“The military impressed on the women that secrecy was of the utmost importance. And it was. They drilled that home. Ever heard the phraseLoose lips sink ships?”
Gemma nodded.
“That's the phrase they used to highlight how damaging it could be to the lives of our soldiers if the women didn't keep every aspect of their job strictly confidential. The women were genuinely worried, and not without cause during the war years, that talking about their work could result in the loss of life.”
“I see. In that case, why wouldn't she have told us that she was a Code Girl after the war?”
“Their involvement in World War Two remained classified until recently. Over the decades, the Code Girls as a whole have proven to be incredibly discreet and humble. They kept quiet. In fact, almost all of them passed away without ever saying a word about their code-breaking work to anyone. Which is a shame for academics like me. When we spoke on the phone, you said that your great-grandmother has Alzheimer’s?”
“Yes.”
He pressed to his feet, hardly taller standing than sitting, and hunted through his messy bookshelves. When he faced her, he held a book in each hand. “You're not a student in any of my classes, but may I recommend some reading?”
“Certainly.” This didn't look like her usual fodder—antiquing books, home decor books,Peoplemagazine.
“These two books about the Code Girls are excellent. I suggest that you have a conversation with Gracie about her service. In the event that she doesn't recall it or isn't willing to speak about it, these books will broaden your understanding of her heroism.”
“Thank you. Let me jot down the titles and authors.” Gemma opened a note on her phone and typed.
“It's incredible,” he said, “that you have a Code Girl in your family. It's rather like discovering you're the owner of a treasure you never knew you possessed.” He stood the books upright on his desk and resumed his seat. “Former Code Girls are tremendously rare.”
“Gracie has always been a treasure to our family, but I'm thrilled to learn that she's also a treasure in terms of American World War Two history. My guess is that she doesn’t remember her time as a Code Girl, because she doesn’t remember her love story, which took place in the same era. But I'll certainly discuss this with her.”
He picked up Gracie's handwritten code. “I don’t suppose you have any idea when she wrote this note?”
“No, but it looks fairly recent to me.”
“To me, too. Who do you suppose it was meant for?”
“We found this in a locked compartment of Gracie's desk. None of us have a key so we had to break in to get it. Because she'd hidden this note so well, my guess is that she wrote it for herself. Like a reminder note?”
“Ah. She wrote a note only she could read, then locked it in her desk and hid the key.” He bent, opened a drawer, and dug through papers. “It seems logical that she might have utilized one of the last codes she worked with during her time in D.C.” He plunked a file on the desk and opened it. “These are codes from that era. Let me just line these up with what she’s written and see if any of these can make sense of her note.”
Gemma waited while he looked back and forth between Gracie's writing and the keys to the codes. Minutes tracked by and her hand kept wanting to compulsively reach for her phone so that she could fill the time with distraction. This was what life had come to. People, including her, couldn’t sit quietly anymore, simply thinking thoughts. Absurd! She kept her hands intertwined in her lap.
“Ah,” he eventually said, “I think I have it.” He tapped the paper. “Using this key here, I’ve translated the code to sayBox in northwest corner under dormer.”
Gemma chewed her lip, thinking. Of all the deep, earth-shattering things Gracie could’ve written and kept in her secret compartment, this seemed weirdly pedestrian. “There are dormer windows . . . in the attic of the home she and my great-grandfather shared. Perhaps she's referring to an object stored there?”
“Perhaps.” He slid Gracie's note across to her. “I’m a scholar, which means I’m curious by nature. This has captured my imagination. I'd be grateful if you’d keep me apprised of what you find.”
“Yes, I'd be glad to.” Over the phone, she'd asked how she could compensate him, and he'd assured her he did not expect compensation. It would be nice to pay him back in some small way.
“Please don’t hesitate to reach out to me if there’s any other way in which I can be helpful or provide context for your grandmother's story.”
“I’ll do that. I can’t thank you enough.”
“Sharing this with me and giving me a chance to crack a World War Two code is thanks enough, believe me. If you’ll wait a few moments, I’ll photocopy this key. That way you can take a copy home with you, in case you find additional ciphers.”
* * *
When Gemma returned to Orange Thunder following her meeting with the professor, she checked her phone and found a text from Jude. Just the sight of a text from him gave her a happy little jolt.
As a business owner, she'd come to value suppliers and freelancers who had Jude's get-the-job-done personality type. In her private life, though, his was not the personality type she'd gravitated toward in the past. She loved entertaining experiences, stimulating sights and sounds. She steered clear of people like Jude because they could drain a gathering of its enjoyment.
Which made the happy little jolt perplexing.
For all intents and purposes, Jude was a business associate. She'd prefer to think of him the way she thought of Mike, the guy who made the labels for her products. She liked and appreciated Mike but, appropriately, his texts did not give her happy little jolts.
