One of his best skill sets was getting rid of those in his way.
Paris, France—Wednesday, June 8, 1938
“Chaisley, we’ve got to talk.” Melanie gripped her shoulder.
“I know.” The past two days she’d kept her concert schedule but other than that, she’d hidden in her suite and cried. Then prayed. Then cried some more.
Why?
She wasn’t sure—other than the fact that she’d felt more for Rick Zimmerman than she’d let on. But now what did she do? He was a spy. There were any number of things he probably had to keep from her.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Mel prodded. “Then I’ll tell you what I’m thinking.”
“We all have secrets, but I don’t know what I think about Rick anymore. I trusted him.”
“I know.” Another squeeze to the shoulder. “I did too. And I still do.”
Ever-protective Melanie couldn’t have shocked her more if she’d slapped her. “You do?”
“Yes. He was there for me in a tough situation. His job demanded he keep a secret from us. I can accept that—I mean, we are fighting against the Nazis, right? And I believe he’s been forthright with us about everything he could. Especially after you grilled him.” Her light laugh pierced the dark mood in the room. “And I know you care for him.”
Chaisley nodded. There wasn’t any point keeping her feelings from her dearest friend. “Dr. G guessed as much as well. He said he thought Rick was an honorable man. But what would he say if he knew what we know now?”
“I think you are giving Timothy Grafton way too little credit. Why don’t you talk to him about it next time you see him? It would be unusual for both of you to misjudge a person.”
“Why are you on his side?”
“I’m not on anyone’s side. Just trying to help you grasp thevoice of reason.” Melanie’s voice traveled around the room accompanying the soft rhythm of her steps.
“What are you doing?” Chaisley didn’t like this feeling of losing control.
“I’m picking up your things from last night. I know how you like things tidy and in their place. This is so unlike you, Chais. Maybe you should just forgive him and move on. This can’t be good for your emotional well-being.”
More proof of her sulking attitude the past couple days. She never left things out. They caused tripping hazards, and she’d have a hard time finding them again. “Have you talked to Rick?”
“Yes, just a little bit ago.”
“Is he all right?” The fact that she cared enough to ask should tell her something. But her stubborn will was in the way of her own logic.
“He’s pretty torn up about how things ended the other night. But he’s trying to hide it.” Melanie didn’t stop her movements.
“Have I really left my things in that big of a mess?”
“For you, yes. But it’s not that bad. I don’t mind.”
She needed to stop making messes. Of her things. Of her relationships. “Maybe we should ask Rick to come talk.”
Her friend sighed. “Finally. I think that’s a great idea.” Quick footsteps were followed by the click of the door, giving her no chance to change her mind.
Lord, help me be discerning. I don’t know what to think anymore.
The door opened again, and this time two sets of footsteps entered. As they came closer, Chaisley could smell the new shaving cream Rick used. It was oddly comforting.
“I’m sorry, Chaisley.” The humility in his tone was her undoing. “Please know that I would never intentionally hurt you. But Ihadto follow my orders until I knew you and Melanie could be trusted. I will do whatever I can to gain back your trust.”
Tears streamed down her face, and it took her a moment to gather her thoughts and calm the quivering in her chin. Words wouldn’t come, so she nodded. And just like that, the peace she’d been so desperate for the past two days rolled back into her heart.
“Can we talk about it?” He cleared his throat, and the couch lowered next to her.
