Two days later, Betty found herself sitting in a nondescript office in a nondescript building off of an unremarkable courtyard. It wasn't exactly as her writer's imagination might have pictured the office of a spy master, but it was the ideal setting for a man who didn't want to draw too much attention to himself or his more covert activities. Beside her sat Scott, closely watching the man on the opposite side of the desk, General Hopkins. For a moment, Hopkins had been silently regarding them with a pleased, but appraising glance. They just accepted his mission, and Betty's hands twisted nervously in her lap as they waited for the general to tell them exactly what they'd agreed to. Suddenly, his eyes drilled into Betty's.
"Est-ce que vous parlez francais?" he asked unexpectedly.
"Qui, je fais," Betty responded in a flawless French accent.
The general grinned as if she'd just confirmed his hopes. "Tres bon," he nodded his head in satisfaction, then continued in French, "I confess, I already knew you spoke French. Your grades in it were quite good."
"So you've seen my records from college," Betty observed dryly. Scott looked confused. His French had never been very good.
"And high school, of course. We believe in being thorough, Mrs. Sherwood." Casually, he slipped back into English. "You see, your linguistic skills will be very important to this operation. You probably already know that your husband speaks barely passable French." He sent a dismissive smile Scott's way. Scott grimaced in return. "We have some work to do, though. I'll bring in one of our language experts and have you speaking like a native of Geneva in no time."
"Geneva?" Scott's eyebrows raised. "What will we be doing there?"
"You'll be in Bern, actually," General Hopkins clarified. "Geneva is part of your cover story. You're both French speaking natives of that city and have traveled to Bern on holiday. While there, you'll see the sights, eat in the local restaurants and," here the general smiled craftily, "pretend to be a Nazi spy."
"A Nazi spy?" Betty questioned, her gaze sliding uncomfortably to Scott's for a moment.
"Oh, not you, Mrs. Sherwood. Your job is to primarily act as an interpreter. With your skills in the French language, you'll need to do most of the talking. Your job is to keep Mr. Sherwood from talking too much to too many people." He smiled at Scott apologetically. "I'm sorry, Scott, but you know your own limitations in that area and we simply don't have time to get your French skills up to speed."
Scott nodded. "Sure, I understand that. What do we have to do?"
"Your objective is to make contact with a Nazi operative in Bern, receive a message from him, decode it, and transmit it via wireless to me. A simple operation, yes?"
Scott laughed. "Sure, but they always sound easy."
The general smiled his agreement. "Yes, but as I said before, this operation truly carries minimal risk, particularly for Mrs. Sherwood."
"Won't I be going with him to receive the message?" Betty asked.
"No." Scott and the general said the word at the same time, then grinned grudgingly at each other.
"Our information indicates that the spy Scott will make contact with is German speaking. His French is apparently as questionable your husband's. They should only be repeating certain coded phrases to each other, so there's no need for you to be present at the actual exchange. That is, of course, the riskiest part of the venture. Their man is a genuine Nazi fanatic, committed to Hitler's cause. To him, you must appear the same," Hopkins told Scott.
Scott nodded with assurance. "Okay. When do we start?"
"We have an extensive training program outlined for you and Mrs. Sherwood over the next four weeks before you're scheduled to arrive in Bern. We'll begin tomorrow morning, and before you know it," the general leaned forward, elbows on his desk, "you'll be looking and acting as if you've lived in Switzerland all your life."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Two weeks later, Betty was beginning to believe that the general's assertion was correct. She'd managed to absorb a multitude of information in a very short space of time. For countless hours, she worked with a language coach, refining her accent until she sounded like she'd been born in Geneva. Along with Scott, she'd learned, rehearsed, and been interrogated on all the aspects of their cover story until she knew it upside down, inside out and backwards.
Now she lay on the wide sofa in their borrowed flat, her new copy of Steinbeck's "The Moon is Down" drooping lazily as her eyes drifted downward. They'd spent the last two nights in Hopkins office building, being rudely awakened once each night to be interrogated about their identities, their purpose of travel, and their political viewpoints.
It was a singularly terrifying, not to mention exhausting, experience, Betty admitted now. Her pregnancy often made her overwhelmingly sleepy and losing hours of sleep at night only made the situation worse. Being roughly awakened with bright lights shining in her eyes and terse commands barked in German was surreal, but they'd both passed the test, thankfully, and could now return to their own cozy flat.
