“My daughter’s a baby, too young to move to Birmingham. And my husband’s stationed here,” she said, thinking. “Why not a rifle instructor position here in Lyness?”
“Women as rifle instructors?” Sherard snorted.
Why not? She’d qualify.
“We only recruit rifle instructors from the army. No civilians,” the man said. He handed her a card. “Let me know if you’re interested in Birmingham.”
When Kate got home to their cottage, Dafydd was rocking Lisbeth to sleep on the chintz settee. His curly dark hair glinted in the flicker of the coal lamp as he read the card she’d tossed on the table. “A government job offer in Birmingham?”
“I like this job here.” And this windswept Orkney island—its sheep, rainstorms, Neolithic sites and Viking stones, the diamond-like stars in the black sky and murmur of the sea at night. Reminded her of home in a way. She liked the buzzing activity on the naval base, which had kicked into even higher gear since the September visit of Sir Winston Churchill, Lord of the Admiralty. Dafydd had told Kate about Plan Q, the strategic army defense plan for the Royal Navy Fleet Base. There were to be upgrades to the roads, underground fuel stores built and a massive wharf in the emerging naval dockyard to be constructed. Orkney was the best of both worlds to Kate—an untouched wilderness and a hive of human industry all at once.
She kicked off her shoes. Shut the window and pulled the blackout curtains, a new regulation, blocking the panorama of Scapa Flow harbor, dotted by charcoal shadows of a warship.
“Glad someone appreciates my long-legged Yank’s talents.” He brushed her cheek with his palm. Lisbeth, their sleepy-eyed eighteen-month-old, squirmed and caught Kate’s hand in her chubby fist. Dafydd winked. “We certainly do.”
Happy he was home for a long weekend leave, she snuggled up next to them. Kissed Lisbeth’s tiny pink toes until the baby laughed.
“Should I go down to the pub and bring us back some bitter?” Dafydd said in a low voice. “We can pretend it’s wine and spend an evening très intime. It might be the last for a while.”
She sat up. “What do you mean?”
Dafydd pulled her back, kissed her. “There are reports that the Luftwaffe’s flying surveillance.”
“How does that affect you? Not your job, is it?”
“More than ever. I’ve been assigned back full time to the officers’ barracks.”
Kate felt a pang thinking about Dafydd toughing it out in the barracks. “Those horrible Nissen huts? They’re like tin cans.”
Meanwhile she and Lisbeth would enjoy the comfort of the granite crofter’s cottage they’d made home. It reminded her of something out of Grimm’s fairy tales, full of nooks and crannies and odd angles, yet snug. She looked around at the paraphernalia of their family life here: Dafydd’s sketch pad, Lisbeth’s toys scattered across the quilt, the neat pile of folded diapers, the teapot covered by Mrs. McLeod’s crocheted tea cozy and sitting in the middle of the rustic farm table.
“You and Lisbeth shouldn’t be on your own here.”
Not this again. “We’ll manage, Dafydd. It’s not like you’ll be far away. We’ll see you every day.” She and Lisbeth had had lovely days going down to meet him at Rackwick Bay, collecting seaweed on the beach, Lisbeth tottering through the sand, fascinated with the round pebbles. Kate and Dafydd had laughed at the startled sheep they’d discovered when they had clambered over the island’s moors to a prehistoric stone cairn, Lisbeth carried in their arms. A limitless sky, the sea everywhere.
“Look, Kate, Scapa Flow’s strategic defenses need an overhaul. The antiaircraft system is from the last war, the anti-submarine nets still need repairs, a lot of things aren’t as safe as I’d like them to be. Better for you and Lisbeth at my ma’s in Cardiff.”
She couldn’t stand the thought of the cramped townhouse in Wales, living again with her prissy mother-in-law, who folded bandages for the Red Cross, and Dafydd’s half-blind retired RAF colonel father, an air warden with spare-the-rod, spoil-the-child opinions on child-rearing.
“But I’ve got a job, Dafydd,” she said. “And Lisbeth’s so happy with Mrs. McLeod when I’m on shift.”
A jewel, Mrs. McLeod. She lived next door and coddled Lisbeth as if she were her own grandchild. She babysat on Friday nights so Kate and Dafydd could go out dancing—they’d both learned to dance local reels at Longhope. Mrs. McLeod rented them this cottage for a “pittance,” according to Dafydd. Took in their laundry. Baked for the men in Dafydd’s unit. The Orkney locals offered warmth and welcome—in contrast to the Brits on the base, who had never made Kate feel particularly comfortable.
“It’s safer down there, and better for you and Lisbeth.”
She didn’t want to argue during the precious time they had together.
“Okay. But it’s harder for you to visit on leave,” she said, nibbling his neck. “And how would we play cowboys and Indians?”
“You’re changing the subject.” He rubbed the baby’s back.
“What about all your repressed British schoolboy urges? Don’t you want me to get out my cowgirl boots?”
Dafydd grinned.
“That’s why you married me,” she said. She wanted to snatch Lisbeth off his lap, tuck her in the crib and straddle him. “Admit it.”
And for a moment his smiling eyes went serious. He took her hand, kissed it. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever known, Kate,” he said. “Who’d have thought I’d find a cowgirl in Paris. One I’ll never let go of.”
He’d gone to Paris to paint and had come back to Britain with her instead of a portfolio.
She draped her arm around his shoulder and pulled him close. Inhaled him—his musky smell she loved. “Like I’d let you?”
“You’re the sexiest thing in boots this side of the pond,” Dafydd said. “If there are more like you in Oregon . . .”
She nuzzled his cheek. “I’m the last one.”
Lisbeth’s pale pink eyelids fluttered like butterfly wings. Kate leaned down to kiss her and felt Lisbeth’s little breaths hot on her cheek. Sometimes she couldn’t believe that she and Dafydd had made such a beautiful thing together.
Lisbeth finally fell asleep with her favorite rattle and Kate and Dafydd ended up under the quilt, laughing and trying to be as quiet as they could. Later, warm in Dafydd’s arms, his legs wrapped around hers, she put away her worries until tomorrow.
In the middle of the night, Lisbeth’s cries woke Kate. She cradled the baby and felt how warm her daughter was.