Summer Beach Reads 5-Book Bundle: Beachcombers, Heat Wave, Moon Shell Beach, Summer House, Summer Breeze (149 page)

“
Ilke
?
Wer ist es?
”
Even with the German words, the man’s voice was familiar.

Anne remained frozen on the threshold of the house. Perhaps it was the wrong house, she thought. Perhaps it was the right house and this woman lived with her husband and Herb had been given a room here. Perhaps
—

The German woman stepped back into the shadows just as Herb strode down the hall to the open door. He wore his khaki uniform, with his tie tucked inside his shirt between the third and fourth button. His hair was shorter than she’d ever seen it, parted on the left, combed into blond furrows. When he saw Anne, he slammed to a halt, lurching backward, as if he’d run into a pane of glass. His jaw dropped.

“Anne?” His expression showed surprise and then, quickly, not joy, not delight, but consternation. “Anne, is that really you?”

She took one step forward, reaching out her hand to touch him. “It’s really me, Herb. I came on a Stangarone freighter.”

“My God.” Herb lifted his arms to receive her as she pressed herself against him, but he did not bend to kiss her lips. “My God, Anne.”

When he did not kiss her, her fears were confirmed. Still, she tried to sound normal—what was
normal
now?—as she moved back from her husband and, with a bright smile, asked, “And who is your beautiful friend?”

“Anne.” Herb stumbled over his words for a moment, and then gathered himself. “Anne, this is Ilke Hartman. The army requisitioned a spot in her home for me. She—she has been very good to me over this past year.”

Well
,
Anne thought
,
that was ambiguous.
She forced herself to smile at Ilke. “It’s nice to meet you, Ilke.” Rats, she thought, I sound like Herb’s mother, all prissy and polite. But how did you talk to a German, anyway?

Ilke did not return Anne’s smile. Instead, she spoke to Herb in German, her words rushing together in a stream of guttural explosions. Herb replied in German. Ilke turned, then, and slowly climbed the stairs to the second floor.

Herb reached forward to shut the front door of the house. Then he put his hand on Anne’s arm. “Come into the kitchen, Anne. Are you hungry? Thirsty? How did you get here; I mean, how did you find the house? You must be very tired.”

She told him about Georgia and her bike ride as he towed her along down the dark hallway.

“You left the bike on the street?” Herb demanded, sounding almost angry. He left her, ran down the hall, and out the front door. The bike leaned against the brick wall. Herb picked it up and carried it inside. “Nothing is safe here. You have to remember, people will scavenge anything, they need everything. A working bike with all its parts is like gold.”

She said, “I didn’t know.”

“No, of course not, I’m not scolding, I’m just telling you.”

He led her into a warm room smelling of baked bread and
bacon. A kettle steamed softly on the stove and a cat lay curled in one of the kitchen chairs around a long wooden table. Herb shut the door to the hallway and gestured to a chair.

She laughed. “Herb! Herb, I don’t want to sit down! I didn’t just come three thousand miles in order to sit down and have some
bacon!
I want to hold you, Herb, my goodness, I want to cover you with kisses. I’ve missed you so much, I couldn’t live one more minute without you!”

His face did not lighten. He frowned. He moved away. He ran his hands through his hair. “Well,” he said, and a weight of guilt was in his tone. “Well. It’s not—” He looked at Anne. “How do I tell you this?”

“Just say it.”

“That woman you met. Ilke. She’s carrying my child.”

Now Anne did sit down, because her legs would no longer support her. The information flew into her like a flaming arrow, piercing her with flame.

“I’m sorry, Anne. I never meant—you have to understand. The war, the winter—it was hard. So much death and devastation, the world was black to me. And then to be here in a kind of civilization, and Ilke was so kind—and you have to understand, Anne, I was so weary. So stunned. Even then I didn’t know for sure that I would live another day.”

Anne nodded. She was gripping her hands together, but she struggled to keep her voice pleasant, not accusing, not injured. “So was it comfort with this Ilke? Comfort, not love?”
If he says yes
,
Anne thought, even as her belly burned with jealousy
,
I can survive this.

“Yes. Yes, Anne, it was comfort, not love.” His skin went blotchy with emotion. “I’m not proud of that fact.”

“And she got pregnant.”

“Yes.”

“Did she know you are married?”

“Yes. She knows all about you. I showed her your picture.”

The thought of Herb and the other woman bent together over her picture, the two of them in a kind of conspiracy, increased the
pain in her heart. For a moment she was too overwhelmed to speak. Finally, she asked softly, “And what are your plans?”

Herb surprised Anne by laughing, a bitter laugh she’d never heard from him before.
“
My plans?
My plans are simply to live through this day and the next.”

“The war is over,” Anne protested.

“But not the danger. We are occupying German territory. Unexploded bombs are everywhere. Some Germans hate us, and who could blame them? Three days ago a sixty-year-old cobbler killed the American who was billeted with him, in revenge for the death in the war of his own son.” Seeing the alarm on Anne’s face, he hurriedly continued. “No, I fear no harm from Ilke.”

“Because you are lovers.”

He didn’t reply.

“When is her baby due?” The words were glass shards in her heart.

“In six weeks.”

“It is your baby.”

“Yes.” He looked at Anne with old and weary eyes. “Her parents were killed during a bombing of Bremerhaven. Her fiancé was killed at Normandy. Her brother was killed in the Bulge.” He made a gruff noise. “For all I know, my men could have been the ones to kill him.”

“What will you do once the baby is born?” Anne asked.

“I haven’t thought that far.”

