The Unsung Hero (53 page)
She was not at all surprised that this Cybele would have chosen Charles, even over Joe.
“All I know is this,” he whispered. “Listen. Are you listening?”
“Yeah,” Kelly said. “I’m here.”
“I know you’re here, but are you listening?”
“You don’t need to talk right now.” As much as she wanted to hear what he had to say, she knew it was difficult for him to get these words out.
“It helps,” he said. “Besides, you need to know. Because this is important, Kelly. You can’t choose who you love. You can’t say ‘No, I will not love you; yes, I will love you.’ You can’t do that. When I met Cybele and Joe, I knew he was in love with her. And after about a week, probably even less than that, I was in love with her, too. Only, I was married. I had a kid. I had no business falling in love with Cybele or anyone who wasn’t Jenny. But it happened, and I couldn’t stop it. And Cybele was drawn to me, too—I still don’t know why. I tried so hard to do the right thing, to stay away from her, but in the end I failed. I gave in, and do you know, I would’ve sold my soul to the devil to be free to love her, to spend my life with her. I loved her that much. It was that strong, that powerful.”
He was silent then for a moment, and Kelly prayed the pills he’d taken were starting to work against his pain.
“Only I refused to admit it at first,” Charles said quietly. “For more than a week, I let myself wallow in my failings—the fact that with my embracing this wondrous thing, this love, I hurt my wife, I hurt Joe. But I ended up hurting myself and Cybele even more, because I wasted the precious time we had together.
“Cybele once told me that on the day that her husband and son were killed, she made them breakfast, but she didn’t take the time to sit down at the table and eat with them. She told me she would spend the rest of her life wishing she’d given herself those extra moments with them. She wished she’d watched her boy eat his porridge, wished she’d kissed her husband good-bye. She wished she’d held her son close instead of merely wiping his mouth with a wet cloth. She wished she’d told them she loved them before they left her kitchen and her life for good.
“She told me all that,” Charles said to Kelly, “and I still didn’t understand. It wasn’t until it was too late . . .”
He was starting to relax. Kelly could tell from the way he was leaning against her. She helped him down, into his bed, beneath the covers, but she didn’t leave. She sat with him, gently stroking his hair, holding his hand.
“It was the night we found out about the German plan to crush the Fifty-fifth.” His voice was softer, weaker, but he seemed to want to keep on talking, and God, she wanted to hear this.
Her father, giving her advice of the heart. It was unbelievable. It was more than she’d ever hoped possible.
“I’d hurt my ankle again about a week before, and I was finally strong enough to travel. I was going to leave Ste.-Hélène, cross the line, get back to the Fifty-fifth. Joe was going to take me as far as he could.
“I didn’t say good-bye to Cybele. I think I probably knew if I’d so much as spoken to her, I would’ve admitted how much I loved her. I was afraid of making her promises I wouldn’t be able to keep when sanity somehow returned.” Charles smiled sadly at Kelly. “I fully expected sanity to return, but it never did. Never.
“So we left Ste.-Hélène, Joe and I, just after dark. It was a clear night, a warm night, and we headed north and west along a trail through the woods both Joe and Cybele often used. Each step of the way, I remember thinking, how could I leave? How could I have gone without saying something? How could I return to Baldwin’s Bridge without gazing at least once more upon her face? And I realized then that I must’ve somehow known. I must’ve done it on purpose, left without saying good-bye—so that I’d have to return to Ste.-Hélène before I went back to the United States for good. I would see Cybele again. And I knew right then, at the lightness and joy in my heart at the thought of going back, that I loved her beyond all else. The house in Baldwin’s Bridge—this house—that I’d spoken of and longed to return to so often throughout my ordeal in France, my fortune, my family, my wife, my life. It all meant nothing to me compared to the love I’d found with Cybele.”
He was silent then, his eyes closed, and as much as Kelly wanted him to sleep, she found herself hoping he was only resting.
