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“Is it really that bad?” It was a rhetorical question, but Lucas asked it anyway.
Howard glanced at him with a rueful smile. “Sorry. Have you seen Churchill recently?”
“Yesterday. He’s in one of his ‘black dog’ moods. Nobody wants to listen to him. We’ve got too many Nazi admirers in the government and other places of influence, and they’re gaining ground. We have an infinite capacity for believing whatever we need to in order to keep our world the way we need it to be, for our own sanity. We want to believe that Hitler’s fine, and as soon as he’s got Germany back on its feet he’ll direct his anger eastward at the Communists, and we’ll all be better off for it.”
Howard swore under his breath.
“Peter, nobody wants another war,” Lucas said quietly. “We believe what we need to. We can’t go through that again. It takes a kind of courage to hope. The more reality is against you, the more courage it takes.”
“Hope…” Howard turned the thought over in his mind. “What about reality? I know! I know…you’re going to say ‘whose reality?’ And what is faith worth, if it’s in the impossible?”
Lucas smiled. “Actually, I would have said faith is only of value if it seems impossible. At least that’s what Josephine would say.”
Howard gave him one of his rare, beautiful smiles, shadowless, like a burst of pure sunlight. Then it was gone again. “Who am I to argue with Josephine?” he said.
“Nobody,” Lucas agreed. “Certainly not me. Even Elena doesn’t argue with her grandmother.”
“I must meet your Elena one day. She sounds formidable.”
“She is,” Lucas agreed. “Can argue the leg off an iron pot!”
“And you adore her,” Howard added.
“I always have. Too late to abandon the habit now.” He gave a quick shrug. “What are you going to do about Cordell?”
“I suppose he might be useful,” Howard said unhappily. “Feed him enough false information, although that’s a risky business. It’ll be even harder keeping real information from him. He’s pretty high up. May have to pull him out. Then what the hell do we do with him? It’s not wartime.”
“You’ll have to be very careful…” Lucas warned.
“I’m always careful,” Howard replied. “Well…almost always.” He added that because Lucas knew very well some of the wilder things he had done during the war.
Toby went off chasing after what might have been a rabbit, more likely a ripple of wind through the corn.
They both stopped and stared across the land, dappled with cloud and sunshine, all of it basking in utter peace, like a cat in the sun.
They did not need to finish the conversation. They both knew how the rest of it played out.
Lucas turned to look at Howard’s face as he watched the corn shaking where Toby plowed through it, returning happily, his tail high. He had not caught anything—he never did—but he was the last one to care. He slid to a halt in front of Howard, who bent down and gave him a sudden hug, to Toby’s wriggling delight. Lucas saw in his friend a wave of emotion he had not witnessed before, a complete and unselfconscious love that he seldom dared reveal. He said nothing.
Howard rose t
o his feet and they walked back in companionable silence along the hedgerow.
* * *
—
Lucas arrived home, ready to enjoy a little quiet time at the piano, perhaps have another attempt at playing one of his favorite Chopin pieces.
Josephine greeted him, shaking her head. “You’ve forgotten, haven’t you?” It was more a statement than a question.
“Forgotten what?” he asked. He had no idea what she was referring to. “Was I supposed to have fetched something?”
Toby sat patiently, waiting to have his lead removed.
“Forgotten what?” he repeated, undoing the clip so Toby could go and find his dinner. He knew exactly where it was, and that it was time.
Josephine shook her head. She regarded him with weary affection. “We are having dinner with Charles and Katherine…”
