Chapter 3

Disclaimer- Foyle's War is the creation of Anthony Horowitz. It is brilliant television and the actors are wonderful. Rachel, Jimmy and the Reverend Frank Broussard are my own original characters.

As Rachel entered the lobby of the Hotel Harrington, a grimace of pain flickered across her face. Foyle placed his hand under her elbow and turned her to face him. "Not fine, are you?"

She pulled away and looked up at him with a touch of defiance in her green eyes, like a child who'd been caught in a lie. "What do you mean?"

He pointed at her bloody knee, now visible in the light of the hotel lobby. ''Why didn't you tell me about that when you fell?"

Rachel looked at the floor and mumbled, "Didn't want to be a bother."

Foyle exhaled an exasperated sigh, "No bother. We could have taken a taxi the rest of the way back to the hotel."

She shrugged, removed her gloves and purposely rubbed a long scar on her right hand. "I've been hurt before and managed to survive."

"What does she mean by that?" He pondered the scar. "Managed to survive…what? An accident? An assault? And why couldn't she just tell me about her knee when she fell?" Concern and disappointment were evident in his eyes and voice as he told Rachel, "I wish you would have told me you were hurt."

Guilt washed over Rachel, causing her to regret the way she spoken to him. She reached out and placed her hand on his arm. "Oh Mr. Foyle, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have talked to you that way. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

"I forgive you Miss Roberts…Don't you think you should go to your room and take care of that knee?"

Rachel inclined her head in the direction of the Pink Elephant Cocktail Lounge. "I should, but all I want right now is a stiff drink. You don't mind being seen with a woman with bloody knee and a hole in her stocking the size of the Grand Canyon, do you?"

Foyle tilted his head to one side and shrugged. "I suppose I'll cope." He steered her towards a table close to the entrance of the Pink Elephant and helped her take off her coat. "What would you like to drink?"

"Scotch and water, please."

"I'll go and get our drinks." Foyle removed his hat and coat and handed them to her.

As he walked away from the table, Rachel got her first look at him from the back. Christopher Foyle appeared to be a man who was sure of himself and his place in the world. It showed in the way he moved. His stride was purposeful and unhurried; a pure pleasure to watch.

Still musing on his appearance, Rachel was unaware that Foyle had returned to the table with their drinks until he pressed a glass into her hand. "Th…thanks. Sorry. My mind was a thousand miles away. Been a long day, hasn't it?" She was not about to admit that she had been engrossed in watching him move across the room.

"Yep, it has."

Rachel let out a deep, throaty chuckle and told him, "If it didn't sound so disrespectful, I'd call you Coop."

"Why?" He was pretty certain he already knew the answer; he just wanted the pleasure of hearing Rachel explain why she had called him Gary Cooper earlier that evening.

"Hm…well…um…" She ran her finger around the rim of her glass trying to formulate an answer in her mind before saying it out loud and possibly offending him or embarrassing herself. Rachel closed her eyes as she took a quick swallow of whiskey, stalling for a little more time. She opened her eyes to "I'm waiting" look from him.

"Well, you both have blue eyes. And…you're men of few words- strong, silent types. However, Mr. Cooper is a "long, tall drink of water" and you're…ah…ah…" Rachel danced around saying anything else about Foyle's height.

"Not," he finished her sentence.

"Um, yeah. But the main difference between you and Gary Cooper is that I've only seen him in the movies and you're…" The tone of Rachel's voice suddenly changed completely and she continued, "Mr. Foyle, you're here right now and…very real." She reached out and briefly touched his arm as a means of confirming what she'd just told him.

He closed his eyes tightly for a second and then opened them. Telling her goodnight and goodbye when they finished their drinks and returned to their rooms had gone from being difficult to nearly impossible. "Why did you say that? What does it mean?"

The look on his face made Rachel think he was upset by what she'd said. "I'm sorry Mr. Foyle, did I say something wrong?"

"Nup." He shook his head ever so slightly. "Not wrong, just unsettling." He quickly finished his whiskey and Rachel took it as a cue to do the same. Their evening together was at an end.

During the elevator ride to the seventh floor of the hotel, Rachel fretted silently. She felt sure that she'd offended him by the comparison to Gary Cooper. She exhaled a long sigh of disappointment. "Oh well, it was nice while it lasted. He'll probably be glad to be rid of me."

If she had only known what was going through his mind, the disappointment she was feeling would have faded away. Foyle studied the face of the young woman standing next to him. The auburn highlights in her dark hair shown in the dim light of the elevator like a forest fire seen from a distance. He had a strong urge to touch those strands of hair. "Just brush them away, out of her eyes so she can see a little better. Then, what's next? You touch her hair, then her cheek and then maybe you'll want to…kiss… Oh come now Foyle, don't go down this path!"

