by Ava Miles
“Martin shouldn’t have called you Carrot Top,” Noah said, taking her fist and kissing the back of her hand. “He should have called you, ‘Tiger,’ or ‘The Beautiful Reprimander’ or something.”
She kept holding his hand. “I think I prefer ‘Tiger.’ Feel free to call me that whenever the occasion permits. And don’t think you can distract me with all this flattery. We were talking about your nightmares.”
“It’s common to have bad dreams,” he told her, knowing she wasn’t going to be deterred. Actually, he kind of liked it.
“Nightmares,” she insisted.
“As you wish. I’m still adjusting to being back. Anna, it’s a big change for me, to go from fighting in the mud and grime to sitting in your yellow kitchen drinking hot coffee.”
“I know,” she said quietly. “I’m only saying I won’t be relegated to polite conversation. There was so much you couldn’t share in your letters, Noah. Now I want to know everything.”
Pressure was building in his chest. Part of him wanted to tell her to back off. Push back from his chair and get some air. He took another drink of his coffee instead and waited for the urge to pass. It wasn’t like him, this feeling of wanting to strike back or run away.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I can be pushy. Martin used to say that all the time. I feel like I’ve upset you.”
“It’s fine, Anna,” he said, making sure to smile. “It’s only part of the readjustment process. So tell me. Are you missing school and your students?”
She tilted her head to the side as if she were considering whether she should let him change the subject. “Some days. But I love being able to wake up a little later. Of course I see my students around all the time in the neighborhood and at church. We’re a close-knit community as you saw earlier.”
“How far is your school from here?” he asked.
“Oh, about eight blocks,” she said. “I can walk, but if we’ve gotten a lot of snow or it’s colder than Billy hell, I take the car if Mom doesn’t need it. To appease my conscience, I pick up whatever kids I find walking to school until I’m full up.”
He could easily imagine Anna driving slowly down the neighborhood streets, calling out to young kids who were walking to school all bundled up in big puffy coats, their noses red.
“I’m not much for cold myself,” he said, thinking of the icy temperatures he’d endured during the war. He had a few spots of numbness on his fingers from frostbite, but he was lucky it hadn’t been worse. Anna’s St. Christopher’s medal had been ice-cold against his skin many times, but he’d never once taken it off.
“Oh, I just remembered,” he said, reaching inside his collar and pulling out her medal. “This is yours. Thank you for sending it to me.”
She stopped him from taking it off. “Keep it. I…feel better…knowing you have it.”
“But it’s yours,” he said, gesturing with it. “You and Martin each had one. It doesn’t seem right.”
She shook her head. “Noah, I want you to have it. Please.”
He rubbed the chain between his fingers like he used to do before his unit began their march in the morning. He’d mutter the Our Father like Martin had and then tuck it under his uniform. Though he’d never been a spiritual man, those words and that precious medal—which had once hung against Anna’s skin—had made him feel like there was something greater out there watching over him.
“All right, I’ll accept it with my deepest thanks,” he said and leaned over to kiss her on the cheek.
He felt her jolt from the mere touch of his lips, and again, he had to remind himself to take things slow.
Then she put her hand on his cheek, and he felt something powerful surge between them, something both soft and urgent, stronger than he’d ever felt for another person. It felt a lot like love.
He stayed against her a little longer where he was, unable to bear the loss of that first sweet touch.
Chapter 4
He was as warm as a radiator against her, and all Anna wanted to do was settle closer. Why was he resisting what they both wanted?
“Noah Weatherby, if you don’t kiss me right now, I’m going to come unglued.”
She felt a ripple of shock go through him, and then he was leaning back and searching her face. He must have liked what he saw, because his mouth turned up at the corners. Was that a dimple in his right cheek?
“Unglued, huh?” he asked. “That sounds uncomfortable.”
Was he making fun of her or teasing? She couldn’t tell. She kept her hand on his face, but she stopped her fingers from trailing down to his lips.
“I don’t mean to be so…forward. Trust me, when it comes to things like kissing, I’m usually not, but Noah, I care about you more than any guy I’ve ever met. I understand taking our time, but we’re people. Not snails.”
“The French really like their snails,” he told her.
Now she knew he was teasing her. He couldn’t have been Martin’s friend if he didn’t have a good sense of humor. She leveled him with a look. “Be serious.”
“I never knew until you that I liked bossy women,” he said, raising his hand and pushing a loose curl behind her ear.
Now that was more like it. She wanted to lean into his hand and purr like a kitten.
“There’s nothing wrong with a woman knowing what she wants,” she told him. “Woman’s Home Companion says so all the time in their articles.” Of course, sometimes their articles on how to catch a man annoyed her.
“Who am I to dispute a women’s magazine?”
“You’re stalling.”
“Your mother is upstairs. That bothers me a bit.”
“My mother should never be your reason for not kissing me. I’d never get kissed if that were the case. She has strong opinions about what it means to be a good woman. I mean, if I listened to her, I’d be wearing dresses down to my mid-calf.”
“I’m not up on the secret language of ladies’ hemlines.” His lips twitched, and she punched him gently in the arm.
