Read The Salty Wind online. Sarah Gio: Salty Wind
Sarah Gio
Salty wind
Jason, in memory of our bungalow.
I love you.
Copyright © Sarah Jio, 2011
© Sorokina D., translation into Russian, 2015
© Edition in Russian, design. Eksmo Publishing House LLC, 2015
* * *Place a piece of paper in a thin envelope, seal it with your tongue on the adhesive edge, and mail it to the address. Until the letter gets into the right box, dozens of people will touch it, it will travel thousands of miles, and then quietly settle between the twenty-ninth and thirtieth pages of an unnecessary catalog, waiting for an unsuspecting addressee. But the recipient, with a careless movement of his hand, will throw the magazine with the treasure hidden inside into the trash. There, next to a half-drunk carton of milk, an empty wine bottle and yesterday's newspaper, lies waiting for a piece of paper that can change your whole life.
The letter was intended for me.
- Hello!
I opened my eyes in fear when I heard a familiar voice - pleasant, but completely inappropriate. Jennifer, my granddaughter. Where I am? More precisely, that she doing here? I blinked absentmindedly. I dreamed of sandy beaches and coconut trees. My subconscious always strives there, and this time I was lucky: I managed to find the landscape in the archives of my own memory.
Of course, he was there too - in uniform, with an embarrassed smile. The waves crashed against the shore, I heard their powerful blows and the hiss of billions of bubbles kissing the sand. Squeezing my eyelids, I saw him again, he stood in a sleepy haze that dissipated too quickly. Don’t go, my heart begged. Stay . Oh please. He obediently reappeared, with that same alluring smile, still stretching out his hands to me. A familiar excitement, a passionate desire, awoke within me.
And then he disappeared.
I sighed and, cursing myself, looked at my watch. Half past two. I must have dozed off reading the book. Again. The real curse of old age. A little embarrassed, I sat up in my chair and found the novel I was reading. It was lying on the floor, spine up.
Jennifer appeared on the terrace. A truck thundered down the street, completely shattering the peace.
“Oh, there you are,” she said, smiling with smoky brown eyes, so similar to her grandfather’s. Today she is wearing jeans and a black sweater with a light green belt around her slender waist. Blonde hair reflects the sun's rays. Jennifer has no idea how beautiful she is.
“Hi, honey,” I greeted, extending my hand. She looked around the terrace, simple clay pots with blue pansies. Their adorable heads poked out of the ground, like embarrassed, remorseful children caught playing in an inappropriate place. The view of Lake Washington and the Seattle skyline in the distance is a beautiful landscape, but cold and stiff, like a painting in a dentist's office. I frowned. How did I even end up in this tiny apartment with stark white walls, a telephone in the bathroom and a red panic button next to the toilet?
“I found something in the trash,” Jennifer said. The sound of her voice brought me back to reality.
I smoothed my gray, thin hair.
- What is it, dear?
I couldn't hold back a yawn.
- Leave it on the table. Will watch later.
I sat down on the sofa and looked from the kitchen to my reflection in the window. Elderly lady. I saw this lady every day, but the reflection never ceased to amaze me. When did I turn into it? I ran my hand over the wrinkles on my face.
Jennifer sat down next to him.
“I hope your day went better than mine?”
My granddaughter was finishing up her master's degree at the University of Washington, and she had chosen an unusual topic for her thesis: an obscure piece of art located on campus. Bronze sculpture of a young couple, donated by an unknown artist in 1964, with the simple inscription: Pride and Prejudice. This sculpture made such a strong impression on Jennifer that she decided to find out the name of the author and the history of the creation of the sculptural composition, but long research did not bear almost any fruit.
– How are your studies, dear?
“Nothing new,” she said with a sigh. - I'm upset. We worked so hard. “She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t want to admit it, but it looks like we’ve taken the wrong trail.”
Salty wind
Sarah Gio
Bora Bora Island, 1943.
Anna Calloway decides to escape her boring greenhouse life and goes as a military nurse with her friend Kitty to the islands of French Polynesia. But soon the friends begin to move away from each other. Anna meets Westry Green, a charming soldier who manages to dispel her longing for home and lost friendship. One day they find an old abandoned hut near a wild beach, where a famous artist once lived. Trying to keep the discovery and their nascent feelings secret, they witness a terrible incident...
Seattle, present day.
Sarah Gio
Salty wind
Jason, in memory of our bungalow.
I love you.
Copyright © Sarah Jio, 2011
© Sorokina D., translation into Russian, 2015
© Edition in Russian, design. Eksmo Publishing House LLC, 2015
Place a piece of paper in a thin envelope, seal it with your tongue on the adhesive edge, and mail it to the address. Until the letter gets into the right box, dozens of people will touch it, it will travel thousands of miles, and then quietly settle between the twenty-ninth and thirtieth pages of an unnecessary catalog, waiting for an unsuspecting addressee. But the recipient, with a careless movement of his hand, will throw the magazine with the treasure hidden inside into the trash. There, next to a half-drunk carton of milk, an empty wine bottle and yesterday's newspaper, lies waiting for a piece of paper that can change your whole life.
The letter was intended for me.
- Hello!
I opened my eyes in fear when I heard a familiar voice - pleasant, but completely inappropriate. Jennifer, my granddaughter. Where I am? More precisely, what is she doing here? I blinked absentmindedly. I dreamed of sandy beaches and coconut trees. My subconscious always strives there, and this time I was lucky: I managed to find the landscape in the archives of my own memory.
Of course, he was there too - in uniform, with an embarrassed smile. The waves crashed against the shore, I heard their powerful blows and the hiss of billions of bubbles kissing the sand. Squeezing my eyelids, I saw him again, he stood in a sleepy haze that dissipated too quickly. Don’t go, my heart begged. Stay. Oh please. He obediently reappeared, with that same alluring smile, still stretching out his hands to me. A familiar excitement, a passionate desire, awoke within me.
And then he disappeared.
I sighed and, cursing myself, looked at my watch. Half past two. I must have dozed off reading the book. Again. The real curse of old age. A little embarrassed, I sat up in my chair and found the novel I was reading. It was lying on the floor, spine up.
Jennifer appeared on the terrace. A truck thundered down the street, completely shattering the peace.
“Oh, there you are,” she said, smiling with smoky brown eyes, so similar to her grandfather’s. Today she is wearing jeans and a black sweater with a light green belt around her slender waist. Blonde hair reflects the sun's rays. Jennifer has no idea how beautiful she is.
“Hi, honey,” I greeted, extending my hand. She looked around the terrace, simple clay pots with blue pansies. Their adorable heads poked out of the ground, like embarrassed, remorseful children caught playing in an inappropriate place. The view of Lake Washington and the Seattle skyline in the distance is a beautiful landscape, but cold and stiff, like a painting in a dentist's office. I frowned. How did I even end up in this tiny apartment with stark white walls, a telephone in the bathroom and a red panic button next to the toilet?
“I found something in the trash,” Jennifer said. The sound of her voice brought me back to reality.
I smoothed my gray, thin hair.
- What is it, dear?
I couldn't hold back a yawn.
- Leave it on the table. Will watch later.
I sat down on the sofa and looked from the kitchen to my reflection in the window. Elderly lady. I saw this lady every day, but the reflection never ceased to amaze me. When did I turn into it? I ran my hand over the wrinkles on my face.
Jennifer sat down next to him.
“I hope your day went better than mine?”
My granddaughter was finishing up her master's degree at the University of Washington, and she had chosen an unusual topic for her thesis: an obscure piece of art located on campus. Bronze sculpture of a young couple, donated by an unknown artist in 1964, with the simple inscription: Pride and Prejudice. This sculpture made such a strong impression on Jennifer that she decided to find out the name of the author and the history of the creation of the sculptural composition, but long research did not bear almost any fruit.
– How are your studies, dear?
“Nothing new,” she said with a sigh. - I'm upset. We worked so hard. “She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t want to admit it, but it looks like we’ve taken the wrong trail.”
I am no stranger to the obsession with art. Jennifer didn't know that I had spent most of my life trying in vain to find the painting that fell into my hands many years ago. The desire to see her again ached in my heart, and all my life I negotiated with art dealers and collectors. But the canvas still slipped away.
“I understand how hard this is to accept, honey,” I began softly and took my granddaughter by the hand, knowing how important the project was to her. “But some stories are never meant to be told.”
Jennifer looked at me.
“You’re probably right, grandma,” she admitted with a sigh. “But I don’t want to give up.” At least not now. This inscription was not made by chance. But the box that the young man is holding is closed, and there is no record of the key in the archives. So,” the granddaughter smiled hopefully, “maybe there is something inside.”
“I admire your tenacity, dear,” I said, feeling the gold chain around my neck. I took care of and wore the medallion for many years. Besides me, only one person knew what was hidden in it.
Jennifer approached the table again.
“Don’t forget about the letter,” she reminded, picking up the envelope. - Look at how bright the brand is. It,” she hesitated, reading the postmark, “is from Tahiti.”
My heart began to pound and I looked up, stealing a glance at the letter Jennifer was holding in her hands.
- Grandma, who do you know in Tahiti?
“Let me see,” I asked, slowly approaching her.
I saw a plain white envelope, slightly damp from the milk that had spilled from the carton, and stained with crimson from the cabernet we had drunk the night before. I don't recognize the handwriting or the return address. Who could write to me from Tahiti? And for what? And why now?
- Would you like to open it? – Jennifer hurried, revealing obvious impatience.
I continued to hold the envelope
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with trembling fingers, looking at an exotic brand with a Tahitian girl in a yellow dress. I was overwhelmed by memories that seemed ready to overwhelm my consciousness, but with an effort of will I broke free from their captivity.
I decisively opened the envelope:
"Dear Mrs. Godfrey,
Sorry for the intrusiveness. I have been looking for you for many years. I understand that you served as a nurse at the Bora Bora base during the war. If I'm right and you really are the one I'm looking for, I really need to talk to you. I grew up on the island of Tahiti, but have returned here only now, hoping to solve a mystery that has occupied me since childhood. On the evening of 1943, a terrible murder was committed on the beach of Bora Bora. I was so shocked by this tragedy that I began to write a book about the events leading up to this incident, which in many ways changed the island forever.
I was able to find records of civilian employees and noticed that on that day, the day of the tragedy, you were released from service. Perhaps, quite by chance, you remember that evening, suddenly you saw someone or something on the beach? Many years have passed, but suddenly remember... Every small detail can help restore justice. I pray that you will pay attention to my request and contact me. Also, if you ever decide to return to the island, I found something here that belonged to you, and you might want to see it. I hope for a meeting.
Sincerely yours,
Genevieve Thorpe."
I stared at the letter. Genevieve Thorpe. No, I don't know her.
Stranger. And it looks like he's causing trouble for me. I thought about it. Don't attach any importance. All this was too long ago. Go back to those days? Relive it all again? I closed my eyes tightly, trying to free myself from the flood of memories. Yes, you can simply ignore it. This is not a subpoena, not a criminal investigation. I don't owe this stranger anything. You can just throw the letter in the trash and be done with it. But then I remembered the last lines: “If you ever decide to return to the island, I found something here that belonged to you, and perhaps you would like to see it. I hope for a meeting".
Already alarmed, my heart began to beat even faster. Return to the island again? To me? At my age?
- Grandma, is everything okay? “Jennifer leaned over and put her arm around my shoulders.
“Everything is fine,” I assured, pulling myself together.
– Do you want to talk about it?
I shook my head and tucked the letter into the crossword book on the coffee table.
Jennifer took the bag and, rummaging around, brought out a large envelope, wrinkled and worn.
- I want to show you something. I wanted to do it later, but it seems,” she took a deep breath, “the time has come.”
She held out the envelope.
- What is this?
“Look inside,” she said slowly.
I reached into the envelope and pulled out a stack of black and white photographs, immediately recognizing the top one.
- It is me! “I couldn’t hold back my shocked exclamation.” I pointed to a girl dressed in a white nurse's uniform, standing in front of a coconut tree. How the palm trees amazed me in the first days of my stay on the island - almost seventy years ago! I looked at Jennifer.
-Where did you get them?
“Dad found it,” answered the granddaughter, looking intently into my eyes, “found it when he was rummaging through old boxes.” He asked me to return them to you.
My heart began to beat even faster when I saw the next photo - my childhood friend, Kitty, sitting on an overturned canoe on the shore, striking a movie star pose. Kitty could have been a movie star. Remembering my old friend, I felt a familiar pain that time could not heal.
There were other photos in the stack: beach, mountains, lush vegetation. But when I saw the last card, I was petrified. Westry. My Westry. There he is, the top button of his uniform undone, his head tilted slightly to the right, the wicker wall of a bungalow in the background. Our bungalow. I have taken thousands of photographs in my life, many of them have been forgotten, but not this one. I remembered absolutely everything, even the smell of the evening air - it was filled with the aroma of the sea surf and delicate freesias blooming under the moon. I remembered my feelings, our views and what happened next.
“Yes,” I answered.
– Do you still think about him?
I nodded:
– I always thought about him.
Jennifer rolled her eyes.
- Grandma, what happened in Tahiti? What happened to this man? And the letter - why did you react to it that way? “She took my hand. - Please tell me.
I thought about it. Why not tell her? I'm already many years old. There won’t be any special consequences, and if there are, I’ll be able to bear them quite well. How I wanted to free myself from these secrets, to let them out like bats from a dusty attic. I ran my finger along the gold chain of the medallion and nodded.
