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England 1944
It was a damp May. Back home, she would have been riding in the front seat of the family car next to James with Patrick and Owen arguing in the back as they made their way to the lake.
The memory left her breathless with homesickness. Though she loved her mom, her brothers were her best friends and comrades. At least if she had to be half a world away from them, she had her own war to occupy her.
"Miss Doyle!"
Catie halted a few feet from the bus stop. Brushing away a few strands of hair that had fallen loose from their pins, her breath caught in her throat. Ted McNeil from Astoria, Oregon jogged up to where she stood, holding her brown paper packages of dry cleaning.
"I thought that was you," he exclaimed, studying her face with fervor, "I didn't see you at the pub this weekend."
Catie gave a tight lipped smile, "I was too tired from our training."
Honestly, she had been nervous to return. During a time of war, her gut told her that to get involved with anyone was dangerous for both of them.
He smiled but his eyes dimmed as though he guessed her thoughts, "Are you heading back? Please, would you let me carry your packages for you?"
"I'm sure I can handle them." Catie replied politely.
Ted pursed his mouth, thinly veiled disappointment creeping into his face. He tipped his cap and stepped away, "Well, it was good to see you. I am glad I ran into you, they have been hinting at our leaving coming up soon. The big jump into mother Europa."
Catie's stomach lurched, "Wait, maybe-"
He paused, hopefully searching her face. She shrugged, shifting the packages in her arms. Spending a little time with him couldn't hurt. Ted was friendly and easy to talk to, she sensed they were two of a pair. It was nice to have someone she could be herself around.
"I was wondering, maybe you would like to get a cup of coffee?" Her eyes dropped, "If you have the time this afternoon. I know you boys are busy."
She studied her feet as he walked over to her.
"I would love to get some coffee with you, Catie Doyle." Without asking, he took the packages from her arms and tucked them under his elbow.
At the tea house on main street, the two of them found it was easier to share a pot of tea than coffee. Especially after the look they received from the waitress when they requested it. Cate noticed that Ted was as unwilling to rock the boat as she. The two of them smiled obligingly and let the sour faced woman order for them.
"You'd think we were planning on spiking our coffee with whiskey the way she was looking at us," Ted scoffed, his dark brown eyes widening.
Catie snorted, "I mean, we do look like the type."
"You certainly do. Catie Doyle, nurse by day. Lush by night."
"How'd you know?" She gaped with false shock.
"You're Irish, I'm Irish. Its a given," Ted winked.
The skeletal woman brought out a plate of crumbling scones with margarine and their tea. Rationing was just as harsh in England as it was at home, if not more. The British had been in the war nearly two years longer than their Yank counterparts. It was a fact that the foreign troops were rarely allowed to forget.
"So what led you to volunteer? You were exempt from the draft, working at the factory. At least I assume so," Catie asked after taking a bite of the pastry.
"I was. But two guys who were 4F in my town committed suicide because of it. Do you think I'd be able to get away with staying in Oregon while all my neighbors' boys went to fight?"
Catie pursed her lips, "No, I guess you didn't really have the choice."
"I didn't want a choice," Ted met her eyes, his easy going voice gaining a drive she hadn't heard before, "I had an uncle who was killed in the trenches back in 1918. I was born to do this, for this time."
Catie swallowed dryly, stirring her tea, "So you don't believe anything is simple chance?"
"Do you?"
Catie dared to look up into his face. A bomb could have dropped in the street outside and she wouldn't have noticed. For a heart quaking moment, it was only the two of them at their corner table. The impatient waitress interrupted the moment as she slapped a bill between them.
A few hours later after walking the country lanes and talking, Ted led her to the door of their quarters. It was later than when she had told Joan and Mira she would be returning. However, by the look of the shadowed windows in the growing half-light, they had already been picked up by their dates for the evening.
"Thank you for the afternoon. I enjoyed myself," Catie said, trying not to sound too enthusiastic as she put the key in the door.
