Lovers in Enemy Territory (37 page)

"Look at your leg, my love. I'm afraid it is very real." The too-short leather pants emphasized his long legs and big feet, which hung out over the end of the little mattress as did hers. He laughed out loud and she laughed with him. They fell back staring at each other in absolute awe that this night had brought them together.

Catherine was a woman in every sense of the word. She loved like a woman could be provocative one moment, saintly the next. Soon she would be his wife. He closed his eyes tightly, anticipating the wedding night to come, the days and nights of loving her.

She lay next to him and her body throbbed with wanting him. She prayed the priest would come soon. When she turned her head, she discovered he was looking at her, probably reading her mind. She smiled quietly and then they began to talk once more, about everything that had happened in their lives since that painful day of parting back at Norwood.

They laughed and cried as they recounted adventures to each other. They'd both lived several lifetimes since then. Another hour passed and still they were relating experiences, describing situations, helping each other to live the lapses in time when they had been apart.

Catherine finally fell asleep, her head against his shoulder. Jeffrey reached for the blanket, pulling it up over them. He watched her in sleep, marveling that this angelic woman, so beautiful in every way, was to be his lifetime companion. Finally his eyelids closed.

Luis had heard them talking. He didn’t understand their words, but he didn't have to. He smiled and felt a stab of envy for their youth and the years of life still ahead of them. Miguel had told him about their great love. Even in his old age, the thought of love took him back to those years with Maria. His eyes dimmed at the memory and he fell asleep.

Miguel didn’t fall asleep till early morning. He was suffering torment that he was not that fortunate man upstairs holding heaven in his arms.

*****

Morning came and Catherine woke before Jeffrey. It was a strange, marvelous feeling to wake up in this man's arms. She felt a twinge of pity for the sisters who would never experience this dimension of life. Catherine would never have known of its joys had it not been for Michael. She ached for him. Being with Jeffrey brought him back so forcefully.

She watched Jeffrey, memorizing every feature. Her heart swelled with love for him. Soon her eyes strayed to the window. The sky was still a lavender pink. It was very early. She was in the habit of waking before the sun was up to go to chapel.

Now that would no longer be part of her daily ritual. Instead she would be fixing breakfast for her husband and son, seeing him off to work, and Michael off to school, then welcoming them home at the ene of the day. Her thoughts went back to that night at Norwood when Jeffrey had begged her to go outside walking with him. She was thankful she’d resisted that temptation. The waiting period had been long and difficult since that night, but she had no regrets, only fond, sacred memories of her life among the sisters. And now she could come to him unashamed, unfettered by guilt of any kind.

Her eyes still on the dawn sky, Catherine repeated her morning prayers with a full and grateful heart. Then she nestled closer to him and found he was awake, watching her. His face showed concern. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing.” She sighed and hugged him hard. "Everything is so right, that's all."

He smiled and marveled anew at her flawless skin, the perfection of her features. He leaned over and kissed her. She impulsively put an arm around his neck and responded with an urgency that made him want to forget all about the rules of propriety. But just as quickly, she slid away from his grasp and stood up, shaking out her skirt.

"Where are you going?" he demanded, still reeling from the impact of her passionate embrace.

"To fix you breakfast."

"How did you know I'm always ravenous first thing in the morning?"

"Are you?" she winked saucily. "I'll have to remember that. Have you forgotten I already know a great deal about you, Commander?" Her half smile tugged at him. They would have to become man and wife soon! He couldn't stand much more.

"Don't be long," he murmured. Just before her head disappeared over the edge of the loft, she blew him a kiss. "I love you!" She was gone and he was dizzy with happiness.

Catherine found Miguel out in the barn, loading hay. Apparently Luis had already left. "Bonjour," she called to him. He waved a greeting. "I was just coming to find Luis and tell him I will fix all the meals from here on out."

"He will like that arrangement, but he’s gone to get the priest. He said to tell you that he would not return without him."

"He's a wonder.” She smiled. "Miguel, could you tell me if Luis has a tub big enough for bathing?"

"Yes, there’s one in the barn. After breakfast we can heat water."

"Thank you."

"Luis told me to tell you something else. The hut in the upper pasture is not as large or as clean as this one, but with some minor repairs, you and the Commander can sleep there until you leave the mountains. It has no pump, so you will have to eat your meals with us, but at least you can have privacy."

"And Luis can have his bedroom back," she answered with gratitude, then went inside humming happily to herself. After acquainting herself with the primitive kitchen, she commenced to prepare breakfast. There were eggs, cheese and oranges. Fresh citrus fruit was hard to come by in Spain right now. She blessed the name of the Mother General.

When everything was ready, she called Miguel, then took two full plates up to the loft. Jeffrey was sitting up in bed, his head against the wall, arms folded. He flashed her the dazzling smile which always had the power to take her breath away.

"Here, my love," she put the plates on a low table. "Eat all you can. These oranges are straight from Italy."

Jeffrey didn't need to be coaxed, but waited till she said grace before eating his breakfast. Never had food tasted as good to him as it did now. She sat by and watched, occasionally eating something from her own plate. She could feel his happiness. Everything he said and did fascinated her. He was terribly handsome. To think she was going to belong to him!

"It's almost like a honeymoon," she said with a little smile.

"Almost," he replied, pinching her cheek playfully as he popped another orange section in his mouth. "Of course, we're not exactly alone."

"Miguel told me there’s another hut in the upper pasture. They’re going to fix it up for us to stay in." He stopped eating and stared at her. "It will be our first home as man and wife. No one has the right to be this happy!" she burst out.

He nodded. "Everyone has the right, but since there's only one of you, I'm the only man alive privileged to experience that kind of joy."

