Along Waters of Sunshine and Shadow

by Ava Miles

  Along Waters of

  Sunshine and Shadow

  by

  Ava Miles

  © 2018 Ava Miles

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  Fall into Ava's unforgettable stand-alone novel about a decorated hero returning from WWII and finding renewed courage for a second chance with his life...and with the woman he fell in love with through letters while executing his duty in Europe.

  July 1945—Noah Weatherby returns from war to the woman he fell in love with, one letter at a time. Understanding he's been given a second chance to make something of his life, he begins to search for a greater purpose while battling memories of the horrors of war and how to live with them moving forward.

  Anna Sims has been praying for Noah's safe return since she started writing him after her brother, Noah's best friend, died. He's every inch the hero she imagined, but she knows he's haunted by what he did in the war. Struggling to help him, she's faced with a greater problem: her still-grieving mother doesn't want him to be around. Noah is a reminder that her own son is never coming back.

  As Noah and Anna both move forward to create a new life together, they face their deepest shadows while holding fast to the sunshine they find in each other's arms.

  In this timeless story, Ava Miles shows why “the greatest generation” won the war with their guts and strength and how the fragile weeks after the Victory in Europe weighed on a nation still praying for peace. ALONG WATERS OF SUNSHINE AND SHADOW is a page-turner about how to overcome loss through love and how to find answers to some of life’s biggest questions—most especially around a soldier’s duty during war. Ava’s former career of rebuilding warzones shines through in both her nuanced understanding of the legacy of war and its emotional impact on human beings.

  Readers who enjoyed ALL THE LIGHT WE CANNOT SEE, THE NIGHTINGALE, and THE NOTEBOOK will enjoy this page-turning WWII romance…

  To everyone who's stood up for what's right—be it for love or freedom—in a city, community, or playground.

  We need more of you.

  And to my divine entourage, who continues to help me

  grow and flourish.

  “Without their efforts and sacrifices our world would be a far different place today. When the war was over, men and women who had been involved, in uniform and in civilian capacities, joined in joyous and short-lived celebrations, then immediately began the task of rebuilding their lives and the world they wanted. They were mature beyond their years, tempered by what they had been through, disciplined by their military training and sacrifices. They married in record numbers and gave birth to another distinctive generation, the Baby Boomers. They stayed true to their values of personal responsibility, duty, honor, and faith.”

  Tom Brokaw, The Greatest Generation

  Chapter 1

  July 1945

  Chicago

  Anna Sims’ house was exactly as he’d pictured it.

  Endless days and weeks and months and years spent fighting Germany and its allies, slogging through mud, and eating dust had given Noah Weatherby more than a few opportunities to dream about his wartime pen pal. The woman he knew only through her letters.

  He’d guessed, correctly, the house would be built of brick like most of Chicago’s houses were after the Great Fire, and she’d mentioned an upstairs in her letters to him. Those lifelines were tucked inside the single leather satchel he’d brought, holding all his earthly possessions. Before enlisting in the war after Pearl Harbor, he’d sold or given most of his meager belongings away, not knowing when he’d return.

  Or if he’d return.

  But somehow he’d made it through. Anna’s words came to him as he approached the porch of the brick house.

  When you finally come home from the war and we meet, it’s going to be one of the best days of my life… Every day I leave our house I stop at the end of the porch and let the sun warm my face. I imagine you coming up the path in your uniform, home from the war. Then you take my hand, and we take a nice stroll in my neighborhood together.

  The day they’d both dreamed about was finally here, and he was as eager as a boyfriend on a first date—and as scared as the small abandoned child he’d been.

  He was finally going to see Anna for real.

  The Sims’ small yard was freshly mowed, the grass blades looking wilted under the hot July sun. He wondered what neighbor boy had cut it for them. With no man around the house, Anna and her mother had received various kindnesses from boys in the neighborhood too young to fight but eager to do their part on the home front. Noah hoped those boys would never be called into action.

  There was a white flag with the words Serving Our Country hanging in the window, the same one he’d seen displayed in other homes in the neighborhood. Some of the flags had blue stars, some gold, and the significance finally dawned on him. The gold star on that gold-trimmed white flag was for Martin, Anna’s brother and the best friend Noah had ever had. They’d met at Fort Meade in advanced infantry training and been assigned to the 3rd Infantry Division together.

  Grief rolled over him. Damn but he wished his friend were here, returning to his home and family. Somehow it didn’t feel completely right without him. He shouldn’t have been taken. Out of all the men Noah had fought with, no one had been Martin’s equal in terms of pure marksmanship or gut instinct. But war didn’t care for fairness. Nor did it care that the guys in the unit had needed Martin. Known for his Irish wit, he’d always been so quick with a joke, and his levity had defused more than one tense situation. His faith had stuck with him too, somehow, and he’d always muttered an Our Father before a battle.

  Martin had asked Noah to look out for his mother and sister, and he had given his word. He’d written them both letters, and Anna had written him back—and then again and again for over a year and a half.