- OK Sweety. But I’ll say right away – don’t expect a fairy tale.
Jennifer sat down in the chair next to me.
“Great,” she answered with a smile, “after all, I never liked fairy tales.”
“And there will be very dark parts in this story,” I continued, doubting my decision.
She frowned:
- But is the ending happy?
- I am not sure.
Jennifer looked at me, puzzled.
I held Westry's photo up to the light.
– The story is not over yet.
August 1942
“Kitty Morgan, you didn’t say that!”
I put down the glass of cold mint tea so abruptly that I almost broke it. Mom will be glad that I didn't ruin the Venetian crystal service.
“She said it, that’s it,” she said with a victorious smile. It was simply impossible to be angry with Kitty, with her heart-shaped face and a shock of curly, unruly blonde hair constantly popping out of carefully fitted pins. But I was firm on this issue.
“Mr. Gelfman is a married man,” I reminded him disapprovingly.
“James,” the friend responded, deliberately drawing out his name, “is incredibly unhappy.” His wife disappears somewhere for weeks, can you imagine? And he doesn't even say where she is. She even worries about cats more than about her own husband.
I sighed, leaning back on the wooden bench that hung from the huge walnut tree in the garden in the backyard of our house. Kitty sat next to me. She and I have been friends for a long time, since elementary school. I looked up at the tree crown - the leaves were beginning to turn yellow, reminiscent of the inevitable autumn. Why does everything always change? It seemed like just yesterday that Kitty and I were two schoolgirls, coming home holding hands, leaving our books on the kitchen table and rushing to the bench, where we chatted until dinner. Now, at twenty-one, we are two grown girls on the threshold of... Well, on the threshold of something - none of us knew what exactly.
“Kitty,” I turned to face her, “don’t you understand?”
- What? I do not understand? – In a dress with pink frills and unruly curls that became even more disheveled from the afternoon
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humidity, she looked like a spring rose. I wanted to protect her from Mr. Gelfman or anyone else she was going to fall in love with, because no one was good enough for my best friend—especially not a married man.
Doesn't she know about Mr. Gelfman's reputation? Kitty couldn't help but remember the crowds of girls who followed him in high school, because he was the most attractive teacher in Lakeside. In literature class, when he recited Elizabeth Barrett Browning's poem "How I Love Thee?", every girl hoped to catch his eye. I thought it was all nonsense. Has Kitty forgotten what happened to Caitlin Mansfield five years ago? How could she forget? Caitlin—shy, big-breasted, terribly stupid—succumbed to Mr. Gelfman's charms. She hung around the staff room at lunchtime and waited for him after class. Everyone wondered what was going on between them, especially after one of the friends spotted Caitlin with Mr. Gelfman in the park after sunset. Then Caitlin suddenly stopped going to school. The older brother said she moved to live with her grandmother in Iowa. And we all guessed why.
I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Kitty, men like Mr. Gelfman have only one goal, and I think we both understand what it is.”
Kitty's cheeks turned crimson.
– Anna Calloway! How dare you suggest that James...
- I don't assume anything. I just love you. You are my best friend and I don't want you to get hurt.
Kitty became sad, and we rocked in silence for a few minutes. I reached into my dress pocket and secretly squeezed the letter hidden there. I'd picked it up at the post office a few hours earlier, and now I couldn't wait to sneak into the bedroom and read it. The letter was from Nora, a friend from medical college. She wrote to me every day from the islands in the South Pacific, where she served as a nurse. They had fallen out with the hot-tempered Kitty during the last semester, and I decided not to tell Kitty about her letters. Besides, I didn’t want to admit how fascinated I was by Nora’s stories about the war and the tropics. I read the letters like a novel—sometimes I longed to take my newly graduated nursing degree and join her, escaping the routine of home and the need to make decisions. But I understood perfectly well that this was just an impossible idea, just a dream. After all, I can help bring victory closer at home - by volunteering at the municipal center or collecting canned goods and participating in environmental projects. Honestly, I didn't want to go to a war zone a few weeks before the wedding. It's a good thing I didn't say a word to Kitty.
“You’re just jealous,” Kitty finally said in an icy tone.
“Nonsense,” I objected, pushing Nora’s letter deeper into my pocket. A ray of sun shining high in the summer sky illuminated the diamond ring on my left hand, and it flared up like a lighthouse in the dark night, reminding me of the inevitable fact - I was engaged. Finally and irrevocably.
– There is less than a month left before my wedding with Gerard, and I am very happy.
Kitty frowned.
“Don’t you want to experience something else in life before you become,” she paused, as if gathering courage before uttering very difficult, unpleasant words, “before you become Mrs. Gerard Godfrey?”
I shook my head:
- Darling, marriage is not suicide.
Kitty looked away, staring at the rose bush.
“But it may turn out that way,” she muttered.
I sighed, leaning back.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, turning to me, “I just want you to be happy.”
I took her hand.
- And I will be happy, Kitty. I hope you will be convinced of this.
I heard footsteps on the lawn and looked up to see Maxine, our housekeeper, approaching with a tray in her hand. Despite her heels, she moved confidently across the grass, holding the loaded silver platter with one hand. Dad once called her graceful, and it was completely fair. She seemed to be floating.
- Girls, can I bring you anything? – Maxine asked in a beautiful voice with a strong accent. Outwardly, she has changed little since I was a girl. She is small, with soft features and huge sparkling green eyes, and her cheeks smell of vanilla. His hair, now graying, was pulled back into a neat bun, every single strand. She wore a white apron, always clean and stiffly starched, tied neatly around her slender waist. Many families in the area had servants, but only we hired a French housekeeper - my mother did not miss the opportunity to draw everyone’s attention to this fact.
“No need, thank you, Maxine,” I thanked.
“Except for one thing,” Kitty began conspiratorially, “convince Anna not to marry Gerard.” She doesn't love him.
– Is this true, Antoinette? – asked Maxine. I was five when she settled in with us, and, after briefly looking at me, she then said: “You don’t look like Anna. I will call you Antoinette." And I immediately felt special.
“Of course not,” I quickly objected, casting a sideways disapproving glance at my friend, “Kitty’s just in that mood.” I'm the luckiest girl in Seattle. I'm marrying Gerard Godfrey.
I'm really lucky. Gerard was tall and incredibly handsome, with a masculine jaw, dark brown hair and brown eyes. And, on top of everything else, he’s rich, although I didn’t care too much about that. But my mother often reminded me that at twenty-seven he became the youngest vice president in the history of the First Marine Bank, which means that in the future he would certainly inherit his father’s place. You'd have to be a complete fool not to accept Gerard Godfrey's proposal, and when he asked for my hand under that same walnut tree, I immediately agreed.
Mom felt dizzy from this news. Of course, he and Mrs. Godfrey had long dreamed of this union. The Calloways will team up with Godfrey. It's as natural as coffee with cream.
Maxine took a pitcher of iced tea and filled our glasses.
“Antoinette,” she began slowly, “have I ever told you the story of my sister, Jeanette?”
- No. I didn't even know you had a sister.
I realized there was a lot I didn't know about Maxine.
“Yes,” she continued quietly, thoughtfully. “She loved a young man, a peasant from Lyon. They had crazy love. But her parents wanted to marry her to another man; he made good money at the factory. She broke up with the peasant and married a worker.
“How sad,” I said. “And she never saw him again?”
“No,” answered the housekeeper, “and I’ve been unhappy all my life.”
I sat down, straightening my blue crepe dress with a belt at the bodice - it was a little too small for me. My mother bought it for me on one of her trips to Europe.
– Very sad, I feel sorry for poor Jeanette. But that doesn't concern me. You see, I love Gerard. He's my only one.
“Of course you love Gerard,” Maxine agreed, bending over to pick up a napkin that had fallen on the grass, “after all, you grew up together.” He's like a brother to you.
Brother. There was something creepy about this word, especially when it came to her future husband. I shuddered.
“Honey,” she continued, catching my gaze and smiling, “this is your life and your heart.” You say that
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he's your only one, that's probably true. I just wanted to say that maybe you didn't have enough time to find him.
“Your true love,” the Frenchwoman said simply. She spoke these three words naturally and undeniably, implying that this deep, strong feeling is available to anyone who seeks, like a ripe plum hanging from a branch: come and take it.
I felt a slight trembling, but I chalked it up to a rising breeze and shook my head.
– I don’t believe in these fairy tales and all sorts of knights in shining armor. I believe love is a choice. You meet someone. You like him. And you begin to love him. It's simple.
Kitty rolled her eyes.
“It’s terrible, how unromantic,” she moaned.
- Maxine, what do you think about this? – I asked. -Have you ever fallen in love?
The housekeeper was wiping the tray so that there were no wet marks from the glasses.
“Yes,” she answered without looking up.
I was filled with curiosity, and I did not think that memories of past love could be painful for her.
– Was he American or French? Why didn't you get married?
Maxine didn’t answer right away, and I immediately regretted my “interrogation.”
“I didn’t marry him because he was already married.
Dad's steps were heard on the terrace, and everyone looked up. Smoking a cigar, he walked across the grass in our direction.
“Hey, baby,” he greeted, smiling at me through his thick mustache, “I didn’t think you’d be home until Tuesday.”
I smiled back.
“Kitty persuaded me to come early.”
I graduated from Portland State University in the spring, but Kitty and I stayed for two extra classes to get our nursing licenses. Our parents were very worried about these diplomas - God forbid, we would try to use them.
Gerard, on the other hand, found his engagement to the registered nurse somewhat amusing. Our mothers did not work, like all the women around us. He joked that my income was not even enough to pay for the services of a driver who would take me to the hospital. But he promised to support me, since I so dreamed of putting on a white cap and caring for the sick.
In fact, I myself didn’t know what I wanted. I chose nursing because it was the exact opposite of everything I hated about the life around me: our mothers did nothing but attend dinner parties, discuss women's fashion, chat with school friends who were carefree after graduation in Paris or Venice in search of a rich husband who could provide them with the usual standard of living.
But I wasn't like that at all. I was suffocating within these boundaries. I was attracted to nursing, despite all the hardships and prosaic nature. It allowed me to fulfill a long-standing desire - to selflessly help people.
Maxine cleared her throat.
“I’m already leaving,” she told dad, grabbing the tray with lightning speed. - Shall I get you something, Mr. Calloway?
“No, Maxine,” he replied, “nothing is needed, thank you.”
I liked the way he spoke to Maxine - softly and kindly, and not hastily and angrily, like Mom.
She nodded, crossed the emerald lawn and disappeared into the house.
Kitty looked at her dad in alarm.
- Mr. Calloway?
- Yes, Kitty?
“I heard they are recruiting soldiers again,” she sighed, “for the war.” I read about it in the newspaper while I was on the train. Do you know if anyone from Seattle was drafted?
“It’s too early to talk about it, Kitty Kat,” dad answered, calling his friend by the childhood nickname he had given her since school. “But judging by what’s happening in Europe, I think many will soon go to the front.” I met Stephen Radcliffe in town today, it turns out the Larson twins are leaving for the front on Thursday.
Everything inside me sank.
– Terry and Larry?
Dad nodded solemnly.
The twins, a year younger than Kitty and I, were going to war. To war. It seemed incredible. Just yesterday they were in elementary school and were pulling my pigtails. Terry was a quiet boy with freckles on his cheeks. Larry is a little taller and less freckled, a natural comedian. These red-haired boys were always together. I wonder if they will be allowed to enter the battlefield shoulder to shoulder? I closed my eyes, trying to push the thought away, but it was too late. Battlefield.
Dad seemed to read my thoughts:
– Don’t worry about Gerard, don’t worry.
Gerard was as strong and masculine as all the guys I knew, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t imagine him anywhere other than in a bank, dressed in a business suit. Of course, I was worried about him, but sometimes I wanted to see him in military uniform, on the battlefield.
“His family occupies too respectable a position in society,” the father continued. “George Godfrey will see to it that he is not drafted.”
Everything was seething inside me: Gerard's security calmed me and disgusted me at the same time. It is unfair that men from poor families fight for their people, and the privileged class shirks service without any particular reason. George Godfrey, a banking magnate in failing health, had once been a senator, and Gerard was set to inherit his place at the bank. It was unpleasant for me that the Larson twins were risking their lives in the cold winter of Europe, and Gerard was comfortably spending time in a warm office on a comfortable leather chair.
The anxiety in my eyes did not escape my father’s gaze:
- Don't worry. I can't stand it when you worry.
Kitty sat with her eyes downcast and her hands folded in her lap. She was probably thinking about Mr. Gelfman. Will he go to war too? He couldn't be more than thirty-eight—young enough to be a soldier. I sighed, wishing the war would end quickly.
“Mom is having dinner in town today,” said Dad, looking at the house. He met my gaze.
“Ladies, would you do me the honor of having dinner with me today?”
Kitty shook her head.
“I have a meeting,” she said vaguely.
- Sorry, dad, but I'm having dinner with Gerard.
The father thought for a moment, and his gaze suddenly became sentimental:
– You have become quite grown up. Everyone has their own plans. It seems like just yesterday we were playing with dolls here...
Honestly, I missed those old, simple days when life revolved around paper dolls, dresses and tea parties on the veranda. I buttoned up the button on my sweater: I suddenly felt cold from the wind. Winds of change.