“What happened?” she whispered. “Why didn’t you stay in France, Daddy?”
The pills he’d taken were working now, and working well. As he opened his eyes to look up at her, he seemed to look right through her, as if he could see all those years into his own past.
“We hadn’t gone more than seven miles, Joe and I, when Cybele caught up with us. She’d been running all that way after us, but she still had the energy to slap me, hard, across the face, when she found us. I, of course, kissed her. She was so angry, but I kissed her, and I told her all that I’d realized. That I was coming back to Ste.-Hélène after the war. That I loved her. That I would do anything for her. Even die.”
Her father laughed softly, his eyes still so distant, and Kelly knew he saw her—his Cybele.
“She cried, and told me that was something she never wanted—for me to die for her. She would not allow that. Not ever.” He shook his head. “Poor Joe. It must’ve been torture for him to stand there and listen to us declare our love—he loved her just as much as I did. Probably even more.
“But then Cybele told us why she’d followed. It wasn’t to slap me across the face, although she’d been happy to get a chance to do that. She told us of a coming German counter-offensive. She had papers she’d been given, papers that spelled out the attack, that needed to get into Allied hands before dawn.
“So we went. The three of us. There were Germans everywhere as we moved toward the line. It was impossibly dangerous—I’ve never been that afraid.”
His voice shook. “Then Joe was wounded, and things went from bad to worse. He slowed us down, but we couldn’t leave him. How could we leave him? We were moving through a town—I never even knew its name, but the houses were all rubble, the streets impossible to pass through.
“We were trapped there,” he said flatly. “We were hiding in the debris, hiding from a patrol of Germans. They were coming straight toward us. It was over. I knew it was over. But I had my gun drawn. I was going to take out as many of them as I possibly could, and dammit, at that moment, I could have done it. I could have killed them all, and we could have gotten away. The hell with the fact they had machine guns, and I had only that little Luger. But I didn’t get a chance to try because Cybele, she handed me those papers and her gun, her Walther PPK. I didn’t understand. God, I was so stupid.”
There were tears in his eyes, and Kelly’s heart was in her throat.
“She kissed me,” he whispered. “She looked into my eyes, and she said, ‘I love you.’ And then, before I could stop her, she ran. Back the way we’d come, as fast as she could—and she was fast.”
His lip trembled and a single tear escaped, rolling down his gray cheek. “The Germans chased her. They opened fire. I saw their bullets hit her, I saw her fall. I knew she was dead, just like that, she was dead! But I also knew that unless I moved fast, I wouldn’t get those papers and Joe to safety. She’d died so I could do that, so somehow I did. To this day, I don’t know how I managed it—to evade the Germans and carry Joe across the line. I left him where he would be found, made sure those papers got into the right hands. Then I grabbed a gun and joined the fighting. I think I probably tried to die, but I didn’t. God knows I wanted to. It wasn’t until the war was over that Joe managed to find me. He knew he hadn’t crossed that line on his own, but when they came to talk to me about that Medal of Honor, I denied being there. I didn’t want it. I didn’t deserve it.”
He was silent for a moment, and Kelly was, too. There was nothing she could say.
“For a long time I hated Joe—for having been wounded, for keeping us from moving quickly and being trapped in the first place. I’ve never forgiven him for that. I’ve never forgiven Cybele, either.”
“How about yourself?” Kelly asked softly. “Have you forgiven yourself?”
He shook his head. “Look what I did with this life that Cybele gave me. Fifty-six years, and I failed to live up to what she expected from me. I was her hero. Yet I went home and couldn’t even keep my marriage to Jenny together after little Charlie died. Two more marriages, both total flops. Some hero—sitting on the deck drinking himself to death, lazy son of a bitch.
“Cybele gave me the most precious gift of all, the gift of life. And here I am, lying in this bed, looking at the single good thing I ever did—and it happened by accident. You happened by accident. You’re an amazing woman, Kelly, and I’m deeply proud of you, but who you are is no thanks to me.”
