Isabella’s Airman (20 page)

Rescue workers dug at a collapsed air raid shelter, pausing every few minutes to listen. Someone was still alive under the bricks and dust. I clutched at Marc’s arm. “We have to help.”

He was already taking off his coat. I knew he was tired too, but he couldn’t stand by and let them struggle. There was so much I was only just learning about my cousin. I helped with the people that were pulled out, giving them water, wiping their faces, and tending to their wounds. Talking to them, and noting their names and who they’d been with.

There was still a chance that Davy might be here somewhere, but even though we toiled on the street until well into the afternoon, I didn’t see him again.

•●•

Marc secured me a ticket on a night train out of London, heading for Yorkshire, hundreds of miles from the capital. The day had passed in a blur, but in my head the hours were counting down. Marc took me to the railway station and made sure I found my seat on the crowded train. He had to stay behind and wait for the portal to reopen.

He was the last link to my old life, and this time, I knew it was forever.

When he wrapped an arm around my shoulder, it held comfort. “You really have everything ahead of you, Isabella. Live quietly and have an unremarkable life. I don’t want to read about you in the history books.”

There were many things I wanted to say. I didn’t have enough words to thank him. I wanted to beg him to stay safe, to avoid detection, and to find his own happiness. He deserved it. In the end, I hugged him and pressed a kiss onto his cheek. “Good-bye, Marc. Be happy.”

The next few days blurred into a mess of interrupted sleep and constant movement. I churned through my plans endlessly. The jobs I could try for. The safe places I could live, and then next May, how I’d travel to Wales and find Davy’s family.

I was employed the week I arrived in the Yorkshire Dales as a teaching assistant in a quiet countryside school. The child population had doubled in recent months with evacuees from London, and they needed extra staff. The children were mostly bewildered and homesick, missing everything and everyone familiar to them, and I could relate perfectly. The job even came with a room in a shared house. I couldn’t have asked for more.

After that, it was all about waiting, this time for the other man in my life.

•●•

Five months later, I hitched my bag higher on my shoulder and climbed off the train at Holyhead, the quiet Welsh town where Davy had grown up. His family still lived here. His father was the local G.P., and this was where I’d start my search.

Walking down the street past the gray stone buildings, I paused. That one looked familiar. It was a church, but one I recognized, even though I’d never been here before. I smiled when I realized.

It was the backdrop for one of the photographs of me.

I found the doctor’s surgery easily and walked in to see a familiar man standing behind the counter. The breath caught in my throat. As in the photograph, he was the exact image of Davy, just older. His thick hair was lined with silver at the temples, and he had grooves in his forehead, but otherwise he was the same.

“You’re Davy’s father.”

Familiar dark gray eyes assessed me, and he gave me a polite smile. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met.”

Now I was here, I wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m Isabella. Davy was my,” I hesitated. Boyfriend? Lover? “Fiancé. He asked me to marry him.”

“Isabella Gillman?”

“Yes.”

Davy’s father held out a hand and shook mine firmly. “My dear, I’m so very pleased to meet you. Davy wrote a letter to you, which we had to keep. Nobody knew where to find you.” He released me and turned to a wall safe behind him. “I keep it here with my other important documents. Please, take a seat while you read it.”

The letter. The same letter that had set me on this trail in the first place. Tears filled my eyes when I took the envelope. This time I handled the actual paper. Opened the envelope with my fingernail. Unfolded the sheet inside, and cried some more tears at the words.

I gave Davy’s father a wobbly smile. “Thing is, Mr. Porteous, I don’t believe he’s gone. I think—I know—he’ll come back.” I blew out a shaky breath. “I’d know inside if he was dead.” I touched my aching chest. “I wanted to come here to wait for him.”

Another village, another school, and another set of evacuees. I’d been in Holyhead for two months and felt as though I’d lived here forever. Some days I didn’t even think of my old life. Davy was the first person I thought of every morning and the last one before I drifted asleep at the end of the day.

His parents had been lovely. Kind, honest, and stoic, they hoped to see their son again, and like me, they continued to believe he would return.

The last day of the summer term was bright and sunny. The children, all inky-fingered and dusty with chalk, were itching to finish for the day. It was different for me. Without the structure of going to work every morning, I wasn’t sure what I’d do with myself for the next six weeks.

