Lovers in Enemy Territory (23 page)

Something was wrong. What did she mean, over there” She was talking too fast. He knew his darling Catherine too well, and a prickle of fear darted through him. "I wish we didn't have to wait for anything," came his low reply, "but you haven't told me where you’re going. Where is `over there?"

He was growing more nervous by the second. The perspiration broke out on his forehead.

She didn't know how to tell him. After Philip's reaction, she was almost frightened to say more.

"Catherine?" he prodded. Still, nothing.

"It's a mercy mission, Jeffrey. They need sisters who are young enough to withstand the journey, and my French background will be of tremendous help."

He had to bite his lip to keep from losing control. "Where are you going, my love?" he asked as calmly as he could.

"To Spain.”

This time it was his turn to be tongue-tied. Speechless was a better word.

“It’s our sister priory in the Pyrenees, Saint Theresa's, near the French-Spanish border high in the mountains. Please don't worry. I'll be safe. The Holy Father would never ask us to go if it weren't God's will, and I’ll be traveling to the convent with the Mother General and the other sisters.”

"I don't believe it!" he muttered. Perhaps he would wake up to find this whole night a dream. "You can't go, Catherine! I won't let you! We're at war with Spain, unofficially. You don't know, you don't realize how dangerous it would be to go there now. The Nazis are everywhere. What could the Church be thinking of?" His voice was really angry. Catherine was crying.

"Jeffrey, listen to me. The Mother General travels under the sacred seal and protection of the Papacy. Her documents are honored in all countries. We’ll leave from Southampton and sail to Lisbon. Then we'll take a train into Spain. It will be all right. Believe me," she implored.

It was the first time in his military career he was tempted to break regulations and tell her about his intelligence mission to Spain, if only to warn her of the perils involved. She’d be going to the very area he was being sent to do reconnaissance!

He put his head in his hands, trying to think. All it would take was one U-boat in the Atlantic, and she'd never make it to Portugal. Perhaps what she said about the protection of the Vatican was true, but getting to the Pyrenees was going to prove hazardous at best. In a few months she'd be his wife. It was bad enough knowing he had to leave her, but now, she'd be in a country torn apart by civil and world war. He'd never have a moment's peace.

"Jeffrey, I love you. Don't worry, darling. I know what you’re thinking, but you must have no fear, not for me."

When he answered, his voice was so full of emotion, she didn’t recognize it. "I don't have your deep faith. I've been in hell these last weeks thinking I'd lost you. Now when you've just told me what I've prayed to hear, I find you're leaving the safety of Castle Combe to go into the midst of war where I could really lose you. Catherine," he cried in pain, "don't go! Let someone else travel in your place. Only two more months.”

"You’re leaving to go on a dangerous mission as well. Don't you think I'd like to beg you to stay in London where I'd know you were relatively safe with Michael? You can't imagine what I'm feeling right now, knowing you're going so far away."

"Catherine, it's different with me. I have to go! It's not the same thing at all," he stormed.

"I have to go, too. This is my chance to serve. I want to feel I'm doing my part for England. Can't you understand that? The Lord says that he who loses his life for my sake shall find it. We'll find our lives, darling. We'll be together. I promise you. We’ll be married. Will you remember that?"

"Don't let anything happen to you, Catherine. For our sake, be careful. If something happened, I'm afraid I'd feel exactly like Michael. I wouldn't want to go on living."

"Nothing is going to happen to me, to either one of us. We'll be together again. Do you believe me?"

"I'm going to have to," he answered so quietly she scarcely heard him. "You've never thought about yourself in your whole life. I guess that's part of why I love you so much. I'm depending on God to take care of you till I can do it myself. I'll pray for you every minute of the day and night as it says on the plaque in the Holy Mother's office."

Catherine could see the maxim in front of her. His words burned deeply inside her. "I’ll do the same, darling, till we can hold each other again."

"No goodbyes. "

"No. I love you."

"I worship the very ground you walk on," came the tender response. "Till two months from now, Catherine."

"Yes.” The phone line clicked.

Catherine put down the receiver and sank to her knees, too weak to stand. She was glad to be leaving Castle Combe now. The sooner the better. If she were to stay here and have time to think, she'd go mad.

Jeffrey hung up the receiver and bowed his head. He was remembering something his father had told him in his youth. "Faith can move mountains." Jeffrey didn't understand at the time. Now he wanted to believe that faith was all-powerful, because Catherine was going to be his wife and her life had to be spared to that end. He found himself wondering what he'd ever done in his life to deserve such a blessing.

They'd work together and travel. They'd have other babies for her to love and raise as only she could. Perhaps she could teach at a school in Mayfair. There would be no more loneliness. When they went to Norwood on weekends, she'd play the piano and he'd sketch.

There’d be more picnics with Michael, hours to go riding into the countryside, swimming in the ocean. They’d go to the theater, concerts. He’d take her up in an airplane. He’d have the rest of his life to make love to her over and over again.

When he really allowed himself to think, to really think of touching her, of lying next to her on cold winter nights, or warm summer mornings, before anyone else was about ...

The young man at the communications desk had been watching the Commander for a solid ten minutes since he'd rung off, and he wondered what could possibly be causing that look of elation on his face. Something was brewing. Suddenly, the Commander dashed out of the room, and again the boy was astonished at the strange behavior.

Jeffrey hurried to the statistics room with its books and maps. At least he could find out the location of this convent in the Pyrenees. There were men busy filling out reports as he entered. One of them looked up. "Commander? Can we help you with something?"

"Yes. How would I go about finding the location of a Benedictine convent in the Pyrenees, Spanish side?"

"Well, we have books which list all public and private buildings in each country. It might be in one of those. Then we could locate it on a map."

