Chapter Eighty-One

"But there's got to be some record somewhere!" Ronnie cried, gripping the edge of the desk until his knuckles were white. He was almost furious with the pudgy old man who sat placidly behind the desk, flipping leisurely through an enormous, neatly-kept register. Names... so many names... hundreds and thousands of them, all written carefully down, marching across the page in straight black lines. Each name hiding its own story of pain and loss and fear... Somewhere in those thousands of names must be the two he was desperately looking for. All across England, from the moment he managed to get free of the hospital, he had been searching the refugee offices and camps relentlessly. 

The time in the hospital had nearly killed him, as surely as the prison camp had. He had felt fine, as soon as he had gotten some real food for once and a few nights' rest... didn't see any purpose in staying in the hospital... but the doctors wouldn't listen to him. Sitting there day after day, putting up with the endless routine of doctors and nurses and medicine... every moment he had wondered if he could possibly last another day.  Thank God Katie had been there, or he probably wouldn't have. And Mac had come to visit often. They had tried to help him in his search... but had gotten nowhere. And now at last, he was able to undertake it himself... but he wasn't getting anywhere either.

"Rachel Cohen... and Benjamin..." Ronnie said for the dozenth time and the record-keeper rolled his eyes, mopping his brow with an already-damp handkerchief. 

"I'm sorry," he shrugged. "They’re not here. I told you that at least three times already... you'd better try another camp. Evacuated December of last year, you said?" 

"Yes, yes!" Ronnie cried wildly, digging his fingernails into the edge of the desk. The man frowned at him, but Ronnie didn't notice. "From Belgium!"

"If they left from Belgium, they probably crossed the border into France," the record-keeper closed the register with an air of finality and slid it to the far corner of his desk. "I would suggest looking there."

Ronnie didn't answer. He was out the door before the record-keeper could manage another word.

     ✯✯✯

His walking was starting to look almost natural now… Mac noted this with relief. He didn't want people to stare at him in pity as he limped along, dragging that darn wooden leg. He hated wearing the thing though and often just went out on crutches. And even then, he swung himself along easily, head high, determined to look as little like an object of pity as possible. 

But getting down on the ground and up again was always a problem. Mac forgot about that one day as he crossed the hospital courtyard in search of Katie. He almost stepped on it before he managed to see it, half-hidden in the grass. He knelt beside it, lifting the tiny creature gently. It was a little songbird in a pale brown color.

"A Lintie," he murmured, smiling softly as he cradled the bird in his big hand. Its wing was broken, hanging limp and crooked at its side. "What happened to you, eh?" The little bird was frightened, hiding its head beneath its good wing. "Don't be scared, I won't hurt ya. See if I can get ya fixed up… if I can get up again, that is," he laughed ruefully, mentally cursing himself for being so stupid as to go all the way down when he wasn't wearing his prosthesis. Getting up on his crutches again without hurting the bird or leaving it behind would take some doing.

"What did you find?" Katie's voice interrupted Mac's thoughts and he turned to see her kneeling at his side. She leaned forward eagerly and he showed her the bird.

"It's a Lintie. And it's hurt… needs a nurse."

"Ohh…" Katie gasped, reaching out with a finger to gently touch the brown head of the bird. "How precious… what a sweet little thing! Poor birdie, are you hurt? Well. I know exactly what to do, I'll make it all better." She raised smiling eyes to Mac's face. "You stopped for this little bird? That's… that's really sweet, Mac."

Mac grinned, pleased.

"I was gonna bring it to you, but…" 

"Can't get up, can you?" Katie laughed. Her eyes were dancing teasingly. "Well… let's see now…" she held out her hand for the bird and he passed it over, careful not to hurt it. "This is a predicament, isn't it?" She stood and pretended to walk away. Mac was still sitting there, laughing. Katie had shoved his crutches to the side when she sat down and now… they were too far away.

"Come back here, you, I can't reach those d– those crutches," he remembered to break off just before saying "darned". She paused, looked back over her shoulder, grinning.

"I guess you'll have to crawl then," she knew he was completely helpless without the crutches and part of her, well, most of her was feeling horribly guilty for teasing him like this. But she couldn't help it… and anyway, she knew he was the sort that could take it.

"You wouldn't." Mac didn't move. 

"Sure. It'd teach you a lesson to keep that leg of yours on. And maybe we birds are better off without a cat?" She hated herself for saying that. It had just slipped out before she thought about it. Retracing her steps quickly, she picked up his crutches and brought them to him.

"Here ya go, don't look so wretchedly dejected, you're making me feel bad," she laughed, grasping his elbow with her free hand to help him up. Once he was standing again, he reached out and caught her wrist.

"Not so fast, Lintie," he grinned impishly and pulled her closer. "You owe me an apology."

"Do I?" she asked innocently. 

"Yup. You owe me a kiss."

"Oh." Katie raised her eyebrows. "You sure know what you're doing, don't you? Well, I was horrid, so…" she stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. "I'm sorry."

He hadn't expected her to actually do it and his eyes widened, his senses reeling in shock. He could hear her laughing, but her voice seemed far away somehow. What was she saying… he couldn't pull his wits together to catch her words... And suddenly, she was kissing his lips and he thought he was going to die of happiness.

"There, that's all you get," Katie grabbed his elbow again as he staggered a few steps. "Watch it, you're gonna go down again and next time you won't get so lucky."

He managed to regain his balance and make it to the edge of the courtyard where she left him and the bird sitting on a bench. By the time she returned with toothpicks, tape, and sugar water to patch up the bird, he was in his right mind again. Mostly. He helped, holding the bird as she carefully fashioned a splint for its broken wing, and fed it the sugar water, but he barely realized what he was doing. He could still feel the soft brush of her lips against his and he ached to kiss her again. But he knew by now just how fragile was the ground upon which he tread and he trembled with the fear of losing her. And so he held back, willing himself to be careful. He couldn't risk it. But she had kissed him, hadn't she?!

He had never realized it was possible to love one person so much.