She'd taken full advantage of the opportunity by coming home to read while Scott stayed behind for further training in what General Hopkins called silent killing techniques. Betty shuddered as the thought flitted across her mind. She understood the necessity for the training and Scott had proven himself particularly adept, but somehow, she couldn't quite picture him using it.
She knew there might come a time when she'd be grateful for Scott's abilities in that area, but for now, it didn't bear thinking about. Her thoughts turned instead to other things as she slowly dropped off to sleep. Things like the delicious fluttering she'd felt in her stomach earlier in the afternoon as the baby moved and the look in Scott's eyes when she'd pressed his hand to her abdomen so he could feel it too. She placed her own hand there now and, smiling softly, dropped off to sleep.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
An hour later, Betty awakened grudgingly when one side of the sofa dipped down under someone else's weight. Her eyes blinked open as Scott turned her on her side and pulled her against his chest.
"Oh, it's you," she murmured sleepily.
Scott grunted and one eye slitted open. "And who else would it be?" he asked her wryly.
Betty smiled. "I guess you can't expect me to make sense when I've just woken up."
He sighed heavily. "I don't want to be woken up until it's time for bed. I'm exhausted and everything hurts. Just wake me when it's over. Although..." Scott's tongue suddenly flicked out to explore her ear before he nibbled delicately at her neck.
Betty sighed luxuriously. "Mmmm, but I thought you wanted to go to sleep."
"I can sleep later," Scott murmured, intent upon tugging down the zipper on the back of her dress. He pulled her dress from her shoulder, tenderly kissing the skin he exposed. She shivered and moved closer to him, only to be interrupted by a loud knocking at the door. Scott's breath exhaled in a gusty sigh and his head fell against her shoulder. "I don't know who has worse timing, me or whoever's on the other side of that door," he lamented through gritted teeth.
Betty sighed and blinked her eyes several times, trying to clear her mind. "Zip me up. I'll go see who it is," she offered.
He did so, then watched as she crossed the room, still able to feel the warmth of her body where she'd been pressed against him. He listened as she opened the door and heard the deep rumble of a male voice. Betty exclaimed in surprise and Scott was suddenly on his feet, cursing himself for not being more careful. Chances were, no one knew what kind of work they were being trained for, but there were always ways to find out information and if that information fell into the wrong hands, they could both be in danger. Mentally resolving to always answer the door himself in the future, he rounded the corner that led into the tiny foyer and saw Betty tightly wrapped in the arms of another man.
"Jeff!" This time, it was Scott exclaiming in surprise.
Jeff looked up from his embrace with Betty and stepped forward to shake Scott's hand. "Scott. Well, you look fine," he said heartily before turning back to Betty. "We've been worried about you," he told her. "And you," he said to Scott earnestly.
"What are you doing here?" Betty asked, ecstatic to see someone from home.
"Broadcasting for the BBC again. I just couldn't stay uninvolved any longer," he explained. "What have you two been up to? Besides the obvious, I mean," he said, looking pointedly at Betty's newly rounded figure.
"Is it that obvious?" Betty laughed as her hand covered her abdomen and Scott's arm came around her shoulders.
"It was when I hugged you. I'm sorry, I know I'm not supposed to notice things like that," Jeff said, a blush stealing across his cheekbones.
"That's all right. You're practically family anyway," Betty reassured him. "Come inside and sit. You must be exhausted," she continued, leading the way into the parlor.
Jeff sighed tiredly. "I am. I'd forgotten how rough the time change can be. I was under strict orders to find you two before I did anything else, so here I am."
"How long are you here?" Scott asked.
"Three weeks. Maybe longer depending on how things go. Of course, Hilary would have my head if I stayed a moment longer than that," he smiled wistfully.
"How...are things with Hilary?" Betty asked haltingly, afraid of probing a sore spot.
Jeff smiled reminiscently. "Actually, they're great...or at least, they were until I decided to come back here." Betty and Scott smiled, knowing exactly how Hilary would have reacted to that piece of news. "We're getting re-married again when I get back."
"Congratulations," Scott told him, surprised by the news.
"I'm so glad for you, Jeff. I don't think I've ever seen two people more meant for each other than you and Hilary," Betty exclaimed.
"Neither have I. Except you two, of course, though you did give us all some anxious times," he laughed.
