Dottie’s olive skin was now a deep bronze, and she looked striking in her pale-pink bathing suit. Frankie had her curls tied in a handkerchief on her head and was wearing a navy-blue one-piece bathing suit. She was lying on her back, floating. The skin on her right thigh that had been burned still looked melted and raw, but she wasn’t the least bit self-conscious. The two of them were laughing and splashing each other like little kids.
I dove in, and the salt water that hit my skin was the perfect temperature, refreshing but not frigid cold like the ocean off New England.
“We’re staying here tonight because there’s a great band playing on the patio,” Dottie said when I floated over to them. “Joe and his friends are coming, Harry’s too.”
“Sounds good,” I said. “I think I’ll wear that new white dress I bought yesterday.”
“Are you going to sing, Dots?” Frankie asked.
“Maybe,” Dottie said, smiling. “I’ve been practicing a few new songs with Joe. It depends; some bands don’t like it when someone jumps in.”
“Glenn Miller didn’t mind, why should they?” I said.
“No, Glenn Miller didn’t mind,” Dottie said with a sigh. “God bless poor Glenn Miller.” They had never found his plane in the English Channel.
Dottie got out of the water and went to join our friends lying in the sun. Frankie and I swam out a little deeper, chatting and treading water, enjoying the view of the beautiful beach in the stunning golden light of the late-afternoon sun.
“I talked to Liz about the survey and what I want to do next,” Frankie said as she treaded water.
“Oh?” I said. “And?”
“I’m putting in for one of the Red Cross positions in Berlin.”
“Are you really?”
“Yes,” Frankie said. “And I think you should join me.”
I was quiet for a moment, looking up at the seagulls crying overhead as I thought about it.
“If anywhere, I was thinking of London or Paris. I hadn’t even considered Berlin . . .”
“We’ll be at the center of things if we go there,” Frankie said. “There’s so much to do still, so many soldiers and civilians to help. Liz will give you the highest recommendation, I’m sure.”
“I don’t know,” I said. Like most of the Clubmobile girls, the question of what was next for me had been weighing on my mind. What did I want now that my future was mine alone?
“Promise me you’ll think about it?” Frankie said. “I’d love for you to go with me. And I know you’re feeling a little lost about what to do next, trying to figure out this unexpected future.”
“I am,” I said. “Thank you. I will definitely think about it.”
We got out of the water and joined the group just as Viv returned with bottles of Coke for all of us.
“Well, since we’re here together alone and it concerns all of you, I’ve got an announcement,” Viv said. She was perched on her chair now, wearing a black one-piece, green-framed sunglasses, and a wide-brimmed straw hat, looking movie-star glamorous as she sipped her Coke.
Dottie looked at me; whatever Viv had to say was news to both of us too.
“I’ve decided, instead of going home or to the Pacific after this, I’m going to London. I’m going to work at the Red Cross club there and take some art classes.” She paused as if for dramatic effect, and giving us a sly smile, she added, “Oh, and I’m also marrying Harry Westwood in three weeks.”
Frankie spit out her mouthful of Coke in a messy spray, and the few people sitting around us looked up in horror. Dottie and I gasped, and Blanche jumped up, cheering and clapping.
“Viv!” I said, giving her a hug. “Oh my God, this is huge news. So, wait—are you really going to be Princess Viviana now?”
“God no,” she said. “I haven’t met his parents yet, but they’re apparently getting used to the idea of me. They’re not exactly royalty, just upper class.”
“Isn’t he a duke or something?” Frankie asked.
“Yes. I mean, no. He’s a lord. And he also happens to be the love of my life,” Viv said. “When we reunited in Verdun, I realized it. And being his wife and living with him in London? I want to pinch myself at the thought of it, I’m so happy.”
She had taken off her sunglasses, and her eyes were teary, and I couldn’t recall ever seeing my cool, collected friend so overcome with joy.
“Oh, Viv, I couldn’t be more thrilled for you,” Dottie said, getting choked up as she threw her arms around our friend.
“Details, please,” Blanche said.
