Ducking out of the rain, Captain Dick Winters heard Lewis shut the door as he followed him into the office. The young captain tugged the hat from his neatly combed, holly red crown and wiped the condensation from his forehead. A splintering desk piled with neatly organized folders faced a smaller room, the door ajar.
"Lunchtime," Lewis commented. "We can try again later?"
Thud
Someone was definitely in the building, causing a commotion down a skinny hall at the end of the oblong room. Dick's jaw tightened as he arched an eyebrow at his friend.
"All yours." Lewis leaned against the desk and pulled out a packet of cigarettes, gesturing in the direction of the racket. "You're the one who wanted to see the broad yourself."
Heaving a sigh, Dick slid his fingers down the stitching of his hat and hoped this wouldn't take too long. The commotion grew as he eased down the dim hall and into a larger chamber. He hadn't realized that the building was an old library. At least twenty free standing shelves were full of dusty books. Heavy rainfall battered the puckered glass of the tall windows.
Thump
A leather volume dropped into the aisle from above a few feet away. It was a book on French Impressionism. It joined several others that lay in the path, mostly about art history. Dick rounded the corner of the shelf. A blonde perched on the step ladder as she leafed through a thin hardcover. As she set the book on the ledge above her head, her leg lifted behind her. Dick couldn't help noticing the long leg and attractive arc of her ankle curving down to her bare foot.
She cleared her throat.
Dick's gaze shot upwards, his face growing warm under her catlike, hazel eyes. There was no doubt who her father was from that narrowed, unmerciful glare. His mouth went dry and he forgot about her legs.
"Who are you?" Taking off her spectacles, she tucked them into her shirt pocket as she climbed down the ladder.
"Lieutenant Edith Sink?"
"That's my name. But what is yours?" She tucked her feet into a pair of practical, brown oxfords nearby.
"Captain Richard Winters." Dick stood straight, regaining his composure as she approached. "I was told that you were who I needed to speak to."
"Concerning what?" Edith brushed past him, gathering the books from the floor.
"Concerning those passes for my men."
Dick followed her down the hall, the ends of her loose waves grazing her shoulders. She had quite a determined strut for a woman.
Lewis's reaction was typical. Moments earlier, he'd told Dick that Edith Sink was probably the spitting image of her father. Mustache and all. Why else would a single woman in her late twenties be working in a position usually held by a man? WAC officers were alright, but Edith Sink wasn't just a typist or switchboard operator. She ran the gauntlet of administrative work from assisting supply officers to distributing leave passes.
The look of delighted surprise on Lewis's face dimmed as she turned her scathing attention on him.
"Who are you?" she demanded, posture straightening as she eyed him in a same withering fashion. "And why are you smoking in my office?"
Lewis's jaw dropped. He let out a nervous chuckle, tossing the cigarette into a cup of water on the desk behind him. She eyed his actions, nostrils flaring.
"That will be a pleasant surprise for my orderly when she returns from lunch," Edith Sink mumbled, turning away before he could answer.
Brushing past his speechless friend, Dick followed the colonel's daughter to the door of her office. She set the books on the edge of her desk and opened the top drawer of a green cabinet. After fishing out a file, she laid it open on her desk. She surveyed the paperwork as she unrolled her blouse sleeves. Buttoning them around her slender wrists, she appeared to have forgotten about him.
"Lieutenant Sink?"
Edith waved a hand to the chair in front of her desk. Dick entered the closet of a room, but didn't sit. She glanced up and perched her hands on her hips. He hadn't realized how tall she was until she was standing in front of him.
"The passes to the concert in Newbury on the 25th?" She flipped over a piece of paper and furrowed her brow. Her bold eyebrows were a shade darker than her golden hair. "Glenn Miller?"
"Yes. I was informed there were several reserved."
"It's a miracle any of the men from the 101st are allowed passes at all after the mess they made in London. British newspapers were comparing the damage your boys did to that town to the Blitz."
Dick exhaled through his nostrils, his patience waning. "I'm not here to discuss that. I want to know why there has been a hold on the passes for my men."
"There isn't a hold, captain." She held out the folder. "Colonel Sink had it removed this morning. Your boys may have acted like destructive hooligans, but a little Glenn Miller might be good for their nerves."
Captain Winters took the folder from her hand. "Thank you."
Edith Sink nodded, her eyes dropping to the desk. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"We could probably come up with a few things." Lewis smirked from the doorway.
Dick cringed. "Nixon, you should go get the jeep started."
"In the pouring rain?"
"Just go," Dick growled, glaring over his shoulder.
