A Fire Sparkling

by MacLean, Julianne

  Glad?

  He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket, withdrew a blue velvet box, and dropped to one knee on the floor. My belly exploded with heat when he opened the box to reveal a gigantic diamond ring—a princess setting with tiny diamonds in the platinum band. It was the most beautiful engagement ring I’d ever seen. Absolutely stunning.

  “Gillian Gibbons, you’re the love of my life, and I want to be your husband. I want to have children with you and build a life together. I know I’m not perfect. I’ve made mistakes, but you’re the reason I won’t make them again.”

  He removed the ring from the box and looked up at me. “Can I put this on your finger? I don’t expect you to give me an answer right away—I know you’ll need time to think about it, especially after what happened—but I need you to know how much I love you and that I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

  He slid the ring onto my finger, and all I could do was stare, speechless and wide eyed, at the enormous sparkling diamond.

  I struggled to find words. “I don’t know what to say, Malcolm. It’s beautiful.”

  “Say yes, and you’ll make me the happiest man on earth.”

  I continued to stare at the ring while a part of me wanted to say yes and cry tears of joy, because I’d been dreaming about this moment since the day we met.

  But another part of me was completely enraged, because I couldn’t forget what I’d seen the night before—the shocking image of the man I loved having sex with another woman, right in front of my eyes. It was a dark cloud that cast a filthy, dirty shadow over everything, and I balked.

  I pulled my hand from his grasp. “I can’t say yes, Malcolm. And your timing sucks, by the way.”

  He gazed up at me, pleading with his eyes for me to at least think about it.

  “I need time away from you,” I explained.

  He bowed his head. “Of course. I understand.” He got up from the floor and sat on the sofa beside me.

  Before either of us could say anything more, headlights beamed through the front window as a car pulled up the driveway.

  “It’s the pizza,” I said.

  “Right. Pizza. Perfect.” Malcolm stood. “I should probably go, then.”

  I rose without argument, thankful for the reprieve. At least the pizza deliverer had good timing.

  I escorted Malcolm to the door.

  “Please think about it,” he said, kissing me on the cheek before he walked out. I watched him get into his Jag and back out of the driveway. Then I accepted the large pizza box from the deliveryman and tipped him generously before I shut the door, locked it, and went back to the kitchen.

  Dad came downstairs and found me on my tiptoes, reaching for napkins on the top shelf in the cupboard. A pang of unease that had nothing to do with Malcolm exploded in my belly. It was difficult to explain, but sometimes, in the strangest, most unexpected moments, the past rose up out of nowhere, and my mother stood between my father and me—screaming at the top of her lungs for us to acknowledge her presence. Whenever that happened, I couldn’t even look at my dad.

  I grabbed a couple of napkins, then stalled for a few seconds while I turned them over in my hand and fought to shake away the disturbing image of my mother on the night she died . . . and my father’s pained expression as he just stood there, watching me cry over her dead body.

  Forcing myself to lift my gaze, I held out my left hand and showed him the ring.

  “What is that?” He took hold of my hand and examined the diamond.

  “Malcolm proposed.”

  Dad pursed his lips and whistled.

  “For the record,” I said, “I didn’t see that coming. Unbelievable, right?”

  “I probably shouldn’t comment,” Dad replied. “But wow, that’s a big ring.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  We sat down at the kitchen table in silence. I opened the pizza box, and we each served ourselves. Dad bit into a slice. Neither of us spoke.

  Sometimes, with my dad, silence could be deafening.

  The staircase creaked, and I was grateful for the disruption.

  “It sounds like Gram’s awake.”

  She reached the bottom of the stairs and appeared in the kitchen doorway, dressed in blue flannel pajamas and the red fleece bathrobe I’d given her for Christmas.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” she explained. “And I thought I heard someone at the door.”

  “We ordered a pizza. Are you hungry?”

  “A little.”

  She took a seat while Dad got up to set out another plate. He poured Gram some ice water from the jug.

