When We Were Enemies by Emily Bleeker

Author:Emily Bleeker [Bleeker, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-11-30T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

Vivian

Friday, June 4, 1943

Streets of Edinburgh

I walk away from Archie with my head held high, hoping I look like Katharine Hepburn in The Philadelphia Story. When I step off Main Cross Street, just past the last streetlight, onto our pitch-black road, a chill runs up my spine.

If papà finds out I walked home alone, he may never allow me to leave the house again. But the greatest danger in this darkness isn’t my father’s fury—there are real threats out here, too—the kind that make fathers overprotective.

I hug my torso. It’s hard to navigate in the darkness, and I’m not surprised when a rock catches my heel. My ankle turns, and the strap on my shoe snaps. I stumble onto the road, my shoe half-off. I rub the sore spot on my foot and try to inspect the damage to my only pair of presentable show shoes.

“Dang it.”

Headlights rushing down the road blind me. A horn blares. I slap my hands over my ears and jump off the pavement with a squeal, leaving my damaged shoe behind. A Chrysler runs over my abandoned footwear, shredding it into a mangled bit of leather and cork.

“You okay?” a young man’s voice calls from the inside of the dark car, sounding as frightened as I feel.

“Keep driving, Ernie. She’s probably drunk,” a woman’s voice, high and judgmental, orders.

“You don’t know that,” he scolds. “Hey, you. You all right?” he asks again. I clear my throat, not sure if I can find my voice.

“I . . . I’m fine,” I say, my cheeks burning, more embarrassed than traumatized by the near miss.

“What in heaven’s name were you doing in the road?” the woman asks as though I’ve committed a crime equivalent to murder. A rush of giggles trickles out of the lowered windows. Likely, they’re just girls leaving the dance and heading home to Columbus with a brother or friend playing chauffeur and bodyguard.

“My strap broke on my shoe . . . ,” I try to explain.

“Vivian?” From the back of the car, a deep and familiar voice interrupts my explanation.

“Tom?” I squint through the darkness, mortified.

The car—I recognize it finally. It belongs to Pearl’s brother. He drives her and a gaggle of other girls to the dances every other Friday. Too young to join the army and with no reason to be at the USO, Ernie plays cards in the alley behind the Nip and Sip till the dance ends.

So, I’ve been practically run down by Pearl and her gangly little brother with Tom Highward in the back seat. Fantastic.

Tom gets out of the car, slamming the door hard and making it creak on its frame. He staggers a bit, still intoxicated.

“What the hell are you doing out there alone?” he slurs.

“I’m walking home,” I say, chin up, defiant.

“You can’t walk home. It’s not safe.”

“You sound like my father,” I say hotly. “I’ll be fine.” I heft my purse up under my arm and take a wobbly step with only one shoe on.

“You almost got run over.

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