“I don’t think it will come to that,” Hoffman said, giving me a small smile, sensing that I was a woman on the verge of losing it. “And I promise you I’m not asking because you’re a woman or a bad driver, but if you need a break, let me know. You’re actually a great driver.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I’m sorry . . . it’s just, it’s been a long week.”
“You don’t have to tell me,” he said with a laugh. He held up the can. “She’s filled up as much as she can be; hopefully that’ll do it.”
We climbed back in, where Viv was taking a smoke break, her hand shaking from cold or nerves or both as she inhaled a Chesterfield. She offered one to Hoffman, which he gladly accepted.
“Say a prayer that this thing starts and we’re not stuck on this road,” I said as I fired up the Cheyenne.
The Cheyenne spun its wheels a few times, but after I banged on the steering wheel and swore at it, we started to move forward. We drove another twenty minutes, my hands gripping the wheel as I leaned over it and kept an eye out for oncoming vehicles.
“Do you see that, Fi?” Viv said, pointing ahead. “Cat-eye lights through the snow, coming this way.”
“I see them,” I said, as the lights got closer.
“What if it’s Germans?” Hoffman asked. The truck came closer still. I stopped the Cheyenne but kept the headlights on.
“It’s impossible to tell in this weather . . . if it’s Germans,” I said. “I don’t know, but there’s no hiding from them now.”
I jumped out of the cab and stood in between our tiny headlights, waving my arms and jumping up and down. The truck was a hundred feet away now, driving very slowly; it had spotted us too. It stopped. Snow had seeped into my fleece-lined boots, and it felt like icicles were forming on my toes. My hands were sore and freezing, yet I was still sweating from the stress of it all. I was desperate, ready to beg for mercy if it was the Germans, anything to get us all back to relative safety and get the colonel medical attention.
“Hello!” I yelled, cupping my hands together.
“Hello,” the driver leaned out and called back. There were two men in the cab of the truck; the passenger opened his side and jumped out.
“Americans!” I said, laughing through tears. “Oh, thank God. So, we’re over the line?”
“You are,” said the passenger, walking over to me. “We’re from the closest command post. Everyone’s heard the story of your crew trapped in Vielsalm. Lots of soldiers have been keeping an eye out for you.”
“I take it these are the girls everyone has been looking for?” the driver yelled to us, laughing.
“Yes,” the soldier said, turning to him with a smile, then looking back at me. “That’s Cal, and I’m Nate. How are you all holding up?”
I told him about the colonel’s injuries, and his face got serious.
“We’ll escort you to the command post and get him fixed up there,” he said. I started walking away when he called out, “Oh, Fiona, Captain Moretti from the Eighty-Second wanted me to let you know he’s been searching for you too.”
“Wait,” I said, as I tried to process his words. “Is he at the command post?”
“He was,” Cal said. “But those guys were heading to the front any minute, so they might already be gone.”
I got back into the Cheyenne’s cab, not able to stop grinning ear to ear as the driver deftly turned the truck around so we could follow behind.
“Peter’s been searching too,” I said. “I can’t believe it.”
“Searching for you, through these crazy woods beyond the enemy lines?” Viv said. “Even though I’m sure that’s not supposed to be his priority right now?”
“Searching for us, yes,” I said.
Viv paused for a second, looking at me.
“Fiona, honey, if that’s not love, I don’t know what is,” she said.
I didn’t say anything. She was right, and I felt the now-familiar pangs of guilt settle over my euphoria. But I still desperately wanted to see Peter before he left for the front.
So I started up the Cheyenne and followed the truck down the road, hoping I’d have that opportunity.
We arrived at the command post a half an hour later and were greeted with cheers and applause by dozens of soldiers who had heard our story of being trapped at Vielsalm. Several of them helped lift the colonel out of the back and get him safely to the medical tent.
“Dottie!” Joe Brandon came running over, and Dottie screamed as he lifted her into his arms and twirled her around, giving her a kiss that had all the soldiers whistling.