I was sitting on the floor of the storeroom, counting pencils and ink bottles, ready to place an order to replenish the supplies, when one of the London children ran up to me. He skidded to a halt, red-cheeked and breathless. “
Miss
. You ’ave to come. I think there’s a phone call.”

A thousand scenarios flashed through my head. The one thing that had sustained me through these long, dark months was the hope Davy would come home safely. What if Marc had been right and the timeline changed again? I usually managed to quash this nagging fear, but today it roared forward unchecked.

With a giant lump in my throat, I ran out of the storeroom and down the corridor, my feet clattering on the wooden floorboards and my heart pounding the same erratic rhythm.

I didn’t believe in God, but I sent up some silent prayers anyway.

Rounding the corner, the headmaster’s office up ahead, I stopped. A man stood in the doorway, at once familiar and yet different.

Davy
.

His hair was longer, brushing the back of his neck, and he sported a rough, dark beard. The uniform had been replaced with heavy trousers, rubber boots, and a thick sweater. He looked like the fishermen that worked out of the harbor. I noted all these details in the fraction of a second before he smiled.

“Belle.”

“Davy.”

I’m not sure who spoke first, who moved first, but we were in each other’s arms, holding so tightly I didn’t think I’d ever let him go.

When he swept his lips over mine, I knew I’d found my home.

“Davy. How are you here?”

My garbled words didn’t make much sense to me, but he must have understood. “The French Resistance got us to Ireland, and we’ve just come in on a fishing smack. I haven’t even reported to Bomber Command yet. I came straight here.”

“But how did you know where I was?”

“I knew you’d wait for me. And I hoped you’d be here, in Holyhead, to make it easy for me to find you. When my dad told me you were at the school, I had to see you.”

He traced the shape of my lips with his finger. “I’ll always find you,
cariad
. I love you too much to lose you.”

I burrowed deeper into his embrace and pressed my face into his throat. “At first, I thought you were lost. I was so frightened for you. But then, I knew you were still alive.”

“How?”

That
was a story I’d never reveal, but there was something I could tell him. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone else, as though without you, a part of me is missing. I decided I wasn’t giving up, that wherever you were, you’d keep on fighting to get back, and so I did as well. I found a way back to you, Davy, and then I just had to wait for you to catch me up.”

“And here I am.” The kiss this time was deep and hungry, a man starved. “I had lots of time to think on my way here. Do you know the first thing I want to do?”

“Tell me.”

“Put a ring on your finger. I want us to be married, Belle, and the sooner the better. I don’t want to be apart from you for a minute longer than necessary.”

I didn’t want that, either. There were so many things we would talk about. His miraculous escape, Teddy and Jock, and what happened now. Would he be transferring to Coastal Command? Where would we live?

There was no rush to work it all out. We finally had all the time in the world.

Marc—New Oxford, 2450

My data pad gave a discreet chime, and instantly alert, I swiped at the screen to check.

I’d embedded a series of control tags on certain records in the archive. When anyone accessed them, I’d be notified. Anything relating to Isabella or Davy would show up instantly.

Someone had uncovered the record of their marriage certificate. I’d hidden it well, which meant whoever viewed it either stumbled upon it by accident while seeking a different record altogether, or they had been diligent in their search.

They were not so good at covering their tracks, and a familiar name flashed up at me.

Juliet Delafield—Student

Although, from what I’d seen of Isabella’s friend, it was entirely possible she’d left her digital fingerprint for me to find. I contemplated what to do next. I was setting off for my new assignment in a few days, and I didn’t want to leave any loose ends.

After checking her class schedule, the lecture hall seemed like a good place to start. As before, I sat in the back row, only this time I scanned through the rows of students until I located a distinctive blonde plait. The class was almost over, and I didn’t have to wait long.

As she filed out of the hall, I fell into step beside her. She started at my presence, her eyes wide and shocked. I’d managed to surprise her for a change.

“Student Delafield. Walk with me.”

She followed my lead, outwardly calm and confident, but her fingers tightened on the bag she carried. We’d strolled to a secluded and private area before she spoke. “I was hoping to see you, Lieutenant. May I speak frankly?” She stopped and gathered her bag to her chest, as though it were a piece of armor. Her blue eyes looked guileless.

“Please do.”