  Noah made himself open the gate and continue down the path to their door, his heart hammering. The acrid smell of gunpowder filled Noah’s nose, a smell he knew was an illusion. He shook himself and took a deep inhale of the summer air to settle himself. Funny how the gentle splendor of the Sims’ front yard, what with the roses and flowers, couldn’t push back his greasy memories.

  He was lucky they were just memories. The war was still ongoing in the Pacific. The Japs hadn’t given up yet, but his commanding officer had sent him home anyway.

  Had he made the right choice, coming here so soon? In her last letters, Anna had urged him to come at once. Heck, he’d thought he’d be home in June, but things had taken a little longer than expected. He’d had to wrap up some duties around the surrender of the Germans—or the Jerries as most of the guys called them—and then there had been the crossing of the Atlantic back to his hometown of Washington, D.C. He’d settled his affairs there as quickly as he could and taken a train to Chicago, eager to see Anna. Surely she was impatient as well, what with it being the second week in July.

  But should he have waited a touch longer? He wasn’t sleeping well, and when he did, he awoke from violent nightmares, sweat dripping down his face.

  The fact was he wanted to see her. Wanted it badly enough to take the risk.

  Their front door beckoned, and he took the remaining steps toward it and knocked. His foot started to tap nervously, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. What if she wasn’t everything he imagined? What if he wasn’t? What if she ended up not liking the man from the letters?

  Oh, for God’s sake, buck up.

  An older woman outfitted completely in black opened the door, and he knew
at once it was her mother. Martin’s mother. If Anna hadn’t told him about how hard she’d taken the death of her son, he would have seen it in the sunken eyes and harsh lines around her mouth. He made himself smile.

  “Mrs. Sims,” he said, “I’m—”

  “Noah Weatherby,” she replied, her tone as worn as the black shoes on her feet. “Anna said you’d be arriving any day based on your last telegram. I imagine I should say something like ‘welcome home.’”

  He searched the dark entryway over her shoulder, watching for Anna to appear. “You can say anything you like. I know I already said so in my letter, but I’m so sorry about Martin, Mrs. Sims. He was one of the best men I’ve ever met. I was lucky to know him and serve with him.”

  Her dark eyes narrowed, pinched at the corners like a folded handkerchief, which reminded him of what he’d brought for her. He dug into his bag.

  “I wish it were my son standing here.”

  His gut burned as he located the object he’d brought. “I do too, Mrs. Sims. More than you know. Here, I have something—”

  “I used to think I understood God, but I don’t anymore,” she said, her eyes glassy.

  She wasn’t listening to him, so he dipped at the knees to meet her gaze. “Mrs. Sims, I…ah…kept the handkerchief you gave to Martin before he left for the war with the hopes of delivering it in person. I…wasn’t sure it would make it back to you along with his personal…items.” Plus, there had been blood on it, Martin’s blood, and Noah hadn’t believed the Army would launder the handkerchief of a dead solider before giving it to his grieving mother.

  He held out the folded white cloth with her initials embroidered in blue thread, and her hands shook as she took it from him.

  “I thought it would keep him safe,” she said, her voice thin and reedy. “I prayed it would. Oh, God, my boy. My precious boy.”

  When she pressed the handkerchief to her mouth and hunched over, Noah felt his eyes water in response. He’d never known a mother’s love. His had left him on the steps of the orphanage shortly after he was born, likely because he’d been born out of wedlock. Martin had hoped his mother would “adopt” Noah, and after hearing countless tales of the Sims’ happy family, Noah had started to hope so too. He’d always longed to have a family, and now, with Anna, his hope was stronger than ever.

  “Mrs. Sims, Martin kept your handkerchief in his pocket everywhere he went. Said it helped him feel you were always with him.” Noah had cried when he’d uncurled that same handkerchief from Martin’s limp hands.

  Mrs. Sims’ blue eyes flashed toward his, and then she started to rise out of the stooped stance she’d fallen into. The hand holding the handkerchief fell to her rounded stomach.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “You can wait for Anna. She went to the market.”

  He thought of sitting in the parlor with Mrs. Sims and passing the time in tense silence. He didn’t think he could handle it right now.

  “I’ll come back in a bit,” he said. “Don’t tell her I’m here. I’d…ah…like to surprise her.”

  Her chin seemed to lift, almost like she’d taken his words as a challenge. “Surprise her? Young man, I know you were Martin’s friend, and it’s probably none of my affair, but I’m going to say right up front that you’d better be careful with my daughter.”

  That drew him up short. He hadn’t meant anything untoward. “Mrs. Sims?”

  She pointed her hand at him, the one holding the handkerchief. “You boys are streaming back home after V-E Day and filling our girls’ heads with all sorts of nonsense about the future, now that the war in Europe is over. You and Anna barely know each other. I know you think you do, but it takes more than words to make something work. Letters don’t a relationship make, Mr. Weatherby.”

  He’d had some of the same thoughts, which was why he’d told Anna they wouldn’t rush things. Her views on the subject had been both practical and poetic, and he’d valued her all the more for them.

  When we do meet, we can see where this connection of words and souls takes us. The main thing is that we have the chance. The war won’t steal that from us like it has for so many people.

