“I feel you watching me,” he murmured, smiling despite his closed eyes.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she teased. “I’m still asleep.”
“Liar,” he said, gazing at her.
Time stood still. The only thing Dash could hear was the wind outside, stirring the shutters. She never wanted to move.
“Have you a photograph?” he asked, skimming a finger over the curve of her cheek. “If I can’t have you in my arms, I’d at least like to keep you where I can see you. On my instrument panel, I was thinking.”
It was a reminder that today was the end of their blissful holiday, and it pushed her out of bed. The only photograph Dash had with her was one with Dot. The worn paper was soft as cloth between her fingers. Despite everything, she’d always carried it, though she’d folded it in half in her angriest moments. When she was frightened or sad, she’d found herself touching it for security.
“I have this one.”
“So this is Dot,” he said quietly, unfolding the picture. “She’s lovely.”
Dash tucked in beside him so their faces were side by side. “She is. She has no idea, though. She’s a funny duck. Dot never sees beyond puzzles and mystery books. I never once saw her swoon over a man.”
She hesitated. That wasn’t entirely true. Dot had always watched Gus, though they both knew he was something else entirely. Dash loved him to pieces, but he wasn’t the kind of boy she went for. He certainly wasn’t Pete. When they were little, she and Dot had been curious about how Gus would fit into the family. Dash had been prepared to send him back where he came from on day one, but Dot had argued. She liked having him around, she’d said.
“I imagine her typing all day then digging into her books all night. She’s too smart for the job they’ve given her, whatever it is.” She sighed, missing the smile on Dot’s face in the photograph. Dash had loved making her sister laugh. No one else could do that quite as well as she did.
“Maybe you should write to her.”
“It’s too late,” she told him. “I can’t.”
“There’s nothing you can’t do, Dash Wilson.”
She looked at him, a bittersweet memory sweeping through her heart.You’ve never failed at anything you’ve done, her father had said so long ago, as she was leaving to join the Wrens. She would never forget that.
“I stopped writing to her a long time ago.”
“Because you were angry. And you still are.”
“I am.” Her throat tightened. “Even so, I wish I knew what she’s doing, and if she’s okay. She’s the most important person in my life. Well, she was. Before you came along.”
He kissed her lightly on the mouth. “You know you’ll have to forgive her, right? Someday.”
Something made her pause. “Pete, promise me something?”
“Whatever you want.”
“If anything ever happens to me, you have to find her.”
He drew back. “What’s this? You planning something I should know about?”
“Don’t be silly. I just… I don’t know. It’s war. Things happen. She’s the smartest person on earth. She would know what to do.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” he said, drawing her toward him. “Because I wouldn’t have any idea. I don’t think I’d be able to think straight if anything happened to you. So now you must make me a promise. Do be careful, darling.”
fifty-oneDOT— Camp X —
Operation Fortitude was all anyone at Camp X could think about, including Dot. It was all building toward Operation Overlord, the campaign Gerald had heralded as “the largest invasion the world has ever seen.” The countdown had begun. It was set to happen June 5, three weeks from today.
Dot took constant notes of the chatter streaming through the airwaves, making sure there was enough misinformation circulating. All their plans hinged on Germany being so focused on a possible attack on either Calais or Norway that they’d never think to move their forces to Normandy. According to Hydra, the enemy had sighted Allied landing crafts in ports and tanks positioned around likely embarkation points around southeastern England. All those German transmissions came with reports of heavy Allied troop activity.
Of course, most of what they reported was fake, built of wood or rubber. The troops were, in large number, small groups of men masquerading as a bigger force. And yet, from everything Dot had read, heard, and shared with Gerald, the Germans had taken the bait and made a decision. Tens of thousands of troops were gathering, preparing for a massive battle—at Calais.
Dot was staring into her supper, thinking about her latest meeting with Gerald, when Gus slid in beside her. He didn’t say a word, just settled in like he belonged there, which he always had, of course. She glanced at his plate and frowned. Usually it was piled high with meat, potatoes, gravy, and whatever else was on the menu. One potato and a couple of thin slices of beef were not going to hold him.