“Are you going to make me make the first move? This should be an easy maneuver compared to the ones you were on during the war.”
It looked like he was trying not to laugh. She almost gave up then and there, but she wasn’t one to turn tail in defeat.
“I thought it made you happy to make the first move,” he said, rising to his feet and gently encouraging her to join him with a hand on her arm.
“Oh, you’re insufferable.”
He cupped her face, and she put her hand to his chest. Maybe it was time to put it all out there. Forget the slow program.
“Noah, I think I might be in love with you,” she said, meeting his gaze head on. “I’m not saying we should rush to marriage tomorrow or anything, but if there’s one thing I don’t want… Oh, Noah, this war has taught me about carpe diem. Seize the day, the old scholars say. Hey, that rhymes! But in all seriousness, I wish I’d had more days to enjoy Martin. I can’t get more of them now. Not ever.” Her voice was strong, and she’d never felt more sure.
He stroked her face, and she felt a shared grief rise up between them.
“With you home from the war, all I can think of is how much time we’ve already lost. Do you remember how I told you in one of my letters that—”
“One letter, regardless of length, can never fill up all the time in between,” he said.
Her heart filled with joy. “Oh, I struggled for days with how to word that! Noah Weatherby, did you memorize my letters?”
“Of course I did,” he said. “They kept you close to me.”
She laid her head onto his chest for a long minute. He’d memorized her words, but he wasn’t ready to kiss her? Who was he kidding? “I memorized yours too—mostly—but sometimes I would pull them out and read them all. Stack them on my bed like a treasure chest.”
“Yours are tied up with string in my bag,” he said. “I always made sure they were with me, wrapped up in cloth like the picture I carried of you in my shirt po
cket.”
She wanted to dig into that pocket to see if it was still there, the picture Martin had carried with him to war.
“Noah, we have everything in front of us. You said coming home was like getting a second chance in life. You’re my second chance.”
“Oh, honey,” he said, his eyes darkening. “How did I get lucky enough to be here with you?”
She believed the Almighty himself had arranged that, with some help from her brother, but she kept quiet, happy to bask in his gaze.
“Anna, I think I’m in love with you too,” he said, caressing her face. “I came here knowing what I felt and what it could mean. For both of us. Now that I know you feel the same way…”
He gave her a pointed look, and she gave it right back to him. “I don’t do slow well, obviously,” she said. “Deal with it.”
“Be my sincerest pleasure,” he said with a small smile. “There are some things I’ll need to figure out. You know that, right? I still have some…junk to sort out in my own way about the war and what I want to do with my life. But we can talk about that another time… Right now, I do want to kiss you.”
“Then kiss me, you silly man,” she said, tilting her head up.
He lowered his mouth to hers, and she felt the punch of his touch all the way down to her toes. Her body rocked back at the power of it, but his hand came around her waist to balance her gently against his tall, lean body. Even in her heels, she needed to rise up on her tiptoes to continue the kiss. Now that she had him, she wasn’t going to settle for anything less than being kissed senseless like she’d seen in the movies.
Seeming to understand her wishes, he cupped her cheek with his other hand and angled her mouth until their connection was even more perfect. She felt his muscles tighten, and then he tugged at her bottom lip. Oh! That hadn’t been in any of the movies she’d seen, but good heavens, how she liked it. Eager for more, she leaned into him.
He settled back to kissing her lips, and to her astonishment, she found herself hoping he’d tug on her bottom lip again. It seemed too bold to ask. She hadn’t kissed many boys before. Three, in fact, and none of them had kissed her like this. Noah made her want to do more than kiss, which was both alarming and exciting. She finally understood what it meant to feel desire—the kind of wanting that could weaken the knees.
She loved feeling his breath against her mouth. Oh, she’d kiss him every day if he’d let her. She twined her hands around his neck, loving the feel of her breasts pressed to his chest. It was another new feeling, but one filled with discovery and excitement.
His tongue slid across the seam of her lips, and she jolted.
“Too much?” he whispered, angling back to look at her face.
“Ah…no. Only…different.” Of course, she’d heard about it.
“So much for not going fast,” he mused.
The hand on her waist loosened, but she wasn’t ready for him to put distance between them. “I…I’ve never been kissed like that before. But I think I like it. Do it again.” She wasn’t one to walk away from a challenge or a new experience.
He took his time, and she could see him thinking. Considering, more like, she decided.
“Maybe we should stop,” he said.
“Not yet. Please, Noah. Just a little more, and then I’ll start your blueberry pie.”
His chuckle was soft and the sound filled her heart with joy. She’d wondered about the quality of his laugh so many times. It was deep and seemed to rumble in his chest.
“You’re a regular negotiator, aren’t you? Martin was good at that too. I’ll bet you were invincible together.”
“We were,” she said, remembering how they’d double-teamed their dad for ice cream in return for doing their chores faster. “I’m glad we can talk about him. In a happy way. I…need that, Noah.”
Her mother only mentioned him when she was railing at God for taking him away, and it had felt like his beautiful memory was slipping away with each day in the house.
His hand caressed her cheekbone. “So do I, Anna. Now come here.”
