He rubbed his hands together. “Then how about my famous cheese omelet with a side of home fries.”
She giggled. “Famous? Right, because no one has ever heard of putting cheese in an omelet.”
“Maybe.” He gestured toward the kitchen. “Lead on, MacDuff.”
“Culinary skills and a Shakespearean actor?” She pressed a hand to her heart in mock wonder. “Such hidden talents, Major Lucas.”
With a chuckle, he opened the drawers until he found a knife, spatula, and two skillets. “You have no idea. Now, how about you peel the vegetables and chop them into small cubes. I’ll handle the eggs.”
“Because it’s such a specialized dish.”
“Exactly.”
He lit the stove under the pans to heat them then stood next to her at the counter where they prepped the meal. He glanced at her and swallowed a smile. Her lips were pressed together, and a tiny wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows as she tried to pare the skin from the vegetables with a knife that probably hadn’t been sharpened since long before Hitler’s arrival. As before, he stifled the desire to smooth her forehead. He blew out a breath and cracked the eggs into a chipped porcelain bowl, then whipped them into a froth with a bent fork.
She cleared her throat. “Are you going to tell me what happened to you between last night and this morning? Despite our immediate danger and the outlandish suggestion by Tania for us to wed, you seem as relaxed as if we were on holiday.”
He shrugged. “You remember the story in the Bible where Jacob wrestled with God? I couldn’t sleep, so God used the opportunity to reach out to me. We had an…er…extensive conversation. I confessed my anger and a bunch of other stuff, and asked Him to forgive me. I’m sure I’ll still mess up, but I gave Him control of the situation.”
“Gerard, that’s wonderful.” She laid down the knife and wrapped him in a hug, a clean, soapy scent wafting from her hair. He closed his eyes and returned her embrace. Her heart beat against his chest, causing his own to speed up. Lord, help me. I’m beginning to care for this woman. His stomach rumbled, and his faced warmed. So much for their intimate moment.
Emily pulled away and ducked her head, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You are hungry.” She sobered up. “Eat your fill. Who knows when we’ll get our next meal?”
“About that…uh…have you given further consideration to Tania’s recommendation?” He pulled the sheet from his pocket and laid it on the counter, the black letters and numbers stark against the paper.
She nibbled her lower lip, his favorite habit of hers, then her head moved in an imperceptible nod.
“And?”
“I think we should take her recommendation.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, and her cheeks were tinged pink.
“I agree. We can have it annulled upon our return to England, and no one will be the wiser. You sure you’re okay with this?”
“Yes. Tania is with the local Resistance. She knows the best way to evade the authorities. If she says a real marriage certificate is the most advantageous way for us to escape notice, then I’m all for it.”
“Okay, do you need time to get ready, or should we go after breakfast.”
Emily gestured to her clothes, a bulky sweater over faded blue slacks and scuffed oxfords. “I didn’t happen to bring my trousseau, so any time is fine with me.”
“Not exactly what you planned to wear for your wedding, is it?”
“No, but then I didn’t think I’d be getting married in France while running for my life.”
“Well, there is that.” He swallowed without telling her she looked beautiful no matter what she wore, then turned to the stove and made quick work of cooking their food, the fragrant aroma causing his stomach to speak up again.
“Better hurry.” She giggled. “Apparently, you’re close to fainting.” She laid silverware on the scarred wooden table then rummaged in the cabinet for glasses that she filled from the spigot. Seating herself in one of the rickety chairs, she folded her hands in her lap.
Gerard dished the food onto chipped plates and brought them to the table. Lowering himself into the chair next to her, he held out his hand. “I’m new at this, but I thought I’d ask the blessing for our meal.”
Her face lit up, and she grasped his fingers, her hand small and warm. “I’d like that.”
He bowed his head for the second time that morning. “Uh, dear God, please bless this food to keep us strong for the journey. Thank You for those who left it in the house, and for the work they are doing to fight the evil threatening this land. Please keep us safe as we travel, and…um…if we’re not supposed to get married, please let us know. Uh…thanks for all You’re doing. Amen.”
Emily squeezed his hand then forked a bit of egg into her mouth. She moaned and closed her eyes. “This should be famous.”
“Yeah, your hunger has nothing to do with how good it tastes.”
The room filled with her laughter, and he grinned. He looked forward to making her laugh more often.
They ate quickly and were soon ready to leave. He closed the door behind them, and they hurried down the dirt path that led into the village. The church spire soared above the tiny town, making it easy to find the stone structure at the end of the square. He gestured to the open door. “Another sign we’re on the right track?”
“I’m going to say yes.”
He led her inside, the air cooling as they entered the foyer. Moving through the door into the sanctuary, he surveyed the beautiful room. Stained glass windows cast rainbows of color across the pews. An altar stood at the front flanked by a pair of six-foot-tall candlesticks. Several ornate chairs graced the dais. A stooped, balding man in robes looked up from behind a table filled with candles. He strode in their direction. “Friends of Tania?”
Gerard’s eyes widened. “How did you—”
“She said you might come by. We’ve been waiting for you.”
“We?” He shook his head. The man must think him an imbecile.
“I’m Father Victor.” He clapped his hands, and a side door opened. An elderly man in a suit and two women slipped into the room. “Doreen and Celeste will be your witnesses. This is Adam Reneau. He is the mayor of our fine town.”
Gerard’s hand flew to the pistol tucked in the waistband of his pants.
Father Victor held up his hands. “Wait. Listen to me. In order for the marriage to be official it must be performed by the mayor. Any ceremony I conduct will only be symbolic.”
“Then why did Tania have us come here? To involve you?”
“Because it made more sense for me to coordinate the event. She probably knew you wouldn’t believe her when she told you the mayor is not Vichy.”
Gerard narrowed his eyes. “Why should we believe you?”
“You can choose not to, but Adam is my brother, and we provide a variety of services for loyal French and others who need it. He is able to, shall we say, expedite your papers. He will give you everything you need to travel.”