She giggled, and he smiled. It was good to see her earlier reticence gone.
The dining hall was sparsely populated. Good. They’d have some modicum of privacy. He led her to the coffee station, where several large percolators stood among dozens of heavy white mugs. Government issue.
He quickly filled the cups then led her toward a table next to the windows. “All right, Miss Strealer, here is your next test. Which seat should you take?”
“I don’t remember this being in the manual.”
Gerard shrugged. “Not everything you need to know is in the textbook. Sometimes experience is the best teacher.”
A moment passed, then she dropped into the seat that faced the room. “I picked this one because it’s nighttime, and I could be seen from outside. I can also watch the room from this vantage point. Although my preference would be not to sit near the window at all.” She looked up, nibbling her lower lip.
“Very good. Your decision should always be based on the circumstances.” He raised the cup and took a tentative sip. Hot and bitter, the coffee burned its way down his throat. Wrinkling his nose, he set down the beverage and licked his lips. He’d had worse, but not by much. Even the caffeine content wasn’t worth imbibing.
“You shouldn’t play poker, Major.” Emily drank from her mug. “I was raised not to show an adverse response to bad coffee. See how I smile after I drink as if this were the best brew I’ve ever had? A genteel women never gives away her thoughts.”
“And is that you? A genteel woman?”
She rolled her eyes then lowered her gaze and studied the dark brown brew. “Hardly. However, that’s my mother’s dream for me. A dream that thus far has gone unrealized when I became a teacher then left home to follow my own path.” She took another swallow from her cup. Running her thumb up and down its side, she cocked her head. “Enough about me. What did you leave behind, other than piloting, to do your bit for the war effort?”
“Your parents didn’t approve of your vocational choice? Teaching is an honorable profession. You are guiding and molding future generations. What did they prefer for you?”
“A good marriage.”
“Oh. And you don’t wish to marry?”
“Perhaps someday, but when I do wed, it will be because I am in love with the man, not because the relationship is advantageous.”
“Are your folks really that mercenary?” He narrowed his eyes. No wonder this girl didn’t trust anyone. Her family was going to auction her off to the highest bidder. He’d have skedaddled, too.
She blew out a loud breath. “Probably not, but they controlled my life with tight fists criticizing many of my decisions and activities. I’m of age. Bad enough I was still living at home, but they seemed to feel that gave them license to dictate my comings and goings. I was stagnating.
“So, you’re here to prove you’re grown up?”
“What? No.” Her eyes glinted. “I needed to do more with my life, something that made a difference. Something other than helping high school students earn their fine arts credit. Most of them will forget the language within months of graduating.” Her lips twisted. “Hardly an auspicious career…teaching a skill soon forgotten.”
“But there are other life lessons you pass along in the classroom, right?”
“Yes. What’s your point? Why are you trying to convince me that I was in a glorious and noble career? Are you trying to change my mind about finishing the course? I thought you were here to ensure I passed.” Her words were like steel.
He’d offended her again. With a shake of his head, he pushed away his coffee mug, then crossed his arms. “I just want to make sure you understand the ramifications of your decision of finishing the course. I’m a military man. My job is to put my life on the line every moment of every day. You’re a civilian. Intelligent, yes, but are you smart enough to stay alive?”
Emily shoved back her chair and stood. “Make up your mind, Major Lucas. Believe in me or not, but stop waffling. One minute you say I can do this and offer to assist me, the next you’re casting aspersions on my abilities.”
“I’m—”
“Let me finish before you start making excuses about your behavior. I can do this. Yes, I’ve struggled a bit. But I will succeed, even without your help. You know nothing about me. Sure, you may have read my file, but there is more to me than words on a page.” She picked up the manual and coffee cup. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Major, I have to study.”
She swept past him like royalty, back straight and head held high. The fresh scent of her soap lingered in the air.
Closing his eyes, he raked his hands through his hair. She was a spitfire, but her sensitivity to criticism and obeying orders could be a problem. If she didn’t learn to respect the chain of command, she wouldn’t last long in the field.
Chapter Five
Gerard stuffed his hands into his front pockets and skirted the grassy meadow where dozens of recruits were practicing modes of stealth. He surveyed the men and women in various stages of creeping, climbing, and hiding around the facsimiles of houses, cars, trees, and bushes, his gaze searching for Miss Strealer’s petite figure.
Where was she? Had she decided to pack it in despite last night’s pronouncement?
Movement in the distant trees caught his attention, perhaps one of the many white-tailed deer that called the surrounding forest home. Shrubs shifted, then nothing. No, not wildlife. The motion was too studied. One of the instructors? Maybe, but the other two men in charge of field craft were also U.S. Army. Certainly their concealment skills would be better than whomever was skulking amid the foliage.
He crossed his arms and waited. Squinting, he peered into the trees. Minutes passed. Maybe it was one of the smaller woodland creatures. With a shrug, he turned toward the brick plantation home that housed the commander’s office.
Then he saw her.
Dressed in black pants and a dark green, long-sleeved shirt, Miss Strealer emerged at the edge of the timberline. Her hair was stuffed into a wool cap, and her face was smudged with dirt. She smiled, and although more than fifty yards away, he could read her look of triumph. A moment later, Major Warren Hellman appeared behind her.
His jaw clenched. Since when did Hellman provide one-on-one instruction?
Forty-five if he was a day, the major exuded an annoying mixture of charm and arrogance. A career man, he’d transferred to the OSS from a military intelligence unit and acted as if he were the lone savior to the fledgling organization. Granted, its reputation was not secure yet, and many of the higher-ups didn’t seem to trust what some referred to as the department of dirty tricks, but the agency would succeed because of Director William Donovan’s leadership, not some debonair military man playing at being a spy.
Hellman clapped Miss Strealer on the back, his hand lingering just short of inappropriate.
A growl rumbled in Gerard’s throat, and he started toward the pair, then froze. She’d light him up worse than the previous evening if he intervened.