“Do you plan to divorce me? To marry the mother of your child?”
Please
,
Anne prayed
,
please God, help me.

“No,” Herb said, quietly. “No, of course I don’t want to divorce you. I love you, Anne. But the baby—I don’t know.”

Anne buried her face in her hands. Tears poured from her eyes. She thought the pain would destroy her. Desperately she wondered what to do next: flee this house where her husband had been living with a beautiful German woman? Try to live in this town with Georgia and work at Stangarone’s? After all, her own situation was hardly significant in the scope of the damage wrought by this war. She didn’t even know where she would sleep tonight.

How many bedrooms were in this little house, how many beds? Was Herb sleeping with Ilke? Would he lie down next to the beautiful blond woman while Anne lay awake, writhing with jealousy, in the next room?

“Herb,” she choked out, because she had to say it, “Herb, that woman is
German.
How could you sleep with a German? How could you?”

Herb said sadly, “The war is over. Ilke is not just a German. She is, first of all, a human being.”

“Oh
,
damn
you and your piety!” Anne grabbed the first thing she saw—a small cut-class bowl of sugar on the tabletop with a matching small pitcher of cream—and threw it across the room. It smashed against the wall. With a yowl, the cat leaped up and darted out. “How convenient for you, to see her as a
human being.
You are not King Arthur, Herb, you are not a damned knight in shining armor, an open-minded, generous, kind-hearted saint! You’re just another man who’s played around on his wife and got caught!” Her rage was fully unfolding within her. She rose and paced the small room, flailing her arms in the air. “Don’t you think I longed for
comfort
,
too? Don’t you think I had opportunities to sleep around? Not every attractive man was overseas, you know. There were plenty—but I wanted only you!” Her final words cut through her anger with a broad swath of grief, and she collapsed, knees buckling, sobbing. “I wanted
only you.
”

Herb came to her. He wrapped his arms around her and helped her stand, and he held her close to him, patting her back, murmuring softly, “Anne, oh, Anne.”

“Why couldn’t you want only me?” she cried.

“It was the war, Anne. It was the war.”

His embrace soothed her. Hearing his voice with her ear pressed against his chest reassured her. It was so familiar. And it was loving, she could feel his love like a balm, soothing her burning pain. After a while, her tears stopped. Herb asked her to sit down. He put food on plates for them both—an odd little meal of bread and bacon and potatoes fried in bacon fat. Anne couldn’t eat hers, but she finally drank the tea, and when Herb saw
that she really had no appetite, he put her food on his plate, and ate it all.

“You learn never to waste food here,” he explained.

He asked about his parents, and her parents, and Gail, and the island, and he seemed to come into focus as they spoke. Anne sat back in her chair and studied him. He was very thin, almost gaunt. Blue half-circles of tiredness lay across his cheeks. She felt a twinge of guilt for her own selfish tirade. What did she really know about the war, about the conditions of his life these past months?

When he’d finished eating, he pushed his plate away and leaned back in his chair. For the first time, he relaxed. “I can’t believe you’re really here.” He looked at his watch. “You must be tired.”

She shook her head. “I suppose. I’ve got so many emotions raging inside me, I don’t know how I feel.”

“You should sleep. I should sleep. I have so much work to do tomorrow.” Seeing the alarm on her face, he said, “There are two bedrooms upstairs. Ilke is in her parents’ room. You can have the back bedroom. No one has been sleeping there.”

Meaning
,
Anne understood
,
Herb hadn’t been making love to Ilke on that bed.

“I’ll sleep on the couch in the front parlor,” Herb continued. Again he picked up on her reaction. “I don’t suppose you want me sleeping with you tonight. And no, I haven’t been sleeping in Ilke’s bed for some time now. She’s too restless with her pregnancy. I’ve been on the sofa. I actually like the sofa. I like having the security of the back against my back. It makes me feel safe.”

Once again Anne felt a stab of guilt that opened her up to a kind of understanding of what Herb’s life had been like during the war. She wanted the security of him in her bed. He wanted only the security of a safe place to sleep. So things were reduced to the elementary here, to primitive needs. The desire to console him fought with her jealousy and anger.

“Yes, all right,” Anne said. “I understand.”

They both rose. She was surprised when he carried their dishes to the sink and began to wash them. She found the dish towel and dried the dishes.

After a moment, Herb said, “I don’t know how we’re going to work this out, Anne. I feel responsible, I
am
responsible, for the baby Ilke is carrying. She has lost so much; her best friend died in the bombing of Bremerhaven. I want to be here to help her until she has the baby.”

“And afterward?” Anne asked.

“I don’t know. She has other friends, a married couple who live on the edge of the city. And she is a librarian; she worked at the library until a month ago.” He ran his damp hand through his hair. “I hadn’t thought, Anne. It’s been a matter of living day to day. I suppose I mean to support her financially, support the child financially. It’s the least I can do. More than that.…” He sagged against the sink.

Anne touched his arm. “You’re tired. Show me where I should sleep.”

She followed him up the stairs and down a carpeted hall into a surprisingly large room filled with handsome furniture. The bed was covered with a fat down quilt, unlike any she’d ever seen before, and she felt a visceral knock at this reminder that she was in a foreign country. Herb showed her the one bathroom in the house—an unimaginable luxury, he said—and took a fresh towel from a wardrobe in the hall.

As they moved around, Anne’s senses were alert. Would Ilke come out to talk to them? What would she say? What would Herb say? If Herb spoke to the other woman in German, Anne thought she would die of jealousy, she would throw something at him, and not a sugar bowl. But the door was closed tightly on the room at the front, and all seemed quiet within.