When the elevator doors opened on the seventh floor both of them slowly walked out towards their rooms. Rachel decided to "get it over with" and say good night and perhaps goodbye to the man she'd share her day with. "Well Mr. Foyle, thank you for dinner and the drink. More than that…thank you for the company. I hope you haven't regretted our accidental meeting. "

By this time they were standing in front of the door to Rachel's room. She slipped her room key into the lock.

In a matter of seconds she would be on the other side of that door and Foyle knew he'd better take his chance to tell her what spending the day with her had meant to him. "You're glad she "bumped" into you, aren't you? Yes. Well, tell her then!"

"Miss Roberts, I'm glad we met and I …"

The ringing of the phone in her room interrupted him. She hurriedly unlocked the door and then turned back to face him. "I'm sorry, but I've got to take this call. I'm sure it's my parents wanting to make sure I got to Washington safe and sound. Well, good night."

Rachel was so focused on answering the phone's insistent ring that she failed to close the door completely as she hurried inside her room. Foyle reached out to pull the door shut, but hesitated. He knew he should close the door and let her have privacy, but something compelled him to stay where he was.

Snatching the phone's receiver off its cradle, Rachel answered with a breathy "hello". "Yes ma'am, I'm fine. I'm sorry I didn't call you and Daddy when I got here. "

Through the barely open door Foyle could see Rachel pace back and forth as she listened to the caller on the other end of the line. It seemed the more she listened, the more agitated she became and her actions showed it. First she kicked off her shoes, sending them flying across the room and landing with a thud. Next, she raked her fingers raked through her tresses and hairpins scattered all over the floor. "I'm just fine. I haven't been alone today. I met a gentleman on the train and we had dinner tonight."

Rachel huffed and responded to whatever the caller had just said to her. "Good grief! The man is old enough to be my father. I was perfectly safe." She punctuated the remark by tossing her handbag on the bed, while she gripped the receiver with a choke hold in the other one. "Look Mama, I am a grown woman and I can take care of myself. I've lived through a war and I survived Pearl…"

An idea coalesced in his mind from three clues- the label in her hat that had the name of a hat shop in Honolulu, the scar on her right hand and the word Pearl. She must have been present when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941! Now he understood what she'd meant by telling him that she had been hurt before and survived.

Rachel's voice began to quaver and she ended the call in one terse sentence, "Good night Mama, I love you and I'll call you tomorrow." She hung up the phone and collapsed on the bed, sobbing.

His first impulse was to go in and comfort Rachel and possibly risk her being angry with him for listening in on the conversation with her mother. Out of a desire not to add to her distress, Christopher Foyle reluctantly decided to leave her alone and quietly closed the door. He went into his room and prepared for bed, hoping she would be alright.

After putting on pajamas and crawling into bed, Foyle switched off the lamp and lay in the dark thinking about how his expectations of the day had been totally turned upside down. It was one of the rare days since he'd arrived in the States that the major thing on his mind wasn't the pursuit of Howard Paige. He had waited for years to have the opportunity to bring the man to justice, would he throw it all away because of a young woman he he'd known for less than 24 hours?

As Rachel slept, memories transformed into dreams that were deceptively peaceful at their beginning but quickly turned into terrifying, surreal horrors so vivid that she felt as if she was actually living through the experiences again.

7:50 am Sunday, December 7, 1941- Pearl City, Island of Oahu, Hawaii Territory

"Rachel, are you sure about this wedding on Saturday? It seems like such a hurried affair, is there something you aren't telling me?"

"What do you mean, Uncle Frank?"

The kind face of the man sagged under the weight of the answer he both expected and dreaded. Benjamin Franklin Broussard sighed and raked his fingers through what was left of his silver colored hair. "You know exactly what I mean."

Rachel knew she owed her uncle the truth. After all, she'd been living with him for over six months and he was her mother's oldest brother and a Presbyterian minister as well. "I might as well tell you now- I'm pregnant, probably about 3 months along."

"Oh Lord! Rachel, have you told Jimmy?"

"Of course."

"Is this why you two are in such a hurry to get married?"

"Well it certainly adds a greater sense of urgency to everything, but much more than that- we want to get married before the U.S. gets into the War…you know it's just a matter of time… and his ship has to sail out into the Pacific. Uncle Frank, I've loved Jimmy Dubose all my life and all I want to do is be his wife." She hesitated for a moment, feeling guilty at the concern she saw in her uncle's eyes. "I'm sorry, Uncle Frank. Jimmy and I had the wedding night before the wedding."

In all his years as a clergyman, Frank Broussard had heard that many times before from engaged couples and it just meant to him that his niece was human. His overriding concern for her was that she would be a new bride and expectant mother while her husband was at war and only Heaven knew if and when he would return.

"Rachel, have you told your folks that you and Jimmy are getting married this coming Saturday…and that you're pregnant?"