"Me too." Ted held out the packages to her as she turned towards him on the doorstep. "Are you sure you don’t want to come out to the Pub tonight? Joan and Dave are going. I even heard Ralph talking about taking out Mira."
Catie chuckled, "Does poor Ralph know that Mira has a beau somewhere fighting in Italy?"
"Actually, I think he does."
"If Mira is anything, she certainly is open about her personal life." Catie met his eyes, Ted holding them there a moment as she took the packages from his arms. Her heart leaped up her throat, "I really need to study."
Ted tipped his hat, retreating backwards, "I understand. I'm not sure when they are going to be sending us out but I'm glad I got to see you again."
"You be safe, Ted McNeil," Catie's voice pitched as she held the door frame with her free hand, "You promise?"
Ted smiled, "I promise, Catie Doyle."
Tucking his hands in his pockets, he strolled down the brick path. Catie bit her bottom lip as he approached the white picket gate. A wave of panic rose up with the dreadful notion that it was the last time she'd see him.
She didn't know what scared her more, Ted dying in combat or that fact that she was that emotional over someone she had just met. So much for being guarded.
She set the parcels on the doorstep, "Ted! Wait a moment!"
Hurrying towards the gate, she met him without slowing her pace. Before she could lose the gumption, she curled her hands around the back of his neck. He responded before she had a chance to steal a kiss. Firmly grasping her waist to him, he nudged his lips against hers.
A pair of headlights flashed towards them. A car horn blared followed by raucous laughter. Ted quickly let go and Catie retreated, trembling as she straightened her skirt.
"Don't forget, you promised," she whispered, a damp fog growing around them as night fell, “Don't do anything stupid. Please."
Ted breathed in sharply, "I won't."
Haguenau, 1945
Cate closed the makeshift blackout curtains, covering the view of the black river water reflecting the clear night sky. She shivered as she turned towards the door.
Ted shifted awkwardly, glancing towards the small hearth where a fire burned. An oil lamp sat on the dusty floorboards beside a chair and table. There were no electric lights in the bedroom Cate occupied. She guessed from the faded paintings of rabbits and birds on the walls that it had once been a child's bedroom.
"Please come in, its cold out in the hall," she lifted a hand towards the fireplace.
Ted McNeil scoffed as he did as he was told, "Still warmer than being hunkered down in a foxhole in the Ardennes."
Tugging off his gloves, he knelt to the floor and held his hands towards the fire. Cate didn't reply. From a small bureau by the door, she lifted an apron out of a drawer.
Most of the girls lived out of their suitcases. But Cate had insisted on neatly putting away her things. If they had to leave in a hurry and she left some possessions behind, so be it. It was a small way to feel human again.
Tying the strings around her waist and adjusting the kerchief covering her hair, she glanced over to see Ted stoking the flames. The shadows licked the hollows of his face, making him look so much older than he had in England. He squinted over at her, tugging his hat from his head.
Cate picked up the cloths and a china wash bowl. A kettle over the flames let out a low whistle, breaching the wall of silence between them. Cate retrieved the kettle from the hearth with a stained napkin. Ted rose to his feet, heavy gaze on the flames.
"Here, take off your coat," she instructed after pouring the steaming water. She reached out to unbutton it for him.
Ted let out a breathy chuckle, "Alright."
She tugged the coat from his shoulders and folded it over in her arms, "You are going to need to take off that sweater too."
Cate was warmed by the quiet surprise blooming across his face. An actual smile tugged at his mouth as he obeyed, "You have gotten a lot bossier, that's for sure. Where is the sweet, quiet girl from New Hampshire?" 613Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwDcfpc6LSw
Sometimes she wondered the same thing.
He pulled the sweater over his head, peeling it from the tethers of sinew and muscle in his arms. Heat crept into Cate's face. Casting her eyes to the floor, she motioned towards the chair.
"Just take a seat, McNeil," she snipped, laying his coat on the bureau.
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