caroline traipsed towards the bedroom and Bryce followed.

  “I think I might change my clothes, too,” he said. “I’ve just about cooked all afternoon. I feel like a trussed-up Christmas turkey.”

  “If you want a shower, you can use the bathroom first,” she offered tentatively. Did he expect to use the bathroom at the same time as her? He was her husband now and had the right, if he wanted to exercise it.

  He must have read her mind. “You have your bath, I won’t disturb you. I’ll have a shower later.”

  She followed him into the bedroom, where he opened the wardrobe and pulled out a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.

  There was special heating inside his wardrobe to keep the creases out of the clothes, she noticed as she stood beside him.

  “I’ve moved some of my gear out so you can have the top three drawers.”

  “Thanks for hanging my clothes up, but I could have done it.”

  He drew in a shocked breath. “I didn’t unpack your clothes. I got my housekeeper to do it. They would have ended up in a jumbled heap if it was left to me.”

  “I’ll try and make you a good wife, just tell me what you expect.”

  “I don’t expect anything. You can go your way, I’ll go mine, and we’ll get along quite well.”

  He stripped off his coat then his shirt. She couldn’t drag her eyes away from his tanned, muscular chest. Once she had buried her face in that mat of hair she thought sadly, wondering whether she would ever do so again. What if he took up with his other women? The thought sickened her.

  After unbuckling his belt, he started unzipping his trousers.

  “We’re married now, so you can look if you like, Miss Prim, or rather, Mrs. Prim.” He laughed at her embarrassment. “You can turn around now. I’m decently covered.” She couldn’t decide whether he was teasing her or not.