She rose onto her tiptoes, offering her lips to him, and then his mouth was moving against hers in the most delicious way. Slow. Sensual. Oh, yes, this was more like it. When his tongue caressed her lips, she opened them for him like she’d heard other girls talk about. When he slid it inside and rubbed it against hers, she shivered and felt something warm and urgent spread in her belly. No wonder so many girls had trouble waiting for marriage. She might be in trouble herself.
They were both breathing hard when he stopped kissing her, but he didn’t let go. His arms stroked her back, and she laid her head against his chest. The love she felt for him was stronger than ever.
“I can’t imagine doing without you,” she whispered. “I was so afraid you might die, and we’d never have a moment like this. Thank God you were spared. Oh, thank God.”
There was no way the relief she felt now could ever erase all the worry and sleepless nights of the past years, but she was glad they were behind her. She’d have to say some extra prayers of gratitude tonight at bedtime and light some more candles in the church if she could find any. They’d run out of votives. People had started to bring any candles they had at home to light for loved ones, but the shortage had become such a problem that Father Shaughnessy had found an unorthodox way to handle it by deciding to keep bees, even though it would take a while to harvest the fruits of his labor.
“I told you that your strength was what got me through the war,” Noah said, “and I wasn’t lying. Anna, there were days when I was so tired or horrified at what I’d done or seen someone else do…”
She hugged him tight, hearing the pain in his voice. “Our letters saved each other, I think. Sometimes I wonder if I’d be like my mother if it weren’t for you.”
He looked down at her. “I mean no disrespect to your mother, but you could never be like that. Your heart…and your will are too great. Even though I’m not a religious man, I thank God for it.”
“We’ll figure things out, Noah. Together.”
And she kissed him softly on the lips one last time as though to seal the promise.
Chapter 5
The fog-coated countryside was going to be a bitch to navigate. Noah crouched down next to Martin. He looked at Henry and David and signaled for them to stay low and head east. Hopefully the tree line would continue to give them cover. One of the scouts had reported there was a farm ahead, filled with Jerries. They were supposed to take them out so the company could move forward. Noah was in charge. His commander had promoted him again due to his good instincts for how to take out the enemy.
The other guys weren’t crouched down like they were supposed to be as they started to move out. He gestured to them with their pre-arranged hand signals, but they didn’t heed him. What were they doing, standing up straight and walking like that? The Jerries didn’t need any help putting them down.
Martin started to veer away from the tree line, and Noah cursed. What in the hell was his friend doing? Usually he was completely focused, his weapon at the ready. But Martin headed straight into the field, and the fog started to cover him. Noah turned to Henry and David, but they were both gone too.
What the hell? His commander was going to have his hide for this clusterfuck. He went after Martin since he knew his friend’s last location. Part of him wanted to call out to him, but he knew better. Sound traveled, and he didn’t want to give away their position.
A small hill came into view, and Noah saw Martin walking toward it. Noah picked up the pace, his pack heavy on his back, but by the time he reached the hill, his friend was already gone. He turned around to scan the area and nearly jumped out of his skin.
A woman in black stood a few feet away from him, and his weapon rose instinctively before a clearer head ruled the day. It was Martin’s mother. Anna’s mother. What in the hell was she doing here? He put a finger to his lips to signal she should be quiet. Even though he wanted to know how she’d gott
en here, he knew better than to ask. Best get her to safety and then find Martin and the other guys.
She slowly shook her head when he pointed in the direction he wanted her to go.
“My son should have lived,” she said in a voice that carried across the fog. “Not you.”
Then she stepped aside. A Jerry was behind her, his gun pointed at Noah. He heard the shot before it hit him square in the chest.
Noah lurched up in bed, clutching his heart, sure the bullet had gone through. Darkness closed in on him, and he dove to the floor, his breath heaving. Where was his gun? He huddled next to the mattress and patted the floor.
There was laughter in the corridor, and he strained his eyes to make sense of where he was. Then he remembered.
Chicago. The YMCA Hotel.
A dream! Another stinking dream. He tried to push off the floor, but he saw stars as the adrenaline roared through his system. His body started to tingle, and he fought for breath. Oh, God. So real. He could almost smell the overgrown lavender on the hill, its fragrance somehow more pungent at night.
But it wasn’t real, he told himself, reaching for his strength. Martin hadn’t been in France with him. Neither had Henry or David. They were dead. They were all dead. All but him.
Mrs. Sims wasn’t dead, though. It had felt so real when she’d stepped aside to let the Jerry shoot him square in the chest. Why would he dream something like that? Sure, she wished her son were alive instead of him, but she wouldn’t want him dead.
She doesn’t want you to die yet, but she might when she learns that Martin took the bullet meant for you.
He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip, fighting the urge to be sick.
Think of something else.
The image of Anna filtered into his mind as easily as sunshine through a window on a sunny day. Her blue eyes were smiling, matching the dress she’d worn yesterday. So pretty. She’d made him blueberry pie, and the tangy sweetness had made him close his eyes in appreciation. Her pot roast had been equally delicious, but not even close to the deliciousness of her lips.