“Let’s go inside,” I suggested, taking Kitty’s hand.
“Go ahead,” she simply agreed. And we became the same girls again: Kitty and Anna.
The clouds of cigarette smoke hanging low over the tables stung my eyes. The Cabana Club, a trendy spot where most of Seattle came to dance on Saturday nights, was dim. I squinted, trying to make out the scene.
Kitty pushed a box wrapped in blue paper towards me. I looked at the gold ribbon.
- What is this?
“This is for you,” the friend said with a smile.
I looked questioningly at her, then at the gift, and carefully untied the ribbon. She took the lid off the white jewelry box and peeled back the cotton lining, revealing the shiny object inside.
- This is a pin, a sign of our friendship. Do you remember those little rings we had as children?
I nodded, not understanding whether my eyes were wet from the smoke or from
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memories of a bygone childhood?
“I thought we needed a more grown-up version,” Kitty explained and brushed a lock of hair off her shoulder, showing off the same pin on her dress.
- Do you see? I have the same.
I examined the silver bauble - round, covered with small blue stones, forming a rose-shaped pattern. She sparkled in the dim lighting of the club. On the back I found an engraving: To Anne, from Kitty with love.
“Very beautiful,” I admired, attaching a pin to the dress.
The friend beamed.
“I hope it will become a symbol of our friendship, will remind us that we have no secrets from each other, and we will not allow time or circumstances to change our relationship.”
I nodded in agreement.
- I will always wear it.
Kitty smiled:
- Me too.
Sipping soda, we looked at the noisy club, where friends, classmates and acquaintances were having fun, perhaps for the last time before life scatters everyone in different directions. War. Marriage. The unknown. My heart sank.
“Look at Ethel and David Barton,” Kitty whispered in my ear. She pointed to the couple at the bar. “His hands just wander all over her,” the friend noted, looking at them for too long.
- What a shame! – I shook my head. “She’s engaged to Henry.” Is he still studying?
Kitty nodded, but I didn't notice the disapproval in her gaze.
– Don’t you dream of such love? – she asked thoughtfully.
I wrinkled my nose:
- Darling, but this is not love.
“Precisely love,” she objected, resting her cheek on her palm. We watched the couple move hand in hand towards the dance floor. “David is crazy about her.”
“Crazy, right,” I agreed. - But he doesn’t love her.
Kitty shrugged.
“But there is passion between them.”
I took powder out of my purse and powdered my nose. Gerard will come soon.
“Passion is for fools,” I said, snapping my makeup bag shut.
“Perhaps,” she replied, “but I’ll still take the risk.”
- Do not say that.
-Like a fallen woman.
Kitty giggled, and at that moment Gerard and Max, his friend and colleague from the bank - short, curly, with a simple, honest face - appeared at our table. He had plans for Kitty.
“Share a joke with us, Kitty,” Gerard asked with a smile. I liked his smile, charming and self-confident. He was wearing a gray suit and was towering over the table, fixing a stray cufflink. Max stood at attention, panting like a German Shepherd and focusing all his attention on Kitty.
“Tell them, Anna,” Kitty turned to me with a grin.
I smiled confusedly:
“Kitty said that she and Max would make a better dancing couple than you and me, Gerard,” I looked triumphantly at Kitty, “can you imagine?”
Gerard smiled and Max's eyes lit up.
“We won’t let her talk like that, will we, dear?” “He looked at the dance floor and extended his hand to me.
The musicians began to play, and Max awkwardly stomped around next to my friend, smiling widely. Kitty rolled her eyes and took his outstretched hand.
Gerard smoothly and elegantly placed his hands on my waist. I liked his firm embrace, his confidence.
- Gerard? – I whispered in his ear.
- Yes darling?
“Do you feel…” I hesitated, trying to find words, “do you feel passion for me?”
- Passion? – he repeated, holding back a laugh. -You're so funny. Certainly.
He squeezed me a little tighter.
– Real passion? – I continued, not satisfied with the answer.
He stopped and lovingly pulled my hands to my chin.
“I hope you don’t doubt my love?” Anna, I want you to know that I love you more than anything in the world.
I closed my eyes. Soon the music stopped and a new, slower song began to play. I pressed myself closer to Gerard so that I could hear his heart beating, and he undoubtedly heard mine. We swayed to the melody of the clarinet, and with every step I convinced myself that we had this. Of course there is. Gerard is crazy about me, and I am crazy about him. And doubts are complete nonsense. It's all Kitty. Kitty. I watched her joylessly dance with Max, and suddenly, as if out of nowhere, Mr. Gelfman appeared. He walked straight towards her, said something to Max and immediately pulled her into his arms. Dejected Max headed to the table.
– What is Kitty doing with James Gelfman? – Gerard asked, frowning.
“I don’t like this,” I said, watching Mr. Gelfman spin my friend around the dance floor like a doll. He placed his hands too low on her waist, pressing her too tightly. I thought of Caitlin, poor Caitlin, and shuddered.
“Let’s get out of here,” I asked Gerard.
- Already? – he was surprised. “But we haven’t even had dinner yet.”
“Maxine left sandwiches in the refrigerator,” I answered. - I don't want to dance anymore.
- Is it because of Kitty?
I nodded. I knew that nothing could stop Kitty now. She made this clear. And I'll be damned if I watch my best friend give her heart and honor to an undeserving man - and a married one at that. But there was more to it than that. My mind didn’t yet realize it, but my heart already felt it: I was jealous of Kitty. I wanted to experience what she had. And I was afraid that this would never happen to me.
The doorman handed me my blue velvet coat, and I took Gerard's arm. Warm. Safety. Security. I was very lucky, I reminded myself.
On the way home, Gerard decided to talk about real estate. Will we buy an apartment in the city or something in Windermere, the prosperous neighborhood of our youth, close to our parents? The apartment will be closer to the bank. How nice it would be to live on Fifth Avenue, he drawled. This fall, the Buskirksa house, a large Tudor mansion with four dormer windows, is being sold. We could buy and restore it, add a new wing for the servants and a nursery for the child. For a child.
Gerard continued to mumble, and the car suddenly became hot. Too hot. The road blurred before my eyes, the street lights multiplied. What happened with me? Why can't I breathe? My head began to spin and I grabbed the doorknob.
- Honey, is everything okay?
“It’s just a little stuffy,” I said, rolling down the window.
He stroked my hand.
- Sorry, darling, did I tire you?
“A little,” I admitted. “There are so many decisions to make.” Maybe we can focus on one thing for now?
“Of course,” he agreed. - Not a word more about houses.
He turned into Windermere, passing the majestic columns at the entrance. Behind them was a prosperous reserve, where gardeners spent hours sanding lawns and trimming flower beds, measuring every petal, and governesses nurtured children in the same way. We passed Gerard's parents' house, a gray-gabled mansion on Gilmore Avenue, and the Larsons' white colonial, with its rectangular hedges and stone urns from Italy. What is wrong with me? There is a man nearby who loves me and is ready to give me the beautiful, calm life I am accustomed to. I was unhappy with myself.
Gerard parked and we went into the house, to the kitchen.
“Maxine’s probably already asleep,” I said, glancing at my watch. Half past nine. Maxine usually went to her room at nine-fifteen.
- Would you like a sandwich? – I suggested.
“No, thank you,” Gerard refused, fiddling with the Rolex on his hand—my gift for the twenty-fifth day.
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birth.
Suddenly footsteps were heard.
- Dad? – I asked, peeking around the corner. A woman's silhouette appeared on the stairs.
- Mother? “I turned on the light in the corridor and realized that I was mistaken.
“Mom isn’t here yet,” Maxine answered. - I brought you some towels. Francesca wasn't there today, so I decided to prepare them myself for the morning.
- Oh, Maxine. Why worry about towels at a time like this? And I don’t want to hear! Go get some rest. You work too much.
She turned her head to look at her watch, and it seemed to me that her eyes sparkled strangely. Were you crying or just tired?
“I think it’s time to say goodnight,” she nodded, “if you don’t need anything.”
“Nothing,” I answered, “everything is fine.” Good dreams, Maxine.
I hugged her neck, like in childhood, and inhaled the fragrant smell of vanilla.
When she left, Gerard kissed me, tenderly and quickly. Why not longer?
“It’s late,” he said, “I think it’s time for me too.”
- Is it time for you? – I asked, pulling him towards me and looking meaningfully at the sofa in the living room. Why is Gerard so practical?
“We need to rest,” he shook his head, “tomorrow is a difficult day.”
- Difficult day?
“Party,” he said in surprise. - Have you forgotten?
I really forgot. Gerard's parents held their engagement party on their huge lawn, so perfectly manicured it looked like a golf course. Musicians, croquet, ice sculptures and trays of small sandwiches from white-gloved waiters.
“Put on a beautiful dress and come to two,” he said with a smile.
“Easy,” I answered, heading towards the door.
“Good night, honey,” he said goodbye and went to the car.
I stood and watched him drive away until the sound of the engine faded into the thick silence of the August night.
- Maxine!
I opened my eyes and blinked several times, half-asleep, trying to figure out who was screaming like that - loudly, piercingly, a little angry, clearly annoyed and very dissatisfied.
Mother. She's back.
– I told you that Anna will wear a blue dress - why isn’t it ironed?
I pulled back the patchwork blanket and reached for my robe before reluctantly placing my bare feet on the cool wooden floor. Poor Maxine. She didn't deserve to be treated this way. They shout at her again.
I opened the door.
“Mom,” I began carefully, knowing that it was better for her not to argue about fashion, and slowly walked out into the corridor. – I wanted to wear red. Which you bought in Paris.
Mom stood a few steps from the landing. She smiled and opened the curtains, looking indignantly at Maxine.
“Oh, good morning, honey,” she greeted, heading towards me. “I didn’t know you woke up.” “She reached out and took my face in her hands. “You look tired, my love.” Did you come home late yesterday? With Gerard?
Mom always pronounced his name with aspiration, as if she were talking about chocolate pie. Sometimes it began to seem to me that my mother herself would not mind marrying Gerard Godfrey.
I shook my head:
– I returned quite early.
She pointed to the puffiness under my eyes.
- Then where does it come from?
“I couldn’t sleep,” I explained.
Maxine timidly approached us, holding a dress on a hanger in her hands.
- Antoinette, is this?
I nodded.
“Don’t call her that, Maxine,” my mother snapped, “she’s no longer a little girl, but a grown lady, about to get married.” Please call my daughter Anna.
Maxine nodded.
“Mom,” I blurted out, “I like to be called Antoinette.”
Mom shrugged. New diamond earrings swung in her ears.
- In any case, it doesn’t matter anymore. In a month you'll be Mrs. Gerard Godfrey, that's all that matters.
I shuddered slightly and Maxine and I exchanged knowing glances.
– Do you want to wear red, dear? – Mom continued, tilting her head to the right. She was very beautiful, much more beautiful than I will ever be. I knew this from an early age. - I doubt it's your color.
Maxine looked her mother in the eye, something she rarely did.
“I think it suits her very well, Mrs. Calloway,” she said peremptorily.
“Wear what you want, but we have to leave for Godfrey’s in two hours.” It's time to get ready.
Halfway down the stairs she turned back to Maxine and me:
– And put your hair up, dear. This makes your profile look much more attractive.
I nodded in agreement. Mom subscribed to all fashion magazines and attended shows in New York and Paris every year. She cared very much about her appearance - much more than other mothers: she dressed in the latest fashion, did chic hairstyles, and wore the most stylish accessories. And for what? Dad hardly noticed her. The more clothes she bought, the more unhappy she seemed.
She walked away and I rolled my eyes at Maxine.
– She’s kind of out of sorts, isn’t she?
Maxine handed me the dress. Judging by her eyes, she was still worried about her mother's harsh tone. We returned to the room and I closed the door.
I put the dress on me.
– Does it really suit me?
-What are you worried about, Antoinette? – asked the housekeeper. I felt that she was looking at me intently.
I looked down at the wooden floor and my bare feet.
“I don’t know,” I admitted confusedly, “it’s just that everything happens so quickly.”
Maxine nodded.
-Are you talking about an engagement?
- Yes. I love him, I really do. He is so good.
“He’s good,” she repeated, offering to continue the thought.
I sat down on the bed and laid my head on the back.
“I know no one is perfect, but sometimes I think: would I have loved him more, would my feelings have become deeper if he had fulfilled his duty?”
Maxine hung the dress on the door.
- And went to war?
I nodded:
“I want some things to be different for him and for us.”
- Like, honey?
“I want to be proud of him, as other women are proud of their men who went to fight,” I continued, thinking for a moment, “I want to experience passion.” Kitty thinks we lack passion,” I muttered nervously.
“Well,” Maxine looked at me expectantly, “what do you think about this?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted and immediately threw away these thoughts. - Just listen to what I'm saying. I'm a terrible bride for saying things like that. Gerard is just a dream. I was very lucky. It's time to begin your role.
Maxine looked into my eyes. A fire flared in her gaze.
“Don’t ever say that, Antoinette,” she rapped, trying to pronounce the words as clearly and clearly as her accent allowed. “You can’t play a role in life, much less in love.” “She hugged me by the shoulders, like in childhood, and pressed her cheek. – Be yourself and always listen to your heart, even if following its call is painful and very difficult.
I sighed and buried my head in her shoulder.
- Maxine, why do you say that? Why are you saying this now?