"The feeling is completely mutual," Betty said through her own laughter. "Well, I think this calls for a celebration dinner." She looked to each of the men in turn.
"Oh, good, I'm starving," Scott answered seriously.
Betty looked at him with a laugh as he helped her off the sofa. "I think you're always starving."
"I've been living on bachelor cooking and takeout for years," he protested. "I have a lot of time to make up for."
Jeff sighed a little as he followed them into the kitchen, thinking how like old times it all was and minutely feeling every mile of the distance separating him from Hilary.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"She said it was the worst drivel she'd been forced to read since the reviews for Ruth Geddy in 'Sky High'," Jeff concluded with a laugh. "She may not have always said she liked your scripts, Betty, but after a few weeks with Enid, she asked me to beg you to come back."
"Well, that's a switch. I don't think it would last. She might be happy to read my scripts for a day or two, but I have a feeling she'd change her tune after that," Betty observed dryly.
"You have to understand Hilary," Jeff explained with a smile. "She's never really forgiven you for being so young when you saw 'The Rivals'."
They all laughed, Betty's ending in a yawn. They'd come back into the parlor after dinner, catching up on all the latest news from back home, but Betty's exhaustion was rapidly becoming impossible to ignore. She stifled another yawn behind her hand, reluctant for the evening to end.
Jeff saw her nonetheless and checked his wristwatch. "I didn't realize how late it had gotten. I should go back to my hotel."
"Oh, no, don't leave," Betty protested. "Stay and talk to Scott as long as you want. I am going to go to bed, though. I get so tired lately." She smiled apologetically as Scott helped her rise.
"That's all right. I promise we'll be quiet. Good night, Betty," Jeff answered.
She paused at the bedroom door to turn and smile at him. "Good night, Jeff."
Jeff turned his attention back to Scott, whose eyes remained focused on the closed door. "She's absolutely glowing, Scott. I've never seen her look like this."
"She's pregnant, Jeff," Scott said, sounding as if he was in a trance.
"I know," Jeff enunciated carefully, as though he was speaking to someone who was just a little slow.
Scott shook off his reverie and smiled at Jeff. "I know you know. It's just hard to believe sometimes. I never imagined this for myself. It almost seems unreal."
Jeff nodded his understanding, feeling half-envious of Scott and Betty's obvious happiness. He'd watched them throughout the evening, the looks that passed between them, making his yearning for Hilary even stronger. He was amused to see Scott's eyes hungrily follow Betty's every movement as if he was afraid she'd simply disappear, and he'd been touched to see Betty's eyes meet Scott's with adoration, her devotion to her husband clear. He noted that they'd touch each other easily in passing, the air between them reverberating with affection. Betty had certainly changed, Jeff allowed, but so had Scott. He was the same man he'd always been, but there was a new gentleness, a protectiveness, that hadn't been evident before. Jeff suppressed a sigh. Three weeks was beginning to seem like a very long time.
"I can't let her stay here much longer, Jeff. It just isn't safe enough. But..." Scott passed a weary hand through his hair, thinking of the mission they'd be leaving on shortly and wishing he could confide his worries to his friend.
"Let me guess. She doesn't want to leave yet?" Jeff smiled knowingly.
Scott's grin flashed briefly. "Something likethat."
"I'd like to say I'd help you out, but I've never known anyone, except you, who could change Betty's mind once it was made up. You'll think of something," Jeff said reassuringly when he noticed Scott's expression held something close to despair. "I know I'd probably go crazy if I thought Hilary was in danger, but we have to give them some credit. They're both strong and independent. Betty's smart. She won't get herself into a situation she can't handle."
"I hope you're right, Jeff," Scott said grimly. Something told him they were already in a situation that neither one of them was ready to handle.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"So, the day after tomorrow, we'll be in Bern," Scott observed. "Are you ready?"
Betty paused to think for a moment. The pitch black streets seeming to close in around her. A sudden summer rainstorm had washed through the city an hour ago and the streets should have been gleaming in the reflective light of street lamps. London was under a strict, total blackout and since she'd hardly ever been out at night, the darkness was oppressive. She moved a little closer to Scott and tucked her hand more securely into the crook of his arm.
"I'm as ready as I'll ever be, Lieutenant Sherwood," she answered brightly, smiling up at him.