  As I watched her cut into her pizza slice, I wondered if she even remembered telling us about the twin sister she’d kept secret all these years. She seemed completely at ease, as if it had never happened. Maybe it was age.

  She ate a few more bites of her pizza, then she turned to me. “I know it wasn’t just the pizza man who came to the door. I saw Malcolm’s car out front. And I may be old, but I’m not blind. I see what’s on your finger. Are you going to spill the beans?”

  It suddenly became obvious that she was trying to deflect attention, to distract us from our earlier conversation. But since she’d just shared everything with us about her engagement to her first husband, I couldn’t very well keep Malcolm’s proposal to myself. Besides, I was open to advice.

  I held out my hand and showed her the diamond. “He apologized for what happened, and he said he couldn’t live without me. Then he promised it would never happen again, and he got down on one knee.”

  Gram stared at the ring. “That’s a stunner. Is it real?”

  I chuckled at the question. “I would assume so. The price tag on this is just pocket change to a man like him.”

  Gram made a sound that resembled a harrumph.

  “You don’t approve?” I asked. “Please be honest, Gram, because I feel like I’m hanging upside down by my ankles right now. I don’t know which way is up.”

  Gram turned to Dad. “What do you think, Edward? You’re her father. Say something wise.”

  Dad wiped his mouth with a napkin. “She’s an adult, so this has to be her decision. Whatever it is, I’ll support it.”

  It was just like him to stand back, allow me my freedom, and not get involved. Maybe some kids would appreciate that, but there were many years during my twenties when I just needed him to rein me in and let me know he cared about what happened to me.

  “Don’t give me that,” Gram replied. “She wants to know what we think, and we ought to tell her. I certainly will, because I don’t want her coming to me ten years from now saying, ‘Gram, why didn’t you warn me? Why didn’t you tell me what you really thought?’” She patted my hand. “I doubt I’ll be around ten years from now, but you never know. I’m just trying to make a point.”

  “I appreciate that.” I turned to Dad. “Okay then. Be honest with me. I can take it, and I won’t hold it against you. What do you really think of Malcolm? Should I say yes or no?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know the man as well as you do, but maybe he’s worthy of a second chance. We all make mistakes, and sometimes a relationship is worth saving, and it can turn out okay in the end. Plenty of marriages have survived infidelities.”

  “And plenty haven’t,” Gram added. “Besides, she’s not married yet. She wasn’t even engaged to the man until tonight.”

  “I’m not engaged,” I mentioned. “I haven’t said yes to that.”

  “Maybe that’s a point worth considering,” Dad said. “Maybe once Malcolm considers himself a married man, he’ll act like one.”

  “But they were living together,” Gram argued. “Some would say that’s the same as married.”

  I reached for another slice of pizza, happy to let them carry on with their debate. I would just sit and listen.

  Dad turned to Gram. “May I point out, Mum, that you just told me to say something wise—to let her know what I really think—but you haven’t said
what you think. All you’ve said was that her ring was a stunner.”

  “I thought it was obvious,” Gram replied with a hint of umbrage.

  “Not to me.”

  Gram picked up her knife and fork and began to cut into her pizza again. “I think you could do better, Gillian. I know he’s rich, but money isn’t everything.”

  “It’s not about money,” I said, feeling the need to defend myself. “I really was in love with him. We have fun together, and he gets me. And I find him very attractive, physically.”

  Gram wagged her fork at me. “But do you have fun together because he takes you on fancy yachts, and he can get a theater box for all the best shows on Broadway or fly off to Tahiti on a moment’s notice? Any woman would find that fun. But what if he was broke? What if you had to live in a tiny apartment in Brooklyn and clip coupons for groceries? Would you still find him as attractive as you do now?”

  “He’s very charming, Gram,” I replied. “And he’s smart and witty. So yes, I would still find him attractive.”