Rachel sighed, "No sir, I haven't. What can they do about it? After Jimmy and I are married, I'll let them know."

"Your mama is going to have my hide. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, I know. I'm sorry." Rachel gave her uncle an apologetic hug.

"Well, your folks won't stay mad at us forever and all will be forgiven when that baby arrives."

She smiled and agreed, "Yeah, they'll probably forget about me when the baby gets here."

"Oh Rachel, George and Marguerite love you so much! You'll always be their "little girl". Speaking of forgetting or should I say remembering- you have everything arranged for the wedding this coming Saturday?" Her lips turned up in a slight smile as she enumerated on her fingers- "got the church, the minister, the marriage license, the dress and I've asked your next door neighbors, Mrs. Simpson and her husband to be the witnesses. Can you think of anything I might have forgotten?"

Frank Broussard scratched his head for a second and then told her, "No, it sounds like you've got everything lined up. I just hope you two are going to share a long, happy life together."

The drone of aircraft engines cut short their conversation. This was immediately followed by the thundering sound of explosion after explosion.

Rachel clutched her uncle's arm, her eyes filled with fear. "Uncle Frank, are we under attack?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, sending a silent prayer to Heaven before he answered, "Yes Rachel, it looks like we are. It was just a matter of time and the Japanese have decided the time is now."

Both of them hurried to the living room window of the manse to see the attack playing out in front of their eyes. From their vantage point in Pearl City they could see across the channel to Ford Island and Battleship Row where seven battleships, the USS Arizona among them, were moored. The airfield on the southern end of Ford Island was attacked first and then the battleships on the west and east ends of the island. The Arizona exploded when a bomb hit its powder magazine. The air was filled with smoke and fire.

Rachel screamed out, "Oh God…the Arizona… Jimmy… no!"

The shrill, insistent clanging of the hotel alarm and Rachel's scream invaded Christopher Foyle's sleep at the same time. Disoriented, he sat bolt upright in his bed trying to make sense of what was going on. Once his head cleared he went into action and got out of his bed. After putting on his dressing gown and slippers he ventured out into the hall. Hotel guests moved down the hallway towards the stairwell in a hurried, but in a surprisingly ordered fashion which he attributed to wartime air raid evacuation practice. Rachel was not among the people passing him. She was still in her room.

"Only someone deaf wouldn't hear that fire alarm. Does she sleep that soundly?"

He knocked on her door and received no response. Then he pounded the door several times and loudly shouted, "Miss Roberts! Get up! The fire alarm is going off! We've got to evacuate the hotel."

No sounds of movement in the room caused him to raise his voice a few decibels and call out, "Rachel, get up now!" He jiggled the door handled, pounded on the door again and called to her once more, "Rachel!" Finally, he heard a groan and the sound of shuffling footsteps.

She jerked the door open and said one word- a name. "Jimmy?" He looked down to see her standing before him barefoot, wearing a nearly transparent nightgown. His eyes widened and for a moment he was transported back to his honeymoon and the memory of a nightgown that his late wife, Rosalind had worn. "Get a grip on yourself….no time for…no time…time to get her out of here!"

The filmy piece of cloth left nothing to the imagination as it concerned Rachel's figure. The young woman was petite, but by no means waif like. The words "filled out" came to mind as he swept a hand over his face. Foyle chastised himself for becoming distracted by her appearance. "My God, why on earth is she wearing something like that? Must get her out of the building!"

Her eyes were glazed over and it was obvious that just because they were open did not mean she was fully awake. Foyle looked over the room, hoping to spot her coat or something else to cover her. "Rachel, where is your dressing gown?"

"Hmm?"

"Oh, what do Americans call 'em?" A second later he recalled the word he'd been searching for. "Your robe, where is it?"

"Hmm?" She heard him but did not comprehend what he was asking.

"No time for this." He squeezed past her, entered the room and snatched a blanket off the bed, wrapping it around her body. He then found her shoes in the corner of the room where she'd kicked them off while talking on the phone with her mother. He grabbed them and her hand, leading her out into the hall and down the stairs to the outside.

The moment her bare feet hit the cold pavement in front of the hotel, Rachel was fully awake but confused. "Where am I? What's going on?" She looked at her companion. Foyle stood beside her; wearing pajamas, a robe and slippers. He was hatless and in desperate need of a comb. Then she looked down and assessed her own state of dress- nothing but her underpants, the sheer nightgown and a blanket thrown around her and realized he'd received a revelation and it was certainly not a spiritual one! She knew that nightgown left very little to the imagination. "Oh Lord, why couldn't I have been sensible and worn my flannel nightgown!"

Rachel began to shiver and pulled the blanket tightly around her body in a feeble effort to get warm. Her teeth chattered loudly as she hopped about from one foot to the other. Foyle handed her the shoes. "You might want these."

