She snapped at him now and then, particularly once after she'd gotten a letter from Armand. He mentioned that he was having attacks of rheumatism in his legs from the cold, and the same day, Nick had complained to her that they had danced so much the night before that his back hurt, and she had suddenly turned on him in a rage.

“Then don't dance so much, for God's sake!”

He was surprised at the look on her face. He had never seen her like that before. “I didn't see you walk off the floor until two o'clock in the morning.” But as he said the words she burst into tears, and as he cradled her in his arms he discovered the problem as she sobbed and told him about Armand's letter.

“I think he's sick, Nick … he's almost fifty-nine years old … and it's freezing cold over there. …” She sobbed in Nick's arms and he held her.

“It's all right, love … it's all right….” He always understood. There was nothing she couldn't tell him.

“And sometimes I feel so guilty.”

“So do I. But we knew that right from the beginning. It doesn't change anything for him.” Liane wrote to him just as often, and she was helpless to help him.

“What if the Germans kill him?”

Nick sighed and thought about it, not sure what he could say to reassure her. There was very definitely a risk that the Germans would kill him. “That's a chance he took when he stayed there. I think he thinks it's worth it.” He had a strong sense of Armand's passion for his country. Judging from things Liane had said, he sensed that it had almost become an obsession. “Liane, you just have to trust that he'll survive. There's nothing else you can do.”

“I know.” And then she thought of the night before, when they'd gone dancing. “But it's as though our life here is like one long party.” She was echoing his words and they looked at each other long and hard.

“Do you want it to stop?” He held his breath.

“No.”

“Neither do I.” But in April he picked her up at the Red Cross one afternoon and he was strangely silent.

“Is something wrong, Nick?”

He looked at her sadly. He felt none of the excitement he had expected to feel. He felt loss and desolation. “The party's over.”

There was a strange tingling in her spine. “What do you mean?”

“I'm leaving San Francisco tomorrow.” She caught her breath and looked at him, and suddenly she was crying in his arms. They had both known it would come, but now they weren't ready.

“Oh, Nick …” And then fear struck her again. “Where are you going?”

“San Diego. For two days. And then we ship out. I'm not sure where. I'll be on an aircraft carrier, the Lady Lex.” He tried to smile. “Actually, she's the Lexington. We're going somewhere in the Pacific.” She had just returned for some repairs, Liane had read in the papers. And now as they drove home to her uncle's house, neither of them spoke. They were grim-faced and silent and Uncle George knew at once when he saw them.

“Shipping out, son?”

“Yes, sir. I'll be leaving here tomorrow for San Diego.” George nodded and watched Liane, and it was a quiet dinner that night. Even the girls seldom broke the silence, and when he said good-bye to them that night, they cried, almost as much as they had when they had left their father. He was more real to them now than Armand. They hadn't seen him in two years, and Nick had been in their midst almost constantly for the past four months. His loss would be felt by all, especially Liane, who kissed him tenderly in the doorway. She had promised to take the train to San Diego the next day, and they would have a little time together before he shipped out. He had to be on the ship the day before she sailed. That gave them one day and one night in San Diego together.

“I'll call you at the hotel in San Diego tomorrow night, if I can. Otherwise I'll get to you the next morning.” She nodded again, with tears in her eyes.

“I miss you already.”

He smiled. “So do I.” Neither of them had been prepared for the pain they felt now. “I love you.”

She waved as he drove away, and went back into the house, and when she got to her room, she lay on the bed and sobbed. She wasn't ready to give him up … not again … not now … not ever….





“I'm sorry, love. I couldn't call. I've got meetings and briefings and God knows what else.”