The housekeeper forced herself to smile, but there was sadness in her eyes:
– Once I didn’t listen to my heart and now I regret it.
Gerard's mother, Grace Godfrey, had an unpleasant appearance. The dark eyes and sharp features that made Gerard so irresistible deprived the woman of attractiveness. But the smile made her features softer. As a child, I often wished that my mother was more like Mrs. Godfrey - practical and down to earth, despite
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wealth and position in society. Typically, women in her circle left most of the childcare to hired workers, but Mrs. Godfrey did everything herself. If one of the Godfrey boys had a broken knee as a child, she would send the nanny away and bandage the wounds herself, kissing the child tenderly.
“I don’t understand why Grace Godfrey doesn’t let the nanny do her thing,” Mom complained to Dad when I was in elementary school.
As might be expected, when my parents and I arrived at Godfrey's house, Grace was helping the waiters move the ice sculpture - a large duck with three ducklings in a row - from the veranda to the lawn.
“Let me help,” I heard my dad’s voice behind me.
“Grace, be careful,” Mom intervened, “you have a bad back.”
As soon as Dad jumped up, Grace gave up control of the duck, which she held with obvious difficulty.
“Thank you,” she thanked and turned to her mother: “Luellen, Anna, good afternoon.” Wonderful weather, isn't it?
“Yes,” I agreed, looking at the blue sky, on which a single fluffy cloud could be seen. The expensive lawn is lined with tables, and purple hydrangeas flaunt in vases set on lilac tablecloths.
“All this...” I hesitated, suddenly moved by such an expression of love for me, Gerard and our future union. - Everything is very beautiful.
“I'm glad you like it,” Mrs. Godfrey replied, wrapping her strong fingers around my hand. “Gerard is waiting for you on the veranda, dear.”
I saw him from afar - he was stretched out on a sun lounger, smoking a cigar with his father. Gallant, handsome, strong - as if he had stepped out of the pages of one of his mother’s magazines. Seeing me, he quickly stood up.
“Anna,” he shouted, waving his hand, “I’ll come now!”
I straightened the ribbon on my dress, and Maxine’s words rang through my head: “You can’t play a role in life, much less in love.” But doesn't everyone around us play a role? Mother. Dad. In a sense, Kitty. Even Maxine. Why should I behave differently?
A few moments later, Gerard put his arm around my waist.
“You,” he whispered in my ear, “are the most beautiful girl!”
I blushed.
- Do you really think so?
“I'm sure,” he replied. -Where did you get this dress from? You are amazing.
- I put it on for you. I wanted it to...
“Wait, is that Ethan Wagoner?”
Gerard looked at the gate to the garden, where a man entered with his pregnant wife.
“Honey, I’m sorry to interrupt, but this is an old friend of mine from college.” Let me introduce you.
That day was full of acquaintances and meetings, and I hardly saw Gerard - only sometimes he waved his hand to me or quickly kissed me on the cheek. Engagement celebrations are not for the engaged.
When they called for dinner, I started looking for Kitty and realized that I hadn’t seen her all day. Strange, I told her about the holiday a few weeks ago. She was supposed to sit next to us during lunch, but she never showed up. And when the orchestra played the first song, I began to worry.
“Gerard,” I whispered in his ear as we twirled around the dance floor in the warm evening air, and it seemed like thousands of eyes were looking at us. I tried not to pay attention. “For some reason Kitty isn’t here... I’m worried.”
“She’s probably just late,” he answered without a hint of excitement, “you know Kitty.”
Yes, Kitty was often late. But not for five o'clock or for your best friend's engagement party. No, I felt something was wrong.
Gerard confidently led me along the dance floor, I laid my head on the lapel of his jacket, closed my eyes and let him lead, as always, without taking the initiative for a second, and listened to the words of the song.
“Gerard,” I whispered, “have you thought about war?” About being sent to the front?
He pulled away and looked into my eyes:
- Darling, if you are worried that I will be mobilized, then it is in vain. Father has already taken care of everything.
I frowned.
“But,” I began and then stopped, trying to find the words, “don’t you care that...
- What worries you?
I was distracted - out of the corner of my eye I noticed some movement at the entrance to the garden. Someone was waving his hand, trying to get my attention. The lights from the dance floor obscured the surrounding area, but I was able to see who it was. Kitty. She stood outside the garden gate. Is the gate locked? Why doesn't she come in? She brought a handkerchief to her eyes. No, something is clearly wrong.
The song ended and several couples joined us. I snuggled closer to Gerard and whispered:
- Is it okay if we skip this one?
He smiled in surprise and nodded. I hurried to the gate. Kitty sat on the sidewalk with her head in her knees.
- Kitty, what happened? “I finally saw her face: makeup running from tears, eyes red from tears.
“You probably think I’m a terrible, disgusting friend,” Kitty sobbed and lowered her head again.
I stroked her head, trying in vain to remove stray strands. I've never seen her curls in such a mess.
- Of course not, honey. What's happened? Tell.
“Anna, I’m sorry I let you down like that,” she sighed. “You must think I’m a useless friend.” And rightly so. I am a bad friend, unworthy of you.
The sobbing continued, and I pulled a fresh handkerchief from the fold of my dress.
- Nonsense, you are my dearest friend.
Kitty blew her nose and looked at me with a frighteningly bitter look. She was filled with sadness and some kind of despair. This girl was on the verge of taking a decisive step. I looked away.
“I arrived many hours ago, but I couldn’t get in.”
- Yes, why?
She blew her nose again.
“I can’t bear to watch you leave.”
“But, Kitty, I’m not going anywhere.”
- But you are getting married. Everything will change. I know that I should be happy for you, but I only think about losing you.
- Kitty, you will never lose me!
She looked at me.
- I'll lose it. This is the natural course of life. I’m just not used to it yet,” she pointed to the party behind the fence, “that’s why I couldn’t come. Anna, I'm so sorry.
“There’s no need to apologize,” I said firmly, taking Kitty’s hand and using the edge of my dress to wipe away a tear that ran down her cheek.
“Anna,” Kitty began a little distantly, “I have to tell you something.”
I let go of her hand.
- You will not like.
“Speak anyway,” I hurried.
– I made a serious decision about the future. You're moving forward, and so should I.
- Kitty, what are you talking about?
She took a deep, excited breath:
– Do you remember what we promised each other when we entered medical school?
I nodded:
- Yes. We swore that we would never become like our mothers.
“Exactly,” she confirmed, looking ahead, “that we want a different life, a more meaningful one.”
I frowned:
- Kitty, if you want to say that by marrying Gerard, I...
“No,” she quickly interrupted, “that’s not what I mean at all.” I just thought that I needed to somehow change my life. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, ever since the first rumors about war appeared, but today, Anna, I understood exactly what needs to be done.
My fingers clenched tightly.
“I’m leaving,” she said, “far to the south, to the ocean.” I'm joining the nursing corps to help in the war. Today I went to the city, to the volunteer registration center. Anna, they need qualified nurses. They are desperately missing. For me, this is a chance to do something worthwhile in life.
I was overwhelmed with emotions. I
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I remembered the stories about the islands from Nora’s letters - stuffy nights, stars so close that it seems you can touch them with your hand, beauty and mystery, the fear of destruction and war lurking around every corner. Men. I only dared to dream about this. And Kitty is going to go there.
I kicked a stone.
- Are you sure?
“Yes,” she said softly.
I sighed.
“Listen,” Kitty continued, “you’re getting married.” Everyone around is getting married or leaving to study or somewhere else. I don't want to just sit here and watch everything change. I want change.
Yes, changes awaited both of us, whether we wanted it or not. And now we looked them straight in the eyes, and I could not overcome the heartache.
“Of course, mom is terrified,” Kitty continued. “I’m running away to a wild island, I’ll live with the barbarians, among the soldiers - but I don’t care.” I don’t care what others think,” her tone became more cautious, “except you.”
I, too, couldn’t bear the thought of Kitty leaving, but not because of “savages” or men, although the latter caused a fair amount of anxiety. No, I couldn’t bear that Kitty was leaving for the other side of the world – and without me.
“I’m corresponding with Nora,” I admitted.
Kitty was offended at first, but then her eyes lit up:
- She’s there on the islands, isn’t she?
- Yes, she wanted me to come there too.
Kitty grinned.
“She’s wasting her time on the wrong girl.”
“Perhaps,” I agreed quietly.
I thought about the wedding that was going to happen in a few weeks. I presented everything down to the smallest detail, just like in a movie. My dress is French silk. Blue garter. Five tier cake with fondant. Napkins. Bridesmaids' bouquets. White peonies and lavender roses. I shuddered. How can I get married if Kitty isn't there?
I straightened up and nodded:
- I'll go with you.
Kitty beamed:
- Anna! No, it can not be. What about the wedding? We'll have to leave that week, and for at least nine months, maybe longer.
I shrugged:
- They need nurses, right?
Kitty nodded, sobbing.
- Yes. The recruiter said the situation on the islands is heating up and they are in dire need of nurses.
I smiled:
“What kind of friend am I if I let you go on such an adventure alone?”
Kitty hugged me and we sat on the sidewalk for the entire next song, and then the next. The holiday music seemed to be coming from another world—and in a way, it was. A hedge of trimmed laurels became the border between certainty and uncertainty.
“Gerard will never forgive me,” said Kitty. “I kidnapped his bride right before the wedding.”
I shook my head:
- Nonsense. You're not dragging me by force. I wanted it myself.
I turned around and looked at the festive evening. Of course, my decision will lead to serious consequences. Mom will lose her temper. Dad will be against it. And Gerard... Gerard. I sighed. It will not be easy for him - the bride will go to a combat area, and he will sit in the comfort of home. I knew he would be offended, and that bothered me the most. But now I couldn't think about it. If he loves me - he really loves me - he will wait, but if he doesn’t, then it’s not worth it.
My determination grew every moment. I must go with Kitty to the Pacific Ocean. Why? The answer was not entirely clear. One thing I knew for sure: this time I wouldn’t just play a role.
Kitty elbowed me in the side, and I groaned, lifting my heavy eyelids.
“Look out the window,” she exclaimed admiringly, “we’re almost there!”
It was a forty-five-minute flight from the island where we arrived by ship. I was seasick throughout the four days of the journey, and I dreamed of setting foot on solid ground again. I looked around the cabin of the small plane. The world of men. Although now, in addition to the pilots in the cockpit and one soldier - a tall, gangly guy with reddish blond hair, dressed in a fresh uniform, returning from long-term treatment - the plane was completely filled with nurses.
- Look! - Kitty exclaimed, clutching her heart. -Have you ever seen such beauty?
I leaned over my friend, looked out the small window and sighed in amazement when I saw the landscape below - incredibly light blue water, white sand and lush, emerald green hills. I didn't expect such an amazing sight. Of course, Nora, now on her way to the States, wrote about the charm of the islands, but the newspaper articles told a completely different story - the relentless tropical heat, poverty and torment that haunted the men who fought in the mosquito-infested swamps. It was believed that it was a real hell. But the view from the window did not at all match these descriptions. No, this island was completely different.
I remembered Gerard, his look when I was boarding the plane - sad, uncertain, scared. When I told him about my plans the day after the party, he responded wonderfully. But there was anxiety in the eyes.
Of course, he tried to dissuade me, but in the end he took my hand and smiled tightly.
- I will wait for your return. “It won’t change anything,” he assured.
After much discussion, we decided to postpone the wedding by a year. Discouraged by the news, my mother ran into the bedroom to cry. Dad's reaction was less clear. The next evening after Godfrey's party, I waited until the hour before dinner when he was drinking whiskey in his study. After my message he was taken aback. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.
-Are you sure, baby?
- Yes. I feel like it’s right, that’s all.
Dad lit a cigar, blowing smoke out the open window. His eyes sparkled.
- I would like your courage.
“Well, nothing can be done,” he suddenly said and threw the cigar into the ashtray, and with it all his emotions. - Let's not skip dinner. Maxine prepared hot sandwiches.
But still, that evening dad ate almost nothing.
I straightened my dress. Why is it so wrinkled when Kitty's outfit looks freshly ironed? I frowned. Maybe I went in vain? Hiding my hands in my hem, I looked at the landscape below - my new home for at least most of the year.
Constance Hildebrandt, the head nurse and our leader on the island, stepped forward and looked menacingly at the group of young nurses. She was a portly woman with gray hair, strictly tucked under a uniform cap, pinned so tightly that it was painful to look at. If there was any softness in Sister Hildebrandt, it was hidden deep inside.
“We’ve almost arrived,” she began. It was so noisy on the plane that I had to read lips even though she was screaming. – Don’t be fooled by the beauty of the island, this is not a luxury resort. There is hard work ahead. The hot climate is harsh. The humidity is stifling. If the mosquitoes don't get to you, the natives will. Those that live on the coast are friendly, but you shouldn't bother any further. There are still colonies of cannibals not far from the base.
I looked at the girls sitting across the aisle; they blinked their eyes in fear. Sister Hildebrandt cleared her throat.
“I know you’re tired, but we have work ahead of us.” Find your barracks and take a shower, I'll be waiting in the infirmary by two o'clock. And one more warning: many men will be watching your appearance, many of them have not seen women other than vahini for a very long time. Don't look men in the eyes.
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Behave so that they are gentlemen around you.
One of the girls took out a makeup bag, powdered her nose and painted her lips with bright red lipstick.
Kitty leaned towards me with a smile.