"Yes, thank you." She took the shoes from him, dropped them on the pavement and tried to put them on without losing her balance. With the grace of a dancer, Foyle wrapped his right arm around her waist and pulled her around to face him. "Hold on to me while you put on your shoes."

Rachel quickly complied and was thankful to have her shoes on. At least her feet were a little warmer. "Oh, that's better. Thank you Mr. Foyle." Reluctantly, she started to pull away from him now that her task was accomplished.

"No. It's freezing cold out here." He put his other arm around her and pulled her even closer. She had little choice but to relax and take comfort in the shared body warmth. Rachel wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest. Listening to the steady beat of Christopher Foyle's heart almost made her forget the terrible dream she had before he came to lead her out of the hotel.

Knowing what she was wearing under the blanket, Christopher was thankful for the cold night air because it served to keep his body from reacting to that knowledge while she clung to him. However, he soon found that he was glad to be holding her so close. It had been a very long time since he'd held a woman in that way. Rachel seemed to need more than just physical warmth, she needed to be comforted. His thoughts moved to the sound of the scream he'd heard while the fire alarm was going off. It had been sorrowful and heart wrenching and he believed that it would have awakened him without the fire alarm blaring in his ears.

Time seem to crawl as they waited in the cold darkness for firemen and hotel staff to find what caused the fire alarm to go off. Rachel wished she could stay enfolded in Foyle's arms for the rest of the night. In that way, she wouldn't have to go back to sleep and face the bad dreams that plagued her almost every night.

In less than fifteen minutes a fireman called out to the hotel guests, "O.K. folks, you can go back inside. Everything is under control." As he passed the couple he chuckled and loudly whispered in Foyle's ear, "Alright mister, you can go back inside and warm up the little missus… You lucky devil!"

Rachel groaned and mumbled into Foyle's chest, "Oh... my …God! Did you hear what he said?"

Oh, he'd heard the fireman alright! Foyle could feel the heat coming off her face. He didn't need a light to see it; he knew she was embarrassed. "Yep. I heard it."

"I could just die," she moaned.

"Would be a shame if you did."

"Inconvenient ?"

"Yep."

Rachel's embarrassment subsided and she looked up at him and grinned. "O.K., I won't do it then."

One corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. "Good. Want to go inside?"

Rachel pulled her arms down and back away from him an inch before she answered, "Yep."

During the elevator ride back to their rooms, the fireman's words "warm up the little missus…You lucky devil!" continued to march through Christopher Foyle's head. This and the knowledge of what Rachel was or more accurately, not wearing under the blanket wrapped around her served to bring his body to the state he'd managed to avoid while standing outside in the cold night air with her. He needed to get inside his room as soon as possible!

Rachel stood by the door, hand on the doorknob hesitating to go into her room. Going back to sleep meant revisiting her nightmares. She looked up at Foyle, fear and vulnerability evident in her eyes. It made him want to take her in his arms and hold her; a very dangerous thing to do in considering his physical response to her

When she finally turned away from him and opened the door to her room, Foyle asked, "Rachel, will you be alright?"

She remained facing away from him and answered, "Yes sir."

"Not the truth, is it?"

Rachel turned around to face him. "You think I'm lying to you?"

He leaned his head to one side while biting his bottom lip. "You were screaming out a man's name just as the fire alarm started going off. Do you have nightmares every night?"

She didn't need to answer his question; he already knew the answer. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks as she answered with a strangled "yes".

Foyle fought the impulse to pull her into his arms. "What do I do now? We can't stand out here in the hall this way for the rest of the night

Rachel knew it wasn't proper to ask a man into her room but she was desperately afraid of being alone with her nightmares."Mr. Foyle, please come inside and….sit with me for a little while. Maybe I'll be able to go back to sleep and not have any more bad dreams tonight."

"Alright, just for a few minutes…until you're feeling better…" He followed Rachel into her room, hoping he wouldn't regret his decision."

Author's Notes- A manse is a house owned and maintained by a church as a dwelling place for it's clergy- i.e. minister, vicar, priest, rector. Other names for this sort of dwelling are vicarage, rectory and parsonage.

What's with the French surnames- Dubose and Broussard. Many French Huguenots (French Protestants) settled in colonial America, a lot of them came to South Carolina. The Huguenots that settled in America were in part responsible for the beginnings of the Presbyterian Church in America, although some Huguenots became part of Anglican parishes in the colonies. Since Rachel and her family are from Charleston, I wanted some of my characters have a Huguenot background.

Just when it seemed that the eventful day for Rachel and Christopher was over- a nightmare and fire alarm change things. He got an eyeful of Rachel and the fireman's comment about him being a "lucky devil" just made things more "interesting". Of course, she was embarrassed yet again. Seems to be a habit with her.

Out of concern for her, Christopher decides to stay with Rachel while she falls asleep. Poor man! It's not going to be easy.

Thanks for reading.

TBC