  She shook her head. “I hate that word. Charming. Women should steer clear of men who charm them. If you’re charmed, then you’re under some kind of spell, and women need to stay sharp. Real life isn’t a dream. You have to keep your eyes open. Ears too.”

  I looked at Dad and raised my eyebrows, because I had to wonder why Gram held such strong opinions about charming men. Was it because her twin sister had been charmed by a handsome German Nazi officer in a well-tailored uniform?

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. “It’s good advice.” I raised my hand to look at the ring again, admiring how it sparkled under the kitchen light. “I must admit this does have a rather spellbinding effect. It’s making me forget everything ugly in the world, including what I saw last night. I’m a bit starry eyed, and that can’t be good.”

  Gram set her fork down. “You see what I mean? Diamonds are evil. These days, it’s all a big marketing ploy to get men to spend a month’s salary on a ring, just to prove the size of their love.”

  “Two months’ actually,” I mentioned. “That’s what they recommend.”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake. That’s madness. And that’s not how a man proves his love. I never needed an expensive ring from Grampa Jack, because I knew how lucky I was to have a man like him—a decent man who would lay down his life for me. That was enough. More than enough.”

  I sat back in my chair. “The world was a different place in your day. You knew what was truly important.”

  “We certainly did. We just wanted to survive. That’s all. Your house could be bombed, and you could lose everything you owned in a matter of seconds, but it wouldn’t matter if you still had the people you loved. If they survived, that was all the riches you could ever ask for. So, don’t let the size of that ring sway you. Think about what kind of a man he is. Is he decent and honorable? Would he die for you or help another person before he helped himself?”

  I considered that for a moment. One of the things I admired most about Malcolm was his dedication to philanthropy and his charitable donations. But was it truly his desire to help others, or was there a hint of PR involved? I’d seen him take great pleasure in the accolades, and if he ever made an anonymous donation, I suspected it would at least come with a sizable tax incentive.

  But that was just smart business. I couldn’t fault Malcolm for that. And we didn’t live in a world in which bombs were falling. All I wanted was for him to love me, and to be faithful, and for us to build a life together. I wanted children—a chance to prove to myself that I was capable of taking care of the people I loved. I didn’t need him to throw his body on a grenade.

  But would he, if that situation ever arose?

  Dad folded his arms on the table and eyed the pizza box. “There’s one slice left. Who wants it?”

  “I’m good,” I replied. “Stuffed to the gills.”

  “I’ve had enough as well,” Gram said. “You can take it.”

  Dad reached for the last slice while I gathered up the empty box and tossed it into the recycling bin. I cleared away the plates, loaded the dishwasher, and returned to the table.

  Gram sat with her legs crossed, gazing inquisitively at each of us in turn. I suspected that she was hoping my marriage proposal might have distracted us from what we were talking about earlier.

  I reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Gram. It’s pretty major, what you told us before—that you had a twin sister we didn’t know about. And you left us hanging. We’re dying to know what happened to April. Did she survive the war?”

  Gram slowly pulled her hand from my grasp and stared off into the distance.

  “You don’t want to talk about it, do you?” Dad carefully noted.

  She shot a look at him. “If I wanted to talk about it, I would have shown you those pictures years ago.” Her words were like a whip, cracking across the table.

  “Why didn’t you show them to us?” I asked boldly.

  “Because it was meant to be a secret. Between sisters.”

  She offered nothing further, so I pressed on. “Was it because April didn’t want anyone to know about her affair? Was she ashamed of it? Or did she do something bad?”

  My thoughts dashed about in all directions. Maybe April had become involved in the atrocities of the war in Europe. Or maybe she had simply turned a blind eye to what she saw. Or maybe she had betrayed England and tried to help the German campaign in some way.

  All this was speculation, of course. Only Gram knew the truth.

  “Yes, she did something bad,” Gram finally admitted.

  A chill ran down my spine.

  “What happened?” Dad asked with a frown.

  Gram uncrossed her legs and slid her chair back. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

  “Probably not,” I said apologetically.