“There are two thousand men on the island,” she whispered, “and we are forty-five.”
I looked sternly at my friend. How could she think about men after Sister Hildebrandt's dire warnings?
– Do you really think there are cannibals there?
“No,” Kitty waved it off confidently, “she just scares us.”
I hoped Kitty was right.
Kitty nodded in agreement.
“Meredith Lewis—you know, Jillian's sister—was also on the island, not far from here. She arrived with the first troops and says that the stories about cannibals are complete nonsense.
Kitty’s words did not calm me down, but on the contrary, they pierced my heart like a sharp splinter. Meredith Lewis was in the same class as Gerard. She stood next to him in his graduation photo. These memories immediately made me want to go home. The uncertainty was alarming, but everything was forgotten when the plane began to shudder and shake.
Kitty and I held hands as the car landed with a thud on the runway, scarily close to the ocean. For a moment it seemed to us that we were about to be catapulted into the water, like a flying torpedo. I secretly crossed myself and said a prayer.
“Well, go ahead,” I said quietly a few minutes later, heading towards the exit along with the other girls.
Kitty's hand fell on my shoulder.
“Thank you for coming with me,” she whispered, “you won’t regret it, I promise.”
We went down to the airfield one after another. A light breeze was blowing, warm, salty and humid, and it was hard to breathe because I wasn’t used to it. The nurse, who was powdering her nose before boarding, began to sweat on her face and a bead of sweat slowly crawled down her cheek. I resisted the temptation to take my makeup bag out of my bag, reminding myself that I was engaged and now my appearance was only important to the groom.
Looking around, I saw that Sister Hildebrandt was right—at least about the men. Military men in dark green uniforms crowded below like hornets. The most impudent ones whistled, the rest simply watched, smoking cigarettes.
“It’s like they’ve never seen a woman,” Kitty whispered, glancing at the soldier in the front row. He became dignified and looked at us with a confident smile.
“He’s cute,” Kitty said a little louder than necessary.
Sister Hildebrandt turned to us again.
“Ladies, let me introduce you to Colonel Donehue,” she said, turning to the man in uniform. There were at least a dozen medals and insignia on his chest. As he crossed the platform, his subordinates lined up. Everything was quiet, and the nurses watched him approach in admiration. The Colonel was about forty, maybe a little older. Tanned, dark gray hair, amazing eyes. In his military uniform, he looked powerful and, it seemed to me, a little intimidating.
“Sister Hildebrandt, ladies,” he greeted, taking his hat, “I am pleased to officially welcome you to the island of Bora Bora.” Thank you for your service to our country, and I assure you, every man on the island, including me, says a heartfelt thank you for your work.
He turned to the men and shouted:
- At ease!
Everyone applauded.
“A true gentleman,” Kitty whispered, not taking her eyes off the colonel.
I shrugged. The sun was burning more and more. At first I didn’t even notice how hot its rays were, reflecting from the hot concrete. Kitty rocked slowly next to me. At first it seemed to me that she was dancing to the Ella Fitzgerald song coming from the jeep, but, turning to her, I saw that her friend’s cheeks had turned pale and she had gone completely limp.
“Kitty,” I worried, grabbing her hand, “are you okay?”
Kitty blinked rapidly, and suddenly her legs gave way. I managed to grab her, but it was the bag filled with dresses that were too elegant for the island that saved us - they saved my friend’s head from the merciless concrete. Now Kitty lay on the hot cement of the tarmac like a crumpled rag, her head resting in my lap.
- Kitty! – I screamed, instinctively pulling the hem of her blue dress.
- Smelling salts! – Sister Hildebrandt commanded, pushing through the girls crowded around her. She held a green glass bottle to Kitty's nose.
“It’s all the sun,” she explained calmly. - He'll get used to it over time.
Colonel Donehue appeared next to Sister Hildebrandt.
- Bring a stretcher! - he ordered. - Faster!
“Colonel Donehue,” Sister Hildebrandt intervened, “it’s just heatstroke.” Everything will be fine.
He looked at Kitty with a possessive look:
“I want to see this for myself.”
- As you please.
Soon two men appeared with a stretcher and put Kitty on them - she had already regained consciousness, but was still very weak.
- Anna, what happened? – Kitty asked me.
Before I could respond, Colonel Donehue jumped up.
“The most beautiful girls always faint in the tropics,” he said with a smile.
I didn't like his tone, but Kitty beamed:
– I’m very embarrassed... How long did I pass out?
The Colonel smiled widely. Such a crowd had gathered around us that I could no longer see anything.
“Long enough to hear that there will be a dance tonight in honor of your arrival,” Donehue replied, as if the dance was held personally for Kitty.
Kitty gave the colonel a smile - too playful for his rank.
- Dancing? – she muttered listlessly.
“Yes, dancing,” he confirmed and turned to the crowd: “Has everyone heard?” Today, at eight o'clock.
“Thank you,” Kitty replied, still smiling.
“I’m very glad,” the colonel answered gallantly, “only I have one request for you.”
- Certainly.
- Give me one dance.
“With pleasure,” she muttered dreamily as two men carried her away, making their way through the crowd.
Kitty always knew how to stage her appearance effectively.
The crowd moved. I looked at my suitcase and Kitty's huge bag and groaned. The soldiers disappeared somewhere, and I had to carry all this stuff myself.
– Did you believe it? – some girl asked me from behind. I turned around and saw one of the nurses. Her golden brown hair, lying in soft waves, reminded her of Rita Hayworth in Life magazine, but that was where the similarities ended.
- Sorry? – I asked again, not understanding what she meant.
“Your girlfriend put on a good scene to attract the colonel’s attention,” she said with a grin. There was lace visible above the top button of her dress. Probably not by chance.
A second later, another nurse, with shiny dark hair and a soft smile, appeared and looked at her friend in agreement.
“You don’t want to say that Kitty did this on purpose?”
“That’s exactly what I mean,” answered the girl with brown hair, apparently the leader of this pair. “Such things don’t happen by chance.” She played it all off.
“Of course not,” I protested, “you’re just jealous.”
The dark-haired nurse opened her mouth and
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the second one simply shrugged:
“One day you will thank us.”
- For what? – I asked suspiciously.
- For the warning. Your girlfriend is capable of a lot. I wouldn’t trust her and let her near my men.
I shook my head and walked forward - as quickly as I could with two heavy, large bags.
“It’s kind of awkward...” the girl with brown hair seemed to come to her senses. But the expected apology did not come. – I almost forgot to introduce myself. Stella, this is Liz,” she said, pointing to the brunette.
I stubbornly continued on my way.
- And what is your name?
“Anna,” I muttered without turning around.
Our rooms in the nurses' barracks were very simple, if not poor - two roughly made beds, a dressing table and one wardrobe for two. The thin cotton curtains, sun-scorched to a pale yellow, seemed unable to shield us from the sun or the gaze of men. Entering the room, I discovered that Kitty had climbed onto the bed and was picking at the wall with her nail.
– Do you think we can hang a picture here? – she asked, tilting her head. “But, to be honest, I wanted to hang a photo of my parents.”
With a sigh, I lowered her bag to the floor and wiped my face.
“You can,” I agreed weakly, “I see you’re feeling better.”
“Yes, honey, thank you,” she responded. “I’m embarrassed that I had to leave you there.” But Colonel Donehue insisted.
I started to shudder at the colonel’s name, but I didn’t show it.
- I'm glad everything is okay.
Kitty jumped up and began to flutter around the room like a spring bird. She chirped about how we would get settled here. A spare sheet will make a great canopy, and we can also put in a coffee table for tea. Yeah of course. And what a wonderful, calm wall color! Yes, beige, like in the infirmary, very calming.
The room seemed damp and somehow strange to me. Two bare mattresses, blue with white stripes, were riddled with dents. On each was a neat stack of worn-out linen. I missed Maxine very much, although these thoughts made me feel like a child. She would, of course, immediately come running and make the beds, handing us a cup of relaxing tea.
Now I did everything myself.
– Anna, I can’t believe it, there will be dancing today! Dancing! And Colonel Donehue will dance with me!
There's that name again. Why does it affect me this way? I don't trust this person? Or am I just annoyed? I remembered what Liz and Stella told me at the airport. They were jealous. I was scared by the thought that I might also be jealous of my friend.
I will never learn to behave with men the way Kitty does. I remembered Gerard and twirled my engagement ring on my finger, swollen from the heat.
- Yes, it will be great! – I picked up, trying my best to feign amusement.
“I’ll wear a yellow dress,” Kitty said and rushed to the suitcase. Yellow suited her very well. She had worn this dress before, the last time with Mr. Gelfman's arms wrapped tightly around her waist. It's funny - when we left Seattle, Kitty's heart was broken, but it seems that the island has already erased all memories of her former love. I swore to myself that everything would be different for me.
Kitty looked in the mirror, clutching her dress to herself, smoothing out the wrinkles that the humid air of the island soon straightened out.
“I don’t even know, maybe it’s better to wear the blue one we bought at Frederick and Nelson last spring?” It is more strict.
I shook my head, remembering Liz and Stella.
I wanted to prove to myself that I was not jealous and tried to be Kitty’s best friend. After all, that's why I'm here.
- Wear yellow. You look stunning in it.
At the dance, Kitty will be the most beautiful. She'll have a wonderful time and I'll be happy for her.
The infirmary, a white building with a red cross over the entrance, smelled of soap, ipecac and a little rubbing alcohol. Kitty and I were the last to arrive and settled among the girls as they watched Nurse Hildebrandt demonstrate the art of tropical bandaging on one of the nurses' arms. She said that the bandages should be applied counterclockwise, not too tight, but tight enough to stop the bleeding.
– The wound must breathe. If there is too much air or, conversely, not enough air, an infection may occur. “She fell silent, looking out the window at the distant hills. “Especially in this godforsaken place.”
We spent the rest of the time rolling the bandages into tight little bundles and packing them into the crates from the plane. I laid out large rolls of dark gray linen on the table, trying not to think about the wounds it would one day touch. Kitty started at one end, I started at the other. An hour later my fingers started to hurt.
We worked in silence, mainly out of fear of Sister Hildebrandt - we all wanted to talk. But when she went out to run errands in the dining room, the girls began to chirp.
“How strict this Sister Hildebrandt is,” said our neighbor on the left. Several years older than Kitty and me, with straw-colored hair, freckles on his nose, and big, friendly eyes. Smiling, she pressed her lips together, trying unsuccessfully to hide her uneven teeth.
“Yes,” I agreed. “I don’t understand, since she hates this place so much, why did she volunteer?”
“Her past is connected with this place,” the girl answered.
- What do you mean?
“Another sister told me, back on the continent,” she switched to a whisper, “she had been here before, a very long time ago.” And something terrible happened.
– I don’t know exactly, some kind of scandal.
“You don’t want to say that she’s a criminal!” - Kitty exclaimed.
Our interlocutor shrugged.
- Who knows? But I wouldn’t risk conflicting with her. “I’m Mary,” she introduced herself, nodding to Kitty and me.
- I am Anna.
- And I am Kitty.
Mary put another rolled up bandage in the drawer.
– What brought you here?
Kitty opened her mouth, but I spoke first:
- Duty to the homeland.
Mary grinned.
- Well, yes, everyone says so. But why are you really here? We are all running from somewhere or looking for something. Tell us what brought you here.
She looked at my ring - perhaps because I was fiddling with it. But this time Kitty was the first to speak.
“Anna was engaged,” she began, but I immediately intervened:
– I’m still engaged.
- Yes, Anna is engaged, but she postponed the wedding to come with me. “As a sign of gratitude, Kitty pressed her shoulder to me. – Before leaving, I was in terrible confusion in my personal life. I needed to escape.
“Me too,” Mary answered, raising her left hand, “my fiance broke off the engagement.” He just came one day and said he didn't love me. What did he say? “She looked at the ceiling, as if going through memories. - Yes. Said: “Darling, I love you, but I’m not in love.” But this was not enough for him - he announced that he would marry my best friend. It turned out that they had been dating for several months. Honestly, girls, I almost went to the mental hospital. When I came to my senses a little and began to think about what to do next, I realized that I needed to leave. I was ready to run to the ends of the earth just to dull the pain. Our wedding was to take place in the fall, at the Cartwright Hotel in San Francisco. “That would be great,” Mary sighed and looked down.
- I really like
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It’s a pity,” I sympathized.
“Thank you,” she replied and began working on a new bandage. – Now it’s much easier for me to talk about it. We were planning to move to Paris, he was going - that is, going - to work as a diplomat. “I shouldn’t have fallen in love with him,” she shook her head sadly. “Mom was right: he’s too handsome for me.” – Mary shrugged. - And here I am. And you? “She turned to me: “Do you love your future husband?”
“Of course,” I answered decisively.
“Then why are you here and not with him?”
Why am I here and not with him? Is it that easy to answer this question? I thought for a moment. Maybe I'm looking for adventure, like Kitty? Or have I taken Maxine's advice and am trying to wait for something—or, God forbid, someone—before sealing my fate? I shook my head, driving away such thoughts. No, I'm here for Kitty. Everything is simple and clear.
“For my friend’s sake,” I answered, squeezing Kitty’s hand.
“Great,” Mary admired, “you’re lucky that you’re together.” I don't have friends like that.
Kitty, a generous soul, smiled warmly at Mary.
– We can become them.
Mary's charming smile revealed her uneven teeth.