“It’s going to be at the Hotel George V in Paris. You’re all bridesmaids—my parents and sisters won’t be able to come on such short notice, so I’m going to need you gals there.”
“Of course,” Frankie said. “Are we wearing our uniforms?”
“Absolutely not,” Viv said. “No uniforms except on the guys. But you can wear whatever dresses you’d like, so that’ll be easy. And we don’t have a lot of time, so I need you all to help me hunt for a wedding dress. I don’t care if it’s twenty years old or made of parachutes, as long as it’s fabulous. I’ve heard of a lot of Red Cross girls getting married in their uniforms lately, but that is just not me.”
“No kidding, Viv,” I said, laughing.
“Well, we are going to celebrate tonight,” Blanche said, standing up from her chair. “I love it, the first of us getting married. Speaking of tonight, ladies, I just realized it’s already four thirty. We’ve got to head up to the hotel to shower and change, because you know the guys will be arriving anytime now for cocktail hour.”
I let Dottie and Viv shower first so I could relax and take my time getting ready. By the time I got downstairs, the terrace was packed with military and Red Cross, the dance floor jammed with couples jitterbugging to the band’s version of “Here We Go Again.”
I saw Joe and Dottie dancing. Viv and Harry were sitting at a table with his friends, and Blanche and Frankie were at the next table with Guy’s. Instead of joining them, I took a walk down the path to the beach.
The bougainvillea on the walls were covered in tiny white twinkling lights that made the gravel path look like it was out of a fairy tale. I took off my sandals and sat on the nearest beach chair, feeling the cool sand between my toes and listening to the sounds of the surf.
I was living a life I would never have recognized two years before. Sitting on a beach in the South of France, after months traveling to the front lines of the war in the European Theater.
“What’s next?” I whispered to nobody but myself and the sea.
Going home didn’t feel right now. I didn’t want to return to my former life; it didn’t even fit anymore.
Like so many others, this war had robbed me of the life I had planned, and of my first love. I decided to chart a new course now. I would stay in the ETO and apply for one of the Red Cross positions in Berlin with Frankie; that would be the best way to honor Danny’s memory.
I was enjoying the quiet when I heard the sound of footsteps on the path. I grabbed my sandals to walk back, assuming it was a couple looking for privacy. Slipping my sandals back on, I stepped onto the gravel again, and when I looked up, I froze.
He stood about twenty feet away from me in the lights of the bougainvillea, still built like a boxer but a few pounds thinner now. I opened my mouth to speak but closed it, looking into his eyes, not quite believing what I was seeing.
He gave me a small wave, tilted his head with that familiar lopsided grin that made my heart burst. I squinted as hard as I could because I didn’t want the tears to fall.
Do fall in love again . . . I remembered the words of Danny’s last letter and silently said a prayer of thanks to him for giving me that blessing. How best to honor those we’ve lost? By not being afraid to live life and take risks, by daring to open your heart to possibility. By taking a chance to begin. Again.
I took a few tentative steps forward, barely breathing. He stood there, waiting for me to decide.
I ran up the path, and he picked me up into his arms and swung me around. And we stayed like that, breathing each other in, making sure of each other.
When my feet touched the ground again, we held hands and stood for a moment.
“My God, you’re really here,” I said, wiping the dampness from my face. “I wanted to find you again, but I was so afraid that I’d learn you were gone.”
“I almost was, more than once,” he said, squeezing my hands, looking at me, marveling. “I wanted to find you, but I’d convinced myself you were on your way home by now, getting married.”
I looked up at him and just shook my head.
He put his hand on my cheek. “Viv just told me about what happened to Danny. Fiona, I am so sorry for your loss, for all of the pain you’ve gone through.”
“Thank you,” I said, that pang in my chest, a jumble of mixed emotions, the pain of my past love, my planned life, gone for good . . . and then the hope of what was right in front of me.
“It was horrible to hear the truth, to know that, for a time, he was here, alive, but in the end, he was lost,” I said, thinking of the story of the march. “But at least I know now.”