Lewis grinned. "Good to meet you, Lieutenant Sink."
As the door shut behind him, Dick let out his breath. "I apologize for him."
Dick hoped that she couldn't tell that Lewis was already drunk and it wasn't even one o'clock.
She shot him a chilly glare before regaining an air of authority. "To be honest, I'm used to the comments. It comes with the territory, I suppose. There is nothing else? There are other matters that need my attention."
"Of course, thank you for your help." Dick backed towards the door, tucking the folder under his arm.
"Captain?" Her eyes flickered over his shoulder as she wet her lips. "Thank you for what you did over in Normandy. For your service. I have heard my father speak well of you. I am sure there would be many more of our boys not here today if not for you."
The image of Private Hall from New York, the one the other men had called Cowboy, flashed into his mind. Bloodied and flesh ravaged by the explosion from a grenade, he hadn't returned to England with them.
"Thank you, Lieutenant Sink." He marched from the office out into the grey English summer.
***
The 101st left for Holland in September, but to no avail. They were pulled back to France while the brass tried to figure out another way into Germany. By December, the paratroopers were banking on a few months of reprieve from battle. They were surely dropping into Germany in the spring.
On a winter's day, she received her orders from Regiment. They only gave her three days to pack up before leaving England for good. Edith could barely restrain herself as she had read the telegram. Three days to organize and clean up their work space. Samantha had planned a weekend to London with a few other WACs, but she would have to forgo it. Edith had ignored her heaving sighs of disappointment all day long.
"It's three in the afternoon, lieutenant." Samantha finally broke the silence.
Edith fished out another folder. "Yes is it, Sergeant Quincey."
"Ma'am, you haven't taken lunch yet. Shouldn't you go..."
Edith's stare shot across the room at the petite brunette. Samantha bit her lip and turned back to her work. Slapping the folder closed, Edith's stomach rumbled. With so much work to be done, food was a nuisance.
She strode over to the door, situating her cap over her pitch perfect chignon. "I'll just be twenty minutes. I expect the paperwork in the box by the door to be destroyed by the time I get back."
Edith strode out into the late afternoon chill. She decided to take lunch at her quarters instead of venturing into the mess hall. She had no patience for brainless small talk, not with so much to do.
A jeep came to a stop and Edith trotted across the street. It blared its horn and she halted on the other side. Narrowing her eyes at the driver, she got ready to give him a piece of her mind. She froze when she recognized him.
Colonel Dobey sat behind the wheel. His easy, broad smile cut right through her. He rested a wrist on the wheel and gave her a salute.
"Long time, Lieutenant Sink. How are you?"
Edith struggled to maintain her presence of mind. Her mouth went dry and all she could manage was a nod. She had often imagined the acidic comments she would sling at Dobey if she ever saw him again. Now that she had her chance, all she could do was stare.
"Busy?"
"Always busy," she choked, clenching her fists. "Good day, Colonel Dobey."
She strode down the empty street, willing her knees to not give way.
"Lieutenant!" Colonel Dobey cranked the jeep in reverse and rode up alongside her.
Edith refused to slow her pace or look over at him. "Colonel, I really do have a lot on my schedule."
"I'm sure of that. I always have admired your work ethic. Can I give you a lift?"
"I'm quite fine, thank you," she snapped.
"I take it you heard the news?"
Her heart dropped. She halted and glared over at him. "What news?"
His brilliant blue eyes crinkled as he grimaced. "The engagement. Mine to be exact-"
"I already knew of that months ago."
He blinked at her. "Months ago?"
"Yes, months," she snarled. "Why do you think I never replied to your messages?"
Dobey bit his bottom lip and slumped back into his seat. "Oh dear, what a mess."
"Frankly, I don't see a mess. I just see a waste of my time. Now if you will excuse me." She marched down the street, heart beating so hard it hurt.
"Edith, wait." The jeep backed up towards her. "I never- I never wanted to hurt you."
"Maybe you should have thought of that before you told me you loved me. Before we..." She couldn't bring herself to mention their weekend trips and sleeping in the same bed. Those regrets still gave her internal bleeding.
"I was thinking about leaving Martha for you. I would have, but you were just so-"
With a scoff, Edith balked at him. "Just so what?"
Dobey shrugged. "Cold."
Edith had heard it before, but it stung coming from Dobey. She retreated, eyes burning with unshed tears. "Goodbye, colonel."
He didn't follow her as she continued into the village. She left England a few days later on a transport vessel bound for Normandy. Edith hoped once she was off British soil and in a new environment, the bad taste in her mouth would fade.
It didn't.