Operation Wolfe Cub: A Chilling Historical Thriller (THE TIME TO TELL Book 1) (24 page)

Sharing the kitchen with her was a handsome, young man who looked about the same age as she. He was sitting at the kitchen table, listening to a small, wooden radio while he fixed a toaster. He kept working, hardly disturbed by the breaking dish, which had landed near his feet a few seconds ago.

He tested the toaster to see if it worked, then glanced down at the broken mess on the floor. “There…toaster’s fixed…that’s the second dish this month. I can’t fix that, Chantain.”

Chantain patted her chest. “Oh dear…almost lost my breath. Eddie, listen….did you hear that? Your friend’s not pulling pranks again, is he?”

“Hear what? Pranks? Oh, you mean Al? He hasn’t pulled anything since our wedding night a year ago.
Naaaaa
, it’s just another storm. Why do you leave the window cracked anyway?”

“So I can hear anyone sneaking up….oh, never mind. You men can’t understand. It sounded like—like…I don’t know what it sounded like.”

“I know what it sounded like. It’s Hurricane Vicky breaking up on land. Radio said so. Suppose to clear up tomorrow, I hear…ought to be a good time to go treasure-hunting on the beach. Good time to check it out.”

Chantain looked at Eddie as she threw the last piece of broken dish into the trash. “Oh, Eddie…sometimes I think that war injury of yours affected your hearing too. You really didn’t hear that? Sounded like some—I don’t know.”

Eddie put the toaster aside. “What? Speak up. You’re speaking too quiet.”

“Oh, never mind. It wasn’t important anyway. I don’t know why you keep fixing that toaster. I would just throw it away.”

“Why? If you’d quit pulling the plug out by the cord like I told you, it wouldn’t need fixing all the time.” Eddie quickly leaned over to tune in the radio on the buffet next to him. “
Shhhhh
, be quiet a sec. Here’s what I’ve been waiting for.”

“—now for the latest news and weather updates on JDVL—J-Devil radio for Moss Lake, Black Water, and Devil’s Gulch, Maine… Hurricane Victoria is breaking onto land at this very moment. She’s a good one, but she’s not going to be as bad as she appears. Just a lot—and I mean a lot of wind, lightning, and rain as far as we can tell—”

Chantain suddenly grew annoyed. “That’s a new thing, isn’t it—naming storms? How come they’ve got to name storms after women now? Don’t we get enough?”

Eddie paused. “That’s because ships are ladies…oh, I know what you’re thinking,
pssss
. You women…you all think you’re getting played with—shorted all the time…for crying out loud.”

Chantain carried on, drying dishes. “How can we ever get ahead if we’re always getting blamed for all that goes bad?”

“Women have got nothing to do with the weather, Chantain.”

She threw her towel down then picked it back up. “I’m going to call that Weather Bureau, or-or whatever it’s called. Then I’ll see if I can change it.”

Eddie shook his head while he continued with what he was doing. “Give it time…women’ll change it all…give it time.”

JDVL radio continued:

“—and if you’re a resident in the areas of Black Water, Devil’s Gulch, or Moss Lake, take precautions. Even though the storm’s weakening, the coastline will still be receiving the brunt of the storm. Heavy rains with wind gusts expected in excess of eighty-five miles per hour at some point this evening. Good news in tomorrow’s forecast, though. We’re expecting relief by morning and—”

Eddie lit up with a smile then pointed to the radio. “See, I told you. It’s supposed to clear up. You want to go down to Port Rock Beach? Look around with me tomorrow? I bet I find something. It’ll be fun.”

Chantain rolled her eyes. “No. That was luck, you finding that ship’s bell. None of that stuff’s worth anything you find.”

“Sure it is…lost history.”

“No, sorry. I’ve got better things to do.”

“Okay, then, suit yourself.” He paused to scratch a minor itch of annoyance from his ear. “Say, how come you say I can’t hear? I can hear fine.”

“No, you can’t.”

He leaned back in his chair crossing his arms, puffing himself up then he let go of his long-held breath. “How many times do I have to remind you? I got shot in the war. It wasn’t a grenade blasting in my eardrums. What’s that got to do with anything?”

Chantain stuck her nose up in the air. “Because you say ‘what’ too much.”

“I say ‘what’ because you speak too quiet all the time…
sheesh
, sounds like you’re whispering…are you sure you want me to hear half the stuff you say?”

