“Ladies and gentlemen,” a heavily accented bass voice announced over the loud speaker, “please join us in the lounge for this evening’s entertainment of live jazzy music with Elodie and Jean-Charles. Tonight’s specialty cocktail is a Rob Roy at a 15 percent discount. The festivities begin in ten minutes.”
“Hot damn!” cheered Dick Teig as he pumped his fist. “We’re outta here.”
“Marion?” Margi sidled up to her. “Out of curiosity, how did the Norwegian break his leg while he was raking leaves?”
Nana smiled. “He fell outta the tree.”
I crossed the deck to where Osmond sat and pulled up a chair beside him. “You’ve had quite a day,” I said in a gentle tone.
He nodded glumly. “She’s the only woman I’ve ever loved, Emily.”
“Would you like to tell me a little about her? I’ve got all night.”
He nodded again, his gaze riveted on the deck. “The night she found me, I noticed she was wearing a wedding band, so I thought she was married. But she wasn’t. She was a widow. Barely a bride, and then a widow. The Germans had hauled her husband off to prison a month after her wedding, and she never saw him again. But it wasn’t until the spring of ’44 that the Germans bothered to tell her he’d died in captivity. When I showed up in her barn, her emotions were still pretty raw, so maybe I made a difference in her life when she needed it. I hope so.”
“How long were you together?”
“Less than three weeks. I tried to find a way to get to the evacuation beach so I could be shipped back to England for rehab, but the fighting was so fierce on the ground after the invasion that I had to lay low until things let up. I didn’t want to be declared MIA or AWOL, so with the help of a hay wagon and a half-starved horse, the family finally got me back to where I needed to be.”
“And that’s the last time you saw her?”
He nodded.
“Did you contact her after the war ended?”
“I wrote her a couple of times, but the letters came back all marked up with official stamps saying they were undeliverable.”
“Did you try phoning?”
“Yup. You had to go through special overseas operators back then, but they could never find a number for her.”
“She never wrote to you?”
“She might have, but I never received anything.” He shrugged. “All of Europe was a mess back then, so mail service was pretty much a disaster.”
The corners of his mouth curled upward as he studied his misshapen fingers. “She’s still a beauty, isn’t she, Emily?”
“She is indeed.”
He heaved a sigh. “Do you think I’m pathetic for moping over what might’ve been?”
“Certainly not! But when you’re through moping, you might want to look at the bright side.”
“There’s a bright side?”
“There’s always a bright side.” Unless your name was Bernice Zwerg. “Look, Osmond, what’s past is past. It’s like water under the bridge or over the dam. You can’t change what’s already happened.”
He nodded dejectedly. “Will you let me know when you get to the part that’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“What I’m trying to say is, you might have lost track of Solange once, but that was decades ago. The world has shrunk. You never have to lose touch with her again through the miracle of iPhones, iPads, laptops, email, Twitter, Facebook, Skype.”