Kelly couldn’t speak, could barely see through the tears in her eyes.
“I love you,” Charles told her. “You and Cybele. All my life. You know, if she’d lived, I would’ve given up my future to be with her. I would have dealt with Jenny’s pain and anger. I would have handled my father’s shame. I would have done anything. I would have faced my biggest fears.
“You can’t choose who you love, Kelly, but you can waste it. Why on earth would anyone want to waste it?”
His eyes closed.
His breathing was slow and steady. He was free from pain—physical pain—at least for now.
________________________________________
Twenty-one
14 August
THE TRAFFIC WAS crazy.
Kelly pulled into the parking lot by the movie theater, planning to walk the rest of the way to the drugstore to pick up her father’s newest prescription.
Baldwin’s Bridge was bursting with the usual summer tourists as well as all the people flocking into town for the Fifty-fifth celebration tomorrow.
The marina was crowded, too. There were lots of people coming in via sailboat and pleasure yacht. Even more people were taking advantage of the beautiful weather and going out for day trips, resulting in an overabundance of little boats on both sides of the stone breakers at the harbor’s entrance.
Over by the hotel, she could see containers of folding chairs ready to be set up on the lawn first thing in the morning. Workmen were constructing a portable stage for the dignitaries. And there, off to the side, parked on the street, was the SEAL mobile. The van with tinted windows that Tom and his friends had outfitted with high-tech surveillance equipment.
So this was where they all were.
Kelly had awakened this morning to a silent and empty house. Even Charles, who’d had such a tough night, had been gone by the time she went downstairs.
She’d been disappointed.
She’d hoped to see Tom. She’d wanted to see Tom.
But his makeshift office had been empty.
Just as empty as his bedroom had been last night when she’d crept into the cottage, hoping to find him, hoping to tell him . . . what? She still didn’t know.
All she knew was that she wanted to be with him. She wanted to be near him.
And right now she wanted to help him. In any way that she could.
She headed for the van, knocked on the back door.
She sensed some kind of movement behind the darkly tinted glass, but the door didn’t open. Nothing moved.
She knocked again.
“It’s Dr. Ashton.” Mallory’s voice came in loud and clear over Tom’s headset.
Kelly. “What does she want?” he asked.
Charles’s voice came over the radio from his lookout position on the harbormaster’s deck. “If she’s smart, she’s looking for you. If she’s not so smart, she’s looking for me.”
“Let’s keep radio chatter down to a minimum, people,” Jazz’s voice cut in.
“I don’t know what she wants,” Mallory reported. “Should I let her in?”
“Yes.” Tom tried to keep his impatience and frustration from ringing in his voice. Yes, let her in, because forcing Kelly to stand outside the parked van and knock on the windows is only drawing attention to you. “Get her in there quickly. And shut the door behind her.”
He heard the sound of the door opening, heard Kelly’s voice. “Hey, Mallory. What are you doing here?”
“David and I are helping Tommy.”
“Oh, hi, David. How are you? Hey, I like your haircut.”
“Thanks. Mal did it.”
“Can I come in?”
“Yeah, Tom says to get in. Quick.”
Tom looked at Starrett and rolled his eyes as he finally heard the door close. “Mal, can you put me on over the speakers so Kelly can hear me?”
“The van’s speakers aren’t working really well,” David replied, “but we’ve got an extra wired headset here that she can use.”
“Great,” Tom said. “Can you give it to her?”
“Tom?” Kelly’s voice said. David was a little more on the ball. He’d already gotten the headset to her.
“What’s up, Kelly?” He tried to make his voice matter-of-fact. Casual. As if she hadn’t absolutely shredded the last of his hope by running and hiding after he’d told her he loved her. As if he hadn’t particularly noticed that she’d stayed far, far away from him all day yesterday. I love you, too—not. “Something you need?”
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