“With pleasure,” she said, putting another bandage in the box. We managed to make at least a hundred. It was no small feat, but I was proud of our achievement. A mountain of bandages on our first day in Bora Bora. We were doing something. We really lived.
In the cafeteria, a simple building with long rows of tables, the nurses were given two separate seats. According to Sister Hildebrandt, we should not have eaten with men. But we still watched their every move, and they watched ours. They glared at us as we ate canned food and beans.
“Disgusting food,” Mary shuddered, stabbing green beans on her fork and holding them up to the light. – Look, it’s just some kind of fossil.
“But we’ll return home slim,” noted the optimist Kitty, smiling.
Stella and Liz sat opposite us, but after talking about Kitty, I pretended not to notice them.
“Well, well,” Stella began expressively, pointing to the corner table where three men were sitting, “just look!”
Mary and Kitty, unaware of my dislike, turned to see what was the matter.
“You look like Clark Gable,” Kitty agreed. - I wonder who he is?
“His name is Elliot,” Stella shared. “The corporal who helped me carry my bag introduced us. Isn't it lovely?
“Exactly,” Mary nodded, swallowing the canned food with difficulty.
“It’s bad,” Stella said, “they say he has a beloved woman in his hometown.” But she's married.
We rolled our eyes.
“But I could have success here.” But, according to rumors, he sits on his bed for hours and writes in a diary, dreaming about her.
“How romantic,” Kitty said dreamily.
I nodded:
“A man who loves a woman so much is very rare.”
“Or a big fool,” Stella snapped. She continued to ramble on about her plan to win Elliot over while I picked at my plate.
I looked back at the table where this guy, Elliot, was sitting. He really resembled Clark Gable - handsome, with brown eyes and thick black hair that curled above his forehead. But his neighbor on the left caught my attention. Tall, but not that muscular, with light, light hair, tanned skin and freckles. He was eating with his left hand, and holding a book in his right: he was absorbed in reading. Turning the page, he looked up. Our eyes met and he smiled. I quickly lowered my head. What came over me? I immediately regretted that I had violated decency.
I swallowed a piece of stew with difficulty, feeling my cheeks burn and trying to suppress my gag reflex. Stella noticed our glances and looked at me mockingly, but I turned away, forcing myself to maintain restraint.
The tropical nights turned out to be more pleasant than the days, despite the mosquitoes. After sunset the air became softer. A cool haze was coming from the sea, the salty, humid wind did not dry out the skin, and the indigo-colored stars in the sky were shining so brightly that it seemed like you could stretch out your hand and you could reach any one.
Kitty and I walked along the gravel path to the center of the camp to join in the evening fun, she in a yellow dress, me in a red one. Kitty persuaded me to wear something brighter, and I agreed at the last moment.
The walk was not far, about five city blocks, but in heels the distance seemed insurmountable. We passed the infirmary, the light was on inside. Is Sister Hildebrandt there now? We quickly rushed past. As we passed the soldiers' barracks, Kitty and I pretended not to hear the whistling of the men smoking outside.
Having moved to a safe distance, Kitty tugged at my hand.
“Look,” she pointed to a large green bush strewn with magnificent flowers.
- They are beautiful. What is the name of this plant?
Kitty picked a red flower.
“Hibiscus,” she answered, putting the flower behind her right ear and handing me the other. – In French Polynesia, if the heart is busy, the flower is worn behind the left ear, and if not, behind the right.
- How did you know that?
Kitty smiled:
- I know, that’s all.
I looked at the huge flower, at the crumpled petals of a rich dark red hue.
“Then I’ll put it behind my left ear,” I answered, obediently tucking the flower behind my left ear.
“What a beauty,” Kitty admired, pointing to the impromptu dance floor, “Chinese lanterns!”
Strings with small white lanterns were strung above the dance floor. Men huddled around the edges, whispering to each other as groups of nurses crossed the lawn. Five musicians took the stage and began tuning their instruments while the presenter checked the microphone.
“I’d like to welcome the nursing corps to our little island,” he began, “guys, give me a decent welcome!”
Everyone screamed and clapped, the musicians began to play, but in the first seconds no one moved.
- What should we do? - Kitty whispered. Her breath touched my shoulder.
“Nothing,” I answered, wishing I had stayed in the room. I'd rather read it.
Stella and Liz took a few steps forward and were followed by two men with an insolent look.
– Will you give me this dance? – the soldier with a southern accent and a cheeky gait addressed Stella. The second one timidly approached Liz. Both girls agreed.
“Look,” I said to Kitty, “how fast!”
But Kitty was too confused. I knew who she was waiting for. Suddenly a guy approached us - or rather, Kitty. I recognized him; he was at the airfield in the morning.
“I saw your flower,” he said, bowing in a mannered manner. Men often turned into idiots in Kitty's presence. “I’m Lance,” he introduced himself, holding out his hand, and Kitty relented, allowing him to press a playful kiss to her hand.
I rolled my eyes. He was tall and muscular, with brown hair, sharp features and a cutesy smile that I didn’t immediately like.
- I'm Kitty.
The friend was clearly flattered. Lance smiled:
- Do you want to dance?
Kitty nodded and he pulled her onto the dance floor. I was left alone. The musicians played well - for such and such a hole! When the clarinet started playing the intro to the first song, a shiver ran down my arm.
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goosebumps. The last time I heard this Glenn Miller tune was on Godfrey's lawn. At our engagement party. I sighed, feeling a sharp pang of loneliness. I felt embarrassed and very sad. I straightened my dress, pulled out a stray pin from my hair and pinned it back in place. Where is Mary? I looked around, but there were only strange men around, staring at me. Thank God the flower is in the right place.
But one guy still approached me, not paying attention to the ring and the flower code. His shirt was wrinkled and I could smell the alcohol before he opened his mouth.
- Shall we dance?
“Thank you,” I answered politely, “but no.” I think I'll skip this dance.
“You’re too beautiful to stand by,” he objected, “besides, I’m tired of vahini.” I want to finally dance with an American girl.
He grabbed my hand and dragged me to the dance floor.
“You know,” I said, frightened by the pressure, “I don’t want to dance.”
“Nonsense,” he waved it off with a smile. There was a sour smell of beer on his breath. He clearly had too much.
He pressed his cheek to me, I felt the short stubble on my chin.
“You’re pretty,” he said when the orchestra started playing again. Just not a slow song. His hot, wet hands lay on my dress, and the hugs were suffocating, but I forced myself to endure - I didn’t want to make a scene. We'll have to wait for the end of the song.
But to my horror, when the music ended, another man approached us, probably a friend of my partner. A fast tune started playing and I found myself sandwiched between them. They rotated me, passing me to each other. I jumped back and forth like a ball on an elastic band. In desperation, I tried to find Kitty with my eyes and saw her in Lance’s arms. She looked happy and cheerful. Don't make a scene. I felt someone's hand on my chest. Whose? I was numb, although my legs continued to move. Another hand grabbed my waist, this time more confidently. Everything around me was spinning, or maybe I was spinning. I was surrounded by men. Hot, sweaty from the thick, humid air. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t. And then a fight began, a dull thud was heard. Someone fell to the ground. The music stopped and a crowd gathered around my first partner. Blood was flowing from his nose. He lost consciousness.
I made my way through the crowd and left the dance floor, hanging my head in embarrassment. I felt guilty even though I hadn't done anything wrong. I didn't want to be followed, so I rushed along the path back to the women's building, quickening my pace as I passed the men's barracks. I was about to cry, the wind whistled through the palm branches overhead. Lonely, alien, strange sound. I missed the walnut tree. Around Seattle.
Frightened by a rustling in the bushes, I instinctively turned towards the infirmary. The dimly lit path and the island at night seemed incredibly dangerous without Kitty. Kitty! I was worried that I had left her. But most likely she will be fine: Lance seemed like a reliable guy. Or so I convinced myself.
The light was on inside, and I thought I would see Sister Hildebrandt at the table. But there was a guy sitting there, the same one I saw at lunch in the dining room.
He smiled and I smiled back, scared.
“Hello,” he greeted, “don’t be scared.” I just need a bandage. I thought I would find it here, but I see you hid everything well.
I glanced at his bleeding hand and rushed to the box of bandages I had rolled up the day before.
“Here,” I said, “come on, I’ll help.”
I shouldn't have been shy. After all, I'm a nurse. And he is a patient. It’s dark all around, and I’m alone with a man. But don't be embarrassed.
-What happened? – I asked, applying gauze with medical alcohol to the wound.
He shuddered, but continued to smile:
- What, didn’t you see?
“I couldn’t stand to watch the way Randy Connors treated you on the dance floor.”
– Randy Connors? Treated me? I'm sorry…
- What? Yes, he groped you all over.
He told the truth, and I hung my head in shame. The soldier took my chin and lifted my face.
“That’s why I hit him hard.”
I smiled.
“Ah,” I breathed, trying to control myself. Did he notice the tears in my eyes? - So it was you. I'm very grateful to you.
“Don’t be offended by the guys,” he replied. “They haven’t seen girls like you for months, and some even longer.” We've been stuck on this rock for a long time.
I remembered the word the soldier had said: vahini. From his lips it sounded dirty and rude.
– Don’t you know what vahini is?
A twinkle flashed in his eyes:
- I know. This is what women are called in Tahitian.
I nodded:
– These men could not have seen women for at least a century, it doesn’t matter. This does not justify their barbarism.
- Doesn't justify it. That's why I'm here on my own. There aren't many decent guys around. You should learn to behave differently. At home you can pretend to be modest, count on nobility and good manners. There is no. The tropics bring out the savage in all of us. The island weakens the internal brakes. He changes everyone. You will see.
“Well,” I answered dismissively, putting a bandage on his knuckles, as Sister Hildebrandt taught, “I don’t believe that anything can change a person if he doesn’t want it himself.” Have you ever heard of free will?
“Of course,” my interlocutor answered with a cheerful look, “I just wanted to say, in this place our hidden sides are revealed - what is inside us, our true self.”
I secured the bandage with an aluminum staple and exhaled.
“I don’t know how well, but I did everything.”
“I’m Westry,” he held out his bandaged palm. - Westry Green.
“Anna Calloway,” I answered, gently shaking his hand.
- See you.
He headed towards the door.
“See you,” I answered and suddenly noticed something red in his left hand. When the door closed behind him, I reached for my ear. The hibiscus has disappeared.
– What time did you return yesterday? – I asked Kitty the next morning. I woke up early and read for two hours, waiting for her to stir.
She looked at her watch and dropped her head back onto the pillow.
“It’s almost nine,” I said, thinking that we were very lucky that we arrived on the island on Friday, the day before the day off. “I won’t let you sleep through our only day off.” Come on, get dressed!
She yawned and sat up on the bed.
- Is it really nine already?
“Yes, sleepyhead,” I answered, heading towards the closet. I wanted to go to the beach today, I need to wear something lighter.
Kitty quickly jumped up.
“We must hurry,” she said. “Lance promised to take me to the city.”
I was immediately upset, and Kitty noticed it.
“Come with us,” she suggested. - He invited you too.
– To be the third wheel? Well, I do not. Go alone.
Kitty shook her head, unbuttoned her nightgown, and it fell to the floor, revealing two perfect hemispheres of breasts.
– Come with us, Stella and Elliot are coming too. Lance will take the jeep.
- What? – I was amazed. - How did she drag him in?
- Not she. Lance.
I closed the curtains to hide Kitty's naked body from greedy gazes.
- Will anyone else go?
I thought about Westry.
“I think not,” Kitty answered, looking into the closet. - Wait, do you have someone in mind?
It was like she was teasing me. I shook my head:
- I just remembered
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Kitty didn't look up from the closet.
– I didn’t see her yesterday, and you?
“Me too,” she replied, pulling out a greenish-blue short-sleeve dress. - How do you like it?
- Beautiful. “Kitty’s outfits worried me much less than the safety of our new friend.” “Should I talk to Sister Hildebrandt and make sure Mary is okay?”
Kitty shrugged, eyeing a pair of tan heels.
- Yes or no?
- No, wear blue ones. You'll thank me later.
She clasped her bra and slipped into a white silk slip, then began to pull her dress on.
“Tell me about Lance,” I asked carefully, helping her with the clasp. - You like him?
– Did you dance with the colonel yesterday? – I asked, pulling out a simple brown dress from the closet.
Kitty nodded:
- Yes, it was wonderful. Lance wasn't too pleased, but he couldn't argue with his superior.
I looked in the mirror on the wall. The morning heat made my cheeks pink and my hair seemed dull. Humidity won. I shrugged and pinned them at the back of my head. I'll still wear my hat.
- Are you ready? – Kitty asked, grabbing her purse.
I looked at my friend. My cheeks, unlike mine, were not red, but only slightly pink. Her hair curled more than ever; Kitty pinned it elegantly to one side.
The tropics suited her.
“Ready,” I answered, following her to the door.
Lance was driving too fast. But Kitty didn't care; she sat happily in front, while Stella, Elliot and I crowded behind, like cucumbers in one of Maxine's jars. My thighs were damp from the hot cloth seat, I held my hat, and Lance kept pressing on the gas. The rough gravel road that circles the island was not for the faint of heart. Thick dust rose, and I regretted that I had not brought a scarf.
“First to the center,” Lance announced, like a real guide, “and then to the beach.”
