Beyond the Shadow of War (37 page)

41

By the time they reached their cabin, Anya and Gigi swirled in the chaos, trying to help their friends and other cabinmates settle down. A few were able to fight off the retching enough to help care for the others. But the ship’s constant motion made it difficult to keep their balance for any length of time as they moved from one set of bunks to the next.

“Oh God, please make it stop!” Agatha cried.

Others sobbed, some cursed the day they met their Yanks, while others kept silent, gripping the rails of their bunk as the ship swayed back and forth, back and forth.

Anya lost track of time, only stopping to rest for a few minutes at a time. She closed her eyes and did whatever she could to dismiss the smells and groans roiling through their cabin.

“Anya?”

“Hmm?”

Someone tapped on her shoulder. “Anya, wake up.”

She startled, not realizing she’d fallen asleep. She slowly sat up and wiped the sleep from her eyes.

“Anya!” Gigi whispered urgently. “Listen. Something’s wrong.”

She turned to see Gigi sitting cross-legged on the top bunk next to hers. “What?”

“They’ve cut the engines. We’re not moving anymore, except for the waves rolling us. It’s like we’re dead in the water.”

She rubbed her face and ran her fingers through her hair. As the fog evaporated from her mind, she stilled. “How long?”

“I don’t know. I just woke up a few minutes ago.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. And keep your voice down. We don’t want to wake the others now that they’re finally sleeping.”

She nodded then yawned while stretching her arms over her head.

Gigi moved to the edge of her bunk and started climbing down. “I’m going to go see what I can find out.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, one of us should stay here in case any of them wake up.”

Anya nodded again. “But don’t go far, all right?”

“I won’t.”

As Gigi slipped out the door, Anya leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. She carefully breathed through her mouth to avoid the reeking stench still permeating the room. She was too tired to think or even imagine what could have stopped the ship’s engines. All she wanted was to get to America. After everything else, was it really so much to ask?

She stuffed her pillow behind her head and wondered if she might still be asleep and dreaming.
Maybe we never left Southampton. Maybe I’m still sleeping in the frigid barracks at Camp Tidworth. Or the room above Patrick’s pub. Maybe I only imagined my wedding. Maybe I never actually met Danny? Could it be possible?

“Anya? Are you awake?”

She opened her eyes to find Gigi climbing back up to her bunk.

“That was fast.”

“Hardly. It’s been over half an hour since I left. You must have fallen back to sleep.”

“Really? I could have sworn you just left.”

“Shhh! Keep your voice down.” Gigi rolled onto her stomach, propped up her elbows, and wrapped her arms around her pillow. “I can’t bear the thought of cleaning up any more sick.”

Anya followed her lead, stretching out on her stomach, elbows propped. “What did you find out?”

“There was a fire in the main engine room.”

“What?!”

“Shhh!”

“Sorry. Can they fix it?”

“I’m not sure. Gregory didn’t sound very optimistic.”

“Gregory? The choir director?”

“Yes. I bumped into him as I was going up the grand staircase. He had just been to the bridge to find out what was going on. They told him a fire broke out about an hour ago. They said they’ve got it mostly contained‌—‌”

“Mostly?”

“Yes, but unfortunately, it caused damage to the ship’s primary genny which is why we’re on backup now. The lights are dimmer in the corridors. Until they repair the main genny, we’re dead in the water with no motors or ‘ballast corrections’‌—‌whatever that means.”

“It means we’re in for a very rough time with this storm.”

“Even worse, with the system down, they can’t communicate or wire for help or send out an SOS.”

“But surely they can fire off flares or something?”

“Yes, but it’s storming outside, so visibility would be limited. Besides, if no other ships are in range, what’s the point?”

They stared at each other. The implications ran through Anya’s mind, none of them good. She glanced around their cabin. “Thank goodness the rest of them are sleeping through it. At least for now.”

“Pretty amazing considering how much we’re bobbing about. At one point, I started to fall down the stairs. Thank goodness George caught me.”

Anya studied the dreamy smile on Gigi’s face as she twirled another blonde curl.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Like what?” Anya asked.

“Don’t give me that.”

“It’s nothing.”

Gigi leaned her head to one side. “Go on. What is it?”

Anya paused for a moment, thinking how to ask. “I just can’t figure you out. Why do you flirt like you do? I try to understand, but I can’t.”

“Oh
that
,” she whispered back, giving a flip of her wrist. “It’s second nature to me. I don’t know
why
I do it. I just do it. It’s all perfectly harmless.”

“I don’t see how it can be. You’re married,
Gigi. What would Paul say? How would you feel if he flirted with every pretty girl he met?”

She snorted playfully, then clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, trust me. He does. How do you think we met?”

“Really?”

“Oh, sure. All the chatting up and carrying on? Think of it like a game, Anya. And Paul and I, we’re both so skilled at it, we were naturally drawn to each other. Two peas in a pod, Paul and me.”

“So he doesn’t mind that you still flirt with other guys, even now that you’re married?”

“Well, I’m sure if he were
here
, he wouldn’t like it. Same as I wouldn’t want to stand by and watch him chatting some girl up.”

“Then why do it?”

Gigi narrowed her eyes. “What are you getting at? Why all the questions?”

“Just curious, I suppose. I grew up as a minister’s daughter, so I guess our childhoods must have been quite different.”

