Eve kissed her son goodbye and promised to buy a half gallon of chocolate ice cream on the way home. She used the map in the glove compartment of her car to find the city, thirty miles away, where Louis lived. She would tell him about their son, Robbie. Harry. His real name is Harry, after my father. She would show Louis his picture, ask him to help her find a typist’s job and a place to live and someone to watch Robbie during the day while she worked. She wouldn’t ask for money, just for help to disappear.
The knot in Eve’s stomach twisted tighter as she drove. When she reached Louis’s town, she stopped at a telephone box and checked the advertising section in the directory for the Dubois family’s insurance company. An older gentleman walking his dog gave her directions to the street where the office building was located. Eve found it without any trouble, a prosperous-looking business in an affluent area of town. The sight of Louis’s name painted on the glass window in black-and-gold letters made her heart hammer painfully. She sat in the sweltering car for several minutes, unable to move, her insides writhing. If she sat here much longer, her clothes would be drenched with sweat. Get ahold of yourself, Eve. This is for your son. Louis will want to help his son.
She walked to the door on wobbling legs. An attractive young receptionist greeted her inside, guarding Louis’s office from behind an enormous desk with a typewriter and a telephone. Eve could easily do that girl’s job or one like it—answering the telephone, typing letters. The girl smiled prettily. “Good morning. May I help you?”
Eve battled to control her shaking voice. “Is it possible to see Mr. Dubois for a few minutes? It won’t take long.”
“May I tell him what it’s about?”
Eve’s heart hadn’t hammered this hard since the endless nights of the London Blitz. “I knew him when he was stationed in England during the war. My . . . um . . . my husband and I were friends of his. I happened to be in town today, so I thought . . . well, I just wanted to say hello. Should I have made an appointment?”
“No, no. Mr. Dubois is with a client, but he shouldn’t be much longer.” The girl checked her appointment book. “He has a few minutes before lunch. May I tell him your name?”
She would have to lie. Louis would run straight out the back door if he knew Eve was here. “Yes. Mrs. Robert Barrett.” The name rolled easily from her tongue.
“You’re welcome to wait here, Mrs. Barrett, or there’s a nice little café next door.”
“Thank you. I’ll wait here.”
“Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“No thank you.” The thought of it made her writhing stomach burn. She couldn’t stand American coffee, but she rarely requested tea because no one in America knew how to brew a decent pot of it. Tea steadied her nerves rather than leaving them jangled like tangled lengths of barbed wire the way coffee did. As for walking to the café, Eve’s heart was racing so fast she wasn’t sure she could walk anywhere.
She chided herself for behaving like a frightened rabbit. She’d faced bombs and infernos and much, much worse, so surely she could face her child’s father, the man she’d once loved. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
Watching the receptionist at work helped calm her nerves. Eve remembered her days as a typist, sitting at her desk for hours and hours until her back and shoulders ached. When she first arrived in America, she’d planned to work to support herself and Robbie. But after meeting the country-club wives, she quickly realized that the Barretts would never allow their daughter-in-law to work, especially as a typist.
At last, a door opened and an older gentleman came out. The receptionist pressed a button on her intercom. “Mr. Dubois, you have a visitor who would like to say hello. Mrs. Robert Barrett, from England.”
Louis was at the door a moment later, a broad smile on his face, his eyes alight with anticipation. Then he saw Eve and the blood drained from his face as if she’d slit one of his arteries. “Eve? What . . . ?”
She rose and hurried toward him to prevent him from saying more. “Hello, Louis. I was in town and thought I would stop by and say hello.” Her voice shook like an old woman’s. She thought she’d been prepared to see him, but he took her breath away in his dark tailored suit and tie, his ginger hair parted and neatly combed. His smile still gleamed like an advertisement for tooth powder. Eve felt as badly shaken as he looked. Guilt and longing waged war as she stared at him. She remembered their times together. His warmth and gentle strength. His love.
It had been a mistake to come.
Eve still loved him. And it was wrong to love him. She would never forgive herself for what she’d done. And God certainly couldn’t forgive her, either. That’s why she and her son were being punished. She fought to hold back her tears. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t.
Louis recovered before she did. “What a surprise! Um . . . let’s talk in my office.” He held the door until she entered, then closed it behind them. For a moment, they simply stared at each other. Then he reached for her and pulled her close. How long had it been since she’d felt his embrace? Any man’s embrace? She was back in Louis’s arms again, but it wouldn’t last—couldn’t last. The battle between guilt and longing raged like the fires in the East End. Did he sense the battle, too? For Eve, guilt would always win.
He released her a moment later and walked behind his desk to sit down as if hiding behind a fortress. Thank goodness he hadn’t kissed her. She would have come undone if he had, just as she had the first time he’d kissed her on that terrible, wonderful night after the V-1 nearly killed her and Audrey. He gestured to a chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat, Eve. I . . . um . . . I thought my receptionist said you were Audrey Barrett. I . . . You surprised me. I mean . . . this is a shock!”
“I’m sorry. I was afraid you would bolt out the back door if I gave my real name.” She clung to the back of the chair for support but didn’t sit in it, fearing her knees would never allow her to stand again if she did.
“No, of course I wouldn’t bolt. You’re the one who left that day. You said it was over between us.”
“It was the right decision. The only decision.”
He looked unconvinced. “It’s wonderful to see you, Eve.”
“You haven’t changed a bit.” It was a silly thing to say after nearly five years, but she couldn’t string her thoughts and words together into coherent sentences.
It was enough to see him one more time. Now she needed to leave. Asking for his help was a terrible idea. They were still drawn to each other with a power that neither of them had been able to control. She didn’t dare become entangled with Louis again. They would hurt too many people. Eve couldn’t tell him why she had come. She would have to find another way out of her dilemma.
“Did you come to America to visit Audrey?” Louis asked. “I heard she and her son moved here a few years ago. I’ve been meaning to get over there to see her, but . . . the truth is, I was afraid that seeing her would remind me of you.”
Eve nodded and struggled to shake off her confusion. She was Audrey. But Louis didn’t know that. She cleared her throat and tried to corral her thoughts. “Louis, I can’t stay more than a minute or two. I didn’t come here to interrupt your life. I just wanted to see you again and to say that . . . that I hope you and your wife are very happy. Your daughter must be getting big.”