“That’s not it, Eddie.”

“Sure it is…like you’re paranoid or something. Now you’re hearing things out the window.”

Just as Chantain finished drying her last dish, she threw her towel at the sink and put her hands on her hips. “I’m not paranoid, so stop calling me that. Something was out there. I could hear it.”

Eddie reached over to the radio, tuning it in again. “Hold on…
ah
, good. Hey, this is what I’ve been waiting for. I can’t believe this happened. Listen, will you?”

Chantain reached for the coffee pot on the stove with her empty cup in hand. “It’s about that war, isn’t it? That’s all you men ever think about. Why anybody would listen to you shooting each other up is beyond—”

“
Shhhhh
…hush up. Here it comes.”

“—and now for a strange, new local report from our special news edition called—‘Wars of the World’. The unsinkable warship, the
U.S. Chameleon,
which vanished in the Atlantic just a day or so ago, may not—I repeat—may not have been a victim of Hurricane Victoria way off the eastern coast—”

Eddie slapped his knee. “
Ha
! I knew it. There, you see? I told you that they got it all wrong.”

“—we now have unconfirmed reports from private sources that the ship’s distress calls had leaked out about the discovery of an alien space-watercraft attacking a fishing boat. You heard it, a space watercraft…it only gets better, folks. They say a ray of light that came from the alien vessel was the cause of capsizing her.”

Eddie squinted. “What?”

“—more controversy arose when their last signal code stated that the water-spacecraft had, in fact, taken flight while heading straight for them at the last second. All communications were confirmed to have ended with the warship after that. All the two hundred crewmembers aboard President Roosevelt’s secret ship may be missing too. As the investigation continues, more sides to the story have been—”

Eddie went on, “What in God’s name? Some kind a spaceship, they say?
Ahhh
, I can’t believe this.”

Chantain’s high heels clacked right up to the radio to turn it up. “Hush. I want to hear the rest of it…it’s interesting, for once.”

“—the auxiliary of the U.S. Navy, known as the
Merchant Marines,
have denied the presence of any such alien spacecraft, however...they said and I quote
, ‘It’s preposterous propaganda.’ Q
uote
, ‘This will be thoroughly investigated to determine the source of such rumors in our country’s trying times of disaster.’

“Still, the surviving family members of the lost crewmembers have been calling the telephone lines for more explanations since all the mission supposedly entailed was the protection against German submarines along the Atlantic’s cargo lifeline to Allied countries. The U.S. Navy has taken over now. They are determined to investigate further into the location to see if any wreckage can be found, but so far, they expect absolutely nothing—”

Chantain covered her mouth, gasping, “Oh my God… it’s like they vanished clear off the face of the earth. That’s terrible.”

“—rescue efforts of the missing crew have been aborted until the storm passes. Government officials involved say that the chances of
finding any live crewmembers are slim. They will not give up anytime soon, though, they said—”

Eddie, much more timid now, pointed to the radio while he took a sip of coffee. “You see? I think I told you it was some—some German U-subs blasting cargo ships off the coast. Their enemies need supplies, and the Germans know it.”

Chantain swiftly turned away and stomped her heels back over to wipe the countertops. “I know that space stuff exists… people like you who just don’t believe in flying saucers.”

Eddie kept listening to the radio, looking sad. “Space saucers,
huh
? So you believe that part instead of me?”

“—and now for the regular news from ‘Wars of the World.’ We have an update on Europe. In a surprise move, England has begun to rethink its strategy to bomb Berlin’s key civilian populations in retaliation against the huge German blitz. Winston Churchill made a public announcement regarding confirmations as such. He now believes the only way to force Germany to surrender is to attack the heart of those German civilian populations now
.

“Parts of Germany reacted. They intercepted Churchill’s comments because allied intelligence just discovered that German elites commenced an emergency plan called ‘ODESSA’ to evacuate certain privileged civilians and children into remote places outside of Germany to spare their lives
.

“Little is known about their escapes, other than their ties with the Vatican Catholic Church. As a result, Catholic leaders in America were put in the hot seat. They had no comment, other than denying any involvement and those were European Catholics—‘it wasn’t us,’ they say
.

“The U.S. government knows there’s more to the story. Currently, military actions are trying to crack down on a whole consortium of other countries assisting in the secret underground ODESSA operations. That’s all we know, and that’s it for our update edition on—‘Wars of the World.’”