Kitty squealed with delight and Stella looked at Elliot, whose eyes were focused on the road.
He didn't answer.
“I ASK,” Stella repeated this time louder, trying to shout over the engine, “DO YOU GO TO THE CITY OFTEN?”
Elliot looked at us, first scared, then embarrassed, as if he couldn’t understand which of us was talking to him and why we were screaming so much.
“No, not often,” he answered briefly and again stared at the road.
Stella pouted and crossed her arms over her chest. There was a constant smell of salt in the air, as well as damp earth after rain, mixed with some unfamiliar sweetish floral aroma.
- There, see? – Lance said, pointing to the fenced area on the left. He slowed down, and I was glad to let go of the hat at least for a few moments - my hand was already starting to hurt.
– Vanilla plantations. Almost all the vanilla in the world is produced on this island.
I doubted the veracity of these words, suspecting that Lance was simply trying to impress Kitty, but the opportunity to see a real, working vanilla plantation was quite exciting. I thought about Maxine. Was she happy living day after day in Windermere, rarely hearing anything from my parents other than “Thank you, Maxine” or “Nothing else, Maxine”?
“The plantation is owned by an American,” Lance continued, “he married an islander.”
Stella made scary eyes:
“I thought they were all cannibals.”
Elliot looked up from the road and looked at me pointedly before retreating back into himself.
Lance moved on. Along the edges of the road, under lush green palm trees, there were wooden houses. From time to time we noticed a rooster, or a hen, or a naked child in front of one of the buildings, but there were no adults in sight - and I couldn’t wait to see the aborigines that Sister Hildebrandt was talking about.
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Notes
An allusion to the title of the novel “Pride and Prejudice” by the English writer Jane Austen, published in 1813. (Hereinafter, except where otherwise noted, editor’s notes.)
During World War II, following the Japanese naval attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, Bora Bora became an important US supply base in the South Pacific. However, the base was never attacked during the war and was disbanded in 1946.
William Clark Gable (1901–1960) was an American actor, film star, and sex symbol of the 1930s and 1940s, known as the King of Hollywood. Oscar winner (1935).
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I opened my eyes in fear when I heard a familiar voice - pleasant, but completely inappropriate. Jennifer, my granddaughter. Where I am? More precisely, what is she doing here? I blinked absentmindedly. I dreamed of sandy beaches and coconut trees. My subconscious always strives there, and this time I was lucky: I managed to find the landscape in the archives of my own memory.
Of course, he was there too - in uniform, with an embarrassed smile. The waves crashed against the shore, I heard their powerful blows and the hiss of billions of bubbles kissing the sand. Squeezing my eyelids, I saw him again, he stood in a sleepy haze that dissipated too quickly. Don’t go, my heart begged. Stay. Oh please. He obediently reappeared, with that same alluring smile, still stretching out his hands to me. A familiar excitement, a passionate desire, awoke within me.
And then he disappeared.
I sighed and, cursing myself, looked at my watch. Half past two. I must have dozed off reading the book. Again. The real curse of old age. A little embarrassed, I sat up in my chair and found the novel I was reading. It was lying on the floor, spine up.
Jennifer appeared on the terrace. A truck thundered down the street, completely shattering the peace.
“Oh, there you are,” she said, smiling with smoky brown eyes, so similar to her grandfather’s. Today she is wearing jeans and a black sweater with a light green belt around her slender waist. Blonde hair reflects the sun's rays. Jennifer has no idea how beautiful she is.
“Hi, honey,” I greeted, extending my hand. She looked around the terrace, simple clay pots with blue pansies. Their adorable heads poked out of the ground, like embarrassed, remorseful children caught playing in an inappropriate place. The view of Lake Washington and the Seattle skyline in the distance is a beautiful landscape, but cold and stiff, like a painting in a dentist's office. I frowned. How did I even end up in this tiny apartment with stark white walls, a telephone in the bathroom and a red panic button next to the toilet?
“I found something in the trash,” Jennifer said. The sound of her voice brought me back to reality.
I smoothed my gray, thin hair.
What is it, honey?
I couldn't hold back a yawn.
Leave it on the table. Will watch later.
I sat down on the sofa and looked from the kitchen to my reflection in the window. Elderly lady. I saw this lady every day, but the reflection never ceased to amaze me. When did I turn into it? I ran my hand over the wrinkles on my face.
Jennifer sat down next to him.
Hope your day was better than mine?
My granddaughter was finishing up her master's degree at the University of Washington, and she had chosen an unusual topic for her thesis: an obscure piece of art located on campus. Bronze sculpture of a young couple, donated by an unknown artist in 1964, with the simple inscription: Pride and Prejudice. This sculpture made such a strong impression on Jennifer that she decided to find out the name of the author and the history of the creation of the sculptural composition, but long research did not bear almost any fruit.
How are your studies, dear?
“Nothing new,” she said with a sigh. - I'm upset. We worked so hard. - She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. - I don’t want to admit it, but it looks like we took the wrong trail.
“I understand how hard it is to accept this, honey,” I began softly and took my granddaughter by the hand, knowing how important the project was for her. “But some stories are not meant to be told.”
Jennifer looked at me.
“You’re probably right, grandma,” she admitted with a sigh.
Jason, in memory of our bungalow.
I love you.
Copyright © Sarah Jio, 2011
© Sorokina D., translation into Russian, 2015
© Edition in Russian, design. Eksmo Publishing House LLC, 2015
* * *
Place a piece of paper in a thin envelope, seal it with your tongue on the adhesive edge, and mail it to the address. Until the letter gets into the right box, dozens of people will touch it, it will travel thousands of miles, and then quietly settle between the twenty-ninth and thirtieth pages of an unnecessary catalog, waiting for an unsuspecting addressee. But the recipient, with a careless movement of his hand, will throw the magazine with the treasure hidden inside into the trash. There, next to a half-drunk carton of milk, an empty wine bottle and yesterday's newspaper, lies waiting for a piece of paper that can change your whole life.
The letter was intended for me.
Prologue
- Hello!
I opened my eyes in fear when I heard a familiar voice - pleasant, but completely inappropriate. Jennifer, my granddaughter. Where I am? More precisely, that she doing here? I blinked absentmindedly. I dreamed of sandy beaches and coconut trees. My subconscious always strives there, and this time I was lucky: I managed to find the landscape in the archives of my own memory.
Of course, he was there too - in uniform, with an embarrassed smile. The waves crashed against the shore, I heard their powerful blows and the hiss of billions of bubbles kissing the sand. Squeezing my eyelids, I saw him again, he stood in a sleepy haze that dissipated too quickly. Don’t go, my heart begged. Stay . Oh please. He obediently reappeared, with that same alluring smile, still stretching out his hands to me. A familiar excitement, a passionate desire, awoke within me.
And then he disappeared.
I sighed and, cursing myself, looked at my watch. Half past two. I must have dozed off reading the book. Again. The real curse of old age. A little embarrassed, I sat up in my chair and found the novel I was reading. It was lying on the floor, spine up.
Jennifer appeared on the terrace. A truck thundered down the street, completely shattering the peace.
“Oh, there you are,” she said, smiling with smoky brown eyes, so similar to her grandfather’s. Today she is wearing jeans and a black sweater with a light green belt around her slender waist. Blonde hair reflects the sun's rays. Jennifer has no idea how beautiful she is.
“Hi, honey,” I greeted, extending my hand. She looked around the terrace, simple clay pots with blue pansies. Their adorable heads poked out of the ground, like embarrassed, remorseful children caught playing in an inappropriate place. The view of Lake Washington and the Seattle skyline in the distance is a beautiful landscape, but cold and stiff, like a painting in a dentist's office.
I frowned. How did I even end up in this tiny apartment with stark white walls, a telephone in the bathroom and a red panic button next to the toilet?
“I found something in the trash,” Jennifer said. The sound of her voice brought me back to reality.
I smoothed my gray, thin hair.
- What is it, dear?
I couldn't hold back a yawn.
- Leave it on the table. Will watch later.
I sat down on the sofa and looked from the kitchen to my reflection in the window. Elderly lady. I saw this lady every day, but the reflection never ceased to amaze me. When did I turn into it? I ran my hand over the wrinkles on my face.
Jennifer sat down next to him.
“I hope your day went better than mine?”
My granddaughter was finishing up her master's degree at the University of Washington, and she had chosen an unusual topic for her thesis: an obscure piece of art located on campus. Bronze sculpture of a young couple, donated by an unknown artist in 1964, with the simple inscription: Pride and Prejudice1
An allusion to the title of the novel “Pride and Prejudice” by the English writer Jane Austen, published in 1813. (Hereinafter, except where otherwise noted, editor's notes.)
This sculpture made such a strong impression on Jennifer that she decided to find out the name of the author and the history of the creation of the sculptural composition, but long research did not bear almost any fruit.
– How are your studies, dear?
“Nothing new,” she said with a sigh. - I'm upset. We worked so hard. “She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t want to admit it, but it looks like we’ve taken the wrong trail.”
I am no stranger to the obsession with art. Jennifer didn't know that I had spent most of my life trying in vain to find the painting that fell into my hands many years ago. The desire to see her again ached in my heart, and all my life I negotiated with art dealers and collectors. But the canvas still slipped away.
“I understand how hard this is to accept, honey,” I began softly and took my granddaughter by the hand, knowing how important the project was to her. “But some stories are never meant to be told.”
Jennifer looked at me.
“You’re probably right, grandma,” she admitted with a sigh. “But I don’t want to give up.” At least not now. This inscription was not made by chance. But the box that the young man is holding is closed, and there is no record of the key in the archives. So,” the granddaughter smiled hopefully, “maybe there is something inside.”
“I admire your tenacity, dear,” I said, feeling the gold chain around my neck. I took care of and wore the medallion for many years. Besides me, only one person knew what was hidden in it.
Jennifer approached the table again.
“Don’t forget about the letter,” she reminded, picking up the envelope. - Look at how bright the brand is. It,” she hesitated, reading the postmark, “with Tahiti.
My heart began to pound and I looked up, stealing a glance at the letter Jennifer was holding in her hands.
- Grandmother, whom do you know in Tahiti?
“Let me see,” I asked, slowly approaching her.
I saw a plain white envelope, slightly damp from the milk that had spilled from the carton, and stained with crimson from the cabernet we had drunk the night before. I don't recognize the handwriting or the return address. Who could write to me from Tahiti? And for what? And why now?
- Would you like to open it? – Jennifer hurried, revealing obvious impatience.
I continued to hold the envelope with trembling fingers, looking at the exotic stamp with a Tahitian girl in a yellow dress. I was overwhelmed by memories that seemed ready to overwhelm my consciousness, but with an effort of will I broke free from their captivity.
I decisively opened the envelope:
"Dear Mrs. Godfrey,
Sorry for the intrusiveness. I have been looking for you for many years. I understand that you served as a nurse at the Bora Bora base during the war.2
During World War II, following the Japanese naval attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, Bora Bora became an important US supply base in the South Pacific. However, the base was never attacked during the war and was disbanded in 1946.
. If I'm right and you really are the one I'm looking for, I really need to talk to you. I grew up on the island of Tahiti, but have returned here only now, hoping to solve a mystery that has occupied me since childhood. On the evening of 1943, a terrible murder was committed on the beach of Bora Bora. I was so shocked by this tragedy that I began to write a book about the events leading up to this incident, which in many ways changed the island forever.
I was able to find records of civilian employees and noticed that on that day, the day of the tragedy, you were released from service. Perhaps, quite by chance, you remember that evening, suddenly you saw someone or something on the beach? Many years have passed, but suddenly remember... Every small detail can help restore justice. I pray that you will pay attention to my request and contact me. Also, if you ever decide to return to the island, I found something here that belonged to you, and you might want to see it. I hope for a meeting.
Sincerely yours,
Genevieve Thorpe."
I stared at the letter. Genevieve Thorpe. No, I don't know her.
Stranger. And it looks like he's causing trouble for me. I thought about it. Don't attach any importance. All this was too long ago. Go back to those days? Relive it all again? I closed my eyes tightly, trying to free myself from the flood of memories. Yes, you can simply ignore it. This is not a subpoena, not a criminal investigation. I don't owe this stranger anything. You can just throw the letter in the trash and be done with it. But then I remembered the last lines: “If you ever decide to return to the island, I found something here that belonged to you, and perhaps you would like to see it. I hope for a meeting".
Already alarmed, my heart began to beat even faster. Return to the island again? To me? At my age?
- Grandma, is everything okay? “Jennifer leaned over and put her arm around my shoulders.
“Everything is fine,” I assured, pulling myself together.
– Do you want to talk about it?
I shook my head and tucked the letter into the crossword book on the coffee table.
Jennifer took the bag and, rummaging around, brought out a large envelope, wrinkled and worn.
- I want to show you something. I wanted to do it later, but it seems,” she took a deep breath, “the time has come.”
She held out the envelope.
- What is this?
“Look inside,” she said slowly.
I reached into the envelope and pulled out a stack of black and white photographs, immediately recognizing the top one.
- It is me! “I couldn’t hold back my shocked exclamation.” I pointed to a girl dressed in a white nurse's uniform, standing in front of a coconut tree. How the palm trees amazed me in the first days of my stay on the island - almost seventy years ago! I looked at Jennifer.
-Where did you get them?
“Dad found it,” answered the granddaughter, looking intently into my eyes, “found it when he was rummaging through old boxes.” He asked me to return them to you.
