Page 107 of We'll Meet Again
Despite his best efforts, his mind wandered. Once again, he went over his last conversation with Billie and doubted his resolve. The same arguments came to him, both on his side and on hers.
No amount of internal turmoil or unpacking it with Betty would change what happened. And yet, the idea of moving on from Billie felt impossible.
Returning to Betty’s house, he was momentarily surprised to see her standing on her porch. He checked his - Coach Larry’s - watch, and was even more surprised. It was barely seven in the morning. If Betty was up, she’d be inside with her coffee and avocado toast, appreciating her view from her kitchen counter. As he got closer, though, he saw it was not Betty standing there. This woman was much younger, with dark brown curls whipping in the wind.
His heart skipped a beat. For a fleeting second, he thought he must be dreaming. Billie couldn’t possibly be here in Carolina Beach. Could she?
He shook his head. Knowing his grandmother, it was probably a local girl she was trying to set him up with to get his mind off of Billie.
The young woman slowly came down the wooden steps, a little unsteady as she reached the sand, but grabbed the railing before she fell. Ethan came to a stop and simply watched her, trying to control his breathing as his heart hammered away with anticipation.
She took her shoes off and set them on one of the stairs before making her way properly onto the beach. She had something tucked into the crook of her arm, holding it close to her body, but he couldn’t make out what it was. She lifted her free hand to shade her eyes and scanned the shoreline, freezing when she spotted him. Ethan almost considered taking a step back and making a run for it, but decided against it. Better to let this girl down easy now and then have a serious discussion with Betty about boundaries.
The woman came closer. With a painful twinge, he recognized the sweater Billie wore the first time he came to her place for dinner. Midnight blue and oversized and adorable. Her stature and frame, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear…Ethan could see her but could hardly believe it - itwasBillie.
His first instinct was to sprint over to her, take her up in his arms, and kiss her until she fainted, but he knew he couldn’t. He could, however, start towards her, which he did, carefully controlling himself so that he didn’t break into a run in his eagerness to be close to her again. Hurt as he was that she hadn’t made it to the funeral, a larger part of him was delighted she had come at all. Time slowed around him as he made his way, the beach seeming to stretch the more he walked, and his stomach did backflips.
Finally, they were within two feet of each other. They both stopped.
“Hi,” she said, and her uncertain smile almost made him drop to his knees and start groveling.
But there was something else about her face that made his jaw tighten. A fading, purplish bruise on her left cheekbone, going all the way to her hairline. His heart clenched. Who was the idiot that put their hands on her and what had given them that death wish? He took a deep breath to steady himself.
“What happened there?” he asked, pointing to the bruise.
Her cheeks flushed and she covered it with her hand. “Oh! It was…well, it’s quite a long story there, and…there’s something more important that I’ve come to tell you.”
He frowned at her reluctance, but didn’t push. “If it’s about the transfer to Chelsea, I already accepted it. You didn’t need to come all this way.”
“Have you?” she asked, and then hastily shook her head. “Sorry, that’s not why I’m here either, though I’m glad you did. Your paperwork isn’t exactly my business anymore.”
He dropped his gaze so she wouldn’t see how much that stung. “Yeah…I guess not.”
“Oh, no - I just - I meant - it’s not because of - of us,” she clarified, and he looked up to meet her gaze. Good God, he missed those eyes. They were even more beautiful than he remembered. “I mean, I don’t work at Stanmore anymore. I left.”
“You did?”
“Yeah.” She paused for a beat. “That’s part of the story regarding my face, but still, not why I’m here.”
“Well…why are you here then?” he asked, a tentative hope bubbling up in his chest.
“For you.”
That hope shot all the way through him like it was straight out of a cannon.
“Ethan, I…” she trailed off, taking her quivering bottom lip between her teeth. “I am so sorry I let you down. I’m sorry I let my fears get the best of me. But…if you’re open to hearing it, I’d like to explain why.”
He was still reeling that she’d come for him. She was so brave. Much braver than him, he couldn’t even get the courage to send a text. Much less take a flight halfway across the world. And she must have driven from Charlotte to Carolina Beach. That would be a long four hours at…God, she must have started around three in the morning.
“I’d love to hear it,” he said.
She presented a box - the item she had tucked safely in her arm. It was browned with age, with a rip on one corner, and secured by a thin red ribbon. Carefully, she untied it, removed the top, and retrieved what appeared to be a black and white photograph. Ethan stepped closer to help shield it from the wind. She held the picture out to him.
What he saw nearly bowled him over. His breath hitched in his throat as he looked at…himself? In a World War II paratrooper uniform, the screaming eagle on the sleeve, standing beside Billie in a wedding gown.
“This is Henry Owens, and his wife, Maggie,” Billie said. “They met in Aldbourne in 1943, when the American soldiers came to the village in the months before D-Day, and they fell deeply in love.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I…that’s clearly -”