Something drifted through Gigi’s eyes and with it, the last remnant of her smile.

“I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?”

Gigi shrugged. “Don’t be silly. Of course not.”

“I didn’t mean‌—‌”

“Anya, not all of us had the privilege of growing up in a perfect family, in a pretty house, with all that happily-ever-after nonsense.”

“Gigi, I‌—‌”

“So before you sit there and judge me‌—‌”

“I’m not judging you!”

Gigi stared at her, her eyes ablaze. Then without warning, her face crumbled.

Anya reached for her hand. “Oh Gigi, I’m sorry.”

Her voice cracked as she dropped her head. “You have no idea.”

“Then tell me. Please? What’s this all about?”

The ship pitched again, and this time Anya felt her stomach ride its wave. She hoped the others would sleep through it.

“Gigi,” she whispered. “If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to.”

She nodded a couple of times without looking up, yanking a hankie from her robe pocket. She tried as best she could to wipe her eyes and find her voice. Anya waited patiently, alarmed to see such unguarded emotion from her friend. Not once in all the time she’d known Gigi had she seen her like this. Not even close.

“I’ve never told anyone this before.”

Anya said nothing, just waited.

Then, in a hushed whisper, with her eyes focused on the wrinkled handkerchief she worked in her hands, she told her story. That of a young girl raised by her father after her mum died in childbirth. Theirs was a poor and loveless home. Her father knew nothing about raising a child, much less a daughter, but was much too proud to ask for help. Long before she was old enough for such responsibilities, she learned to cook and keep house and care for the man who cared nothing for her. But mostly she learned to stay out of her father’s way. Especially when he was drinking.

When she was twelve, he took in a boarder named Fletcher to help pay the rent. A strange man with white-blond hair and bloodshot eyes just like her father’s. Some might think him handsome, but for his mouth overcrowded with oversized, crooked yellow teeth. Whatever extra income his rent provided disappeared in pints of ale and bottles of rum, and more work for her.

One night, two weeks after Fletcher moved in, he crawled into her bed. With his large calloused hand firmly clamped over her mouth, he whispered what would happen if she cried out or spoke a word of it to anyone. She gagged as the smell of sweat and rum filled her nostrils while his filthy, disgusting mouth assaulted hers. He stole her innocence that night, hurting her and forever altering her life, both physically and emotionally.

In the months to come, he grew more demanding, always raising his threats to keep her silent. She wanted desperately to tell her father and make him get rid of the horrible man, but she couldn’t risk it. She was only twelve! Who would believe her?

She was terrified to think her father might know what was going on. Then one morning, as Fletcher cracked the door to leave her room, she locked eyes with her father through the narrow opening. Sitting at the kitchen table, he sipped his coffee without a single shred of concern.

No shock. No alarm.

Nothing.

Gigi hoped and prayed he would do something, but he never did. Then one day she realized something strange was happening in her body. From that day forward, her father would have nothing to do with her. Not that it mattered anymore. When she started to show, she packed some clothes, stole money from her father’s hidden stash, and ran far, far away.

Anya was too stunned to speak. Gigi wiped her eyes again, took in a deep breath and slowly blew it out.

“I couldn’t stand the thing growing inside me. When I finally reached London, I found a doctor who helped me get rid of it. I never once regretted it. Not ever.”

Anya pulled her knees beneath her and sat facing her friend. With trembling hands, she reached for both of Gigi’s hands and held them tight. “I’m so sorry, Gigi. So sorry …”

Gigi shrugged and tried a weak smile. “It’s over and done with. Ancient history.”

“Maybe so, but‌—‌”

“So you see, my childhood was nothing like yours, Anya.” She pulled a hand free and dashed the edge of her eyes with her wrist. “While you were learning about right and wrong, I learned how to survive. And for me, that meant learning how to play the game
my
way. I learned how to use men. How to stay in control of them and never again allow myself to be a victim.”

“So that’s why you‌—‌”

“That’s why I flirt with men. Lots of men.” She straightened, pulling her other hand free. Her tone changed. “I let them know from the moment we meet that I’m the one calling the shots. I’m the one who gets to say what we will or won’t do together. Sometimes I flirt just because I can, not because I have any interest.”

Anya didn’t respond. Nothing she might say would matter. Then she wondered. “What about Paul? Things were different with him, weren’t they? If you married him, you surely care for him, don’t you?”

Her expression softened with a genuine, easy smile. “And then there was Paul. He was handsome and fun and exciting … and also very, very
rich
. I adore him. I really do. But more than anything, he was my ticket to America. And I think he knew. I know he loves me, and I’m madly in love with him. Will it last? I don’t know. Maybe. I’d like to think so. But I’m damaged goods, Anya. And nothing can change that.”

“Why can’t it? You’re about to start a brand new chapter in your life, Gigi. In a new country, with an American husband, and new friends and family. With so many possibilities, why wouldn’t
you want to change?”

Gigi stretched quietly. “Oh Anya, I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’m tired.”

Whatever window of transparency Gigi had opened into her soul now closed, and Anya backed off.

Suddenly, Gigi grabbed her wrist. “But Anya? You must never tell another soul what I just told you. Promise me that. Not even Kate.”

She nodded. “I promise, Gigi. You have my word.”