Eddie turned the radio off then sat there playing with his coffee cup. “
Hmmm
, never heard that before…
uh
, good coffee. Is it new coffee?”

Chantain didn’t answer so he went on, “Those Nazis are done for, you know…watch, it’ll happen. They’re as good as gone.”

Chantain cocked her head and rolled her eyes. She’d heard his war rhetoric too many times, apparently. As a way of expressing herself, she fussed with wiping off her counter-tops a little harder. “Soooo, after you go down to the beach tomorrow, can you drive by the new church like you said you would?”

“Yes, I said I would, didn’t I? What’s the preacher’s name?”

“Oh, I don’t know…some preacher.”

Eddie paused to rub his neck as if some sudden strain of vibes strongly interfered with their conversation. “No name,
huh
? Well, it’s…maybe it’s a better place than the last church you found us. Remember that? Everyone swore they saw God, then they pointed up at the stained glass with the sun shining through it. What was that preacher’s name?”

“His name was Father Baxter.”

“Yeah, well he had God on backs’ter his stained glass, according to everyone on the church benches.”

Chantain didn’t see any humor in that. She leaned against the kitchen counter and lit a cigarette as she blew her smoke into a quick daydream. As she gazed out the dark window in front of the sink, she tended to her hair in the reflection. “I thought he was a nice man. He looked good too.”

Eddie paused then abruptly said, “What’s his looks got to do with it?”

“Who? Excuse me, what?”

“I said what does
looks
got to do with it?”

“Oh, I don’t know, seeing someone that looks good while hearing about the gospel is nice is all. Don’t get so hot about it.”

Eddie didn’t seem hot at all. In fact, he was quite poised and soft-spoken. He looked the other way. What caught his eye, quite by accident, was the small painting of an immaculately handsome example of Jesus Christ hanging on the wall by the clock. It was a copy of an original, meticulously framed in glass and oak, with decorative gold edges. The artwork was done so nicely that not even the subject’s golden hair or beard was out of place. Jesus glowed with the original artist’s dazzling perception of how the Son of a God ought to look.

As Eddie stared at the almost-perfect picture with every pastel color in the right place, his face stilled. “That picture up there. Did you buy that or did someone give it to you?”

Chantain looked at it for herself. “What? Oh, that? I bought it.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Well, practically fought some lady over it down at the store.
Sheesh
, it was embarrassing. Why you ask?”

“Jesus sure was a knockout, wasn’t he? Even though nobody knew what he looked like.”

“Where do you come up with this stuff? What do you expect Jesus to look like, anyway? Some hobo with one leg or something?”

Eddie dropped his expression all the way down to his lap. “I never thought he was like that picture. I mean—”

“You should hush up sometimes, really.”

Eddie took her advice, softening his cynicism for the moment. He sat comfortably in his chair, playing with his wedding ring. He wanted to make up for his words, so he turned to his loving side instead. For him, it seemed easy enough to do.

Right before him was an amazingly attractive wife in a flattering dress beneath the cutest little apron. Her hourglass figure clothed in white cotton, pink silk, and lace, created shock and awe. Not to mention her cleavage. This was not in short supply.

Eddie ran his eyes down her long, wavy blonde hair as she whirled it about in the kitchen. He then tried to look into her deep, brown eyes, noticing her flawless, smooth skin, but she kept moving about too much. He swallowed before coughing, “You know…you match that picture there. I mean, you’re perfect to me—do you know that?”

Chantain quickly took her apron off, stuffing it in the drawer next to her. Awkwardly, she looked from side to side, practically everywhere except at Eddie. “What?
Um
, why are you staring at me that way?”

Eddie stood his solid frame up from his chair. Surprisingly, he pulled out a walking cane from beneath the kitchen table where he had kept it hidden the whole time. For a moment, he rolled his fingers over the brass dragon-head handle, as if he needed to think more carefully. In time, he gestured a step forward toward her, but hesitated. A few more seconds dragged on, he swallowed softly again. Finally, he remained where he was, back where he started. Still, he made the best of an awkward situation by standing up straight, as if wishing to present himself in a more formidable manner. He paused, brushing his fine, dark hair back with his fingers. Courage seemed to be what he was working on, but courage must have had its boundaries. He was giving up more by the second. Ultimately, he sat himself back down, withdrawing. That was when a final piece of sorrow fell into place. He looked down at his cane in a swarm of complexities.