Viv and Hoffman followed some soldiers to the mess hall. I trailed behind them at a distance. Just as I was about to enter the hall, I saw a group of soldiers walking from the other direction. One of them had a boxer’s build that I would have known anywhere.
“Fiona Denning, didn’t I tell you to get the hell out if things got too hot?” Peter yelled.
I ran to him and jumped into his arms. He scooped me up and kissed my salty tears, and the officers that had been walking with him laughed and cheered us before walking on without him. I buried my face in his chest, feeling safe for the first time in forever.
“How are you even here?” I looked at him when he set me down.
“I could ask the same of you.”
“Thank you for searching,” I said.
“Of course,” he said. “You wouldn’t believe how many soldiers have been looking for you three. You Red Cross girls have more fans than you even realize.”
He held my hand, and it felt like a jolt of electricity was surging through my fingers. “But what were you thinking going to Vielsalm when the rest of your group was going in the opposite direction?”
I told him about the mail trucks at Bastogne, and the promise I’d made to the major at Vielsalm and how it was supposed to be a quick trip.
He sighed.
“What?” I said.
“I can’t decide if you’re very brave or very stupid,” he said. I started to protest being called stupid but then looked over to see him quietly laughing, teasing me.
“I think na?ve might be the best word,” I said. “We had no idea how quickly things would turn.”
“Nobody did,” he said, a shadow crossing his face. “They caught us with our guard down this time.”
We walked back over to the mess hall, but he stopped there, taking my elbow and pulling me behind the dining area, where we weren’t in view of every soldier entering.
“I’m heading out, Fiona,” he said.
“When?”
“Now,” he said.
I closed my eyes. Of course he was.
“I’m not even supposed to be here,” he said. “I called in a favor to stay back for a day. To look for you. I’ve got a few guys still with me, but now we’ve got to go.”
“Where?” I whispered.
“To the front,” he said. I knew that would be his answer. “We’ll be gone for a while. Until it’s over. And look, as soon as you get something to eat, you’ve got to get out of here too. Your group is in a chateau in Verdun, farther south; it’s much safer. I know you’re exhausted, but we’re getting strafed here all the time. Can you drive tonight?”
“Yes,” I said. “I can.” I was desperate for a shower or a few hours’ sleep. But it would be nicer to feel safe. The terror of being on the front had become a constant low buzz in my mind, echoing the sound of the planes roaring overhead.
“Good,” he said. “Promise me you’ll go as soon as you can?”
“I promise.”
Peter looked around to see if anyone was watching and then grabbed both my hands.
“I need to tell you something,” he said.
I bit my lip and looked up at him.
“I love you,” he said. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. When we met, I had just gotten back from Normandy. I was in a really dark place. You pulled me back out.” I opened my mouth to respond, but he lifted his hand.
“Please just let me finish. I know you have to find Danny, and who knows what will happen from there, but as hard as it is for me, I understand. If I never see you again—”
“Peter, wait—”
“No, because it’s a real possibility; we both know it is,” he said. “If I never see you again, just know that I love you, Fiona. I probably always will. And I wish you a long, happy life.”
“Peter . . .”
I looked into his eyes wanting to say what I felt, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak the words out loud. So instead I stood on my toes, put my arms around his neck, and pulled him into a passionate kiss, not even caring who saw us.
“I was in a dark place too; you helped me remember what it was like to feel happy,” I said when we stopped kissing for a moment. “But Danny . . . he’s always in the back of my mind. I’m committed to finding him. And I’m sorry . . .”
“It’s okay,” he said, putting his hand under my chin and tilting my head up. “I understand. Like I said, he loved you first. Go find him and rescue him. And thank you. For rescuing me.”
He put his arms around me and pulled me in, and we held on to each other in the freezing cold.
“Please be safe,” I said, our foreheads still touching. “And for Christ’s sake, try to get through this war alive.”
“I’ll do my best,” he said. “And thank you for the kiss. It’s probably the best Christmas present I’ve ever had.”