  “Mrs. Sims, please call me Noah,” he told her, clearing his throat. “Like I told Anna—”

  “Then there’s Martin,” she said, managing to look down her nose at him even though she barely came to his chest. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but seeing you standing here alive and well in your uniform, I feel I must. You do realize that your very presence reminds us that Martin is gone forever.”

  He couldn’t think of a proper reply.

  “You might have been Martin’s best friend, but my son is dead. Nothing is going to bring him back. Do you really want to be a daily reminder of that to me and Anna? Even with this so-called ‘affection’ between the two of you?”

  Noah knew Anna didn’t feel he was an unpleasant reminder. Even though she’d told him about her mother’s struggle with grief, it was a shock to hear her say such a thing. “I don’t want to cause you or Anna any more pain, Mrs. Sims. I figure this war has caused enough for all of us.”

  “Yes, it has,” she said, “and it doesn’t seem to be over yet. Thank you for bringing back my son’s handkerchief.” She stuffed it in her dress pocket, her mouth pinched.

  He tipped his hat. “I think it would be best if I came back another time to see Anna.” Before she could reply, he made a crisp turn and walked back down the sidewalk.

  His hands were clammy as he fumbled with the gate, but he didn’t wipe them on his pants until he was out of view from the house. His mind was spinning. The last thing he wanted to do was cause Mrs. Sims more pain, but he couldn’t step away from Anna before he even got to know her.

  “Noah!” he heard someone shout.

  He swung his head in the direction of the voice and stopped short. Everything slowed down, even the car that went by. Anna Sims stood across the street in a patch of sunlight. He recognized her from Martin’s photo—he’d recognize her anywhere—but the still image hadn’t captured the essence of her. God, she was pretty. Prettier than he’d ever dreamed up, standing there in a light blue dress and white heels. Her auburn hair was done up in that hairnet she’d mentioned in her letters, the one a pigeon had gotten caught in. The two grocery sacks she was holding dropped onto the sidewalk, and she put a hand to her mouth.

  A deep peace settled over him as he looked at her. “Anna!” he heard himself call back finally.

  Then he was running into the now empty street, and she was running too. His arms caught her to him, and hers wrapped around him.

  “You’re here!” She squeezed him tightly, and he buried his face against that soft hair, soaking in her warmth and the sweet perfume on her bare neck. “Oh, Noah, you’re home. I can’t believe it! I’ve been waiting and waiting.”

  The way she said home made him squeeze his eyes shut. He’d never had a home, and in her arms, he was feeling like he might have found it. Oh, Martin, I wish you could have been here, seen this.

  “I’m here,” he said in a hoarse voice clogged with emotion. “Oh, Anna, I can’t believe I’m finally here with you.”

  “When did you get in?” she asked.

  He did an internal calculation. “Over an hour ago, I imagine, shortly after three.” He’d washed up as best as he could in the Capitol Limited train’s bathroom and found a taxi the moment he left the station.

  “You must be exhausted,” she said. “The train ride is close to a full day, isn’t it?”

  “I didn’t mind,” he replied. “I wanted to get here as soon as I could.” He’d given her a range of possible arrival dates in his telegrams, not wanting to disappoint her if the train was delayed or cancelled.

  She gave him one more squeeze and then edged back. He could immediately see the resemblance to Martin, from the way her well-lashed blue eyes crinkled at the corners to the shape of her nose. Her hair was a fiery auburn whereas Martin’s had been more brown than red. Those details made
him miss his friend, but somehow it was comforting too.

  “Oh, look at you!” she cried. “You’re so much more handsome than your picture. And you’re safe. That’s what matters most. Oh, I’m going to start crying.”

  He didn’t point out that tears were already streaming down her face. “I might join you. Oh, Anna. You’re so beautiful. I mean I knew, but…”

  Her smile tipped up at the corners. “I’m so glad you think so, Noah,” she said softly. “I…wanted to please you.”

  He fought the urge to touch her face with his fingers, trace the high cheekbones and the graceful brows framing her light blue eyes. He reminded himself this was their first real meeting, and it was best not to be presumptuous.

  “You’re more than beautiful. I mean, didn’t I compare you to Maureen O’Hara in one of my letters?”

  “Because I’m an Irish girl with red hair and moxie?” she teased. “Like I haven’t heard that before.”

  She’d told him about the soldiers getting fresh with her sometimes at the USO, and no wonder. She was a magnet, a firefly, a flame.

  “Oh, Anna, it doesn’t feel real. Being here with you. Just a short while ago I was…”

  He trailed off. The things he’d witnessed in the German concentration camp he’d liberated with his unit didn’t bear repeating. Ever. He’d pledged to be honest with her, but some things were so vile, a man had to take them to his grave.

  There was a flicker of something dark in her eyes before she hugged him again. “None of that matters now. We should get out of the street probably.”

  “We’re safe,” he said. “I’ve been watching for cars.”

  Of course, there were people watching them from windows, but it wasn’t like they were snipers or spies. Only curious neighbors. Still, he led her back to where she’d dropped the groceries, and when he made a move toward them, she put her hand on his chest and stopped him.