"Jeffrey.” Her heart pounded.

He put the empty plate back on the table and pulled her down on the bed. He felt wonderful. He could have ten broken legs and it wouldn't matter. The love of his life was tucked safely away in his arms. Their lips met again and he began smothering her with kisses till she called out for help.

"There's nobody around to rescue you," his eyes flashed. "I have you in my clutches, me proud beauty.” He began tickling her ribs till her, rich laughter rippled in the air. He loved it. He loved her!

"Stop, Jeffrey, please," she finally begged him, and the laughter ceased. His hands still spanned the slender waist. "I love you so much, Catherine."

Later she insisted he take a nap while she busied herself with a few domestic chores. Miguel was out in the pasture. He'd eaten and gone out very quickly. She took advantage of her time alone and took a bath, washing her hair and pampering herself to make herself as attractive as possible for Jeffrey.

Later still the smell of fresh bread wafted into the two men's nostrils. She made omelettes from the eggs and hot chocolate with the milk and chocolate she'd found in the basket. When the three of them gathered around the table for the afternoon meal, the compliments were unending.

Jeffrey realized his wife-to-be was a spectacular cook, besides everything else. She never ceased to amaze him. In his whole life, he could never remember being so happy.

As Catherine said grace, she saw the faces of Senora Alba and her children. It reminded her she was being showered with untold blessings. Miguel's "amen" resounded in the small room. She had a feeling his thoughts were on the Alba family too, and that he, like herself, was inwardly thanking God that they were on the road to recovery at last.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Jeffrey was content to watch Catherine in silence while she waited on them. So was Miguel. All her movements charmed him. She sparkled. Her freshly washed hair framed her face in swirling black curls and each time she passed near him, a sweet fragrance filled the air.

After lunch, she washed the dishes and acted as translator for the two men who discussed everything from airplanes to politics. Jeffrey told Miguel he wanted to sponsor him when they got back to England. Miguel wept silently, too thrilled to talk.

Still later, she went to the loft while Miguel helped Jeffrey bathe and shave. A feeling of well-being permeated the little hut. It was hard to believe there was a war on, that people were starving to death, that even they in their little world were living on borrowed time.

Miguel was laying a fire and Catherine was sweeping the floor when the sound of hooves on the hard-packed earth outside the hut reached their ears. Jeffrey went over to the loft window to look out. His eyes beheld two figures. He went over to the railing. "Luis is back." Catherine looked up at him. "The priest is with him.”

He opened the door. There was a commotion as the three men greeted one another. They talked rapidly, their voices animated. The priest walked briskly inside and nodded to Catherine who quickly put the broom away, suddenly nervous. She bowed.

The priest was short and wiry with a great deal of fuzzy gray-black hair. His eyes were the same black as Miguel's.

Miguel introduced Catherine first, then Jeffrey, who was still up in the loft. Miguel forbid him to come back downstairs just then.

"Sister," Miguel began, then laughed and started again. "The Holy Father says he’s delighted to make your acquaintances and that he is happy to perform the ceremony. Never in all these years has he been called upon to do anything so romantic. He says he does not blame the Englishman for being in such a hurry.”

Catherine grinned. She was getting used to their earthy teasing.

The two older men seated themselves in chairs by the fire and spread their short legs apart. Luis puffed on his pipe and they began chattering back and forth like two old women. Miguel emptied the basket Luis had brought into the house. "Look, Catherine! Wine for the occasion!" There were other things as well.

Three candles appeared. They must have come from the church. Finally Miguel held up a mantilla. It was yellow with age and delicate. The priest indicated that she should wear it for a veil. Then Luis produced a little leather pouch from his trunk in the corner. He handed it to Miguel with an explanation which Miguel translated.

"This was Luis's wife's wedding ring. Now he wants you to have it. Theirs was a very happy marriage. He knows it will bring you luck, but he thinks you won't need that." Catherine quietly bent down to kiss the old man's weathered cheek.

"Father Joachim must get back to his house tonight, Catherine. If you’re ready, he would like to begin."

Catherine nodded. Miguel reached for the cups, fit the wine bottle and candles in his arms, and one by one they went up to the loft. Catherine clutched the mantilla tightly. She felt she was suffocating from happiness.

Jeffrey was dressed in clothes Miguel had brought, a dark blue sweater and brown trousers. He was leaning up against the wall in bed.

"It's time, Jeffrey. The priest must get back to his home tonight, so he’s going to marry us now." The Father went over and shook his hand.

His eyes traveled from the man to the woman. Never had the old priest seen such a handsome couple. Catherine slowly raised the mantilla and placed it on her head. It felt very natural after wearing her wimple all these years.

Jeffrey was instantly reminded of Sister Catherine as he’d first seen her. The priest took her hand and led her to Jeffrey's side. Miguel lighted the three candles. Then he took the small gold ring and handed it to Jeffrey who stared not comprehending.

"For her," he pointed to Catherine. Now Jeffrey understood. He felt for her hand and clung to it.

When everyone was ready, the two witnesses in their places on the other side of the bed, the priest cleared his throat, pulled out his breviary and began the ceremony in Latin heavily accented in Basque. The soft, slurring sounds were music to their ears.

Jeffrey had wanted this for so long, it didn't seem possible he was finally going to have his heart's desire. He, like Catherine, felt the sacred solemnity of the ceremony.

When the proper moment came, the priest pointed to the ring and Jeffrey tried to place it on her finger, but it was too small. Catherine was forcibly reminded of that other ring she'd left behind at the altar of St. Theresa's. Jeffrey's hands shook. She let out a nervous laugh, then put out her least finger so he could slip it on. He smiled up at her in gratitude.