"Good. Could I see the one of Spain?"

"Just a moment, Sir.” He went over to a wall which held hundreds of important books and sources which needed to be at Air Command's finger tips. He pulled a fat book from the shelf. "Let's see." He began searching, running his fingers down each page. "What's the name?"

"Saint Theresa's."

The man continued the search. "I don't see it listed, Commander."

Jeffrey's brow furrowed. "Look under priories.”

"Right, sir.” He began again. "There it is, sir."

Jeffrey took the book. "Do you have the map?"

"Yes. It’ll take me a minute to find it." He went over to a rack and filed through them till the portion on the Pyrenees came into view. He pulled it from the holder and laid it out on the desk. Jeffrey immediately began the search.

"Here it is, Commander. The map doesn't show the exact location, but it’s near a town called Monte Jaizquibel, whatever that means."

"It's obviously a Basque name," Jeffrey muttered. It was a start, but he had to know more. "We wouldn't have anything on the Pyrenees, would we? Old travel brochures or such?"

"Afraid not, but the library in Maidstone isn't far from here and it's still open. It might have what you're looking for."

"Right, but I can't leave headquarters," he answered, defeated.

"I'll be off duty in a quarter of an hour. Can I look something up for you? I could pick up some books I've been wanting to read at the same time."

Jeffrey smiled. "I’d be much obliged."

"What exactly do you want me to look for?"

"A book describing that region, how close it is to the French border, anything.” When he'd done the necessary reconnaissance work, he'd be able to write his own book on the area.

"Very good, Commander. I'll see what I can find."

"Thanks. You don't know how much I appreciate this. It's very important to me."

"Right, sir!"

Jeffrey left and went back to quarters. He lay on the bed with his hands behind his head and allowed himself to be bombarded with alternate thoughts of Catherine and the mission he would begin in the morning. It struck him for the first time what an amazing coincidence it was that she was being sent to the Pyrenees, and his mission would be over those very mountains. She'd be so close, yet so far. If anything happened to her . . . His mind gave way to thoughts of her once more. He'd never seen her in anything but her habit. Unconsciously he began undraping her body. For a fraction of a moment, he let his desires run rampant, then got to his feet. He could stand no more. There were reports which he needed to commit to memory before 0400. He forced himself to his desk, and an hour later there was a knock. He sprang to his feet.

"Commander? There wasn't much. This was the best I could do." Jeffrey looked at the thin book. "A Wayfarer in the Pyrenees. Thank you very much. It was decent of you. I'll try to think of some way to repay you."

"That's all right, sir. Good night."

“Good night." Jeffrey went over to the bed and began devouring the information. The book described the Pyrenees from a traveller's point of view. He began filing away pertinent facts which would be of value at a later date. He became engrossed in the account of one man's adventures in those magnificent mountains.

It was a very beautiful area of the world. If there weren't a war on, he'd like to take Catherine there for a holiday. The index didn’t mention Monte Jaizquibel. Maybe he would come across it as he read. He started with Biarritz, Bayonne and the French Basque coast.

An hour later he came to a section on the fourth of the Spanish provinces, Guipuzcoa. It began with a description of San Sebastian, its capital. He read on and delighted in the description of Fuenterrabia, an ancient city and fortress during the time of Francis the First.

The name recalled to mind Michael's little spaniel. He smiled, then his attention was drawn to the words, "Hostal de Jaizquibel. By road, take the route of the Irun end of Fuenterrabia. It leads you around the outside of the city walls, past the bull ring, and then climbs steeply through rolling country that offers superb views of the mountains and the valley below. It climbs into a terrain of fir and pine, leaving behind the oaks and beech trees. After three miles, a turn to the left leads to the sanctuary of Nuestra Senora de Theresa, whose kindness to the victims of the siege of pirates during the reign of Philip I, in 1598, contributed to their survival.

The priory is absolutely isolated and magnificently situated on top of the highest cliff overlooking the Atlantic. From its ancient courtyard can be seen a view of Irun, Fuenterabia, Hendaye, the Pyrenees, and along the French coast as far as Les Landes. Superb in their majesty, steep green hills rush headlong to the sea below where a series of rock headlands thrust out into the ocean."

Jeffrey could imagine Catherine's ecstasy when she arrived there. It was her kind of setting and his. The more he thought about it, the more he wished they could honeymoon there. Damn the war!

He read on. "There are patches of darker pine against the softer green of the precipitous meadows, and an occasional solitary white farmhouse glimpsed in the valleys or clinging dizzily to a peak. The country glows with a hundred shades of green and gold and russet. And always there are the Pyrenees and the ocean to enchant the eye."

Jeffrey's eyes held a far-away look as he allowed himself to dream of the two of them alone, in that white farmhouse on the peak. He could have her all to himself. What heaven that would be.

He closed the book. To think the Nazis now had a stronghold in that beautiful paradise. It was beyond comprehension. He prayed the priory was just as isolated as when the book was written back in '28, but he knew better. There were Germans everywhere. Who knew what went on in the minds of those goose-stepping Huns. He got ready for bed and turned out the light. Then he sank to his knees to pray for Catherine's safety till he could hold her to him for good.

CHAPTER TWELVE

In June Elinore walked down a street in Mayfair, smartly dressed in a gray suit and hat. Her flat wasn’t far from the house where Philip lived with Michael, but she had no intention of paying her ex-husband a visit ... now, or any other time.

There was a fairly new, posh tea salon which had just recently been established in the area. It catered to a better class of people than the salons of Soho. She found the address and went inside. The place was swarming with politicians, scientists, writers, actors, senior officers of the RAF. She went to a corner table and waited.