  She sighed with resignation. “Then let’s go into the other room. The sofa’s more comfortable.”

  I had the distinct feeling that she was stalling, or maybe this was going to take a while. So, I decided to make some coffee while Dad and Gram got settled in the living room.

  While the coffee brewed, I couldn’t take my eyes off the diamond ring on my finger. I loved looking at it, and there was no question that it was exactly what I would have picked if I’d been standing next to Malcolm when he bought it. But I wasn’t nearly as enamored with the actual thing it represented—a lifelong commitment to him.

  Strange. Two days ago, I thought that was what I wanted. Marriage, romance. Children in our future. But today, nothing about our relationship felt real, and I was overcome with doubt.

  Gram had asked if he was worthy of my love. How exactly was I supposed to know the answer to that question?

  Or maybe that was the problem. When it’s right, you’re supposed to just know. Isn’t that what everyone said? Isn’t that how Gram had felt about her first husband, Theodore?

  Eager for more insight, I poured three cups of coffee and carried a tray into the sitting room to hear the rest of Gram’s story. And to find out what happened to her sister.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  August 4, 1940

  Vivian pedaled her bicycle westward along the Strand, tinkling her bell at another cyclist who seemed determined not to stop at an intersection where Vivian had the obvious right-of-way.

  “Sorry, luv!” the man shouted as he skidded to a halt.

  Vivian smiled as she rode past. “No worries!”

  How odd that she could feel so completely euphoric as she cycled past sandbags stacked in front of shops and offices and over a large dark shadow on the street, cast by a barrage balloon overhead, its steel tether cables creaking ominously as she maneuvered around them. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, there was very little to feel euphoric about. Earlier that spring, Prime Minister Chamberlain had stepped down, and Winston Churchill had taken his place. Germany had invaded Denmark, Norway, Belgium, the Netherlands, and France, and the British Expeditionary
Force had no choice but to retreat from the continent. In June, they were evacuated from the beaches at Dunkirk. Around the same time, Italy had entered the war in support of Germany, and France had signed an armistice agreement allowing the Nazis to occupy the northern half of the country, which included Paris and the entire Atlantic coastline. Now Britain stood alone, facing Hitler’s military war machine just across the English Channel, where nearly all of Europe was under Nazi occupation.

  Vivian pedaled faster, recalling the pamphlet every British householder had received shortly after the Dunkirk evacuation. It included instructions about what to do in case of a German invasion. All anyone talked about lately were German parachutists descending from the sky and pretending to be English. Citizens had been warned to keep watch and always be suspicious of anyone, and if the Germans did come, Brits were not to help them in any way. They were to hide food, maps, and bicycles and always think of their country before themselves.

  Meanwhile, Vivian and other ladies she knew had been donating pots, pans, and various household items for the Spitfire Fund to contribute to aircraft production, because with German bombers flying across the Channel in alarming numbers, the Royal Air Force needed as many planes as possible to shoot them down before they had a chance to drop bombs.

  Food was being rationed, and the blackout was still in effect, and yet, despite all that, Vivian couldn’t help but feel happier than ever as she steered her bicycle onto Craven Street, where she and Theodore had been living since they had married last October.

  She was in high spirits because she was on her way home with precious good news. She had just been to see the doctor, and he had confirmed what she’d been hoping for.

  She was pregnant, more than two months along.

  Vivian had suspected as much, but she hadn’t said a word to Theodore because she didn’t wish to get his hopes up, not after their disappointment last February when she lost the child they’d conceived over Christmas. For a long time afterward, she had been afraid to try again, but then spring arrived, the daffodils blossomed in the parks, and she and Theodore were more deeply in love than ever.

  Pressing the brake pedal, she slowed to a halt in front of their five-story brick town house, dismounted, and removed a bouquet of fresh flowers from the wicker basket clamped to the handlebars. She walked through the front door and called out to their housekeeper, “Hello, Mrs. Hansen! I’m home!”