Page 18 of If You Were the Only Girl in the World
Relieved, he threw her a scolding look and followed her inside, up the steep stairs two flights and into her tiny apartment. Very spare with a tiny kitchen, large bath with an ungodly huge clawfoot tub, an enclosed toilet, thank heaven, the huge bedroom with an equally gigantic bed, but a wide salon facing the boulevard—her home took on a few touches of her personality. Those she chose to afford, like hand-crocheted Bretton lace curtains that she’d purchased at theGrand Boutiqueon the Left Bank fell from the ceiling to pool on the floor. Her old sofa sat before the double windows and faced the boulevard below. She also bought a few plates and cups of blue and gold china from Sèvres so that she could at least dine in some semblance of style. Her circular table was for two, but usually served only one.
“Give me a few minutes will you, to let me wash my face and tidy up? I’ll feed her too.” She pointed toward the tabby cat winding round his legs.
“She is huge. Feed her more and she will explode.”
“She catches mice. Maybe rats too, so I like to humor her.” She began to pull at the cuffs of her dull grey cotton dress. “I’ll be right out. Sit, if you like. The sofa is old and sagging but it’s clean.”
She left him there, laughing at herself and her complete reversal of mood at the sight of him. She laughed at herself when she gave a little step and danced herself along the corridor to her bedroom. Once there, she flung open the old filigreed walnut wardrobe that came with the flat and stared at her poor selections to interest him.
She sighed and got on with chucking her grey ward uniform and donning a vibrant green tweed walking suit she hadn’t worn in…well…forever. “I haven’t been to the Ritz since Daddy took me when we were here to have Mister Worth design my debut folderol.”
“It’s filled these days with men who will come to introduce themselves to me at first sight of you.”
“Oh, yes. Me, with my baggy eyes and my pale complexion.”
“And your golden hair and your twinkling green eyes.”
“Careful, Colonel. You will influence me in naughty ways.”
“Can I do that?” He asked that from the other room but she heard in his tone not only humor but hope.
“Easily.” Why not be honest with him? She looked at herself in the faded cheval mirror and held up the hip-length severely tailored suit jacket to her torso. “I will tell you how much I’ve hungered for your letters.”
He appeared at the open door, solemn and dear.
She caught his reflection, his gaze focused on her lips.
“Tell me,” he said in that same gravelly voice that had caught her attention on the sidewalk.
She spun to face him and the jacket drifted from her fingers. Once more, she was in his embrace and this time, his kiss was desperate. “Katrina,” he murmured and cupped her face with both hands. “Katrina, I’ve missed you.”
She led him back, back, back and sank to her bed, pulling him down to her. She was in her shift, thin and old. Aware too that she was not fresh, certainly, having worked all night in a dimly gaslit ward, smelly with the detritus of human misery. But she would not let him go. Could not.
He came over her, his insignia on his uniform poking into the bare skin of her chest, and she didn’t care.
“I’ve wanted you here,” she managed as she spread kisses on his cheeks and forehead. His hands found their way down her torso to cup her breast and find a pointed begging nipple beneath the worn French bra-lette and old chemise.
But he stopped and spoke against the hollow behind her ear. His breath was ragged and she reveled in it. “I came to take you to breakfast, sweetheart, not have you for breakfast.”
She burst out laughing. “Noble you!”
He pulled away, his kind hazel eyes burning into hers. “I do want you, Katrina, but not without a good talk. A good reflection on—”
“I don’t.”
“I’m sorry.” He startled, looking rejected. “I didn’t mean to be a cad but I thought—”
“Stop!” She went up on her elbows and looked at him with sorrow. “You misunderstand or I didn’t speak correctly. I meant to say that I don’t want to talk. Not about the war. Or my work. Or yours. I don’t think I could bear it. I’d run screaming from the table.”
She froze, shocked at herself. Unable to admit how terrified she was of the uncertainty of war, food supply, shelter, the guns, Bertha, and the fear of German invasion, she’d put on blinders. Gone about her days with an efficiency that gave little saatisfaction and no joy. Obscuring her vision, she focused on the ordinary, the daily, the necessary. Seeing Nate blew that panorama wide. He was what she’d missed not just these past few months. But in her life. A prospect of companionship to her days. Intimacy. A man. A love.
His expression fell to compassion. “I’m sorry. Is it that bad? Your work? The life here? I mean…You are safe. Aren’t you? The building? This part of town? All the small hospitals and church? The people?”
“Yes, yes, yes! All of it.” But she didn’t want to burden him with her cursed inability to accept it all! “Just let me enjoy you this morning, will you? I’m so happy you’re here and I…I’ve discovered that I am rather at base simply a spoiled debutante, you see.”
“You’re not.”
“I—I’ve learned that about myself most definitely. Only this minute. Bad of me. And I’m rotten unhappy about it, too. I must think more on it. So…so…just let me go to breakfast with you and enjoy you. No more of this. No more.”