"Good." He smiled a little and pressed her hand on his arm closer to his body for a moment. They walked on in silence, each contemplating the operation they'd hopefully be completing in the next few days. They were returning to their flat after a final briefing with Hopkins at which they'd been issued their cyanide capsules. The dire warnings Hopkins directed at them regarding the dangers of capture and interrogation had forced them into a somber mood. The hollowed-out shells of buildings they passed on the street did nothing to lighten their spirits and Scott found himself regretting once again that he hadn't been able to get Betty on a plane to the States long before this.
"We'll be fine, as long as we're together," Betty said as if in answer to his unspoken thought.
"Oh, sure, piece of cake," Scott returned with a careless shrug. "Like Hopkins says, it's an easy assignment. Hopefully, I can get transferred after the mission is complete."
"I hope you do..." Betty suddenly broke off as she glimpsed the huddled bundle in the street. A car, its military flags flapping in the breeze and only tiny pinholes of light shining from it's headlights, was coming far too fast to see the tiny object in its path. She sprinted into the street before Scott could stop her and for one heart-pounding moment he could only watch, puzzled as to what she was doing. She stooped to pick something up and Scott wasted no time running after her when he saw the automobile bearing down on her. He grabbed her roughly by both arms as he came alongside her, throwing his weight out of the path of the oncoming vehicle and onto the pavement, dragging her down on top of him to cushion her fall.
For a stunned moment, they lay motionless in the street, gasping for breath. Scott tested himself gingerly and finally moved, wincing at the sharp pain in his elbow. He at last managed to sit up, taking Betty with him. He fought to control his breathing, to slow the thundering of his heart and to banish the icy fear that had bolted through him when he'd thought the passing car was about to steal his entire life out from under him. He struggled to control it all. He had to, because he'd never been so angry in his life.
"What were you...didn't you see that car coming?" he demanded, barely hanging on to the threads of coherency.
"Of course I saw the car coming. Why else would I have run into the street?" Betty demanded irrationally.
Scott eyed her warily, wondering if the stress of her pregnancy and preparing for their assignment had finally gotten to her. Before he could come up with a suitable argument against her logic, she slowly opened her hands, revealing to him a tiny orange kitten.
"I just couldn't let her be run over. There's so much that's been lost already, I..." She broke off as the kitten mewled pitifully.
Scott's anger almost softened at the sight of the half-drowned cat...almost. "You could have been killed. You can't just..." Suddenly he crushed her against him, cat and all, burying his face in her hair. They were still for a moment, sitting on the wet, uncomfortable pavement as if it were the sofa in their flat. "You can't just do that, Betty. You took ten years off my life," he told her shakily.
She pulled away from him. "I would have gotten out of the way in time. Thanks for saving my life anyway," she teased him gently. "Are you hurt?"
Scott moved his jarred elbow experimentally. "No, no permanent damage. You?"
"I'm fine. My husband broke my fall," she said, hoping he'd smile.
"Ha ha ha, Mrs. Sherwood," he returned wryly. "Ready to stand up?" At her nod, he hoisted her as gently as possible to her feet. "Now what are we going to do with that?" he asked, indicating the cat.
"We have to take Ginger home. She can stay with Anna..."
"Ginger?"
"It's a good name for her, isn't it? She can stay with Anna while we're away," Betty suggested practically.
"Betty, I'm not a cat person," Scott protested. "And you're going back to Pittsburgh. The best thing we can do is leave the cat here and hope that some nice family will pick her up."
Ginger suddenly leapt from Betty's hand and climbed her way to Scott's shoulder, purring loudly all the while. "Hmmm, and you said you weren't a cat person," Betty mused. She plucked the kitten from his shoulder, bringing it up to her cheek to nuzzle the soft, wet fur. Scott raised his hand to brush away the spot of dampness left behind on her cheek, his eyes catching hers momentarily.
Suddenly, he understood why the cat was so important to her. It was a symbol of home, of normalcy, of life before the war. If she left the kitten to fend for itself on the streets, chances were it would die, just another casualty of the hard times they were all living in. A minor loss it might be, but if it was one they could prevent during a war in which the unspeakable happened daily, her instincts to do all she could to prevent it were just. He thought again of the wistful way she'd looked at the cat on her mother's porch in Elkhart on a Thanksgiving day that seemed so long ago and he knew he'd been completely won over.
"Ginger, huh?" he asked as he put an arm around her and led her towards home. "Are you sure it isn't a Fred?"
Far From Pittsburgh
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