My heart began to beat even faster when I saw the next photo - my childhood friend, Kitty, sitting on an overturned canoe on the shore, striking a movie star pose. Kitty could become a movie star. Remembering my old friend, I felt a familiar pain that time could not heal.
There were other photos in the stack: beach, mountains, lush vegetation. But when I saw the last card, I was petrified. U uh stri. My Westry. There he is, the top button of his uniform undone, his head tilted slightly to the right, the wicker wall of a bungalow in the background. Our bungalow. I have taken thousands of photographs in my life, many of them have been forgotten, but not this one. I remembered absolutely everything, even the smell of the evening air - it was filled with the aroma of the sea surf and delicate freesias blooming under the moon. I remembered my feelings, our views and what happened next.
“Yes,” I answered.
– Do you still think about him?
I nodded:
– I always thought about him.
Jennifer rolled her eyes.
- Grandma, what happened in Tahiti? What happened to this man? And the letter - why did you react to it that way? “She took my hand. - Please tell me.
I thought about it. Why not tell her? I'm already many years old. There won’t be any special consequences, and if there are, I’ll be able to bear them quite well. How I wanted to free myself from these secrets, to let them out like bats from a dusty attic. I ran my finger along the gold chain of the medallion and nodded.
- OK Sweety. But I’ll say right away – don’t expect a fairy tale.
Jennifer sat down in the chair next to me.
“Great,” she answered with a smile, “after all, I never liked fairy tales.”
“And there will be very dark parts in this story,” I continued, doubting my decision.
She frowned:
- But is the ending happy?
- I am not sure.
Jennifer looked at me, puzzled.
I held Westry's photo up to the light.
– The story is not over yet.
Chapter 1
August 1942
“Kitty Morgan, you didn’t say that!”
I put down the glass of cold mint tea so abruptly that I almost broke it. Mom will be glad that I didn't ruin the Venetian crystal service.
“She said it, that’s it,” she said with a victorious smile. It was simply impossible to be angry with Kitty, with her heart-shaped face and a shock of curly, unruly blonde hair constantly popping out of carefully fitted pins. But I was firm on this issue.
“Mr. Gelfman is a married man,” I reminded him disapprovingly.
“James,” the friend responded, deliberately drawing out his name, “is incredibly unhappy.” His wife disappears somewhere for weeks, can you imagine? And he doesn't even say where she is. She even worries about cats more than about her own husband.
I sighed, leaning back on the wooden bench that hung from the huge walnut tree in the garden in the backyard of our house. Kitty sat next to me. She and I have been friends for a long time, since elementary school. I looked up at the tree crown - the leaves were beginning to turn yellow, reminiscent of the inevitable autumn. Why does everything always change? It seemed like just yesterday that Kitty and I were two schoolgirls, coming home holding hands, leaving our books on the kitchen table and rushing to the bench, where we chatted until dinner. Now, at twenty-one, we are two grown girls on the threshold of... Well, on the threshold of something - none of us knew what exactly.
“Kitty,” I turned to face her, “don’t you understand?”
- What? I do not understand? “In a dress with pink frills and unruly curls that became even more disheveled from the midday humidity, she looked like a spring rose. I wanted to protect her from Mr. Gelfman or anyone else she was going to fall in love with, because no one was good enough for my best friend—especially not a married man.
Doesn't she know about Mr. Gelfman's reputation? Kitty couldn't help but remember the crowds of girls who followed him in high school, because he was the most attractive teacher in Lakeside. In literature class, when he recited Elizabeth Barrett Browning's poem "How I Love Thee?", every girl hoped to catch his eye. I thought it was all nonsense. Has Kitty forgotten what happened to Caitlin Mansfield five years ago? How could she forget? Caitlin—shy, big-breasted, terribly stupid—succumbed to Mr. Gelfman's charms. She hung around the staff room at lunchtime and waited for him after class. Everyone wondered what was going on between them, especially after one of the friends spotted Caitlin with Mr. Gelfman in the park after sunset. Then Caitlin suddenly stopped going to school. The older brother said she moved to live with her grandmother in Iowa. And we all guessed why.
I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Kitty, men like Mr. Gelfman have only one goal, and I think we both understand what it is.”
Kitty's cheeks turned crimson.
– Anna Calloway! How dare you suggest that James...
- I don't assume anything. I just love you. You are my best friend and I don't want you to get hurt.
Kitty became sad, and we rocked in silence for a few minutes. I reached into my dress pocket and secretly squeezed the letter hidden there. I'd picked it up at the post office a few hours earlier, and now I couldn't wait to sneak into the bedroom and read it. The letter was from Nora, a friend from medical college. She wrote to me every day from the islands in the South Pacific, where she served as a nurse. They had fallen out with the hot-tempered Kitty during the last semester, and I decided not to tell Kitty about her letters. Besides, I didn’t want to admit how fascinated I was by Nora’s stories about the war and the tropics. I read the letters like a novel—sometimes I longed to take my newly graduated nursing degree and join her, escaping the routine of home and the need to make decisions. But I understood perfectly well that this was just an impossible idea, just a dream. After all, I can help bring victory closer at home - by volunteering at the municipal center or collecting canned goods and participating in environmental projects. Honestly, I didn't want to go to a war zone a few weeks before the wedding. It's a good thing I didn't say a word to Kitty.
“You’re just jealous,” Kitty finally said in an icy tone.
“Nonsense,” I objected, pushing Nora’s letter deeper into my pocket. A ray of sun shining high in the summer sky illuminated the diamond ring on my left hand, and it flared up like a lighthouse in the dark night, reminding me of the inevitable fact - I was engaged. Finally and irrevocably.
– There is less than a month left before my wedding with Gerard, and I am very happy.
Kitty frowned.
“Don’t you want to experience something else in life before you become,” she paused, as if gathering courage before uttering very difficult, unpleasant words, “before you become Mrs. Gerard Godfrey?”
I shook my head:
- Darling, marriage is not suicide.
Kitty looked away, staring at the rose bush.
“But it may turn out that way,” she muttered.
I sighed, leaning back.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, turning to me, “I just want you to be happy.”
I took her hand.
- And I will be happy, Kitty. I hope you will be convinced of this.
I heard footsteps on the lawn and looked up to see Maxine, our housekeeper, approaching with a tray in her hand. Despite her heels, she moved confidently across the grass, holding the loaded silver platter with one hand. Dad once called her graceful, and it was completely fair. She seemed to be floating.
- Girls, can I bring you anything? – Maxine asked in a beautiful voice with a strong accent. Outwardly, she has changed little since I was a girl. She is small, with soft features and huge sparkling green eyes, and her cheeks smell of vanilla. His hair, now graying, was pulled back into a neat bun, every single strand. She wore a white apron, always clean and stiffly starched, tied neatly around her slender waist. Many families in the area had servants, but we were the only ones who hired French housekeeper - my mother never missed an opportunity to draw everyone’s attention to this fact.
“No need, thank you, Maxine,” I thanked.
“Except for one thing,” Kitty began conspiratorially, “convince Anna not to marry Gerard.” She doesn't love him.
– Is this true, Antoinette? – asked Maxine. I was five when she settled in with us, and, after briefly looking at me, she then said: “You don’t look like Anna. I will call you Antoinette." And I immediately felt special.
“Of course not,” I quickly objected, casting a sidelong disapproving glance at my friend, “Kitty’s just like that.” mood. I'm the luckiest girl in Seattle. I'm marrying Gerard Godfrey.
To me really lucky. Gerard was tall and incredibly handsome, with a masculine jaw, dark brown hair and brown eyes. And, on top of everything else, he’s rich, although I didn’t care too much about that. But my mother often reminded me that at twenty-seven he became the youngest vice president in the history of the First Marine Bank, which means that in the future he would certainly inherit his father’s place. You'd have to be a complete fool not to accept Gerard Godfrey's proposal, and when he asked for my hand under that same walnut tree, I immediately agreed.
Mom felt dizzy from this news. Of course, he and Mrs. Godfrey had long dreamed of this union. The Calloways will team up with Godfrey. It's as natural as coffee with cream.
Maxine took a pitcher of iced tea and filled our glasses.
“Antoinette,” she began slowly, “have I ever told you the story of my sister, Jeanette?”
- No. I didn't even know you had a sister.
I realized there was a lot I didn't know about Maxine.
“Yes,” she continued quietly, thoughtfully. “She loved a young man, a peasant from Lyon. They had crazy love. But her parents wanted to marry her to another man; he made good money at the factory. She broke up with the peasant and married a worker.
“How sad,” I said. “And she never saw him again?”
“No,” answered the housekeeper, “and I’ve been unhappy all my life.”
I sat down, straightening my blue crepe dress with a belt at the bodice - it was a little too small for me. My mother bought it for me on one of her trips to Europe.
– Very sad, I feel sorry for poor Jeanette. But that doesn't concern me. You see, I I love Gerarda. He's my only one.
“Of course you love Gerard,” Maxine agreed, bending over to pick up a napkin that had fallen on the grass, “after all, you grew up together.” He's like a brother to you.
Brother. There was something creepy about this word, especially when it came to her future husband. I shuddered.
“Honey,” she continued, catching my gaze and smiling, “this is your life and your heart.” You say he's your only one, and he probably is. I just wanted to say that maybe you didn't have enough time to find him.
“Your true love,” the Frenchwoman said simply. She spoke these three words naturally and undeniably, implying that this deep, strong feeling is available to anyone who seeks, like a ripe plum hanging from a branch: come and take it.
I felt a slight trembling, but I chalked it up to a rising breeze and shook my head.
– I don’t believe in these fairy tales and all sorts of knights in shining armor. I believe love is a choice. You meet someone. You like him. And you begin to love him. It's simple.
Kitty rolled her eyes.
- It’s terrible, how unromantic, she moaned.
- Maxine, what do you think about this? – I asked. -Have you ever fallen in love?
The housekeeper was wiping the tray so that there were no wet marks from the glasses.
“Yes,” she answered without looking up.
I was filled with curiosity, and I did not think that memories of past love could be painful for her.
– Was he American or French? Why didn't you get married?
Maxine didn’t answer right away, and I immediately regretted my “interrogation.”
“I didn’t marry him because he was already married.
Salty Wind Sarah Gio
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Title: Salty Wind
About the book “The Salty Wind” by Sarah Gio
Sarah Gio is an American writer whose works have been published in 22 countries around the world and consistently occupy first places in the ratings.
The author tells about unusual human destinies, about family secrets lost in the past and, of course, about love. Her multifaceted stories, full of psychologism, captivate souls, soften hearts, and fill life with warmth. The book “The Salty Wind” is Sarah Gio’s third novel and without a doubt the most anticipated new product of this summer, which immediately after its publication was recognized as a national bestseller.
“The Salty Wind” is a beautiful and mysterious novel in which many plots, stories from the past and present are intertwined. They are inextricably linked and complement each other. You can find a lot in it: love against the backdrop of World War II, fickle female friendship, reflection on duty and difficult choices, mesmerizing landscapes and even a mysterious murder.
The novel is about a woman named Anna Calloway. One day a letter arrives in her name from a stranger from the island of Bora Bora. Where she asks her to understand a case that happened in 1942, and the stranger thinks that she can shed light on this story and thereby restore justice. Anna decides to tell her granddaughter everything from the very beginning. She recalls her youth and the events of that time, talks about how she went to Bora Bora during the harsh war years to work as a nurse with her friend Kitty Morgan. There she met a young soldier, Westry, whom she fell in love with with all her soul, forgetting that she was engaged to another man. They constantly spend time in the bungalow they found, running away from problems and war. But the salty wind, a harbinger of change, carries with it the secret of a terrible tragedy, which Anna and her chosen one witness.
Reading this novel, it’s as if you’re transported to the island of Bora Bora, you feel the aroma of flowers, feel the humidity of the air and the warm salty wind with your whole body, hear the sound of the surf. It was as if you yourself had made an old bungalow your secret hideout and left letters under the floorboards.
Sarah Gio creates a stunning setting that excites the soul and heart for her novel, lovingly describing both the external details and the internal states of the characters.
An easy book, written in very simple and understandable language. Despite the fact that the events described in it are by no means simple. “The Salty Wind” in a philosophical context helps to understand that sooner or later justice will prevail, friends are tested by their actions, and love can last a lifetime.
On our website about books, you can download the site for free without registration or read online the book “The Salty Wind” by Sarah Gio in epub, fb2, txt, rtf, pdf formats for iPad, iPhone, Android and Kindle. The book will give you a lot of pleasant moments and real pleasure from reading. You can buy the full version from our partner. Also, here you will find the latest news from the literary world, learn the biography of your favorite authors. For beginning writers, there is a separate section with useful tips and tricks, interesting articles, thanks to which you yourself can try your hand at literary crafts.
Quotes from the book “The Salty Wind” by Sarah Gio
I miss it terribly, but it’s getting easier in the bungalow. Even if we are not together, here you are still with me. Your presence is always felt within these walls, and it warms me.
It’s okay,” she said, “I don’t care who you love.” I just want you to be happy. You are happy?
Love shared with someone, even for a while, remains in the heart forever.
The beauty of the island was not limited to turquoise waters and emerald hills. It was only superficial beauty. The real beauty was in the stories. And they were hiding behind every turn of the coastline.
Passion subsides, but love is immortal.
“You can’t play a role in life, much less in love.”
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